They’re middle-class Irish boys who aren’t afraid to get their funk on '70s style. Meet Kill City Defectors, Kildare’s answer to Red Hot Chili Peppers.
With hopes of a new Pixies record fading away (possibly a blessing in disguise), Black Francis/Frank Black returns instead with something like his 75th solo album. His own stuff has varied in quality for sure, yet ‘Captain Pasty’ is a bit more like it, a snarling punk rock record with that trademark voice still intact. Completely hatstand of course, but good to have around.
Vaguely punky in appearance, playing that surf festival thing, releasing her album exclusively on a mobile phone – if you hadn’t heard Majella Murphy, you’d guess that her music was pretty cutting edge. Well, nice it may be, but cutting edge it certainly isn’t. ‘Baby’s Broken Heart’ is immaculately presented and produced, but otherwise is a fairly standard singer-songwriter workout.
Having spent 10 years being beaten with a big stick marked ‘press’, Stereophonics found themselves in the rather strange position of being quite liked a couple of years ago, as they hinted at bringing a modern edge to their classic rock sound. Unfortunately, Kelly Jones has turned on his heels and retreated. ‘It Means Nothing’ is a big-hearted ballad that isn’t the most heinous thing out there, but doesn’t exactly set the world alight either. Business as usual then.
In Dublin’s Nine IX Lives, we have that rarest of things – a convincing Irish rock band. Although they nail their colours firmly to the punk-pop mast, there’s a definite metal edge at work here, right from the opening riffs and their early Iron Maiden feel. It’s not perfect by any means (the production needs to be meatier and at six tracks they’re stretching their material a bit) but this is hugely encouraging stuff.
The name may not ring a huge number of bells, yet Fiona Melady has been something of an Irish musical mainstay over recent years, first as a member of Turn and then through her work with Gemma Hayes, Paddy Casey and Declan O’Rourke. Of them all, ‘One’ is probably most reminiscent of Hayes, especially in the vocal department. As accomplished as you’d expect, Melady still needs to find more of an original angle.
Despite releasing a perfectly fine album last year, PB&J seem set to find themselves overshadowed by this one, seemingly omnipresent, song. Reissuing it seems almost an act of resignation - and anyway, given the new dawn of downloading, how relevant can such an act be? Great tune, though.
Half a New Yorker, half a Dubliner, Alien Envoy somehow manages to combine the worst of both cities. As with his previous ‘Cast Adrift’ single, ‘45’ sits on the wrong side of too clever by half, an ode to the great singles of our age made up entirely of said singles’ titles. Awfully clever it may be, a particularly good song it isn’t.
Scott Maher is making a similar move, although ‘Shine’ suggests that his music has already packed its bags and caught the first flight out. For all its attention to melody and hooks, it’s an oddly jarring experience, as if someone has failed to assemble the song in quite the right order.
If being a member of The Clash is enough to ensure one’s reputation for life, then Mick Jones more than any of them – even Strummer – has refused to rest on his laurels. As well as producing The Libertines, the past four years have seen him work alongside Tony James (Generation X, er.. Sigue Sigue Sputnik) in Carbon/Silicon. The terrible, literal, cover aside, it’s pretty good punk-pop, the sound of two men in their fifties who know that youthful posturing is beneath them yet still refuse to grow old.
Like Scroobius Pip, Kate Nash’s none-more-London vocals are open to ridicule, but she has so far proved to be quite the charmer. What is most astonishing is how well her songs (previously lo-fi in the extreme) have translated into big, bold pop tunes. ‘Mouthwash’ is easily the equal of ‘Foundations’, its joyful melody helping obscure the limited subject matter. The speed with which she has been thrust into the glare of the public eye might be a concern, but let’s hope Nash can cope with it all.
The big problem with The Hives is that, right from the start, they painted themselves into a corner with their outfits, attitude and two-dimensional garage rock. Actually, an ever bigger problem is that they’re not very good, but that’s an argument for another day. ‘Tick Tick Boom’ is essentially more of the same: all right, but nowhere near as good as ‘Hate To Say I Told You So’, a debut that they look more and more unlikely to match.
If there was a worry that ‘Thou Shalt Always Kill’ was a glorious flash in the pan, then ‘The Beat That My Heart Skipped’ is equally glorious proof that the London duo might just be the real deal. Less consciously preachy than their debut, it adds a welcome personal angle to their sound before moving up a gear for the rant-filled, closing moments. With as much in common with US underground rappers such as Sage Francis and Atmosphere as the stuttering UK scene, this odd pairing could well be the surprise find of the year.
This third album has gone platinum in the US, and Robin Thicke now counts 50 Cent and Pharrell among his showbiz pals. Is it hard to see why? No. Is it a good album? Not really.
By this point in his career, after the relative disaster of Porno For Pyros and messy end to Jane’s Addiction, Perry Farrell should by rights have found himself as one of yesterday’s men. Yet here he comes again for another bash, this time in the bizarre company of members of Extreme and New Order. As with everything he has ever done, Satellite Party could easily hover on the brink of disaster, but ‘Wish Upon A Dog Star’ is fine stuff, helped no end by Peter Hook’s distinctive bass that drives the song into the realms of disco punk. What is waiting around the corner in terms of albums and live shows is unknown territory, for the moment though there’s life in the old dog yet.
Keeping up this year’s trend for credible big name acts releasing frankly poor follow up albums, the Kings were found wanting badly on Because Of The Times. ‘Fans’ was one of the few moments when they got it right, a light footed tune that sees them break out of their Southern Strokes straightjacket. Shame there wasn’t more where this came from.
Seven years ago, Wheat released an album called Hope & Adams which was, most people agreed, fantastic. They should have been a relatively big band but circumstances and record company mishaps conspired to tear the heart out of them. Now, quite unexpectedly, they’re back and sounding back to their old selves. A welcome return.
Another band who have taken a seemingly overlong break, it’s been four years since the FKOS debut album. They return though in confident form, less hectic than before maybe but more substantial with the kind of mid-paced rocker that hasn’t done the Foo Fighters any harm.
Hipple Street are so out of step with anything else you’ll find on this page that it’s hard to know whether to damn or praise them. Alright, not that hard, but this bland, wine bar ‘80s style funk pop has already garnered them a top 30 hit so somebody must like it.
Producing a limited run of singles in hand made sleeves may seem rather at odds with the new ethos of the download, but Coleraine’s ‘The Sleeping Years’ looks keen to take care over everything they do. Essentially the work of Dale Grundle (once of the Catchers), battle your way into the thing and you’ll be rewarded by five tracks that are both simple yet expansive. Another singer songwriter yes, but as with fellow countryman Duke Special, one with a bit of spark to him.
The great thing about Amy MacDonald is that she does the simple things so well, managing to sound thrilling and alive when so many of her ilk fall flat. Acoustic guitar, mandolin, drums, that voice and the kind of cutting lyric that only the young can get away with – it all adds up to near perfection.
Not that you’d know it from the photo on the front (a bloke with red hair stood in front of a bus) but ‘Hanging Around’ is quite the winner, another record that tempts fate by going on about the summer although the upbeat nature of the whole thing carries it through, complete with shiny trumpet and rousing chorus. Good stuff.
Wrapped in one of the most ill advised covers we’ve seen for a while, Red Kid offer ‘Tangerine’ as the official song of the summer. Like the season itself, this is more of a damp squib, a fairly nondescript acoustic indie tune that harbours desires to be anthemic but is just a bit dull.
Something of a holding pattern for the Delorentos, with their album being rightly acclaimed in all quarters, the need to keep providing singles leads us to ‘Stop’. They’re still streets ahead of most of the other domestic bands at their level though and the Jape remix proves that they’re keen to keep moving forward.
Quite why Fred have yet to reap the acclaim they deserve is a puzzle, although taking two years to come up with any new material probably won’t have helped. ‘Good One’ does what they do extremely well, an off-the-wall pop song complete with a cool girl group backing vocal that demands to take its place at the top table. Now let’s hear some more.
Funny how things change. When Jenny Lewis released her solo record a couple of years ago, a few people in the know recognised her as ‘that singer from Rilo Kiley’. Now this release will be greeted by a lot more people as from ‘that band with Jenny Lewis in it’. Whatever, those who come to this either through Rilo’s alt country or Lewis’s gospel tinged work will find this something of a shock. A dirty sounding rock groove, complete with X-rated video, it seems as though absence has made the sound grow heavier.
Although the sound of 30 people making music is always going to have an uplifting edge to it, the songs here are less self-consciously happy-clappy than before.
Hellogoodbye are on a cool indie label and have played on the Vans Warped tour. It’s quite a surprise then to find out that they actually sound like Steps.
When The Twang get it right they achieve a lying in the gutter/staring at the stars poetic vision similar to Mike Skinner's. But these moments are in the minority, often replaced by a boorish, lads on the town vibe that doesn’t suit them.
Please, please, please ignore this album. Uncle Dysfunktional is a wretched experience. Ryder bellows his way through it all, banging on about drugs and low-life in a voice that can barely muster a tune.
‘Hunting For Witches’ is symptomatic of the problems that have surrounded Bloc Party across their second album. While the aims are admirable – expand the musical and lyrical outlook – it hasn’t quite come together. Here they take a look at the post-7/7 hysteria that engulfed the media, but there is far too much going on in terms of beats and noises to let the message break through.
Blame it on the sunshine, but Damo seems to have been afflicted with the Irish summertime weakness for lightweight reggae. While there’s certainly always been that element to his music, and with considerable success, this is not one of his bigger statements.
All change in the Bravery camp, it would appear. Gone are the silly haircuts, black nail-polish and ‘80s-influenced synth-rock, replaced by a fairly standard rock approach that sits somewhere between Feeder and The Killers and even references Bryan Adams. Get over the shock and it’s not at all bad, although whether their audience will go with them remains to be seen.
There’s something about the North that seems to bring out a rockier aspect in bands than is the case down South, and Belfast’s Arcane are further proof of the theory. The four tracks here each display a love for the classic bands of the metal genre, and are all played with passion, musicianship and an obvious depth of knowledge.
Making all the right noises for a while now, the Rumble Strips have still stayed on the fringes of the mainstream. ‘Motorcycle’ is an absolute belter of a track, all brass and quirky English attitude, yet still might be too off-centre to entice the floating voter. Still, a cracking Amy Winehouse cover confirms the impression that this is a band to keep tuned into.
For all the flak they get from parts of the press and large sections of music fans, you have to admit that at least the Fall Out Boy/My Chemical Romance/Panic At The Disco! axis are trying to do something different with what has become an extremely narrow-minded genre. The latest FOB is more of the same wordy, slightly too clever punk-pop but, next to the dreadful boneheadedness of Sum 41 (the cover features Mr. Avril gobbing), it sounds like high art.
Hitherto not a particularly enthralling proposition, Canada’s Tokyo Police Club seem to have finally hit their stride. ‘Your English’ is a rip-roaring little number, stuffed full of hooks and melody and energy. First class.
Hailing from Dublin, making a name for himself in California; Owen Brady seems to take inspiration from both sides of the Atlantic. However, he manages to combine the worst of both worlds, introducing a bland singer-songwriter ethic to an overly familiar, middle-of-the-road sound. Not my cup of meat.
It wasn’t so long ago that The Chapters shifted focus to immerse themselves in a love of all things Americana. Maybe I’m misreading it, but ‘Looking For Love’ suggests another change of direction, this time in favour of a tight garage guitar sound. It’s not a bad song by any means, but ‘Heart Of Glass’ (no, not a Blondie cover) – which is closer to the Americana blueprint – is far better, succeeding more by trying less.
Given that the Thunder, Lightning, Strike album was essentially the sound of one man in his bedroom, ‘Grip Like A Vice’ is the first time that the full Go! Team experience has made it into the studio. As such, it doesn’t disappoint. Everything we’ve come to expect from their live show is present and correct, all tied up in a record that is uplifting, full of righteous positivity and guaranteed to get the party started wherever they land this summer. Here’s hoping that the album will display a bit more progression but for the moment, the Go! Team are back and that’s all that matters.
What’s most striking about Tour De Flock is how unpopulist Bell X1 are. This is not a live album filled with huge, chest-beating anthems, but it works instead on a more intimate scale.
This isn't a dreadful record by any means, but it’s not very convincing either. The middle of road noise bears some relation to their past work, but lacks any of the grit or charm that made them such a cool little indie band.
Its industrial swamp rock production is also largely unrepresentative of the rest of the album, but Mütter is full of meticulous attention to sonic detail.
You could call this appearance by The Chalets at the Drogheda Arts Festival a comeback, but in truth it’s more of a partial return to action, a stretching of the legs.
1969 Records seems to be becoming a home for unappreciated Irish musical gems, and The Pale sound as though they’re revelling in working alongside Couse and Pugwash. Unlikely to bother the mainstream in a million years, ‘Elizabeth In Rags’ is still an old school Irish indie belter and proof that there’s life in some of the old dogs yet.
Camera Obscura have been making classy pop records for a while now and the recent album has been chock full of them. ‘Tears For Affairs’ isn’t quite as wonderful as ‘Lloyd I’m Ready To Be Heartbroken’ but still oozes style and panache.
He’s a law unto himself is Stef, making the kind of records that nobody else could get away with. ‘Poisonous Love’ is an ode to a doomed love affair that turns into a punk sea shanty and sounds like The Men They Couldn’t Hang. It’s also great.
A Dublin singer writing about guns could have rather unfortunate connotations these days, but Lynch’s country rocker places his story firmly in the realms of Dylanesque fantasy. It’s a hard thing to pull off when your from East Coast Ireland as opposed to West Coast America but he makes a fair fist of it.
Arriving with an armful of Arctic Monkeys connections (management, tours, hometown, early bands), Reverend And The Makers are fortunately far more than another bunch of soundalikes. Their sound is rooted more deeply in dance and funk, with the backing to their debut single proving to be one of those you know it but you don’t bass lines from some or other ‘80s track (The Jam? Teardrop Explodes?). As the title suggests, self-confidence is not an issue and that would be one thing they do share with Turner & co, as well as a love of John Cooper Clarke (who appears on the b-side). Good idea, whether it’ll carry or disappear commercially is hard to call at the moment.
“Rick Astley, Glenn Medeiros, Shakespeare…” – the beauty of a MJEX record is that you know that it’s going to do something different. This has gone beyond a question of ‘Irish’ hip-hop, the duo make great records full stop and ‘All The Other Girls’ is no exception, a rap track about women that is neither offensive, clichéd, tiresome nor afraid to wear its heart on its sleeve.
Stalwarts of the Cork scene and all that implies, Stanley Super 800 find their feet firmly on the first single from their Louder & Clearer album. This is indeed a step forward in terms of pure production, a chunky number topped off with a shiny trumpet and squiggly keyboard break. Throw in a fine song and everyone’s a winner baby.
Spotted in their native Derry before they’d even played a gig, Kharma 45 are clearly taking the major label route of yore, setting up base on the mainland. The input of cash is easy to see in terms of sight and sound yet whether their take on Primal Scream style electro punk is all there yet is open to question. Sounds just like what you’d expect from a song with the word ‘man’ in the title.
Can anybody really be getting excited at the prospect of another Chemical Brothers album, a band that started to go downhill after the opening bars of their first single? ‘Do It Again’ is more of the same, trying to pass off a nothing song as minimalist electro noodling. Dull, dull, dull… again.
Hitherto of very little interest to anyone outside of the NME inner circle, the Cribs have decamped to New York to work with Alex Kapranos and, on this evidence at any rate, get quite a lot better. ‘Men’s Needs’ finds them a lot more focused than before and sounding like a proper band as opposed to a bunch of drunk teenagers, all of which is an improvement.
Current rules of engagement don’t allow joint single of the fortnight status, but under any other circumstances Los Campesinos! would be right up there. Similarly, the plethora of exclamation marks should set alarm bells ringing, yet the Welsh seven piece are all about doing things their own way (the intro to the first track here is virtually as long as the entire second song). The whole thing fizzes with youthful exuberance (‘It Started With A Mixx’ takes pot shots at the very scene that spawned them) and a musical outlook that belies those tender years. Single of the Fortnight II, just don’t tell anyone
Hailing from Dublin and weighing in at over six hundred pounds, the Fight Like Apes experience is a chaotic clash of electronics and rock, topped off with a frontwoman who can soothe and confront in equal measures. As debuts go, ‘How Am I...’ is a serious achievement, a kaleidoscope of different ideas that somehow manages to hang together and forge its own identity. Most impressive of all, amongst the madness lie three genuinely great songs that – the odd swear word aside – could grace daytime radio with no bother. They’re pretty much everywhere over the coming months, not to see them at least once would be a crime.
The common view is that making throwaway pop music is a piece of cake, which is probably right unless you’re looking to produce something that will stand the test of time beyond two and a half minutes. The Radio fall into that trap, clearly trying to come up with something both light and substantial but ‘One Of Two Ways’ is just too flimsy, not helped by a complete lack of bottom end to the production.
Bedingfield’s second album is essentially more of the same, at times inspired (the suitably off-kilter ‘I Wanna Have Your Babies’), too often ploughing the safe middle ground.
Build Me A Swan ushers in a self confessed ‘second stage’ for the Chakras and, by the sounds of it, the rethink has done them wonders. They’re starting to sound like a six piece, shot through with the ambition to make big records. For something most probably recorded on a small budget, this is an impressively far reaching release, seven tracks, each one an epic.
A new name on the block, Codes sound as though they could develop into something rather fine. The epic keyboard-flavoured rock that has stood Royseven (and others) so well of late would seem to be the initial order of the day, although closer inspection reveals their own small stamp of identity at work. The fact that it’s a really, really good song doesn’t hurt at all. We like, let’s have a check back in six months and see if they can match our expectations.
There’s voices and there’s voices and then there’s Solomon Burke. And then there’s Dolly Parton. An album of country duets from Burke and various ladies may seem like the latest in a long line of such career reviving projects, but this is a stately song given a stately performance by two of the greats, and is really impossible to fault.
He’s a young man is our Ben but you’d never know it from his music, which places him firmly in the classic melodic rock/easy listening bracket. There’s an obvious debt to Van Morrison going on and a depth of musical knowledge (both evident on a version of ‘On Raglan Road’) but this does come across as a bit on the worthy but dull side. Listening to Mark Hogan is a far more exhilarating experience, backed as he is with a tight little three piece band and an approach to acoustic music that owes a debt to Ani Difranco. Horses for courses I know, yet sometimes you want music to thrill rather than impress you.
I should, by rights, given that I loathe the Scissor Sisters, find Mika equally annoying. ‘Love Today’ is essentially a SS record in every respect. Yet while you won’t ever find me feeling like dancing to Jake Shears & co, something about this Mika lad strikes a chord. ‘Grace Kelly’ was fab and this isn’t bad either. Strange days indeed.
Any Irish band who list Half Man Half Biscuit as an influence on their MySpace site have to be worthy of a listen, although the sound of Birkenhead’s finest is hard to detect. This is fairly standard punk pop stuff to be honest, not helped by an average production job but showing signs of perhaps better to come. It’s no ‘Trumpton Riots’ though.
It takes a mere few seconds of the first Dinosaur Jr record in God knows how long for the years to drop away. That familiar J Mascis whine, the desire to crowbar in a distorted guitar solo as soon as possible, and the feeling that, no matter how good this is (and it’s very good) they’ll never quite match glories of ‘Freak Scene’. Still, if this is anything to go by, it’ll be fun watching them try.
Not quite sure what the problem is with TG,TB&TQ, although raised hopes probably have a lot to do with it. ‘Green Fields’ is another very average release, lovely sounding, but offering nothing much beyond that. It threatens to build from a subtle start into something epic but then just stops at two and a half minutes, leaving you wondering how four such obviously talented individuals could find it so hard to come up with one complete idea.
The failure of the metal scene in Ireland to really take hold has always been a mystery, probably not helped by the continuing divisions and crappy attitude of other rock fans. Spare point up the depth of this folly. Sure, it’s rough around the edges and wears its influences on its black-clad sleeve but these five tracks carry more conviction, energy and desire than the majority of the records on this page.
Young men. Guitars. Sheffield. In a sense Bromhead Jacket are either feted or damned before you hear a note. In fact, with the record clocking in at under two minutes there aren’t that many of them but they are played with such wide eyed enthusiasm that cynicism is not an option. This is a heady cocktail of sharp lyricism and blunt playing and before you ask, yes it is better than ‘Brianstorm’.
You know you’re getting older when new artists come along who were first inspired to pick up a guitar by Pete Doherty. Glaswegian Amy MacDonald is part of the new wave of musicians, equally versed in all aspects of the medium. What impresses most is that she has both a young and old head on her shoulders. She may take a great deal of her motivation from the sheer thrill of making music and hanging out with bands (her online diary gushes with tales of sitting behind the Killers at the Brits and the like) but ‘Poison Prince’ belies a maturity beyond her years. Her voice is rich and clear and the song marries a mainstream sheen with the kind of Scottish folk twang so beloved of the missing in action Sons And Daughters. An album follows in the summer, I’d keep an eye out if I were you.
Always one of our more sensual performers, Maria Doyle Kennedy’s return is still a touch disarming and one not likely to help her reintroduce her musical skills on a widespread level. Still, if Ms. Kennedy herself isn’t bothered then let’s not worry ourselves. ‘Fuckability’ is a hell of a record, full of hazy effects and deep and dirty sounds. Buried somewhere amongst it all is still one of the finest voices this country has ever produced and one that is obviously not averse to taking more chances than most of her contemporaries. Best thing she’s ever done by a mile.
The Point is stuffed with row upon row of kids with glow sticks, light up bunny ears, pop corn and hassled-looking parents. They’re waiting for the Sugababes. And waiting. And waiting.
The makers of the internet broadcast show Balcony TV may recently have found themselves in the middle of a controversial copyright battle between YouTube and Viacom.
There have always been two main problems with Good Charlotte. One, they have lousy timing. Two, while a lot of people love them, an equal amount loathe them.
‘Love Like Nicotine’, the exciting single from Dublin-based Dark Room Notes, is a classy and hugely promising debut for this electro-rock four-piece. The swooping intro immediately grabs your attention, the chorus is catchy, and the vocals are intense throughout. ‘Love Like Nicotine’ has up-and-coming producer Ciaran Bradshaw behind the reins, and, as an added bonus, the single has been remixed by both Trixton and Flood for the B-side. The Dark Room Notes are a welcome introduction to our radios: sharp, edgy, seamless electro-rock. More of the same please.
Not enough hip-hop mentions Safeway trolleys, nutters with ginger beards and Sega Megadrives. For that reason we should cherish Lady Sovereign, who managed to take such arcane references and turn them into US gold dust. It helps that her beats follow the standard American pop rap model. You have to admire the sheer absurdity of it all.
The key words to note here are ‘featuring Natalie Cole’. Think about it. Macy Gray was supposed to be the great soul hope for this generation, a woman blessed with talent and attitude in equal measures. Yet here she is making bland records with Natalie Cole. This is not what we had the right to expect.
Can it really be seven years since Donaghy penned the Sugababes ‘Overload’, jumped ship and largely disappeared? Despite high hopes, her solo career has been faltering at best. Now on her second label, it seems strange to talk about last chances for a 22-year-old. Although dramatic in scope and intention, ‘Don’t Give It Up’ might still not be the right kind of record to bring her back into the limelight, proving as it does a clumsy collision between lightweight pop verses and Kate Bush style chorus.
Quite what we are to make of Klaxons is proving confusing, as they lurch from the ridiculous ‘Magick’ to the sublime ‘Golden Skans’ in the space of two singles. ‘Gravity’s Rainbow’ sits somewhere in the middle, a chaotic mish mash of ideas and lyrical nonsense. Shouldn’t work, nearly does.
We should always make room in our lives for a bunch of eccentric Brazilians peddling their own brand of down and dirty dance music, and just because CSS happened to pop up first doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t give Bonde Do Role a bash. Their own particular remit is a mad take on funk carioca, the sound of Rio De Janeiro’s shanty towns, and one that mixes old skool hip-hop with punishing electro (courtesy of M.I.A. collaborator Diplo) and comically dirty shout-rapped Portuguese lyrics. Solta O Frango translates as Release The Chickens, which is all you need to know.
Blessed with two snarling front men and a bag full of Brummie attitude, The Twang should sound hard as nails. Their debut single is a much less confrontational affair, peppered with chiming guitars and expansive melodies. Not what we might have expected but a great song and certainly worthy of some of the hype.
Before us stands the bookish wing of the Britpop revolution return, refined and cultured in contrast to the Monkeys’ gruff Sheffield charm. Bloc Party’s second coming has been fairly underwhelming and although ‘I Still Remember’ works better away from its poor parent album, it still lacks any real spark. Arch swots MP (I mean c’mon, umlauts?) are full of spark, although they don’t appear to have moved on from the jerky synth pop of two years ago. Progression, eh? Damned if you do, damned if you don’t, poor sods.
With a name like that and a song title like that you might reasonably expect this to be an edgy, aggressive experience, and although The Spikes do go for dark and menacing, it all sounds a bit flat. The problem could well be that in reality this is a 2FM session track given a bit of a polish. Which maybe wasn’t the best idea.
If you’re going to tell a lie, make it a big one. Likewise, if you’re going to have influences, you may as well make them obvious. The Irish/British hybrid that is Sister makes no bones as to what kind of music inspires them (their name stems from the Stones/Marianne Faithful ‘Sister Morphine’). So if any or all of the following float your boat – Mazzy Star, Velvet Underground, Sonic Youth – then you’re going to just love Sister, and with good reason. They might not be reinventing the wheel but this is mightily impressive stuff.
Well now, what kept them? Gone are the days when the Stone Roses would take an age to follow up a groundbreaking debut. Instead the Arctic Monkeys return in less than a year. Good to have them back and all that, but maybe they could have done with a bit longer. The breakneck pace of ‘Brainstorm’ certainly suggests a band in a hurry, yet, if we can be frank for a moment, the tune itself isn’t much cop. You might think this precludes the Monkeys from bagging ‘single of the fortnight’. Such is the sheer ubiquity of the track, however, we’ve decided to bend our house rules a little. Because, whichever way you look at it, ‘Brainstorm’ is the most important record to fetch up on our singles pile lately. And so the gong goes to the urchins. Still, we’re expecting better things from the new album.
Nina Hynes has clearly found her own path and nothing looks set to dissuade her from following it. That mainstream world will obviously have to wait a little longer.
Good lord, it's 1988 all over again. Strummed acoustic intro? Check. Soaring fiddle from the Wick? Check. Gurgling Hammond? Check. The 'boys might be a little greyer around the temples, but rather than sounding like a rehash, this pugilistic little folk-rocker rollicks along at a rather exuberant 'Fisherman's' clip.
‘Click..Click..Boom!’ sounds for all the world like it should be a hip-hop track and there is a certain swagger and assurance at work here. Musically, this is a duet that sits on the edge of darkness and a track that places itself firmly in the eye of the storm. Producer Karl Odlum continues to bring out the best in Ham Sandwich (b-side‘Song In D’ is, to be honest, equally good) and there is a sense that they could take this anywhere they please. Best new Irish band? At the moment they’re a shoo in.
Proof that sometimes band competitions can be a good thing, Dublin’s The Coronas walked off with the Jack Daniels JD Set a while back and the confidence boost it’s given them is clear. ‘Decision Time’ is a fine debut, a record that sets its own agenda from the off and doesn’t let itself be hurried into showing its hand.
Yet another band to receive a massive push from the BBC Sound Of 2007 poll, Ghosts display a similarly grit free approach to music as the hotly tipped Mika. Thus the sound of 2007 is clearly the sound of 20 odd years ago, bright and breezy but not entirely cutting edge. Think a sunnier Feeling, if such a thing were possible.
That Charlotte Hatherley managed to produce a solo album as complete and focused as Grey Will Fade while holding down a day job with Ash was no mean feat. Now with that pressure removed, the results so far haven’t suggested that this has been an entirely good thing. Like ‘Behave’ before it, ‘I Want You To Know’ is a jumble of ideas that never quite gel. Somewhere in here is a fine song – you’re just hard pushed to find it amongst the mess. Hatherley has the potential, if not the right, to become a rock icon – she’ll need to make better records than this if she’s to attain such a status.
This year’s Brits provided few moments of genuine horror, with the notable exception of Stone’s stupefying turn, who tottered around, sending out love to Robbie Williams in a god-awful trans-Atlantic accent and trying to upstage Amy Winehouse. A bad move and one that could single handily de-rail her comeback, which is a shame because ‘Tell Me ‘Bout It’ is a decent record, brimming with hip-hop attitude and Motown cool and perhaps the first real indication of what she could be capable of.
There’s something oddly appealing about a rock band from Limerick writing a song called ‘Bootie Call’ and thankfully the actual record matches the prospect. This is genuinely original stuff, delivered with a gravely vocal and impressive musicianship. B-side ‘Underground’ is less of a revelation though so there’s still work to be done.
The Sunshine Underground were recent stars of the Indie Rave tour with Klaxons and CSS, although the indie guitar of ‘Borders’ would suggest that they have as much to do with rave as, well Klaxons and CSS. Fine, fine tune though. CSS themselves have found their label the subject of a major label buy out and so the process of pushing their album begins all over again, strangely with this rather lack lustre affair.
It can’t be bad being Iain Archer. Play huge gigs with Snow Patrol, collect the royalties for ‘Run’ and then get back to making your own music. ‘Minus Ten’, though, suggests that things have got a little too comfortable in the Archer household. This is nice enough but missing the kind of bite that he displayed on ‘When It Kicks In’.
The sound of young Coventry? Not the kind of phrase to send you into a head spin of delight, although the Ripps might go a long way towards rehabilitating the Midlands music scene with their rabble-rousing guitar rock. Nice nod to the sound of old Coventry with a none to shabby Specials cover too.
Delorentos seem to have been with us for an age, outdone only by The Rags in taking their time releasing that long awaited first album. ‘Basis Of Everything’ is one last, download only salvo before said LP arrives in April but it indicates just how much this cautious approach has paid off. As with everything they’ve put their name to, this screams quality, conviction and promise. New Irish band of the year? Look out Ham Sambo, there could be a battle on the horizon.
There is an expectation that bands from Cork will offer us something new and fairly unhinged. Eve Of Mind could be praised for breaking that particular mould, with this toothless take on mainstream rock. Time to let a few of those unusual local influences creep in?
Charity albums don’t normally have the legs to stagger through to a second single, but then again few have been put together with such care and love. ‘Black Winged Bird’ sees Ireland’s international borders stretched slightly to include Sweden but it’s something we can overlook, seeing as The Cardigans’ Nina Persson turns in such a stunning performance on this elegant ballad.
Instead of the usual disheartening trudge, January this year proved to be a rather uplifting affair – musically at least. A large part of the reason was the release of the Decemberists’ The Crane Wife, a record that managed to be both intricate, complex and accessible at the same time. For those new to the cause, ‘O Valencia!’ is a perfect place to start; a joyous and invigorating thing of beauty.
While last year’s success of a whole string of Irish bands is an unquestionably good thing, you do wonder where it leaves the more experimental ends of the domestic scene.
“Goth groove” hopefuls Angel Pier are only a year in existence but already they’ve wooed audiences from Galway to New York. Might they be Ireland’s next break-out success?
Gone is the major label deal, along with most of The Ataris' members, and Welcome The Night sees them return as a seven-piece, complete with cello player and handling their own affairs.
After two years and two limited releases, the Evil Harrisons finally hit their stride in spectacular fashion. Six tracks on a debut single may seem to be a bit presumptuous but, like The Rags before them, they exude the confidence to make it all sound effortless. The pick of the bunch is ‘Some Grand Plan’, a bizarre clash of guitars, vocals that sound like Bob Dylan having a go at rapping and a shuffling dance beat.
The other five tracks are no slouch either, displaying an equally admirable disregard for convention. With both 8Ball and The Rags themselves gone AWOL, this might just be the lot to do it.
And so the transatlantic battle for musical domination continues like some game of long distance ping-pong. This time last year it was all about the Arctic Monkeys, a couple of years ago it was Britpop. Come 2007 and all the buzz is around The Hold Steady, Decemberists and some bunch called Arcade Fire. Most exciting of all, however, are South California’s Cold War Kids. On the heels of last year’s astounding ‘We Used To Vacation’, ‘Hang Me Up To Dry’ is equally memorable, a collision between tight, clipped rhythms and raw, emotion-drenched vocals. Quite stunning, and you can’t help feeling that this is only the beginning.
Although they seem to have been a name to drop for a few years, Dave’s Radio have taken to now to release their first record. Whether the time spent preparing themselves was well spent remains to be seen. ‘Kids’ is a good song certainly and one that is played with conviction, yet it does sound a little too like a standard guitar record to really stand out. The second acoustic track doesn’t offer any more clues – we’ll have to wait for the album to see if their original promise can be lived up to.
That the Duke is one of the most exciting talents to emerge from these shores in a long while is now a given. What is of more interest is what the rest of the world will make of him. ‘Freewheel’ is a fine place to start, a record imbued with such a classic feel that you swear he’d been doing this stuff for 20 years. Absolutely stunning.
With some bands you sense the difference between cult obscurity and the mainstream could come down to just one record. Mr Hudson and The Library would seem to be just too off kilter for mass consumption but ‘Too Late, Too Late’ distils their scattergun approach into a radio friendly mix of reggae, ska and hip-hop.
Nas continues to turn out some of the most original rap around. ‘Hip-Hop Is Dead’ is a pretty damning critique of the state of the genre, but is undermined by the appearance of Will.I.Am of the flipping Black Eyed Peas.
Whatever the scepticism that this whole new dance thing generates, even the hardest cynic has to admit that the punters are going for it and there are a few great records coming out of it. Klaxons' latest is one, as was New Young Pony Club’s ‘Ice Cream’. ‘The Bomb’ isn’t quite up to the standard of either but is nice enough in its own, detached electronic way. Still what any of this has got to do with rave is beyond me.
Yes, the one with all the swearing on it – with all the swearing removed. A snaggle-toothed bile-dripper ‘Rootless Tree’ was the slow-burn stand out on Rice’s 9 album; cleaned up for radio, the song retains its haunting reach. Points are deducted for the recycled card sleeve, though. There is such a thing as trying too hard, you know.
Mika is too good to be true – in a very scary way. A waxy , cravat-wearing synergy of Rufus Wainwright, Freddie Mercury and Scissor Sisters, this 23-year-old Londoner of Lebanese extraction deals in glitter-ball piano balladry: imagine a Queer Eye For The Straight Guy make-over of James Blunt and you’re in the zone. Obviously, ‘Grace Kelly’, a dandy-ish ode to looking fantastic in ruffled evening wear, is going to sell and sell and sell – six months from now Mika may well be the most hated man in pop. So let’s enjoy him before the taste-makers sink fangs into his taffeta- coddled rump.
The Irish band of last year by some measure, the Blizzards’ ascent is most notable for how far they’ve come in such a short space of time. ‘Fantasy’ offers more of their spirited punk pop but it’s B-side ‘Sweet As Sound’ that proves just what they’re capable, a subtle little tune that builds to a harmony-filled conclusion and is an easy match to anything on the album. The only way, it would seem, is up.
As The Shins start yet another year tipped as one of the next big things, they must be starting to feel that overnight success is taking a rather long time.
Trading on your old reputation and banging out the hits is one thing, but venturing back into the studio to resurrect your career as recording artists? Surely that way lies madness.
Propelled by a shuffling, laid-back beat, Hourican’s debut is an immediate attention grabber. Subtle backing from his band adds an extra dimension to a really good song. It also provides a nice contrast to the stark solo piano reading of ‘Lost At Sea’. Hopefully there will be more to come.
The ubiquitous ‘Monster’ may have been this year’s ‘I Predict A Riot’ but you suspect that The Automatic are a little too edgy for any sort of mass consumption. It’s both their strength and their weakness. ‘Raoul’ is another edgy pop song with a huge chorus, although the high-pitched shouty bloke on keyboards can be a tad annoying. Generally a winner, though.
Good stuff from the North West. Running For Cover manage to avoid the usual pit falls that await a band at their level by producing an expansive four-tracker that sounds suitably expansive that demands your immediate attention.
Few inside or outside the Duke Special camp could have predicted that 2006 would be quite such an astonishing year. Yet here he is, rubbing shoulders with the elite and being praised from all quarters. Well deserved it is too and ‘If You Go Down To The Woods...’ is a good example of the attention to detail that has helped along the way. Four tracks, all up to his usual standard and featuring yet another jaw dropping cover, this time of Razorlight’s ‘Stumble And Fall’. Most excitingly, you have to feel that this is just the beginning.
If anyone looked set to be a solo megastar once they had dumped the band who helped them make their name it was Gwen Stefani. And yet, while her profile is higher than ever, her records haven’t exactly been the stuff of legend. However, her previous efforts feel like works of genius compared to this bafflingly bad effort. For no apparent reason it samples ‘The Lonely Goatherd’ from The Sound Of Music and features Gwen yodelling over a complete non-entity of a backing track. Perhaps the worst record of the year.
I may be wrong but this seemed to be a year when, despite a new album, Frames hysteria cooled somewhat. ‘Sad Songs’ is another okay single – sincere in the extreme, just not particularly exciting or memorable. Time for a rethink maybe.
As another bunch of hapless X Factor wannabes battle it out for the privilege of overnight obscurity, what better time for the clicking and clicking of 10 high heels to come marching over the horizon: a reminder that not all reality show graduates are abject failures – just most of them. It isn’t a GA “original” but it may as well be. Cranked up to the max by Xenomania, this is further proof that they are the finest pop group since the Spice Girls.
Quite how this British Sea Power/Electric Soft Parade side-project became such a lauded concern is a bit of a mystery, yet Brakes have found themselves quite the name to drop of late. ‘Hold Me In The River’ is more of the same and absolutely the better for it, a twisted power pop anthem that has echoes of the Pixies at their most gloriously perverse. All in under two minutes too. Fantastic.
Thomas “Pugwash” Walsh has put together a supergroup of sorts (Neil Hannon, someone from XTC). Writing a decent Christmas single isn’t the easiest of tasks and, while this probably won’t end up as one of the standards, the cheeriness behind it all shines through. A suitably uplifting ditty that showcases the breezy approach to songwriting that Walsh makes his own all year round.
For those who aren’t fans of Super Furry Animals, the thought of a Gruff Rhys solo record is not exactly thrilling. ‘Candylion’ is a simple enough little number, short on lyrics and long on innocent charm. In fact, it borders on the unforgivably twee. Ultimately, it manages to stay on the right side of the divide – though not by much.
Of the many affecting moments in the recent Arena Pete Doherty documentary, one that sticks out was the final, lengthy shot of Doherty travelling home after a gig, singing along dreamily to Radiohead’s ‘High And Dry’.
After seeing him lost in so many ways, it was rewarding to see him simply lost in music. And rewarding it is, too, to be able to write about Doherty as a musician rather than a red-top hellraiser. I’ve never really bought into all the artist of his generation stuff (The Libertines had a handful of admittedly memorable moments; Babyshambles have been pretty ropey across the board) but this might just be the turning point. For a start, it sounds like a proper record, well produced and actually featuring fully formed songs as opposed to the half-baked ideas of before. Good songs they are too, with three of the five tracks (‘The Blinding’, ‘Beg Steal Or Borrow’, ‘Sedative’] easily up there with his best work. Whether this creative upswing can continue will depend on a lot of obvious factors – this is a reminder of the living, breathing talent behind the tabloid titillation.
A Belfast band on a Dublin label with their musical vision cast further afield, Panda Kopanda are keeping all their bases covered. Weighing in at a meaty five tracks, their second release suggests that they’re not short of confidence in their own material. A DIY approach leaves it all lacking a bit in the production department, although it suits their left field attitude to all things guitar-orientated. Fans of the US underground should definitely make their acquaintance.
Given his self-promoted position as the saviour of hip-hop, Afro American culture and the third world’s water supply, you’d have thought that Jay Z would come out of retirement with something of a killer. What we get instead is a very run of the mill effort, weighed down with a ton of busy samples and the usual tired bravado. Kanye won’t be losing any sleep.
Mis-Teeq’s relative failure to make it really big was one of music’s great mysteries (although Alesha’s recent proclamation that the other two were totally talentless might have had something to do with it). Such confidence is evident in ‘Knockdown’, an absolute pearl of a pop single. The fact that it comes straight off the Xenomania conveyer belt undermines its claims to creative genius a touch, but this is a great record in anyone’s book.
To put it bluntly, they’re a bit rubbish. Third album in and not a lot has changed: this is a lightweight collection of cheery pop rock that pretends to have an edge.
House heroes Faithless are back and this time they’ve got some words of wisdom for young bands. Such as: don’t sign to a major until you’ve already got millions of adoring fans.
I’m not sure what I expected from my first Ham Sandwich experience: probably something a little kooky, a bit amateurish and not particularly riveting. Wrong. This is a record of no little intensity, slow burning from a quietish start into something potent and memorable. There are so many things to recommend it – but let’s just stick with the controlled power that the band exudes and Niamh’s truly wonderful vocal. ‘Words’ deserves to be nothing less than their own ‘Nightrocker’, the kind of track that smashes all preconceptions and establishes Ham Sandwich as serious contenders.
Without wishing to trash the Hot Press party line, our Damien has always left me perplexed, uninterested and wondering what all the fuss could be about. Might '9 Crimes' be the record to change all that? Actually it might. This is lovely stuff, once again led by the twin muses of Lisa Hannigan’s voice and Vyvienne Long’s cello, although you have to wonder at the strategy of releasing it two weeks after the album.
The great and the good of Irish music (plus a couple of blow-ins) come together to support the Make Trade Fair campaign, and the music isn’t bad at all. Written by Paul Noonan and with vocals by Gary Lightbody and Lisa Hannigan, it’s not difficult to guess the musical direction – but happily ‘Some Surprise’ is a fine record in its own right. Fair play to the lot of them.
Give this a bit of time. The arresting song structure and tempo changes mean that the opening track ‘Four Thorns’ doesn’t lodge fully in the brain on first listen – but with repeated exposure it emerges as a powerful and ambitious statement, featuring Ross McNally’s distinctive, emotionally appealing voice. The Chapters have retained the fragile elements that made their debut EP The Indecision Of Arthur Molloy so enchanting, but have added a muscular, masculine quality that will have fans of The Band swooning. There is a pop dimension at times in the choruses that recalls The Eagles – but behind the sweeter moments lurks something epic. There’s a great album in there, waiting to be made…
Good Irish hard rock has been a bit hard to come by, but this is a very, very promising debut from the Dublin six piece. The arrangement is clever, and the extravagant keyboard flourishings are impressive. The sound is a bit flat, more like a demo than a single – but studio time with an established producer should sort that.
From New York, on a cooler than cool London indie label and remixed by the likes of Soulwax and Le Tigre, The Gossip are so achingly hip that the cynic in you really wants to hate this. Then the music lover in you takes over. This is absolutely incredible. Describing them as a punk gospel three-piece is not wrong; a rattling lo-fi tune topped off with a belting female vocal.
If it’s Thursday it must be time for the UK music press to invent a new scene. Thus following on from the New Wave of New Wave, Shoegazing, Britpop, the New Rock Revolution etc etc, comes the New Rave ‘movement’ and their trailblazing leaders, Klaxons. You might not be surprised to learn that Magick sounds nothing like the rave records I remember – and it’s really not at the races. They may well disappear, but beware: the New Wave of Irish Riot Rock is only around the corner…
This is good. From the conversational vocal entry, staccato guitar and throbbing drum part, there’s a Doors-ian strut to ‘In Love No More’ that is hugely refreshing. The guitar slashes are straight out of the Keith Richards textbook and there’s one of those small touches of brilliance that confirm the band have a pop sensibility in the judicious ‘Hey!’ thrown in at just the right moment on backing vocals. On this evidence, The Spikes know how to mine a good groove, keeping it tight and potent. Play it on daytime radio: the kids can stand the heat.
Another good year for Mr Enright, who must be feeling that things can only get better and better. ‘Love & Confusion’ is a suitably energetic live track, displaying a Springsteen-style ruggedness and exuding confidence. Comes with a new live track recorded at the Electric Picnic but, since it’s only a cover lasting 90 seconds, it’s not exactly a unique selling point.
Eagerly anticipated, the collaboration between Damon Albarn, Paul Simenon, Danger Mouse et al has been one of the year’s most exciting prospects. Now it’s here and… well, it sounds gorgeous, as you might expect – but the song itself isn’t worth all that effort. Please, please, please let this be just a glitch: this lot could be great.
Causing much excitement in certain circles thanks to its Pete Doherty/Carl Barat reunification process, this is a fairly standard Clash run-through. Hardly essential, although the cause it supports (www.strummerville.com) most definitely is.
Following the failure of their chief songwriters to scratch out much of a solo career, All Saints/Take That are back to have another pop. It’s a risky tactic, the stakes raised by a feeling that these tracks sound a bit like a Girls Aloud/Westlife album rather than anything new and exciting. Not bad but certainly no ‘Pure Shores’/‘Back For Good’.
More slightly unhinged Americana from The Killers, this time sounding for all the world like Meat Loaf – complete with brass section and over-the-top choir. It’s taken a bit of time to get used to their second coming but it’s starting to sound very natural all of a sudden.
Just how do you approach the task of reviewing a Warlords Of Pez record? If any band was designed to make the work of the music journalist redundant then this is it.
Songs titles like ‘Lonely At The Top’, ‘Great Big Rip Off’ and ‘The Higher The Highs’ tell the whole story. This is one of those dreaded ‘life in the public eye’ records and we have a right to be particularly worried at the outcome. Actually it isn’t bad.
Growing up in Sheffield, The Long Blondes’ Kate Jackson was sick of boring indie bands. So she decided to put together a group with a little more glamour about it.
Having spent the summer in Europe wowing huge festival audiences, Royseven are now concentrating on matters of a domestic nature. Phil Udell joins them as they experience the highs, lows and drunken dancing eejits of the Irish live circuit.
Not content with being a key member of the Damien Rice band, Vyvienne Long has released an EP that finds her doing wondrous things to the Flaming Lips and Pharrell Williams.
Much has changed in the Evanesence camp since their debut (band members, management, personal circumstances), but they’ve certainly chosen not to mess with the important things – the lavish booklet that accompanies this features a lot of shots of Amy Lee, less of the lads
For this year’s crop, it’s entirely possibly that Blood Mountain could be their Number Of The Beast or Wheels Of Steel. Those with the benefit of slightly more experience, however, will find that Mastodon offer little that’s particularly new.
Iron Maiden's past few years have seen something of a creative rebirth, with the return of their prodigal lead vocalist and 2003’s impressive Dance Of Death, culminating in this, their 14th studio record, and one that easily matches up to their best work.
A real firecracker of a single from Archer. Certainly, it’s the most raucous thing he’s put his name to so far. Containing references to his northern background, the record fizzes with tension and energy. Excellent stuff.
Recently seen alongside Jeremy Paxman on Newsnight, The Pipettes are becoming increasingly hard to escape. To be honest, why would you want to? This is more of the same from the trio (‘60s girl group pop with a modern day attitude) but their album is one of the year’s best and I for one can’t get enough of them.
So far best known as Damien Rice’s cello player and the provider of quirky cover versions, Long could well be a star waiting to happen. Birdtalk is a good place to start. The EP’s lead track ‘They’re Not Waving’ tries to balance drama and pop and nearly succeeds, while ‘Never Leave You’ has a downbeat, almost rap feel. While the two cover versions included (Pharrell Williams’ ‘He Wants To Move’ and the Flaming Lips’ ‘Yoshimi’) are both great, you still feel that they’ll still end up overshadowing Long’s own material, which would be a shame.
Preston’s reality TV gamble really does seem to have paid off. Not only are his band back from the brink of the no-deal wasteland, they’ve started making some pretty interesting records. ‘Lonely At The Top’ builds on a ‘Dancing In The Moonlight’ style bass line to produce an indie guitar song that has its eyes and ears open to a wealth of other influences.
A third single from a frankly piss-poor album, now with added input from the tabloid’s favourite – who’s bright idea was that? Whoever it was, take a bow, as ‘Prangin’ Out’ could go a long way to rescuing Skinner’s falling kudos. In fact, it was always one of the album’s highlights – probably all he really needed to say on the subject of celebrity meltdown – and Doherty’s spoken verse is heartfelt, fragile and actually quite moving. Who’d have thought it?
Saso wouldn’t exactly be what you’d call a singles band and thus ‘False Alarms’ wouldn’t be the kind of thing you’d expect to find itself on radio next to Justin Timberlake. Nevertheless, it’s another example of Saso doing what they do and doing it well: moody electronica with a meaty rock dynamic.
Given he’s got the mighty Born In The UK LP on the way, Damon Gough’s choice of comeback single is a little puzzling. A beautifully produced grand ballad certainly, and featuring a lovely vocal, 'Nothing's Going To Change Your Mind' just isn’t quite immediate enough to create a lasting impression.
I guess that a Johnny Cash dance mix was somehow inevitable, yet nothing can prepare you for how utterly depressing this piece of crap is. As heard at football matches, European holiday resorts and dodgy nightclubs up and down the land and, in a word, hateful.
After the relative disappointment of their debut record, we really need these two to come back strongly and prove that Irish hip-hop actually is a viable concern. The good news then, is that ‘Something Out Of Nothing’ is a belter: a cool and funky old-skool tune topped off with a classy female vocal. Nothing particularly new to be sure, but carried off with confidence and humour.
Plan B has done for UK hip-hop, so might Get Cape, Wear Cape, Fly do for punk rock. Similarly based around one young man and a bashed-up acoustic guitar, ‘The Chronicles Of A Bohemian Teenager’ has a terse, tense intro that suggests it might explode into some kind of emo anthem – and it duly does. We’ve waited too long for someone to rescue the singer-songwriter tradition from the bland mush it’s turned into; in this impassioned 20-year-old from Southend, we might just have found our own superhero.
‘Smile’ was a nice tune, but ‘LDN’ has always been the real jewel in young Lily’s crown, an infectious, joyous and utterly thrilling pop song that is impossible to resist (how could you not love the "Tesco/al fresco" couplet?) You do have to wonder if they haven’t missed the summer boat by re-releasing this so late in the year, although you suspect that this is all part of a plan to have a crack at the Christmas number one slot with ‘Littlest Things’.
For a few years now, Regan has been accumulating gradual credit with the music business, climbing to a point where he can enlist former Cocteau Twin Simon Raymonde to mix his album. Such input is largely absent here, ‘Put A Penny In The Slot’ being a very simple acoustic track that doesn’t bother itself with such things as choruses, hooks or a hugely memorable melody. Nice enough but not really good enough.
Part of the new wave of Irish major label signings, Director sound oddly lacklustre on their second single. The song itself is alright, even if the chorus seems to belong to a different track altogether, but the production is flat and nothing here suggests that Director having anything different to offer. Maybe the album will prove otherwise (and it would be great to see some home grown talent on the bigger stage). For now though, this is decidedly underwhelming.
So here they come, another band from Cork – surely now rivalling Dublin as the most creative place in Ireland. Except that Jodavino aren’t just another band from Cork. There’s a good deal of history to them, not least Joe Philpott’s stint in the much fancied Ruby Horse.
The Roots have always seemed to exist somewhere on the periphery of the hip-hop world. 2004’s The Tipping Point, however, suggested that they were moving in the right musical direction. Free-flowing and upbeat, it was easily their best record to date.
Although darker in tone, Game Theory is no less engaging, and has strong political undertones.
Given that The Killers’ opening string of near classic singles, ‘When You Were Young’ is a bit of a shock at first, being apparently devoid of any kind of hook. Give it a few listens however, and its subtle charms start to reveal themselves. They haven’t messed with the format too much, but there is a noticeable toughening up of the sound and an almost Springsteen-esque epic rock feel. Not the best record of the fortnight, but certainly the biggest and potentially most intriguing.
With music by Air and lyrics by Jarvis Cocker and Neil Hannon, ‘The Songs We Sing’ was always set to be a classy affair. In fact, the only weak link is Gainsbourg herself, who doesn’t particularly do it justice, delivering it in semi-bored film-star fashion. The good news is that the Jarvis revival continues at a steady but reassuring pace.
Until Plan B came along, Sway was pretty much fighting a rear guard action in the name of UK hip-hop, although his beats were a little abrasive for mass consumption. The Stanton Warriors have done a fine job placing him in a more electronica-styled setting that allows him to deliver his one liners with an easy poise.
You have to suspect that, if it were not for their knack of knocking out the odd pop gem, the Dandy Warhols’ 15 minutes would’ve been up long ago. This isn’t quite one of those, although it does have that genuinely unhinged feel to it that has characterised their best work.
It’s always interesting when an Irish band appear from nowhere all but perfectly formed. Mind you, Royseven have previous form as Jove, and have been honing their new incarnation around the Europe circuit. Both factors show through on a confident, emotive and expensive-sounding debut that attempts to muscle in on the already crowded epic rock market.
Fair play to Yorke for continuing to do his own thing. Yet why does it have to be quite so unlistenable? ‘Harrowdown Hill’ deals with yet another Big Subject (the death of Dr David Kelly) but is really a collection of electronic doodlings and off-key vocals. Portentous and challenging it may be, a good record it isn’t.
Muse, meanwhile, have gone from Radiohead copyists to bright stars. ‘Starlight’ is yet more proof that their new approach is a very good thing indeed, a sparkling pop song that throws everything at the studio wall – and sticks.
Although they’ve been knocking around Dublin for 18 months, the Ramparts are far from the finished article. Everything here is just short of the required standard; the songs, the production, the presentation. They need to up their game.
Little Man Tate are a young four-piece guitar band from Sheffield. Go ahead and take a wild guess at who they’re being compared to. Yes, the similarities are there – the distinctly northern outlook, an eye for the smallest detail and the exuberant rush of youth. ‘House Party At Boothy’s’ is a classic pop single with nothing more pressing on its mind than girls, beer and fags, but that matters little when the result is this memorable. They’ve got a mighty large shadow to step out from under, but I wouldn’t bet against Little Man Tate becoming their own men before very long.
The Cronin Brothers have come a long way with their group The Aftermath since leaving Longford to make their fortune. With friends like the Kaiser Chiefs and fans like Chris Moyles, they’re on the brink of making it big.
They have the tunes to back up their enigmatic image, and it looks like ¡Forward, Russia! will be storming the Winter Palace of indie rock before you can say “Lenin”.
The thing about Slayer is, you always know what you’re going to get. Give or take a couple of fan-dividing diversions (based on something as radical as slowing down a touch), Slayer have been making the same record for 25 odd years now.
It’s an infectious experience, one that satisfies both your intellect and your musical taste, and is easily the best thing that Franti has ever put his name to.
Having dispatched that difficult second album with admirable panache, Republic Of Loose are gearing up for the festival season, most notably a Saturday night headline slot at Castlepalooza. Mick Pyro talks us through his outdoor survival guide.
Millan comes stamped with the Broken Social Scene/Stars seal of approval, serving time in both bands as a vocalist, so in theory ‘Baby I’ should be something to get quite excited about. In reality it’s an acoustic stroll that doesn’t ever find second gear. An interesting voice in search of a better song.
When we first awarded The Basement the SOTF accolade three years back, they seemed destined to become the Derry wing of the psychedelic Scouse movement alongside The Zutons and labelmates The Coral. Biding their time has worked wonders though, for just as that whole thing has petered out, The Basement come back sounding truly out on their own. 'I Just Caught A Face' still buzzes with the ramshackle charm of their early singles, threatening to fall apart at any moment, but somehow keeping it all together to remind you of Dylan at his freewheelin’ best.
Not many bands from Longford make their way into Chris Moyles’ affections, yet The Aftermath are proving adept at making friends in high places. It’s easy to see why. ‘One Is Fun’ is very now, a quirky guitar pop tune with a spring in its step. Of course the problem with being very now is that you soon become very yesterday, so let’s hope The Aftermath have got a good exit strategy worked out. For now though, good work.
I’ve always been a bit suspicious of Humanzi, a feeling it appears a few of you share if the HP message board is anything to go by. 'Diet Pills...' is alright though, a catchy little tune that motors along without being nearly as dangerous as it thinks it is.
In an issue stuffed with domestic releases of great variety and admirable quality, it’s a pleasure to give the nod to some home grown hip-hop for a change. Flip has made his name behind the decks (he was World Champion mixmaster a couple of years back) but has now started to forego playing other people’s records in favour of his own. This EP, however, could sit happily in his record bag next to the more established releases. The appearance of members of The Arsonists and Foreign Legion confirms his standing among the big underground hitters, and although their presence gives the two main tracks a more US than home feel, they suit the old school approach and sound perfectly. Now let’s see him turn his spotlight on his home town
While we all got caught up in the ‘Crazy In Love’ hysteria, let us not forget that the rest of Beyonce’s solo album was pretty poor, as was the final Destiny’s Child record. Sadly, the same goes for this. Jay Z sleepwalks his way through the rap while his missus overdoes the vocal. Somewhere in the middle sits a very average song, with five writers obviously not enough to come up with a decent melody. There’s a new album on the way, so the music industry Christmas rush, it would appear, starts here.
Ah, Cork, so much to answer for. All good, as it happens. Arm The Elderly are a quartet with a fair bit of experience behind them, but a good degree of fire left in their bellies. Like their neighbours Rulers Of The Planet, this is a punk rock in-your-face experience that sounds as though it’d be quite something live. You might have problems getting hold of it outside of the People’s Republic, but have a look at their MySpace site for more info.
Wayne Brennan’s debut single ‘And I Love’ spent three weeks in the Irish top 30, and it’s likely that this one, ‘Green Green Grass’ could do the same - not because it’s spectacularly good so much as perfect radio fodder with harmless lyrics and an upbeat head-bopping rhythm. You may find yourself nodding or humming along in spite of yourself, and there’s no denying Brennan’s voice possesses a rather alluring quality.
You do begin to wonder how the Pet Shop Boys keep managing to court critical favour, then you hear a record like ‘Minimal’ and that godfathers-of-electro tag makes sense. A little bit of New Order here, a touch of Kraftwerk there and a big dollop of dry English humour - in other words your typical classic Pet Shop Boys tune.
On paper it sounds like a novelty record disaster and just the kind of thing to put the skids under our favourite Latin acoustic metal duo. In truth, this cover of the Led Zep relic works incredibly well and has the potential to open mainstream doors across the water.
For a new band, Melophobics show admirable sense and restraint. The lead track ‘Babe (I Ain’t Leavin)’ takes its own sweet time in building to a climax, demonstrating a Republic Of Loose style mix of rock and funk. It’s great, although they do blow it slightly by letting the thing go on for too long, eventually clocking in at nearly seven minutes. If Melophobics can strike the right balance they could be well worth looking into.
If you think you’ve heard this one before, you probably have. 'The Great Escape' is one of those tunes that has been all over the place without actually being a hit, hence this re-release. It’s such a belter however, you wouldn’t begrudge them another shot. Arctic Monkeys love them and so should you. The kind of record that indie discos were invented for.
Snow Patrol should by rights have settled back into their bland phase by now, yet Lightbody & co are showing disturbing signs of still caring about the music they make. ‘Chasing Cars’ is lovely, again choosing to move slowly to a crescendo before unleashing a festival-slaying conclusion.
For all her genuine qualities, and the fact that she comes across as a decent and likeable person, underneath all the angle, hype and argument as to whether or not her story is genuine, Sandi Thom is really just another singer-songwriter.
Phil Udell switches into Marty Whelan mode as he joins The Chalets at a European rock festival with a difference - and lots and lots of lovely French wine!
The Feeling are being hailed as the pioneers of the new soft rock movement. Twelve Stops And Home isn’t exactly the REO Speedwagon tribute you might expect, but it does come free of any rough edges.
Coping Mechanisms is such an astonishing record. In many ways it’s very Dublin, and more specifically, very Trust Me I’m A Thief. But the important thing is this: if you thought you’d had it up to here with mumbling singer songwriter types, think again.
There’s something very right about the Rumble Strips, even before you hear a note. The name, the look, everything about them suggests a ‘50s-style cool mixed with a modern day attitude. Their actual music, meanwhile, brings a ‘80s rock meets soul vibe to it all. If you only know Dexys through ‘Come On Bloody Eileen’, check out the Strips, as we now feel duty bound to call them.
Hundred Reasons’ failure to transform critical plaudits into commercial success has baffled many of us, not least Sony who gave them the boot after the fantastic Shatterproof Is Not A Challenge album. Thankfully, they have a new home and have stuck to their guns. The Perfect Gift is really just another in a long line of emotion-drenched, sparkling rock songs but who would want it any other way. Hundred Reasons are a band who should be soundtracking a generation rather than dealing with record industry crap – so come on people, get with the programme.
There’s a cruel riposte here that we won’t stoop to making. Suffice to say that Rae is yet another of those frustrating artists with obvious talent who are making unforgivably bland records. The girl can sing without doubt, just get her some better songs.
If Live 8 did anything, it gave Johnny Borrell the chance to stand in front of the kind of crowd that he’s always imagined himself playing to, in his head if nowhere else. The fact that his band were one of the day’s most memorable moments has obviously rubbed off onto their recording as In The Morning is the sound of confidence, ego and belief. It’s great, not a little ridiculous and heads off into a Chic-style funk somewhere near the end.
Now you’re talking. Yes it’s from an advert, yes it’s been given a pointless remix and yes it all smacks of corporate box ticking but, boy, what a tune. I defy this not to put a smile on your face whenever you hear it and if it leads more people to discover Simone’s incredible ‘I Wish I Knew I Knew How It Would Feel To Be Free’ then who’s losing out?
Kelly is often talked about in admiring tones and it’s not hard to see why. 'Picture Of You' does the standard singer songwriter thing with great panache and, most importantly, no little sense of genuine drama.
She’s from New York, played with Antony and The Johnsons and is good pals with Rufus Wainwright – go on, have a wild guess what Joan sounds like. You’re right of course but this is no less lovely for it, a piano led ballad of impossible sadness and heartache.
Described as a one man sonic assault from Detroit, Jawbone lives up to his hype on this fearsome two-pronged attack on the blues. Roger Miller and Johnny Cash respectively get a good going over but you expect that both would have approved, as did John Peel who once spent the majority of a Jack White interview telling him how great this guy was. Download it from www.loosemusic.com.
For some reason, Delays always sound a lot better when the sun comes out so Hideaway couldn’t have arrived at a better time. The apparent electro direction of ‘Valentine’ has been ditched for a return to the guitars, yet this is still as bright and shiny as a new pin. In many ways it is the kind of both song and record that you might hear from one of the manufactured pop brigade – but that is by no means a criticism.
Written, recorded, arranged, produced and mastered in Kevin’s flat is the boast on this self financed release and, well, it shows. This is not only literally bedroom music but sounds like Nolan saw very little of the light of day when he was making it, such is the rather sinister mood. The complete lack of budget does tend to undermine the ambition, yet you can’t fault him for trying.
You can tell it’s festival season when singles start appearing from bands whose albums had started to gather dust on the shelves. Unwieldy of title and length, CYHSY’s ‘TSOMYCT’ has very little chance of doing anything mainstream radio-wise but works as a fine reminder that they are a great little band. Job done then.
Gary Numan is something of a phenomenon. He really should have become a relic of a bygone age, as relevant to 2006 as perms and Howard Jones. Yet thanks to some choice sampling (Sugababes, Basement Jaxx), countless credible endorsements, the 80s revival and a spectacularly obsessed fan base, Numan not only has never gone away, he is poised to make another comeback.
Sometimes the smallest things can make you love something even more. Amongst the series of press platitudes adorning Nerina Pallot’s debut album is one quote that stands out. “This really is quite good, even if it isn’t Celine Dion”: Nerina’s mum.
The four piece aim to make big, anthemic music, an approach that walks a thin line between success and overblown failure. Watch You Don’t Take Off not only walks that line with assured balance, it also shows signs of striding off into the realms of success.
Fifteen years since they first topped the Irish charts, The Saw Doctors remain one of this country’s most successful bands. So why do so many people still consider them a novelty act?
Underwater Cinematographer takes a few listens for the material to take hold, but the moments where The Republic bring it all together are worth waiting for.
Lifted from her acclaimed debut album, ‘Wondering’ is Beth Orton style smooth, jazzy music, perfect for those dinner parties thrown by late-20s urbanites and their perfectly co-ordinated crockery. What saves it from being music for people who don’t listen to music is Sproule’s distinctive voice, which is creamy (yes, creamy) and soaring in equal measure. Looks like Norah Jones has some tough competition.
Very reminiscent of Nellie McKay a few years back, Norweigian Hukkelberg deals in jazzy and enigmatic pop. ‘Do Not As I Do’ is understated in the extreme, but has a nice feel. Full marks too for the weirder-than-weird cover of the Pixies’ ‘Break My Body’.
For some reason every new Charlatans album seems to be regarded as a comeback, despite the fact that they’ve never really been away. In fact here is a band that has outlived baggy, Britpop (first and second version) and every other fad of the last 15 years. ‘Blackened Blue Eyes’ is a very Charlatans record but is none the worse for that, a groovy, Stonesy kind of thing that knows exactly who it is and how it’s getting home
Another bunch to emerge from some unknown place, Subzero offer much to impress, especially on the glam-rock-pop stomp of ‘Wrecked’ and ‘Watch The Freaks’. The songs are good but suffer from a recording approach that is a little too precise, whereas a bit more grit wouldn’t have gone amiss. At the moment this sounds like a polished studio project rather than a living, breathing band, but there is more than enough here to tempt us back for more.
Leya have been looking for the right song to fit their ambition for a while now, with the result that they’ve always sounded a bit hollow. 'In Our Hands' is exactly that song, epic and intense and all the other things that people say about Coldplay, Keane, Embrace and the rest. Thereby could lurk their problem, but at least now Leya really are giving their best.
With a title like that you need the attitude to back it up, and this South London trio have it to spare. Coming across like Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels set to music, this is scuzzy, lippy and exactly the kind of record that people think Pete Doherty is making but isn’t.
If Julie Feeney’s recent Choice Music Award win proved anything, it’s that there’s an appetite for something a little different creeping back onto the Irish music scene, something that isn’t straight ahead rock, indie or acoustic.
The timing, then, of this EP from Lieselle McMahon couldn’t be better. It has a similarly off-kilter feel to Feeney, replacing her organic instruments with a brooding electronica. Recorded in New York with Antony And The Johnsons producer Roger Fife, it’s dark, enigmatic and thoroughly refreshing. What we know about her could be written on the pack of a postage stamp, but this is a hell of a place to start.
Swooping in on a wave of Doors-y keyboards, this promises a psychedelic style wig out and nearly delivers. Built around a back-and-forth boy-girl vocal, the title track does the retro ‘70s thing (Deep Purple even spring to mind) without sounding like a pastiche, which is a neat trick altogether.
How much do we love the Pipettes? Let us count the ways. A ‘60s girl group for the riot grrrrl generation, they make disposable pop music that is built to last, and do it in matching polka dot dresses. ‘Your Kisses...’ is absolutely fantastic, and comes from an album that will most probably guarantees them media darling status and makes them your new favourite band. Love it, love it, love it.
Without wishing to sound damning, Aaron Smyth is a man setting a course firmly down the middle of the road. That isn’t necessarily a bad thing, as that’s where the huge majority of record buyers like to hang out. White On White deals in nice, well-put-together rock music with an American flourish and nice, well-structured songs. Not the coolest thing in the world, but not the worst either.
This shouldn’t really be our cup of tea, but O’Connor emerges from this issue’s singer-songwriter crop with top honours. Featuring a gentle piano, cello and acoustic backing, it’s an almost identikit Ben Folds copy (especially the vocal) yet still works well, maybe for that very fact.
The millionth Irish signing by Universal in the past 12 months, Mullingar’s power pop wizards The Blizzards unleash their major label debut – and it’s a good ‘un.
A record of distinctly odd combinations, with Shanley’s sweet vocals sitting awkwardly with Ronnie’s, shall we say, gravelly tones. Not too sure that his Spanish works that well either, but pleasant enough.
Purveyors of three-chord sci-fi punk metal, Coheed And Cambria certainly aren’t afraid of pushing the boundaries. But at its heart, their music is deeply personal, says frontman Claudio Sanchez.
Drunk teenage girls aside, is there anything quite more unappealing than a whinging pop star? Their logic is unfathomable - they make a record, we buy it and make them famous and wealthy, then they make another record telling us how crap their lives are now and try and sell it to us all over again so they can make more money and wallow in more misery.
The Pharcyde have probably seen a lot of things in their time, but even they might have been intrigued by the sights that greeted them as they arrived in Dublin. Giant leprechaun hats and beards, faces painted and a lot of bodily fluids flooding the streets, maybe St Patricks Day isn’t the most ideal time to form an opinion of the city. Yet, given the day that’s in it, it also serves as an opportunity to take stock of the state of homegrown hip-hop.
The boys are back in town and all’s right with the world.
Somewhere around half time however, something happens and the album This New Daymoves from classic Embrace to Embrace-by-numbers. The requisite factors are still there, yet the record ends up sounding just a little hollow.
The current perceived wisdom on hip-hop is that (a) no-one makes decent albums anymore, (b) the gangster culture and it’s huge mainstream success has left it a joyless, soulless beast with no social conscience, and (c) it makes for a crap gigging experience.
The word on Kanye West is that he is the one who could change all that.
They inhabit a musical no-man’s land between indie and metal. But that hasn’t stopped Boss Volenti building an impressive following. Now their sights are set on international fame words.
Get a cross section of the Irish music industry to record/re-record tracks in their native tongue, thereby focusing the attention of the very group of people who hold the future of the language in their hands. It could have been awful, of course, a crass attempt to get down with the kids and make learning cool. Yet Ceol ‘06 manages to work on a number of levels.
Two young Americans – one with a guitar, the other hitting things – plug in and set out on a journey of discovery, digging deep into the annals of American musical history. Sound familiar? Maybe, but – hard as it might be to imagine – there were musical duos before the Whites.
Given her association with The Strokes (Gordon Raphael sits at the production helm) and history of touring with bands like the Kings Of Leon, one might reasonably approach Regina Spektor’s major label debut with certain expectations – drums, guitars, that sort of thing for a start. Should we be surprised, then, to find that this is a largely solo piano-and-voice kind of record?
Jim Noir arrives onstage wearing a bowler hat, which is not something you see everyday but somehow fitting. For Noir, the first years of the 21st century are of little consequence.
Unless things change drastically, 2006 will be a year without both Coldplay and Franz Ferdinand – a state of affairs that will create the kind of vacuum that nature, and the music industry, abhors. So who will be rushing in, Keane-like, to fill the void?
Unless my memory deceives me, didn’t Christopher Wallace die around the same time as Diana? I know this because I remember Sting performing with Puff Diddy Daddy wearing a mourning suit. Anyway, while Diana has kept her public appearances to something of a minimum since, Biggie’s recording career has seemingly been unaffected.
Who’d have bet money on Sinéad O’Connor making such an acclaimed return to music with any album, let alone one made up of old reggae tunes? Still, that’s about the size of it and Untold Stories is one of that particular record’s stand out moments and ironically one of its least dub influenced. Instead, O’Connor focuses on the folk element of Jamaican music to stirring effect and ends up sounding more resonant than we might have reasonably expected. Mighty stuff.
Thank the Lord – at last something to set the heart racing. Okay, this is straight off the blueprint for the past 18 months but it kicks like a mule and wears its influences and its stylish pretension like a badge of honour. Possibly one the new bands of the year if people’s interest for this sort of thing manages to sustain itself.
If anyone could pull a post Christmas, ‘Bring Your Daughter To The Slaughter’ style chart scam who better than Belle And Sebastian? 'Funny Little Frog' is certainly one of the more cheery numbers in the B&S canon (on the surface at least) and their fan base need little persuasion to get mobilised. Like others on this page, however, this is still missing that vital something to push it from the perfectly fine to the unavoidably great.
Out with the old, in with the new. Well, that’s the theory at least. In reality, the first singles review of the year is usually a pretty uninspiring experience, featuring as it does the warmed up leftovers of last year’s trends as opposed to the dawning of a brave new world, which doesn’t actually appear till around the middle of February.
Pats on the back all round then for Glen Wash, who at least offer the stirrings of something interesting. Based around one guy, Niall Glennon, from Longford but recorded in Milan, this is most definitely on the rough side (our copy comes with a hand drawn sleeve) but smacks of promise. Presumably recorded on a budget approaching zero, Glennon/Glen Wash still have the audacity to try and create a wall of guitar sound that pays homage to the days of Ride, Swervedriver et al and just about pull it off. This is deep down and dirty stuff, imbued with a rock ‘n’ roll edge that has been sadly missing from the domestic scene of late. Our advice to Glennon – get yourself a band together quick and start gigging.
How long before someone bandies the phrase ‘doing an Arcade Fire’ in relation to this bunch? Give it five minutes. Granted that this has that same North American unhinged vibe to it, but CYHSY would look set to occupy a more cultish position. This is good in a quirky way, but a perhaps a little too aware of its own sense of importance to be particularly loveable.
It’s come to this, then, that one of the highlights of the fortnight is a slack-kneed stoner reggae version of a U2 tune. It’s not bad in a funny sort of way really, managing to undercut the original’s bluster but still capture the song’s feel.
It’s kind of hard to get worked up about Texas either way. They are simply too bland to love or hate. ‘Sleep’ sees them doing it for the kids of Children In Need so it comes with a Peter Kay video and a warm heart. May I advise you check out the band’s Rammstein collaboration instead and, no. I’m not taking the piss.
Sadly an apt title. Bolton makes all the right noises here but somehow comes up with nothing to really stick in the memory. Everything – the songs, the singing, the playing – is alright yet lacks anything to make it stand out. Strangely, it’s a problem that also afflicts the RDS bound Bell X1. For all their position as the people’s champions, this is a very ordinary kind of record I’m afraid, especially let down by a weak vocal.
For someone with Richard Ashcroft’s ego, the public’s general disinterest in his solo career must have been hard to swallow. If it has prompted a rethink however, 'Break The Night Colour' shows that it might be a masterstroke. This has the easy rolling feel that The Verve so revelled in, topped off with a vocal that is the aural equivalent of that mad Manc stare. Good to have him back.
:et’s be frank. For all the heavy hitters guesting on this, Mary J Blige’s seventh album, the majority of Hot Press readers will have their interest piqued by the appearance of a certain U2 on a version of a certain song.
For a while back there it looked like nu-metal was going to save rock music. Then we wised up and sent the angst-ridden, shorts-wearing whingers packing. Korn, however, never went away because they were there from the start, probably guilty of landing the whole thing on us in the first place
Music is not an exact science. It’s a living, breathing thing and that’s why we remember great gigs probably more than great records. It’s also why Giveamanakick’s second album bucks the trend and gives you that much sought after visceral thrill.
rom its sumptuous packaging onwards, there’s obviously been a bucketful of record company money spent here, perhaps in the hope that this will be the one to break the band on a worldwide level. It might well do that, but it won’t be down to any compromise on the band’s part.
By rights, this should be an awful novelty record. But ‘The J.C.B. Song’ is actually quite sweet. It is a simple track that looks at the world though a child’s eyes in an adult, lyrical manner. You’ll have heard it all over the place as the momentum gathers to push it to the top of the charts. I have to say that, musically, Christmas wouldn’t necessarily be a poorer place if it gets there.
The bloody bugger. Just when you thought it was safe to write Pete Doherty off as some kind of joke, back he comes with a record that actually does justify 90% of the hyperbolic crap that’s been written about him.
Albion actually does sound something like the work of a musical genius, a surprisingly subtle lament for England (“violence in dole queues and a pale girl behind the checkout”) that easily matches his former band’s fleeting moments of greatness.
Operating somewhat around the fringes up until now, you always felt that Tim O’Donovan just needed the right tune to really launch Neosupervital. ‘Nothing’ is that tune and then some, a spot on pop record that references all the right things and would sound equally fine on daytime radio as it would a packed dancefloor.
This would generally be the season when the new, interesting bands give up and leave it to the big guns to slug it out for the Christmas number one.
Milk Kan, however, sound as if they like a challenge, as well as a good scrap.
Others have made this point, but ‘Bling Bling Baby’ really does sound like The Streets rewriting ‘Subterranean Homesick Blues’, before veering off down a punk rock alleyway.
‘Real Fake World’, meanwhile, bounces along like Billy Bragg fronting the Clash and ‘Kill All A&R Men’ sounds exactly like you might suppose it does. It’s ridiculously early to be talking about the next Arctic Monkeys I know, but Milk Kan are already looking like they could provide us with a lot of interesting times in the year ahead.
Hard as it may be to believe now, in the late ‘80s to mid ‘90s Levellers meant an awful lot to a small number of people. Along the way, they helped change a fair few lives, mine included. It’s a shame then that they’ve released a series of such appalling records for the past six or seven years. Last Man Alive is approaching a return to form, displaying some of that old spirit.
Backed with a masterful Simon Friend solo number (their real trump card to be honest), it looks like their role in organising the excellent Beautiful Days festival has re-energised them. This may not mean an awful lot to a large number of people but is pleasant development for a few of us.
Can there be anyone out there more tuned into the pop zeitgeist at the moment than this lot? With single after single proving the case, the serious critics are now falling in line as well and See The Day is more of the same. It pulls that old stunt of covering a forgotten ‘80s song (‘Dee C. Lee’ in case you were racking your brains) and turning it into a modern, state of the art tune. Tut all you want purists, but you really can’t beat Girls Aloud, so you may as well join them.
Sorry not to get swept up in it all, but is the second Franz album really that good? To be honest, I’m not convinced and ‘Walk Away’ is not the kind of song to change my mind. It is a fairly dull mid-pacer that sounds positively pedestrian next to Maximo Park, Bloc Party et al.
If Leya have one thing in their favour, it’s the self belief to make grandiose, epic music at a time when the emphasis has been on keeping things tight and structured.
That alone might be enough to carry them through, although ‘On All My Sundays’ suggests that their songwriting is beginning to match their ambition. A good way to end a good year.
Ireland could without doubt do with a healthy domestic rock and metal scene. You wonder, though, whether Jaded Sun are the ones to kick start it. They certainly approach their task with gusto. But there is nothing here to mark them out from the influences that they so clearly draw upon. I’m sure they provide a great night out. On record, they need more work.
There’s a lot of goodwill out there to Joe Chester. Perhaps people feel that Ten Speed Racer deserved better than they got. For me, he has yet to convince as a solo artist. This is a perfectly fine, jangly guitar-driven number blessed with nice harmonies.
Floetry’s success in taking their brand of soulful hip-hop to million-selling status in the US is reminiscent of Bush taking their grunge coals to Newcastle, Delaware in the 90s – massive over there, hardly known back in Britain.
For those who thought the Stripes had become overrated, tedious nonsense (just me then? Right.) ‘My Doorbell’ was something of a revelation. ‘Denial Twist’ is great too, not least because it’s essentially the same record with different lyrics.
Given that Christmas seemed to start around the end of August, it’s perhaps no great crime to be talking about Liberty Bell in terms of being one of the great alternative records of the season, even if it is only mid-November.
Even given that anything bearing the stamp of Carol Keogh is destined to be pretty marvellous, this is still one of the most life-affirming, joyous songs to emerge from these shores in recent years.
It is nothing short of the solid gold sound of celebration, not only of Dublin but of Autamata themselves and of all the other bands from the city and beyond who have made this such a memorable year in Irish music. God bless the whole bloody lot of them.
Sugababes run of four increasingly impressive albums is something unheard of in the world of corporate pop and ‘Ugly’ is yet another gem of a single. Essentially taking the same stance as TLC’s ‘Unpretty’ a decade ago, it may deal in simple platitudes as to the nature of beauty and it’s depth, but this is a classy, catchy pop tune with a human heart. You won’t hear many of those over the next month.
With a new live album and DVD in the can, it’s effectively a case of job done for the Raining Down Arrows album and so the release of the title track is probably little more than an attempt to remind people that it’s out there as they head out to the shops. It’s still a nice little track though, given some sort of remix, and further proof that Mundy deserves to be up there with the other great career turnarounds.
If you’re going to tell a lie, tell a big one. If you’re going to make a retro rock record at the tail end of 2005, make it a huge one. 'Never Too Late' is a juggernaut of a track that sweeps aside any suggestion that it should belong in the ‘70s through the sheer force of its energy and self belief. Quite where they actually fit in is a different matter, but this is hard to argue with.
Currently making all the right noises in the North, Machine Parts is a confident step forward for FWW. They’re starting to sound like a big time rock band, albeit one with a healthy Foo Fighters fixation, and that has to be half the battle. The other half will be finding their own unique place in things. For now, this is definitely going in the right direction.
Love him or hate him (and he is the kind of artist to divide opinions) two things can’t be denied – it’s been an incredible year for the New York Brit and there really is no-one else out there like him. A duet featuring role model Boy George, this is absolutely beautiful and totalling uplifting in the way that his last single was heartbreakingly sad.
After the career revitalising collaboration with Jay Z, Linkin Park head deeper into hip-hop via Mike Shinoda’s side project. Produced by Jay himself, this is great – a fresh track with an infectious spring in its step. Sounds like the album might be worth a listen.
Limerick’s Veneer caught the ear earlier in the year and this follow up continues the good work. The title track builds around some particularly effective guitar work, culminating in an emotionally charged indie epic, while 'Weeds (Beauty’s A Beast)' shows a more experimental edge, something that suits them a bit better. One to watch for next year.
Touring mates and neighbours of The Go! Team, the Pipettes had been flitting from one small indie label to another, before finding a home with the Team at Memphis. It also marks their move away from the slight air of novelty to proper pop band, much in the manner of The Chalets’s recent transformation. Indeed the two bands share something of a musical template, especially in the classic girl-group vocals. ‘Dirty Mind’ is good yet b-side ‘Because It’s Not Love’ is better and wouldn’t sound out of place on the Grease soundtrack. Yes, that is a complement.
Showing a wanton disregard for grammar not seen since the days of Slade, the Dolls follow their unavoidably catchy hit with a stinker of an r ‘n b ballad that is dreary beyond belief. They say ‘we're not one hit wonders’. We say, ‘taxi and better make it a seven seater’.
With a growing media profile, a Basement Jaxx remix and a subject matter tuned into the cultural zeitgeist, you’d be hard pushed to see how Lady Sovereign’s ‘Hoodie’ could be anything but a rip-roaring success. Yet something’s not quite right. It certainly rattles along at an invigorating pace and is blessed with some choice one liners but maybe it’s the fact that the melody isn’t strong enough to compete with everything else that’s going on.
In comparison to Sov’s big production, C-Mone’s track sounds like it was recorded on a lap-top in her bedroom but is the more effective of the two. With a lyric that takes in the famine in Sudan, gun culture and old age pensioners struggling to pay council tax, C-Mone could have it in her to give M.I.A. a run for the Brit-hop crown.
Australia’s a long way to come if you’re a band dealing in music that’s not going to sell millions, so most of their left-field gems tend to stay hidden. Architecture In Helsinki have made the trip and thank goodness for that, at least if 'Do The Whirlwind' is anything to go from. Based on a Human Leauge style synth bass line, it heads off in countless directions, throwing in female rapping, carnival style percussion and a brass section for good measure. Utterly wonderful.
With a new album and DVD in the can, it's effectively a case of job done for the Raining Down Arrows album and so the release of the title track is probably little more than an attempt to remind people that it’s out there as they head out to the shops. It’s still a nice little track though, given some sort of remix, and further proof that Mundy deserves to be up there with the other great career turnarounds.
Given that Christmas seemed to start around the end of August, it’s perhaps no great crime to be talking about Liberty Bell in terms of being one of the great alternative records of the season, even if it is only mid-November.
Even given that anything bearing the stamp of Carol Keogh is destined to be pretty marvellous, this is still one of the most life-affirming, joyous songs to emerge from these shores in recent years.
It is nothing short of the solid gold sound of celebration, not only of Dublin but of Autamata themselves and of all the other bands from the city and beyond who have made this such a memorable year in Irish music. God bless the whole bloody lot of them.
After the career revitalising collaboration with Jay Z, Linkin Park head deeper into hip-hop via Mike Shinoda’s side project. Produced by Jay himself, this is great – a fresh track with an infectious spring in its step. Sounds like the album might be worth a listen.
Sugababes run of four increasingly impressive albums is something unheard of in the world of corporate pop and ‘Ugly’ is yet another gem of a single. Essentially taking the same stance as TLC’s ‘Unpretty’ a decade ago, it may deal in simple platitudes as to the nature of beauty and it’s depth, but this is a classy, catchy pop tune with a human heart. You won’t hear many of those over the next month.
Limerick’s Veneer caught the ear earlier in the year and this follow up continues the good work. The title track builds around some particularly effective guitar work, culminating in an emotionally charged indie epic, while 'Weeds (Beauty’s A Beast)' shows a more experimental edge, something that suits them a bit better. One to watch for next year.
Touring mates and neighbours of The Go! Team, the Pipettes had been flitting from one small indie label to another, before finding a home with the Team at Memphis. It also marks their move away from the slight air of novelty to proper pop band, much in the manner of The Chalets’s recent transformation. Indeed the two bands share something of a musical template, especially in the classic girl-group vocals. ‘Dirty Mind’ is good yet b-side ‘Because It’s Not Love’ is better and wouldn’t sound out of place on the Grease soundtrack. Yes, that is a complement.
Love him or hate him (and he is the kind of artist to divide opinions) two things can’t be denied – it’s been an incredible year for the New York Brit and there really is no-one else out there like him. A duet featuring role model Boy George, this is absolutely beautiful and totalling uplifting in the way that his last single was heartbreakingly sad.
If you’re going to tell a lie, tell a big one. If you’re going to make a retro rock record at the tail end of 2005, make it a huge one. 'Never Too Late' is a juggernaut of a track that sweeps aside any suggestion that it should belong in the ‘70s through the sheer force of its energy and self belief. Quite where they actually fit in is a different matter, but this is hard to argue with.
Australia’s a long way to come if you’re a band dealing in music that’s not going to sell millions, so most of their left-field gems tend to stay hidden. Architecture In Helsinki have made the trip and thank goodness for that, at least if 'Do The Whirlwind' is anything to go from. Based on a Human Leauge style synth bass line, it heads off in countless directions, throwing in female rapping, carnival style percussion and a brass section for good measure. Utterly wonderful.
With a growing media profile, a Basement Jaxx remix and a subject matter tuned into the cultural zeitgeist, you’d be hard pushed to see how Lady Sovereign’s ‘Hoodie’ could be anything but a rip-roaring success. Yet something’s not quite right. It certainly rattles along at an invigorating pace and is blessed with some choice one liners but maybe it’s the fact that the melody isn’t strong enough to compete with everything else that’s going on.
In comparison to Sov’s big production, C-Mone’s track sounds like it was recorded on a lap-top in her bedroom but is the more effective of the two. With a lyric that takes in the famine in Sudan, gun culture and old age pensioners struggling to pay council tax, C-Mone could have it in her to give M.I.A. a run for the Brit-hop crown.
For those who thought the Stripes had become overrated, tedious nonsense (just me then? Right.) ‘My Doorbell’ was something of a revelation. ‘Denial Twist’ is great too, not least because it’s essentially the same record with different lyrics.
Currently making all the right noises in the North, 'Machine Parts' is a confident step forward for FWW. They’re starting to sound like a big time rock band, albeit one with a healthy Foo Fighters fixation, and that has to be half the battle. The other half will be finding their own unique place in things. For now, this is definitely going in the right direction.
Showing a wanton disregard for grammar not seen since the days of Slade, the Dolls follow their unavoidably catchy hit with a stinker of an r ‘n b ballad that is dreary beyond belief. They say ‘we're not one hit wonders’. We say, ‘taxi and better make it a seven seater’.
They’re a band who seem split in two – one half intent on making fairly average, mainstream American pop rock, the other half interested in what can best be described as, well, weird shit.
The sound is very old school Irish rock, which may suit the string of original acts currently retreading the boards but doesn’t exactly suggest that Lucas are looking to re-invent the wheel.
Despite the big guitars, big chorus and witty one-liners, this is a long way from the cheeky chappy, thumbs-up image of The Darkness that we’ve come to expect.
For those looking to carp, it is the perfect representation of the faceless corporate music industry; aside from Spiteri’s increasingly confident vocals you’d be hard pushed to find the evidence of human hands here – apart from those pushing the buttons on a computer.
For all the talk of T.A.T.U being the most controversial band in pop, this is an unbelievingly tame experience recalling, at its most exciting, Roxette, and at its worst, the Eurovision.
It’s been quite a year for Maxïmo Park, one that’s seen them emerge as a band with real longevity as opposed to mere scenesters. They’ve done it through a succession of thrilling singles of which ‘Apply Some Pressure’ was the first and, now through the magic of the re-issue, is probably the last for the moment. With new material already starting to appear over the horizon it’s a case of job done and see you next year.
O’Connor has probably forgotten more about the music industry than the rest of this lot put together will ever know and her continuing reappearance is something to be thankful for. ‘Perfect Days’ is acoustic music with a pulse, the voice in particular carrying the sound of experience in every note.
It’s a joke, right? The name gives it away. No-one would really release such a dated, weak ‘80s rip off as we approach 2006 and accompany it with such a truly dreadful photo, all eye liner, sofas and motorway toll booths. Would they? No, it’s obviously something along the lines of Blue Peter dressing up as Abba at Oxegen. Ha ha, nice one.
From the people who bought the you The Go! Team comes another gem, this time rooted more in the traditional guitar based style of things, yet still given a unique twist by way of its pure oddness, as a duet between the rumbling male and trilling female voices unfolds over some spiralling guitars. They had a previous single called ‘Donkey Stock’ you know. Worthy of much further investigation.
With Kanye West supplanting him as the hottest hip-hop producer on the scene and N*E*R*D no more, Pharrell Williams needs to do something special to put himself back into the game. ‘Can I Have It Like That’ is an uninspiring, tuneless dirge, in sharp contrast to West’s vibrant wall of sound. And getting Gwen Stefani to repeat four words a few times is hardly going to help matters.
Goth’s not dead, at least not in Leeds – the international centre for all things gloomy and the home to The Ivories. As befits a band who’s singer used to run a club called Release The Bats and front an outfit called The Holy Terror, this isn’t the cheeriest of stuff. Instead, it visits the darker corners of the Banshees and the Bad Seeds. B-side ‘Disappointment’ is actually the better track, upping the tempo to a psychobilly howl, but this is an impressive debut all round.
The problem facing The Darkness now is surely that, with the element of surprise has gone, the catsuits, falsetto vocals and silly videos are going to have to take second place to the music. Problem? What problem? Yes, you might never again experience the jaw-dropping sensation of hearing ‘Growing On Me’ for the first time but ‘One Way Ticket’ is a solid enough next step, blessed with an obviously bigger budget, the understated touch of Queen producer Roy Thomas Baker and, as they so eloquantloy put it, a big, fuck off rock chorus.
In a slightly unfathomable move, the lead single from Hayes’s second album makes its appearance a couple of weeks after that record’s release, by which point it will have become clear that the singer has managed to sidestep that difficult second album problem with aplomb. All of which leaves ‘Happy Sad’ a bit redundant and most probably with little chance of troubling the upper reaches of the charts. Record company tactics aside, though, this is a lovely, warm and fuzzy song that moves the Hayes sound forward, if not in giant leaps.
Some songs fit their title perfectly and so it is with ‘Fanfare’, an all guns blazing track that abandons the usual sensitive acoustic approach in favour of a rocker, based, it would appear, on the riff from Deep Purple’s ‘Woman From Tokyo’. One in the eye for the chin strokers.
The way in which ‘Comeback Girl’ ram-raided its way into the mainstream was one of the most satisfactory moments of the year, further proof that domestic bands are more than capable of holding their own in the world of play-lists, pluggers and record company muscle. Sadly, it seems that ROL themselves were so satisfied with its success that they forgot to put any effort into the follow up. ‘You Know It’ is essentially ‘Comeback Girl’ mark two, without any of the spark or originality. All that’s left is a dull r&b track and there’s plenty of those about already. We need them to be better than this.
Over the past six months Delorentos have found themselves in the not entirely enviable position of being tipped as the next big thing before they’d released a single note of music. Thus their debut EP finally arrives with great expectations. Fortunately, it’s a case of happy endings all round as the Dublin four piece pass their first test with flying colours. Indeed, you’d be hard pressed to recognise this as anything but the work of a band at the top of their game. Every aspect exudes pure confidence. The only possible worry, in fact, is that, with its twisted guitar riffs and awkward beats, they could find themselves tied a little too closely to the whole Franz / Bloc / Futureheads thing. Some lead, most follow and Delorentos are heading for the front.
Dog-Eared Memories, despite the claim that this is a new, stripped down Dara sound, is full of big ideas in both music and words. The influence of Coldplay and U2 is undeniable, but tempered by an intimate writing style that recalls Ben Folds or Randy Newman, especially given the choice of piano as lead instrument.
In the wake of Metallica’s Some Kind Of Monster, any rock band that’s been together more than five minutes has to ask themselves if they could benefit from the services of a therapist. Bon Jovi’s Richie Sambora is no exception.
It’s their safest record to date, yet also their most rounded with Cole delivering an unfaltering run of fine songs that suit the poppy presentation down to the ground.
With characteristic unpredictability, Sinéad has re-emerged after a period in retirement with a Rasta album, in which she covers a collection of her own personal reggae classics.
Operating on the fringes of the Dublin music scene while their contemporaries have gone on to greater things, however fleeting, the three piece are an enigma and Future Come Find Me is one hell of an enigmatic record.
What happens when the lead singer of Soundgarden gets together with three quarters of Rage Against The Machine? Answer: the high-IQ post-grunge of Audioslave.
The Beatles and the Stones should, by rights, have been assigned to some sort of rock’n’roll museum by now – nice to look at, but surely irrelevant in this day and age.
While we’re undoubtedly blessed with a stack of fine bands these days, the street gang vibe that has been so crucial in music down the years is noticeably largely absent.
SJ McArdle injects a welcome bit of grit into proceedings, offering a Billy Bragg style viewpoint and singing with such world-weary authority that it’s a crying shame he’s the one having to battle it out on a small indie label.
It’s probably safe to say that the return of JJ72 hasn’t prompted mass celebrations in the street, such was the ‘hmm…whatever’ nature of the response to their previous output.
Not wishing to put myself or my colleagues out of business, but some records simply do not need a written description. All you really need to know about the Arctic Monkeys’ ‘Fake Tales Of San Francisco’ and its withering look at music biz wannabes is that it contains the line “his bird thinks he’s amazing so all that’s left is the proof that love’s not only blind it’s deaf". That should say it all. Still, we get paid by the word, so I feel duty bound to inform you that this is one of the most razor-sharp, witty and memorable records you’ll hear this year. It’s also entirely fitting that the Monkeys should come from Sheffield, as they slot nicely into the region’s penchant for producing biting, intelligent alternative pop music ("you’re not from New York City you’re from Rotherham” could have come straight out of the Smiths’ songbook), presented with in such a knowing manner that you’re reminded of Mike Skinner fronting the Fall. Their fleeting Irish debut may have been and gone, but we’ll know what to do next time.
For all we might want to harp on about cutting edge this and radical that, the records which have made the big bucks over the past few years have been by nice, slightly middle-of-the-road, predominantly female singer songwriters.
Buck 65’s last album, Talkin’ Honky Blues, was something approaching a revelation, proof that hip-hop could still be a potent, astonishing force. It was never going to top the charts or thrust its author onto MTV but it did promise much for the future, a promise that Secret House Against The World resolutely fails to deliver on.
This is the age of the comeback girls and boys. Everybody from the Pixies and the La’s to the Spice Girls and the Stone Roses is dying to live in the past, yet still the notion of the reappearance of two hit wonders PUSA is an odd one.
What is it with people making reggae cover albums? A month before Sinéad O'Connor unleashes her Jah-tastic Throw Down Your Arms collection, Willie Nelson gets in on the act with this frankly rather bizarre album.
Is this what we’ve come to? That Dogs’ record company think their unique selling point is Kate Moss picking one of their tunes for a cosmetics ad? Rock ‘n’ roll is dead and its corpse is starting to stink.
Manchester bands may be notoriously bad travellers, bur Nine Black Alps are planning to do what the likes of the Mondays, Roses and New Order failed to do before them and that’s conquer America.
What, exactly, is the deal with Madness? While the original Madstock comeback was trailed as a once off, they’ve popped up at regular intervals yet never really made it feel like a permanent arrangement.
The mega-platinum success that Staind enjoyed a few years back stemmed from a couple of factors. Their association with Limp Bizkit saw them firmly lumped with the nu-metal movement, despite very few musical similarities. And the single ‘Outside’ was as ubiquitous as that bloody Nickelback record of the same time.
With influences by The Jam, The Clash and the Smiths, shirts by Fred Perry and haircuts grade one, The Ordinary Boys couldn’t be any more British if they embarked on a Bank Holiday tour of sleepy seaside venues with amps draped in Union Jacks.
It seems that supergroups just aren’t what they used to be. These days the term can apparently be used, albeit prefaced by the ‘indie’ clarification, for a band featuring two members of The Electric Soft Parade, someone from The Tenderfoot and Eamon Hamilton, the Canadian percussionist with British Sea Power and head honcho for the project. Blind Faith it ain’t.
If for her name alone, Shelby Lynne would seem to have been genetically programmed to sing country music. Yet her life has given her greater preparation than just a memorable moniker. The sister of Alison Moorer, Lynne was thrown in jail by her alcoholic father at the age of seventeen, a father who later murdered his wife in front of his daughters before turning the gun on himself.
Sometimes you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone, or at least till it comes back. Saint Etienne are one of those bands who, like Teenage Fanclub, were hardly the subject of extensive search parties when missing in action yet now that they are back with us, are being greeted like long lost (rich) relatives.
Yet more heirs apparent to The Libertines’ vacant throne, Dogs have been proving themselves to be interesting enough to merit more than passing attention...
Despite splintering into countless sub-genres, heavy metal has witnessed few bands such as System Of A Down. You could tie yourself in knots trying to work out what sets this band apart. Maybe it's their Armenian roots or the fact that they’re the most politically motivated rock band since Rage Against The Machine.
In music, as in journalism, one should always be wary of the exclamation mark. Too often it serves as a warning that the artist is trying a little too hard. The Cribs’ debut record features the dreaded punctuation point only once. However, it might as well be strewn everywhere, such is the project's eagerness to impress.
He may be a high profile DJ with his own Saturday night show on 2FM, but in his heart Conor G will forever be 15. Just ask his parents who have thousands of his records in their front room!l Photography by Emily Quinn.
Like any boom, the benefits of the continuing explosion of the domestic music industry have brought wide reaching effects. Pretty much anyone can put a record out these days, pick up coverage from a fairly benign media and find loads of gigs up and down the country.
After the stadium rocking exploits of the Cranberries, Noel Hogan has taken a more experimental tack with his new electro-influenced project, Mono Band.
When Sons and Daughters first came round our way last year via an Arts Council grant and an obscure US indie label, there was much scratching of heads as to where they fitted in. Then we discovered that they were touring with fellow Glaswegians Franz Ferdinand and, hey presto, there you go – part of at least two scenes, job done thank you very much. Except they weren’t, inhabiting instead their own little dark corner of a world that drew on influences way beyond those currently in vogue.
That the Irish music industry is in its healthiest state for a while is, by now, a given and it’s probably time to stop congratulating ourselves and start figuring out where it goes next. The answer, at least according to new label Faction, is to start thinking bigger than the DIY own-label approach that has dominated of late.
Cork outfit Rulers Of The Planet may have started out with few ambitions other than having lots of fun, but the growing acclaim being afforded their exhilarating brand of corrosive punk-rock means that world domination is an increasingly realistic prospect.
Maybe I was busy at the time, but when exactly did Weezer rise to the iconic status they now seem to hold? And will Make Believe provide any pointers for the non-believers? Well, sort of.
Paul Smith of Geordie punk-pop sensations Maxïmo Park talks to Phil Udell about breaking out of stylistic straight-jackets, the band's affinity with fellow northerners The Futureheads, and why Jose Mourinho's managerial philiosophy is equally as applicable to music as it is to football.
Visionary singer-songwriter Rufus Wainwright has built up a loyal cult following for his epic tales of love, lost and unrequited. But as he admits himself, that’s only half the story. “Usually interviewers are obsessed with one thing or the other – whether it’s the gay thing or the drugs or the politics,” he tells an intrigued Phil Udell.
Something is stirring down Cork way. It’s not a question of quality music – that’s been there before – but a burgeoning sense of identity and a fiery attitude that’s willing to take on all comers, be it those who still think that Dublin is the be all and end all of the Irish music scene or those who purport to speak authoritatively on local culture without taking note of the very musicians who make up the lifeblood of the city.
Sleepless nights with sick kids. Early morning flight. Hassles from airport security. A funeral. Not, you might think, the best preparations for sitting down to listen to an album. The thing is, though, Blinking Lights And Other Revelations is a record perfectly suited to a not entirely focused state of mind.
We should have been warned. For a while now the whispers have been that, no matter how good The Go! Team were on record (ie. bloody fantastic) it wasn't a patch on the live experience. All well and good but, believe me, nothing could have prepared us to become part of a mass of waving arms, grinning inanely and chanting Go! Team as if our lives depended on it. It was that kind of night.
They've sold albums by the truck-load and are about to embark on a sold-out four-night run in Dublin, but Brummy three-piece Ocean Colour Scene have plenty they'd like to complain about, including the press, the music industry, and – especially – ringtone ads appearing on their albums.
Track after track comes out of the speakers, nipping at your ankles like some overexcited dog that you can’t shake off no matter how hard you try. The production from Bloc Party/Futureheads man Paul Epworth is sparkling and the songs wed pop and punk in perfect manner, all delivered in the deliciously broad Newcastle tones of singer Paul Smith. It reaches a crescendo with the glorious ‘Going Missing’, at which point it seems that Maximo Park can do no wrong. Unfortunately, from then in they start to struggle a tad.
Poor Cornershop looked so damned uncomfortable throughout their whole chart topping experience that you feared it would scar them forever and they’d never want to make records again. They have, however, sunk happily back into semi-oblivion and knocked out a stream of fantastic singles, of which 'Topknot' is by far the best.
On the surface, the similarities between Cornershop and the Boss are few, but Springsteen too has been happy to retreat from the world he inhabited around ‘Born In The USA’. 'Devils & Dust' comes straight out of the ‘Nebraska’ /‘Ghost Of Tom Joad’ end of his work and is a towering record, the singer’s powerful talk of gods and devils underpinned by a stark musical background.
Belfast’s Leya are possibly just the kind of band who will benefit from all this new technology, enabling them as it does to take their music straight to the people. Clocking in at a weighty five minutes plus, they’ve certainly gone for broke on this with what sounds like a whole album condensed into one song, leaving the actual melody hard to pick out amongst all the dramatics.
Maybe we’ve been just a little too exposed to the Chiefs of late, but this third single from Employment lacks a certain something, possibly the element of surprise that underpinned ‘I Predict A Riot’. We know that they love Britpop era Blur more than their mothers, we just don’t need the point rammed home so unequivocally.
Whatever Trent Reznor’s been up to for the past five years he hasn’t been exorcising his personal demons. 'The Hand That Feeds' is as dark as ever and is an absolute mighty record, barely hiding its pop melody beneath the distorted keyboards and Reznor’s help-me-God vocals. Someone get them over here this year, please…
Haven’t come across this Limerick five-piece before but this is fine, fine stuff. In keeping with what appears to be the musical mood down there and in Cork this is more than a little off the wall, yet the band manage to wrap the song up in an accessible package. Not just one excellent track either but three, which certainly marks their card for further investigation.
Wow. No really. Wow. For all the recent talk of ‘art’ rock, this is the real deal, at least in terms of Antony’s day job as a New York performance artist. Yet far from being some sort of Yoko Ono style embarrassment, 'Hope There’s Someone' is a beautifully simple, proper song. Pared down to just voice and piano, it still manages to pack more of an emotional punch than the rest of the records on this page put together.
Although relatively new to most of us, the Angels Of Mons are already exhibiting the kind of confidence that suggests failure is not an option. Luckily, their music almost matches their ambition, even if it is not hugely radical. 'Highs And Lows' is a good song with a great chorus, bolstered by nice harmonies and a big production.
Dundalk’s The Gurriers meanwhile, don’t do ‘stark musical backgrounds’. They do loud, brash and the faster the better. The Kamikaze EP is four tracks of US punk that has desire to be neither big nor clever and is quite good fun for what it is. Ironically, on ‘Back On The Alcohol’ they sound just like the Dropkick Murphys, an American band who are desperate to be Irish. Funny old world.
The hysteria that greets the arrival of Weezer to these shores and each new record suggest that they’re probably a more important band than we might give them credit for. ‘Beverly Hills’ is another spot-on punk-pop moment from Rivers Cuomo, beefed up with metal guitar riffs and street-gang backing vocals. Once again the Weezer boys haven’t put a foot wrong.
They may look after Lambchop’s pets and occasionally leg it from Crawdaddy to catch the last train home, but when not partaking in such hi-jinks, Dublin quartet Delorentos are busy trying to kick rock music another rung up the evolutionary ladder.
Former Prayer Boat frontman Emmet Tinley on the break-up of his old band, the challenges of forging his own solo career and the joys of artistic independence.
Tthe heart of the band still lies very much in the hands of the Blake, Love and McGinley trio and their desire to craft simple yet effective guitar pop. Indeed, Man-Made puts the emphasis very much on the simple, opting for a back-to-basics approach to production that sadly leaves it a decidedly underwhelming listen.
Domestic metal bands may find it difficult to make themselves heard over their hipper contemporaries, but Dublin rockers Mike Got Spiked look set to add to their growing army of devotees courtesy of their scorching debut album, Caveat Emptor.
One thing you could never accuse the Stereophonics of is playing to the in-crowd. From their very first album they have adopted something of an outsider status, attracting more and more of an audience as the barbs of those too cool to bother with them also grew longer. One can only assume therefore that Language, Sex, Violence, Other? sounding so distinctly of the moment has to be more through accident than design. But right from the off, the combination of power chords, throbbing keyboards, samples and beats make Language, Sex, Violence, Other? sound like a thoroughly modern rock record.
Welsh singer Jem Griffiths has become a firm favourite in the US purely on the strength of word-of-mouth. And if her debut album Finally Woken is anything to go by, audiences this side of the Atlantic are likely to follow suit very soon.
Operating in the interstice where Sonic Youth meet the Jackson 5, Brighton dance-rock outfit The Go! Team are deservedly brewing up a storm with their debut album, Thunder, Lightning, Strike.
With all the ballyhoo surrounding the recent fortunes of UK guitar bands, there has been a tendency for the continuing rise of British black music to get forgotten, a real shame as the scene is developing a style and character which – if not totally removed from US influences – is certainly developing its own voice. Terri Walker is the latest name to glide effortlessly from the world of specialist media and clubs to the mainstream by virtue of her Mercury nominated debut. All of which has upped the pressure on the follow up not to alienate those who have lately come to appreciate her undoubted talent.
Make no bones about it, Box Heart Man is a cracking American rock album – not rock in the spiky haired punk or earnest grunge sense but the classic school of thinking, imbued with a sense of the nation’s musical history. Listen to the freewheeling scope of numbers such as ‘Build’, ‘Hope’ and ‘Jane’ and you instantly find yourself harking back to the glory days of the Long Ryders, Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers and Lone Justice, rock with a sense of country and folk and a feeling of real spirit.
Right from the off, the combination of power chords, throbbing keyboards, samples and beats make Language, Sex, Violence, Other? sound like a thoroughly modern rock record. It also has some good songs on it too, which was kind of the whole point of the Stereophonics in the first place.
Make no bones about it, Box Heart Man is a cracking American rock album – not rock in the spiky haired punk or earnest grunge sense but the classic school of thinking, imbued with a sense of the nation’s musical history. Listen to the freewheeling scope of numbers such as ‘Build’, ‘Hope’ and ‘Jane’ and you instantly find yourself harking back to the glory days of the Long Ryders, Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers and Lone Justice, rock with a sense of country and folk and a feeling of real spirit.
One thing you could never accuse the Stereophonics of is playing to the in-crowd. From their very first album they have adopted something of an outsider status, attracting more and more of an audience as the barbs of those too cool to bother with them also grew longer.
Well at least they don’t look or sound like Flock Of Seagulls. Yes, we can actually report that there is a new guitar band around who don’t hark back to a particular period in time about twenty years ago. No, New York’s Ambulance Ltd look both further back to the ‘60s and ‘70s and forward to the ‘90s and, good God no, shoegazing. The problem is that they don’t seem to quite know which era or what band they want to borrow from, opting instead to chuck everything in and hope for the best.
They may have toured with the likes of Paddy Casey, Ann Scott and Hothouse Flowers, but far from dealing in laidback acoustica, Birr group Wallmark are in fact a hard-rockin’ Led Zep/Who influenced outfit with an appetite for sonic destruction.
Here comes Charlie Simpson from Busted's opportunity to be taken seriously with Fightstar’s debut EP. It’s not bad either, certainly putting a fair amount of ground between present and past.
This is THe Rags' second EP of beautifully crafted, elegantly presented music. ‘Monsters & I’ ups the ante on their hugely impressive debut by turning up the confidence and the volume
‘You Don’t Want To Know About It’ hurtles along at a punky – you might even say psychobilly-esque – pace yet also manages to keep their ear for a wicked melody and spot-on vocal harmonies.
I reckon that, come December, we’ll still have found few albums to match Silent Alarm, and ‘Banquet’ almost manages to sum up all its charms in the space of one song.
The Manuva tune is heavy of bass, vocal and theme, something enhanced by the brooding Nightmares On Wax remix, while the Go! Team bring a hitherto untapped playfulness to Rodney Smith’s personal demons.
Nick Kelly is a voice of experience but one looking forward rather than anywhere else, underpinning this piano ballad with subtle electronics and shuffling beats to turn it into something subtle yet memorable.
It’s all pretty brave – the faithful may scratch their heads and the detractors probably won’t even listen but just maybe they’ll find themselves reaching a whole new audience.
Curious beast, Morrissey.
Few others can have had cause to look back on last year with such a happy heart, 12 months that saw him revive a struggling solo career and re-emerge as a genuine star, something that would certainly be worth marking. Odd then that this is a slightly slip-shod effort.
Time has not been especially kind to the memory of the Wedding Present. The image of them as some quintessentially late '80s jangly ‘indie’ band has proved particularly hard to shift. The very notion of them having any relevance in 2005 is surely laughable, isn’t it?
Though practically unheard of in their home country, Dublin metal band Primordial nonetheless have a huge worldwide following and are expected to sell up to 20,000 copies of their excellent new album, The Gathering Wilderness. Interview by Phil Udell.
Being sued for rape didn’t stop Snoop Dogg giving Phil Udell the benefit of his views on NWA, record labels, going solo and how the Bible encourages him to party. Photos by Liam Sweeney.
Being described as "the new Keane" might bother some people, but not Grant Nichols who's content in the knowledge that his band have made the first great rock'n'roll record of 2005.l
...Fred somehow manage to combine potentially jarring elements – spoken lyrics, a Stax-esque brass section, punk rock guitars and drums, lounge funk bass and percussion – into a magical whole
A mix of South American rhythms, sea shanties and faintly sinister guitars, this is the kind of weird and absolutely wonderful record that could only come out of a thriving independent music scene
Ever wondered what a dub hip hop record featuring Barrington Levy, Del The Funky Homesapian and Alex from Franz Ferdinand would sound like? Probably not, but you’d be surprised how much we’ve been missing. This very much hits the target.
Oh how we chuckled at Casey Fischer and Warren Spooner when they first appeared as seemingly the only members of the short lived (blinked and you missed it) electroclash scene. The combination of deeply pretentious art posturing and fairly poor electronic music was not an appealing one and, after an initial burst of interest, we rapidly moved onto something else.
The Brian Kennedy On Song tv series has proved entertaining viewing over the course of its two runs, giving an interesting look at the background to most of the key songs in this country’s musical history. Kennedy has been an engaging host, obviously possessed of a genuine love for the subject matter. It’s a shame then that this second volume of music is such a damp squib.
They say that you play venues like Whelan’s twice in your career – once on the way up, once in the other direction. The Stereophonics are somewhere between the two at the moment so their appearance at the Wexford St. venue has to be an unusual state of affairs. Indeed it is, part of a series of club dates designed to introduce new album Language, Sex, Violence, Other? and make the daily chore of talking to the press more bearable.
With their debut album having sold a quarter of a million copies and being nominated for the Mercury prize, expectations were high for Athlete’s follow-up album, Tourist. But as frontman Joel Potts explains, the group are in it for the long haul.
Given the incestuous nature of the Irish music scene, you’d have thought that a band who’ve been around over ten years, released five albums and received great acclaim across Europe would feature quite prominently on the radar. So how come Dublin’s Primordial aren’t exactly household names? The answer is simple – they play metal. Not the kind of post-ironic metal that abounds in these post-Darkness days but the real, dark deal.
Hip hop is in crisis, what we need is a new soldier to rise from ghetto streets to tell it like it really is, someone to do justice to the legacy of NWA and… well stop if you’ve heard this one before. It certainly feels like this isn’t the first time I’ve sat down to write this review. Indeed, it seems like I can hardly escape Eminem, 50 Cent, Obie Trice or the rest these days. So are we to hope that The Game actually is capable of offering something different? The signs aren’t good.
For one so prolific, there has been a surprising lack of progression from Ani Difranco. While I’ll admit that this is the first studio album of hers that I’ve listened to since 1995’s splendid Dilate, not much seems to have changed.
This is Bloc Party’s first show of the year and surely the last time for a while that they’ll be playing somewhere where the stage is so close to the back wall. They know it too, approaching it with an energy and vitality that suggests they can’t wait to get started.
There are cooler, more credible pop records out there (The 411’s fantastic debut for one) but Girls Aloud look to be sitting pretty for the next while at least.
Like The Others, Glasgow’s Dead Fly Buchowski have more on their mind than just being in a band and making a few records, like saving rock ‘n’ roll, that sort of thing.
It’s been a case of steady rather than spectacular progress for Polar thus far and to be honest ‘Bite Your Nails’ isn’t quite the record to move things up a gear.
Likewise, if the Beach Boys had gone skiing instead of surfing… Josh Rouse might just be the latest American called Josh to find a second home in Ireland.
An elegant, effecting melody blessed with a stunning vocal, this is the kind of record that recent history has proved reaches far more than just the faithful few.
‘Lackey’ is another call to arms against the evils of The Man (presumably the same ‘man’ responsible for their connection to the world’s biggest record label) but is infused with such an infectious energy and righteous anger that they are actually starting to sound as important as they obviously think they are.
Following in the footsteps of Green Day and Good Charlotte Blink 182 are the latest punk outfit to massively expand their remit and radically alter their direction on their eponymous new album.
They arrived on the scene almost two years ago, determined not to let their unorthodox upbringing and dazzling cheekbones overshadow their music. Now, with their supremely accomplished second album, 2004’s Aha Shake Heartbreak, Kings Of Leon have established themselves among the rock’n’roll elite – from which position they’ve begun to enjoy the perks of rock stardom. “I’m actually getting laid now,” a relieved Caleb Followill admits. words Phil Udell
These have been quite some times for Conor Oberst. Until recently working away in his own little world, of late he’s been flirting with the mainstream to such a degree that he even ended up on the same pre-election bill as Springsteen and REM. All of which seems to have led him to try his hand at that great rock star folly – the twin album release.
On the surface, the most amazing thing about the Chemical Brothers in 2005 is that they’re still here. Having been tied in with a big beat scene that, by its very nature, was never destined to last for that long, they have emerged to remain standing tall while the dance movement crumbles around them.
The surprise huge success of last year’s EBTTRT album proved that, despite the continuing bootleg craze, there’s still a market for the gentle cover version, and that people are prepared to dig in their pockets for charity records.
It’s more Orb than MBM, with all that suggests. Thus wooshes and swooshes, ambient beats and spaced out vibes abound but not a lot in the way of tunes.
Could this, you wonder, actually be the record that sees Eminem the artist match Eminem the personality? The opening seconds of ‘Puke’ – the sound of, yes, someone puking – sadly answers the question.
With the final countdown to Christmas already well underway, what’s on offer by way of music-related presents is on every rock’n’roll fan’s mind. We took Jerry Fish into HMV in Grafton St. and asked him to pick out the most desirable items on offer – including, of course, his own wonderful new record Live At The Spiegeltent.
A non-profit political organisation put together by Audioslave’s Tom Morello and System Of A Down’s Serj Tankian, the Axis Of Justice’s aims may be worthy but their musical expression is just a little bit dull.
As with a lot of solo albums (Pamf plays pretty much everything) it could have done with a touch of extra editing – we could certainly live without the tuneless Butthole Surfers cover – and some of the humour is a little too stoner schoolboy, but any record that features Nina Hynes cooing like a sex kitten is alright by us.
Legalise Murder races out of the traps and bears more than a passing resemblance to the halcyon days of the Undertones, not least in Niall Quinn’s strong singing accent.
It’s testament to these two that both can be releasing the zillionth single off their respective albums and still manage to come up with affecting, engaging records.
Everything about The Others should set us against them – the NME’s desperate desire to push them as the next Libertines, the whole London ‘guerrilla’ scene, Alan McGee – but Stan Bowles is a pretty decent punk rock racket, if a little too self-knowing to back up the outsider mythology already being built up around them.
Unwritten is another above average tune that proves that we might just have a forward thinking, original pop star on our hands and lord knows they’re in short supply right now.
Essentially a live version of the bootleg concept, it brings the best out in both parties and avoids heading down the tiresome rap metal path that you might have expected.
Like many of his previous outings, ‘Hot Gossip’ is perhaps a tad short on a good tune but wins out by virtue of righteous attitude, spirit and the masterstroke of featuring Chuck D on co-vocals.
Not sure about the rather frantic funk of lead track ‘I Got Mine’ here, but once they ease up a bit Cork’s The Berries are a much more enticing prospect.
Anastacia is an engaging presence, able to interact with eight thousand people in a relaxed and natural manner and while her voice may not be to everyone’s tastes (to put it mildly) there’s no arguing that this is one singer who doesn’t need any help from backing tracks.
They may have a combined mental age of 12, but that hasn't stopped Goldie Lookin’ Chain from infiltrating the grown-ups' singles chart. Phil Udell talks bad heavy metal, secretarial work and burnt nipples with Newport's most notorious hip hop crew.
The kind of British band who have benefited wholeheartedly from the resurgence of the country’s rock scene, Breed 77 take a bit of Alice In Chains, some Pearl Jam and mix it up with the heavier end of the spectrum.
My Country II has enough about it to make it more than just a snapshot – something reinforced by his cover of Pete Seeger’s 1970 protest anthem ‘The Torn Flag’.
Good old Coxo. Ever in fear of returning to his hated time as a pop icon, he wrote one of the best tunes of his life and then let it dribble out as a limited edition seven inch single earlier this year. Thankfully somebody’s seen sense and now we can all revel in the three minute punk pop glory that is ‘Freakin’ Out’.
When The Libertines' music is good, they’re fantastic, when it’s bad the effect is painful. ‘What Became Of The Likely Lads’ skirts dangerously between the two.
The fire seems to be back in Costello’s belly again. All in all, The Delivery Man is close to an essential Elvis Costello record – and when was the last time we were able to say that?
The ante has been upped on every level – the playing, singing, presentation and production – and the songs sound less like the jumbled collection of ideas of yore and more like genuine contenders.
While Axl sits away somewhere working on those overdubs just one more time, his former bandmates are having the time of their lives. ‘Fall To Pieces’ does nothing to rewrite the rock template, but you’re in such safe hands that it really doesn’t matter.
The sight of a new DC record in the pile is something to set the heart a fluttering, especially given the standards set by all three in their solo dalliances. Why then is ‘Lose My Breath’ so disappointing?
Ken McHugh certainly knows how to build an elegant wall of sound but this is very much Carol Keogh’s record, one that easily stands alongside her finest moments with Tychonaut.
‘Just Lose It’ is the worst kind of Eminem record – a cartoon pastiche of hip hop that seeks to strike out at a number of targets but ultimately fires blanks.
‘Born In The ‘70s’ is probably not the record to propel Ed Harcourt blinking into the daylight but it’s a proper little gem, a sunny number that packs a subtlety snide lyrical punch at the ‘things were better in our day’ brigade.
Puzzling and pointless it may be but there’s no doubting that Golddiggas… is an awful lot of fun (you wouldn’t want to miss their version of S Club’s ‘Don’t Stop Moving’).
The Tarzan’s Ambition Best Of album commemorates the achievements of one of this country’s finest songwriters, Doctor Sean Millar. Here, peers & contemporaries pay tribute to the great man.
Getting funky reggae grooves heard over the din of the capital’s rock bands is no easy task, but Dublin ska kingpins King Sativa are continuing to fight the good fight.
Razor sharp lyrics, street smarts and a voice that most teenage pop sensations would give their breast implants for. Phil Udell discovers why Nellie McKay is being hailed as the anti-Britney.
Two Icelandic natives who came together in London and have carved out a niche playing supremely melodic, melancholy pop music – boy-girl duo The Honeymoon look to be here for the long run.
Phil Udell talks to blink frontman Dermot Lambert about how he pulled through the dark times to re-establish his band as one of the leading lights of the Irish indie scene.
By now we’ve become used to new bands arriving in a blaze of their own hyperbole, but even still Leicester’s Kasabian do seem to fancy themselves a fair bit.
Last time out, on the impressive Gotham album, New York’s Radio 4 were doing a strikingly accurate impression of latter day Clash, all dub basslines, dance rhythms and righteous anger.
When At The Drive-In imploded so spectacularly a couple of years ago, most spectators were left confused by the turn of events. The band were, after all, just beginning to reap the reward for their efforts.
They may make an unholy racket, but Slipknot are definitely on the side of righteousness when it comes to the Iraq War. Corey Taylor tells Phil Udell why George Bush is vying with Rick Rubin for top spot on their hate-list.
This could develop into the kind of farce that marred their last Olympia show. Another half hour and it probably would have but as it is, the band carry their errant frontman in a sprint to the end that includes a cracking version of The Clash’s ‘Clampdown’ and ensures that, at last, the first day of Oxegen gives us something to talk about aside from the rain.
By rights this headline slot should have been the stuff of legend. All the more surprising, then, that the band misjudge the whole thing in quite such spectacular fashion. Arriving more with a whimper than a bang, the first forty five minutes is devoted solely to material that sparks recognition in no-one but the most hardcore fan.
For a Scottish band, they have an oddly English feel to them, taken from an obvious love for XTC and Dexy’s Midnight Runners (an influence felt most keenly in the vocals).
Few new Irish bands arrive as seemingly perfectly formed as The Rags. Everything about the package that surrounds their debut suggests that they’ve got their act seriously together, not least the music itself.
‘Witches Float’ builds on a pounding drumbeat that recalls, of all people, Theatre Of Hate before heading off into a cacophony of sound that could perhaps do with a stronger song to really help it take off.
Like the Alphabet album that provides its home, ‘Everything Is Everything’ has a lovely timbre to it, a just right mix of the electronic and the organic that just seems to slide out of the speakers.
The presence of co-writer Chris Martin is the big selling point here and the track does bear some of his trademarks, especially the looping piano, but this is still very much the Jamelia show and all the better for it.
Shystie is a fearsome MC from, we can assume, London, and she races through her debut single like a woman possessed, giving all comers what for, while the musical backing flows with subtle invention.
Those looking after Frankee are at pains to point out that there’s more to her than just one well timed single, but her debut doesn’t exactly suggest that’s the case. It’s the kind of run of the mill R&B that we’ve heard a million times, the kind of stuff that plays well in the States but falls flat over here.
t’s a lovely album in the best sense of the word, Rosey’s warm vocals matched by a musical background that manages to be inventive without being intrusive.
She’s been lumped in with the nu jazz movement, but Amy Winehouse has no interest in keeping up with the Norah Jones’ or Jamie Cullum's. Phil Udell gets music lessons from the 19-year-old Londoner.
For the members of Blur, success has seemed to be something of a burden over recent years. While he was still a member of the band, Graham Coxon released a series of, ahem, ‘difficult’ solo albums.
Recently I’ve become hooked on Bands Reunited, a show whereby VH1 track down members of defunct ’80s bands who split in acrimonious circumstances and doorstep them into reforming for one night with mixed results.
Davy swoops and yelps her way through proceedings with her distinctive voice, inviting comparisons with others before deciding that she’d rather be completely unique if it’s all the same with you.
Davy swoops and yelps her way through proceedings with her distinctive voice, inviting comparisons with others before deciding that she’d rather be completely unique if it’s all the same with you.
Davy swoops and yelps her way through proceedings with her distinctive voice, inviting comparisons with others before deciding that she’d rather be completely unique if it’s all the same with you.
This was not the usual high energy experience that we’ve come to expect from Turn’s Dublin appearances. Which, in a funny way, made it all the more special...
You’d think that by now bands would be wary of promoting themselves through the celebrity endorsements of Noel Gallagher and Paul Weller but that’s obviously not the case with The Stands.
For a while, back in the day, it looked like 10,000 Maniacs were going to become the world’s literate American rockers of choice. REM, however, stole that mantle and the band finally split without ever really shaking off the cult tag.
There’s something reassuringly real about Delays. They’ve kicked around the dreary provinces (in their case Southampton), gigged every toilet in the UK, supported Ocean Colour Scene and released a string of singles that have inched their way towards the bottom end of the Top 40.
On their last album, Aerosmith were showing distinct signs of being locked into formula, as paented on 1987’s career revitalising Permanent Vacation. With Honkin’ On Bobo, however, they have certainly initiated a change of direction, if not quite the one that was expected.
Around this time last year, American Whip was being treated to the kind of rave reviews that might have suggested it would feature in many people’s albums of the year lists. Problem was, it was never actually released due to label legal wrangles.
The continuing trend for celebrity compilations continues. Turin Brakes’ foray into the field is billed as a DJ set but is really merely a beautifully packaged mix tape.
The twin worlds of Pink the pop star and the punk rock princess collided here tonight and made awkward bedfellows. The outcome of which one will win out is still in the balance.
Most of us have, at certain times, been guilty of doing The Saw Doctors a great disservice, airbrushing them out of the Irish musical family portrait. In the meantime they’ve continued to sell more records and play to bigger audiences around the world than most of their cooler countemporaries.
The idea of a hip-hop act on Epitaph might have raised a few eyebrows amongst the West Coast Mohican Mafia, but Minneapolis trio Atmosphere are definitely imbued with the attitude of their spiky guitar label mates, if somewhat heavier on the funk then punk.
Their timing couldn’t be better. As the world continues its love affair with raw, thrilling rock n roll, NPB have released a third album that fits the bill perfectly.
The Undertones and Stiff Little Fingers are proof that middle-age punk rock isn’t necessarily a bad idea, for the Stranglers, however, it may be time for a rethink.
In these days when seemingly any bunch of young independent types with guitars can rocket to global stardom, there’s something fairly reassuring about Preston School Of Industry.
One of the great joys of this time of year is scanning the media for their pick of new bands and having a little mental bet with yourself how long it will be before some of them have already faded from memory.
Austrian Sia Furler’s initial impact a few years back couldn’t have been greater, coupling her work with Zero 7 with her own top ten single ‘Taken For Granted’. Then, nothing. Now with this return the chances are we might have this year’s Martina Topley Bird on our hands.
So, how was it for you? On reflection, 2003 was a good year but one that offered little in the way of genuine surprises. Not that we didn’t go looking for them. As always the hunt was on to find the next big thing, the one new act that would define 2003 in years to come.
There comes a time in the life of any manufactured pop band worth their salt when they try and throw off their shackles and break the mould that has been created for them. It may involve a radical change of image, an attempt to start writing their own songs or even a management coup. The results are often glorious but short lived – Take That went bonkers on Never Forget and then promptly disintegrated; the Spice Girls dumped Fuller, lost Geri, prospered and then released a disastrous third – and it would appear final – album. From there, it’s solo careers for some, back to oblivion for others. The theory that it’s better to burn out than to fade away remains an attractive one. But what about another objective: to mature into genuine artistic relevance of the kind achieved by the Four Tops or The Temptations?
Now on their fifth album and with a greatest hits behind them, surely the odds are on Westlife if not executing an abrupt volte face, then at least tinkering with the formula a little bit?
To be the honest, the history of Madonna remixes has been a chequered one. Even during her last golden period, every ‘Like A Prayer’ or William Orbit overhaul of ‘Justify My Love’ was followed by another dull as dishwater 4/4 dance mix of some other tune. Such trepidation, however, can be dismissed when approaching this impressive seven-track collection.
Oh good, another Irish singer/songwriter. Or so it might seem. Despite the rather uninspiring moniker, Greg Geoghegan’s eighth self-released album is an understated gem.
With the release of M!Zundastood, Pink has already played her trump card at an early stage in her career, abandoning the ubiquitous notion of poppy R’n’B for a new life as a tortured rock star.
Having got themselves back on the road so spectacularly over the past couple of years, noone is going to risk the wheels coming off the RHCP juggernaut just yet. Thus a pre-Christmas release blitz sees a Live At Slane DVD and this greatest hits, also bolstered by a limited edition discs of videos.
“I write a lot on the hoof when i’m walking,” reveals Carol Keogh, which may explain why The Tycho Brahe’s love life is one of the more satisfying sonic and emotional journeys of the year.
When Ryan Adams gave his record company an album called 'Love Is Hell', they declined to release this “fucking dark, twisted sad and morose” record. so Adams decided instead to record a loud, punky, uptempo album called 'Rock N Roll'. and guess what? now we get to hear both.
One dimensional no-hopers like Valance may as well pack up and go home.
Music | Interview
22 Oct 2003
Phil Udell
Had enough of “PMS, Screaming, ‘Fuck Men!’” bands? well, let us introduce you to Fair Verona, the all-girl Tipperary trio who are flying the flag for melodic alt. rock.
So blandly interchangeable have all these R&B diva albums become, that the private lives of Beyoncé, Kelly, Mary J, Ashanti and the rest are often far more interesting. Sadly, the same holds true for Blu.
The musical template remains largely unchanged, but the combination of galloping, melodic bass and searing twin lead guitars – at times oddly reminiscent of Thin Lizzy – is hard to resist.
The musical template remains largely unchanged, but the combination of galloping, melodic bass and searing twin lead guitars – at times oddly reminiscent of Thin Lizzy – is hard to resist.
From Sheffield via New York to Montreal, Stars vocalist Tarquill Campbell is happy to fetch up in a place where “loving The Smiths is not against the law, yet”.
Music Review | Live
17 Sep 2003
Phil Udell
Whelan’s may be many things but, as I’m sure no-one will mind me saying, it is not an international sex palace.
Sometimes you instinctively know when something is right. It takes just four minutes 24 seconds of Simple Kid’s debut album, the aptly titled opening track ‘Hello’, to realise that this is going to be one of those joyous experiences.
And now it, and The Stunning, are back – albeit for a limited period only. If you were one of those who thrilled to this first time round, chances are that this reissue will leave you all dewy eyed and nostalgic.
The pop sensibility of ‘Anthology’ is still there at times, particularly on the single ‘These Days’, but you can’t help but learn for a touch more of its spirit.
When Jaz cries “it’s a fucking crusade” you’d be a fool not to believe him. Corporations, governments and the general injustice of the world have fuelled their rage over the years and the result is an anger-driven, cacophony of noise that leaves many of the young pretenders firmly in the shade.
There are dashes of funk and soul here and there and, at its best (the exuberent ‘Slaveship’), 1972 reaches the heights of Elton John, Billy Joel and latterly Ben Folds and Ed Harcourt.
Phil Udell meets a Coral disenchanted with their Hotpress review, but gains Brownie points for recognising that they're NOT - repeat NOT - from Liverpool.
Hard Working Class Heroes, featuring big names and rising stars – and everything from rock to hip-hop – is set to provide a snapshot of one nation under a groove. Phil Udell reports
Phelp’s lyrics attempt to create a world of down home characters and to be fair he sometimes succeeds in his aim – but my own feeling is that there is nothing on offer here that you won’t find in a far superior form elsewhere.
While it would have been good to hear his own ramshackle brand of Americana given a meatier treatment, it can’t be denied that he does have some fine tunes in his canon and a winning way of delivering them.
The human emotion that undoubtedly exists in her songs has been polished out of existence, the sort of thinking that leads, specifically, to the beautiful piano ballad ‘One Of These Days’ being destroyed by a naff programmed rhythm
Unlikely as all this may seem, Youth & Young Manhood proves to be very much the real deal, a refreshing blast of a record that might just see the Kings become the cult rock band of the summer.
Studt has an agreeable voice and a burdgeoning songwriting talent but, as with Lavigne, the problem is that there are so many hands involved with the album’s writing and production that it’s hard to work out where the Studt ends and the corporate machine begins.
After an initial botched attempt at cracking the London indie scene, Ciaran McFeely, aka Simple Kid, re-emerged as a dynamic singer/songwriter with an inventive musical approach and a flair for darkly humourous lyrics.
This is a bunch of half baked ideas thrown together, the majority of which may have seemed funny at the time but come up woefully short in the cold light of day
While Ashanti’s soulful voice is smooth as honey, the music itself is generic, and it’s virtually impossible to differentiate one inoffensive rambling track from the next
They may (still) not be doing anything particularly new, but here at least Ocean Colour Scene sound like they really mean it, playing with a passion that so few of their Britpop contemporaries are able to muster.
Art with a capital ‘F’ or the real, raw thing? In London, Phil Udell strolls among – and at one point nearly falls over – an exhibition of controversial, cutting edge, headline-grabbing work from Hirst, Emin et al. But is it, like, y’know, any good?
From frontman with incendiary collective Disposable Heroes Of Hiphoprisy to his current incarnation as hip-hop zen master, Michael Franti has remained one of the true radical voices of the US underground.
Their music may be dark but there’s nothing gloomy about Stuart Staples’ mood as he talks to Phil Udell about the new Tindersticks album, Waiting For The Moon, and how after 11 years they’re finally going home
For all their talk of positive energy, St. Anger is an overwhelmingly bleak record – one that is easy to admire but hard to love, that sees them careering, admittedly often thrillingly, down a musical cul-de-sac.
While the title hints at a more stripped down musical approach, the reality is a record that has been overproduced to the nth degree, the only semblance of humanity remaining being that voice, still capable of doing things to you after all these years.
With its huge choruses, female vocal sparring partners and sprawling epics of songs, Couldn’t Have Said It Better could have come at any point in his career but to criticise Meat Loaf for not moving with the times is missing the point entirely.
Few of his vintage would get away with such an audacious move without looking ridiculous but Jones, who has always been a major soul and r’n’b fan, carries it off with consummate style and no little cred.
Breathless, sexy, frantic – the album’s forty minutes include five minutes waiting around for a hidden extra track; don’t bother, it’s shite – Fever To Tell is a racket but an undeniably glorious one.
From Shakespearian thesp to sitcom star in Black Books, Nina Conti has proven herself to be one of the most versatile actresses around. But, as she tells Phil Udell, what she’s most interested in is reviving the lost art of ventriloquism
From Shakespearian thesp to sitcom star in Black Books, Nina Conti has proven herself to be one of the most versatile actresses around. But, as she tells Phil Udell, what she’s most interested in is reviving the lost art of ventriloquism
Just because you’re not “slapping a bitch” or “shooting people” doesn’t mean you’re a “christian rap act”. DJ Nu-Mark of Jurassic 5 makes the case for the defence.
It is a solo album a world away from the tortured musings of some of his contemporaries, favouring instead a bold, brash, band-led experience that suits the material well.
We are treated to de rigeur vocal gymnastics from Chester Bennington and crunching nu-metal riffs from his band mates. But Meteora is curiously lacking in soul
To the outsider, there is much here that is just plain ludicrous – from the artwork and song titles to the demonic voice overs, satanic choirs and head wrecking, totally OTT hysterics
The soft, lo-fi mumblings that they have perfected over countless albums is all present and correct, meaning that never were songs such as ‘Moonrock Mambo’ and ‘Beach Party Tonight’ (even with a brass section) so massively mistitled.
The Sleepy Jackson is that kind of album: a touch unfocused, sprawling (especially given that it’s only twenty odd minutes long) but never less than enthralling
Rob Thomas has got a voice that manages to transcend the limits of the material and his band are accomplished at producing a classic rock sound that is certainly preferable to the horrors of Nickelback and Creed.
The verse-chorus-verse brigade will find themselves cut adrift but there is a real maverick musical genius at work here, after all this is the man who made an album of sampled football charts with Tackhead and called it The English Disease
he album has an overtly laidback, West coast feel to it that suits the duo’s passionate strumming and easy harmonies. Unfortunately the temptation to overdo it is one that hasn’t proved easy to resist and far too much of Ether Song is flabby and self-indulgent.
Whereas Gran Turismo was very much a beast of the studio, this fourth album finds them re-grouped and re-inspired as a band, confident in their own abilities.
Trouble is that much of Simply Deep sounds exactly like you’d expect it to sound, a succession of fairly standard R&B excursions that showcase a fine voice but little in the way of genuine inspiration.
It may sound alien to ears accustomed to record after record of electronic overload, but there is an inherent power and beauty in the simple human voice.
Often quite beautiful, yes, and probably perfectly matched to the visuals, but it doesn’t make this an album to which you’ll necessarily want to return to again and again.
Rise does end up coming across as a hotch potch collection of familiar sounds, leading the listener to play spot the influence as opposed to developing any real understanding of the band themselves.
For a band supposed to be playing the kind of melodic punk rock currently shifting units on a global scale, Does This Look Infected is shockingly unmelodic and short on memorable tunes.
There are, however, enough touches of true innovation to suggest that Minuteman are worth more than your standard mid-afternoon second stage festival slot;
George are enjoying considerable success in their native Australia and are shortly to bring their angelic pop rock to Ireland. For co-vocalist/guitarist Tyrone Noonan however, it won’t be his first visit to the land of his ancestors
It falters on more than one occasion certainly, and the ballad card is played perhaps a touch too often, but Stripped proves that she is a major talent
With their latest album Riot Act, Pearl Jam have recaptured the blistering form of their first three albums. Matt Cameron, once of Seattle comrades Soundgarden, gives an insight into how the band has outlasted and outperformed most of its contemporaries
Still making great music after all these years, Van Morrison is an Irish genius worthy of comparison with the most enduring ’60s legends such as Bob Dylan and Neil Young
Make no mistake that the Jurassic 5 six are working firmly to their own agenda, distilling elements from rap’s history and taking them to new and exciting places
The proceeds from a new CD featuring the cream of Ireland’s musical talent including U2, Sinéad O’Connor and Ash will benefit people living with mental illness
The man/band of the people image that Dave Grohl and the Foos have perfected over recent years may be a trump card but it has also resulted in an album that, while eschewing showy hysterics, is also a little light on dynamics
Backed by the electric, eclectic band of the title, the record is a whirlwind of energy, passion and pure musical brilliance that perfectly encapsulates the European musical melting pot
An estimated 100,000 people showed up in the Phoenix Park for the O2 sponsored gig that featured Samantha Mumba, Ronan Keating, Mundy, Six, David Kitt and Kells' rock outfit Turn. Would one of the local scenes hottest contenders shine brightly enough to win the hearts of the nation’s pop kids?
It's maybe no real shock that 'Freak Like Me' dominates Angels With Dirty Faces. What is more surprising is that the album falls so far short of matching its undoubted highpoint
One of the things that becomes clear as the wonders of A Rush Of Blood To The Head unfolds is that Coldplay are making a truly startling sound within a basic rock format
If truth be told, Dynamite could have easily lost half of the material on offer and just left us with the 30 or so minutes that actually hit the target
A collection of b-sides and live tracks, Muse's Hullabaloo is aimed fairly and squarely at those who have already found themselves attracted by the three piece's lure
Yorkston's music is for the most part downbeat and melancholic, but given a sweeping beauty by the combination of pianos, guitars, strings and percussion
Armstrong has been canny enough to make this more than just the soundtrack to an imaginary movie, the frequent instrumentals combining a massive cinematic scope with the ambition of the best left-field rock and dance artists
We Did Then, their debut, is an impressive enough piece of homegrown dub that offers up hope for the future of original music in a world full of tribute bands
Quick Look is an album bursting with energy and ideas, all rooted within the fairly traditional acoustic/electric rock format yet sounding fresh and exciting
As openings go, Kissin' Time really could not have a worse beginning than 'Sex With Strangers', the first of the much vaunted Beck collaborations
After such travesties, Kissin' Time does rally somewhat in its closing moments
Having survived invasion, war and the repressive taliban regime, Fatana Gailani is continuting her courageous fight for equality for women in Afghanistan. Phil Udell hears her story.
The Process Of Belief finds them reunited both with that spiritual home and founder member Brett Gurewitz and sounding as fresh and inspired as in their early days
But therein lies Satellite’s main problem, an inability to match its outstanding moments with anything more than a series of decidedly average nu metal outings.
The final outfit to hit the stage are Horizon, and there's no doubting the classic, American rock influence running through them.
The judges thought they did enough to give them the nod in what was a tight contest indeed.
For a few thrilling moments it looks as though they might pull it off and justify all those column inches....Come its middle section, however, and B.R.M.C. begins to flounder widely, cast adrift in a sea of overused effects pedals and second hand riffs.
At their best, dEUS are capable of combining a wild eye for experimentation with a sweet ear for melody, in a way not seen around these parts since the Pixies.
For every macho posture, there are two images of Rock strumming an acoustic or blowing on a harmonica. Flip through the album credits and there are also indicators that there is more to Cocky than meets the eye.
A surprisingly mellow Tom Ayara of Slayer thinks that calling God Hates Us All “ugly” is unaccurate. “It’s more angry and hateful,” he tells Phil Udell
Being dropped by a major has helped THERAPY? relocate their soul. The result is shameless – “a very simple punk rock’n’roll record,” says ANDY CAIRNS proudly.
Interview: PHIL UDELL
Like a bizarre cross between Nick Cave and Johnny Cash, "God," or so the man says, "does not answer this type of prayer," and – to be honest – I’m not surprised.
Getting behind the scary image of the world’s most notorious band is not easy but PHIL UDELL manfully plugs away as SLIPKNOT’s SHAWN CRAHAN plays hardball
You can see it in their eyes. In their minds, Five are a hard rocking, hard rapping, street gang. In reality, though, they’re more likely to be interviewed by some stuffed animal than hang with the lads in the hood.
History – and a succession of box sets – has taught us to be wary of the ‘unreleased’ session. Some things are just best left on the cutting room floor.
Well, it’s too long for a start, but then again this is the man who went from the short, sharp shock of The Clash to the sprawling Sandanista in the space of four albums.
The idea of the Afro Celts as a singles band has always been something of a non-starter, but ‘When You’re Falling’ finds them reading and able to move amongst the pop elite.
A close contender for SOTF were it not for the fact that its limited availability will probably make it nigh on impossible to get hold of, ‘Johnny Appleseed’ is nonetheless a fine addition to the Strummer canon.
With its tales of skateboarding, girls and bunking off biology class, ‘Heaven Is A Half Pipe’ shouldn’t really appeal to anyone who isn’t blond, a teenager and called Brad but, in an issue stuffed full of feel good records, even a thirty year old English bloke can’t help shaking a leg to OPM’s infectious mix of hip-hop, rock and pop.
Don’t fret though, because here come the fearsome, fighting fivesome to lift the spirits. While not in the calibre of ‘Keep On Moving’ and ‘Everybody Get Up’, ‘Let’s Dance’ still manages to assemble all the relevant factors – disco beat, vocoders, J’s daft northern rapping – to come up with an indentikit pop hit.
Despite having one of the worst names in the history of music, PSOI are somewhat part of the American alternative hierarchy, featuring as they do Mr Spiral Stairs, one time member of Pavement. Those of you who remember those days of the early ’90s will instantly swoon at this, with its hints of Buffalo Tom, Dinosaur Jnr and the like. Dreamy.
Another nod to trans-Atlantic guitar swinging, this time stemming from these very shores, by way of Scotland and Spain. There’s more than a hint of the Pixies in the urgent bass and drums, but also a welcome touch of alternative country in the twanging lead vocal.
The competition for the rap and R’n’B boys is certainly hotting up. While Destiny’s Child may have grabbed the popular vote on a massive scale, the likes of Eve, Missy, Kelis and Aaliyah are all staking their claim.
If you’d imagine a collective formed from members of Snow Patrol, Arab Strap, Astrid, Mogwai, Mull Historical Society, Belle & Sebastian and others would produce some sort of unholy racket then – on the evidence of Y’All Get Scared Now, Ya Hear! – you’d be somewhat off the mark.
A mixture of singer-songwriter narrative and hip-hop savvy, courtesy of Milk D (of Audio 2 fame), the single and album opener serves as a perfect appetiser for what is to come.
At 30 tracks of instrumental electronica, this isn’t the most manageable of affairs, but slips by nicely as background music, which in the end is what it’s there for.
Clearly no-one in the recording process knew when to say “that’s enough”, layering each track with overdub after overdub.
Beneath all this is an obviously talented artist struggling to get out.
LIMP BIZKIT are a rock'n'roll phenomenon. Notching up in excess of 20 million album sales over the past two years, they're in the vanguard of the nu-metal movement that has seen guitar rock reclaiming its place at the top of the singles charts. In Madrid to catch the band live, PHIL UDELL first hears passionate words from the frontman, FRED DURST. But, amid a welter of controversy, the raging music is put on hold as Limp Bizkit's show in the Spanish capital is cancelled – an ominous foreshadowing of the events that will see their UK, German and Irish dates also sensationally cancelled
As obscure projects go, a solo album from a member of Lambchop released on the ofshoot of an independent label from Glasgow has got to rank pretty highly.
KARAN CASEY
The Shelter, Dublin
As interesting a band as they unquestionably are, there was always a nagging doubt when it came to Irish American folkies Solas – namely you wished they would often just can their diddling a bit and let singer Karan Casey work more of her stunning vocal talent.
MOGWAI
Red Box, Dublin
Well, you can’t dance to them. Big, singalong choruses aren’t really their thing either. And the only movement on stage comes when they move from standing still to sitting down. So what do you actually do at a Mogwai gig?
It’s a classic story, the once great but now slightly washed up band turning to the new kids on the block to give them a shot in the arm, hoping to recapture past glories and boost a flagging career. Then there was the time that Aerosmith made a record with Run DMC…
The advertising campaign for Crowded House’s final Best Of… album a few years back ran something along the lines of it was surprising how many of their songs you knew without realising it.
Despite the potential horrors of selling Irish music to an American audiences, Green Linnet has managed to avoid many of the attendant clichés that have plagued Celtic music overseas.
Memories of the Suns of Arqa are fond indeed, mostly stemming from long summer days and nights spent in a field somewhere listening to their mighty global dub sounds.
It's all a little bizarre. Michelle Shocked, one time spiky folk singer of this parish, is shaking her not inconsiderable barnet, shimmying around the Vicar St stage and giving her electric guitar a right good thrashing.
Man, you just have to love those Aerosmith guys. Suppliers of endlessly entertaining 'out of it' stories and more than a handful of classic tunes during the seventies, their post-Run DMC collaboration comeback has been the stuff of legend.
Ten years together now and, while they never really tried to invent the traditional wheel, Sligo's Dervish have been nothing but exemplary ambassadors for Irish music.
If youth was once wasted on the young, what about record contracts? My Vitriol are yet another set of early twenty-somethings touting guitars and being thrust into the limelight at a ridiculously early stage - their tenth ever gig was part of the NME awards- week at London-s Astoria.
Ah, the trusty live album, beloved of contractual obligates the world over as a means of putting out that pesky last record without actually having to come into contact with the wankers from the record company.
It's been five years since Babes In Toyland last shrieked their way around the globe and, to be honest, the world hasn't exactly been a hugely poorer place for their absence. Still, they're back for one last time - this is a combined reunion/farewell tour - and really, they needn't have bothered.
Hey! Ho! Let's go (girls)! And so the band who named their debut album Teenage American Rock 'n' Roll Machine reach the ripe old age of twenty one, celebrating with a fourth record and a new, more mature sound.
Frank Black is something of the Paul McCartney of the alternative set - one quarter of a hugely influential band but struggling to recapture that muse throughout a patchy solo career.
They may well have danced with the showbizz devil during their Riverdance days, but you can’t deny that few Irish bands are keeping it as real as Anúna. Cynara – their first album in nearly five years – sees them return to their original blueprint in impressive style.
It would seem that inside every successful singer songwriter there’s a covers album struggling to get out. Following George Michael, Annie Lennox et al, the fad now appears to be passing into Irish trad circles, with De Dannan’s ill-advised Hotel Hollywood effort and now Luka Bloom’s first release for two years.
