Not many tricks up their sleeves on this album. The Bronx make more of the same noisy, aggressive songs on an album with the same title as their last two.
Despite great anticipation in light of his denied entry into the UK, Snoop Dogg's anti-climactic performance heavily based on his older album failed to reach out to his newer fans.
"Most of the record is – sonically-speaking, rather than in terms of quality – classic Ghostface, but only a couple of these familiar tracks match the standard set on previous records."
"The Ambassador wasn’t the place to hazard a definitive judgement, but make no mistake the 30 Seconds To Mars juggernaut is rolling and they’re picking up momentum by the minute."
"The Wu-Tang Clan are undoubtedly in decline, but given the musical peaks they have scaled in the past, there remains plenty of sublime scenery to observe on the way down."
His take on crunk (which is so generic it feels generous to even call it a “take”) feels flimsy and devoid of hooks, although the lightly Carribean production touches do show a smidgeon of promise.
A respectable collection which raises the question: why do the Killers pad their albums out with mediocre filler, when they have at least some decent alternative material to spare?
This is like being transported to the Mediterranean on a crisp Dublin evening. Yet the sheer size of the event forces Manu to play a role to which he is unsuited: a stadium artist.
The UK singer’s music could be defined as ambitious and overreaching, but there is something cautious and tentative at its core, which holds him back from genuine greatness.
Over three days, the cream of up-and-coming Irish and Scandinavian talent gave it their all. Killian Murphy picks out those that shone brightest. Click here. for live gallery.
It’s hard to think of a debut record that plays it quite as straight as Standby. The album is resolutely mid-tempo, with the band apparently content to operate within a light, unflustered chug.
The Elektrons debut album moves through a whole range of styles – soul, funk, hip-hop and house – but the duo’s ambition is not always matched by achievement.
Bobby Kray is a UK reggae artist who has been building a strong live reputation for himself, as a support act to Amy Winehouse, and his debut album is not without charm.
Their music might be chilled-out psychedelia, but, in person, The Coral are capable of Gallagher-level rowdiness. Not that they harbour dreams of being the next Oasis. The Liverpool outfit are happy being a cult act...
Enrique seems be coming into his own of late. He is outstanding at producing breezy, Mediterranean disco-pop songs, almost inevitably with a piercing, melancholic undercurrent. ‘Tired Of Being Sorry’ is one such song – it may, indeed, be his finest single to date. A dazzling combination of lilting Spanish guitar, rippling electronics and that heartbroken (heartbreaking?) Latin croon. It’s a surefire hit – but more importantly, a timeless pop classic.
Caribou (AKA Dan Snaith, formerly known as Manitoba) makes music that is more compelling on paper than on record. ‘Melody Day’, for instance, features a mixture of surf guitar, bedroom laptronica and blissful psychedelia. Sounds exciting? Well, it’s not. The song is brusque and busy, and the production attempts to cram rather too much into a tight space. Frustrating, as there is a great track buried in here somewhere.
Paddy Casey’s music has improved dramatically since he first emerged, the David Gray-isms of yore being replaced with something far more ambitious and colourful. ‘Addicted To Company’ incorporates swooping strings, the odd splash of brass, and even some gospel-flavoured backing vocals. This has an ambitious feel to it and could be huge.
The news that the Kaiser Chiefs were to deliver a second album angrier and more politicised than the first was greeted with some scepticism in this quarter. It doesn’t seem to have worked out too badly in practice, though, and ‘The Angry Mob’ is testament to that. A chunky, infectious slice of guitar-pop, it provides everything you would want from a Kaiser Chiefs record, and more. A hit.
She has a fine track record of bringing wildly idiosyncratic music to the masses but this is impenetrable even by Björk’s wilful standards. The song is a caustic barrage of thundering IDM rhythms, topped off with the Icelander’s trademark, tremulous wail. Not unlike much of her previous material, then, but it lacks the undercurrent of vulnerability and petrified melody that characterises a great Björk record.
Every KT Tunstall single looks set to be greeted with unfavourable comparisons to her fabulous smash hit ‘Suddenly I See’ – an unkind state of affairs, perhaps, as almost any song would come out a loser in that particular battle. Here, she delivers a track that closely resembles her golden moment, yet exhibits only a fraction of its brilliance.
Since I dislike Maroon 5 almost as much as the next man, it pains me to admit that they’re capable of delivering moments of excellence. Imagine, then, my irritation when the one good track from their less than impressive It Won’t Be Soon Before Long album shows up in the singles pile. It is a good song, though, and it would be churlish to pretend otherwise. Check the awesome, rumbling stomp of the chorus for proof.
Lucky Soul make pop music for indie fans, in a similar fashion to St. Etienne and The Cardigans. What we’ve got here is lush, twinkling girl-pop, with a rich, Motown sweep and bundles of style. Hard to resist, frankly.
Lightspeed Champion are fronted by former Test Icicle Dev Hynes. This, however, has little in common with the Tests’ oeuvre. ‘Galaxy Of The Lost’ actually has a vaguely operatic feel, with its lush string arrangement and OTT vocal dramatics: overall, it’s not dissimilar to the Magnetic Fields, and not far behind them in terms of quality, either.
The debut from Naas quartet Miracle Bell shows plenty of promise, though it’s hardly an unqualified success. The overall sound hints at something potentially interesting: sloppy garage-rock, with electronic burbles floating just beneath the surface may not be everyone’s cup of tea, but there’s a platform established. Now they need to start building...
The nimble guitar part that runs behind the chorus of ‘All I Want Is For You To Be Happy’ reminds me of Pulp’s classic ‘Do You Remember The First Time?’. The Aftermath may still have some distance to go to attain the pithy, effortless brilliance of Cocker and co., but let’s not be negative: the UK-based, Longford-bred group have delivered a solid slice of direct guitar pop, and the echoey treatment of the vocals is a nice sonic touch.
This song has a nasty whiff of autopilot about it. All the hallmarks of a great Girls Aloud record – turbo-charged guitars, tag-team vocals brimming with attitude, a stomping disco backbeat – are here, yet something is missing. It could be the absence of any effective melodic hook to speak of: the Girls did not get where they are on style alone, and the substance of their previous work is in disappointingly short supply here.
New Wave is the fourth album from Florida punk rockers Against Me!. It will probably go down as their ‘sell-out’ record, in that it's their first for a major label.
Super Extra Bonus Party may yet be diagnosed with a severe case of musical ADHD, but isn’t it better to deliver sporadic, scattershot brilliance, than to remain consistently ordinary?
Velvet Revolver are a formidable collection of important figures from 80’s and 90’s hard rock, and this strong mixture of personalities lends their music a certain charisma, even when it isn’t particularly accomplished.
From Sister Sledge to The Spikes, plus non musical attractions such as massage, fortune-telling and art exhibitions, Castle Palooza promises a festival in the conventional sense of the word.
This resolutely downbeat record is earnest, straightforward acoustica, with heartfelt vocals and a small palette of instruments – often stripped down to just guitar and voice.
Live In Your Living Room featuring Eyeslave, Travega, Karrier, Colm Heaney And The Bad DJs, Corsairs + Dali. Six relatively-unknown Irish groups playing half-hour sets, and tonight, the lower-ranked artists are the ones who shine.
Arctic Monkeys are flippant purveyors of raucous, Libertines-inspired pop, who like to maintain a cool, reserved and sarcastic demeanour. All well and good, except that this concert requires a greater sense of occasion.
A number of twinkling, low-key ballads help to save this record from being completely atrocious, but Rudd must lose his tendency towards eclecticism if he is to reach his full potential.
Are they genuine punks or just an amped-up, radio-friendly version of the real thing? Good Charlotte‘s twin frontmen Benji and Joel wouldn’t like to say for certain.
Double Up is a maddeningly inconsistent collection, with more misses than hits – though Kelly’s best moments do go some way towards atoning for his flaws.
Recently revealed to be the last ever Ash album, Twilight Of The Innocents re-announces the group's commitment to melody and proves they have successfully re-ignited their creative spark.
Manson's impenetrable coldness and lack of emotion helped to make him a compelling figure, so it’s a little disconcerting to hear him wail with sadness over something as banal as heartbreak.
From the moment they hit the stage, Maximo Park looked the part, their innate confidence magnified in the small space. Their chief selling-point is frontman Paul Smith and you can immediately see why - he is genuinely eccentric performer.
Kasabian have wrung no more than a handful of killer pop moments from a somewhat one-dimensional sound. But the enthusiastic crowd reaction at Hineken Green Energy has tempered my less than converted position just a little.
The soundtrack for the previous Spiderman film had a strong thread of emo and hard rock running through it. This collection has moved more towards contemporary indie-rock.
Trent Reznor’s working in the wrong field: he makes gothic metal records, with nods to electronic dance music and IDM. He should be making electronic/IDM records, with (perhaps) the occasional shade of heavy metal.
There seemed to be something distant and pre-occupied about Joan Wasser's banter, full of semi-comprehensible, possibly-stoned babble and peculiar random observations.
There are some pretty sonic snippets throughout the evening, but none seem to be stretched over the course of a full track, instead becoming lost in a hurricane of furiously-pounded electric guitar.
A handful of bands, each playing four or five-song sets; this is a formula that will always produce mixed results. But, pleasingly, tonight threw up more hits than misses.
Second and third records are regularly described as being “difficult” for the group, but the brothers Followill have made a nonsense of such claims. Long live the Kings.
The Parlotones are a South African rock band who've already achieved considerable fame in their homeland. Their debut single ‘Beautiful’ has featured in a Fujifilm advertisement campaign.
It’s easy to see A Certain Ratio as a less remarkable sister band to Joy Division/New Order. Sonically, their careers followed a roughly similar path, arriving at a danceable sound, following more post-punk beginnings.
This is the second album from The Rakes, their debut Capture/Release having reaped considerable critical acclaim, and even some modest chart success, in their native UK.
Ceol ’07 is the third instalment of an annual compilation, created as part of Seachtain Na Gaeilge, which collects native-language tracks from contemporary Irish pop/rock groups.
Mika's wide sonic palette has already been touted (by himself and others) as a trump card, but this listener detected a sizeable gap between ambition and achievement throughout Life In Cartoon Motion.
Hip-hop does not usually mesh well with singer-songwriter earnestness, yet the UK rapper (real name Ben Drew) somehow manages to strike the right balance.
This is the group’s first record for a major label, Capitol Records no doubt reacting to the popularity of the Arcade Fire by snapping up a similarly quirky bunch of prog-orchestral indie-poppers.
Youthful Dundee rockers The View certainly make a virtue of economy; none of the fourteen tracks on their debut album venture past the four-minute mark, and only one makes it further than three-and-a-half.
Their transition from traditional ‘indie’ beginnings to a more lavish, gothic sound suggests a development that, for my money, has never been backed up by a commensurate break-through in terms of songwriting. Or maybe I’ve been missing something...
Annual article: The Electric Picnic wasn’t just one of the musical events of the year; it also let us chow down and have a natter with some of the top pop combos of the day, including Bloc Party, Gang Of Four and New Order.
Annual article: When Kylie Minogue was diagnosed with breast cancer in May 2005, she was forced to cancel the remainder of her Showgirl World Tour. Unbelievably, she made her comeback just last month.
Recent postings of dubious merit have plunged the Internet site YouTube into controversy, prompting many to wonder if it’s fulfilling its potential for positive, stimulating and innovative broadcasting.
It may seem like a curious observation, given that she has already established herself as a bona fide Pop Star, but on tonight’s evidence P!nk remains very much a work in progress.
How Eric Eckhart quit his swish job, sold his house and cars, split with his girlfriend and burned his picket fence in order to pursue his creative vision.
Phoenix are often mentioned in the same breath as fellow Frenchmen Daft Punk and Air, and they certainly incorporate some shades of electronic pop and disco into their sound. Tonight though, they stand before us primarily as a rock band. They are, in many ways, a perfect rock band, but they still fall short of being a great one.
You can see the logic behind this mini-festival in The Ambassador, featuring three up-and-coming Irish bands. The small acts pool their respective fanbases to create a bigger audience for all three – thus the gig is given an aura of an event to draw in music-lovers who may not be familiar with any of the performers. In practice, it fell short of the mark.
The least promisingly-titled record of the fortnight is actually its best – by a considerable distance, too. Jóhann Jóhannsson is an Icelandic-born composer and musician – not a household name, and he probably won’t become one, unless scarcely-moving, heart-rendingly beautiful classical-ambient mood pieces come into fashion. Still, hopefully this five-track EP’s gorgeous glacial melt will find its way into one or two listener’s hearts. Tired of Sigur Ros’ coffee-table whalesong? The real Scandinavian deal is right here.
Hip-hop’s answer to the Dave Matthews Band team up with… the Dave Matthews Band! As boring in practice as it is in theory, ‘Work It Out’ is a final nail in the coffin for the idea that J5 are a “breath of fresh air” in the rap world. Quickest way to shut someone up if they start banging on about the inherent creative superiority of positive indie rap over its mainstream equivalent? Play them this record; no one has remained awake into its third minute yet.
Ugh, sweaty cock-rock from Ulster; not rough enough around the edges to provide a genuine visceral thrill, not silly enough to be pop, not catchy enough to be a hit, not in possession of a strong enough hook to stick in the memory, not a single thing to recommend it. If this is The Answer then perhaps we need to change the question.
Can’t say I’ve been too taken with these current golden boys of Irish rock, but this track is actually pretty respectable; not good enough to justify the hype in and of itself (and certainly not when taken in the context of their other material), but certainly the best thing they’ve yet put their name to. A trashy low-slung bassline, a riff that half-inches ‘Blister In The Sun’, and an enjoyably frenetic drum pattern – not altogether unpleasant, though I’m yet to be convinced that this is anything more than a stopped clock’s time of day.
Imagine a three-way alliance between Toploader, James Blunt and Jamie Cullum – the Circle Of Hell, we’ll call it. This record approximates what might be their evil spawn; that irritating cocksure swagger – those snooze-inducing cocktail jazz flourishes – it’s all here. My only consolation upon reviewing it is that I now have a platform to encourage people not to buy it: please don’t, you’ll only encourage him.
A five-track EP that showcases this Dublin quintet’s ability to mix post-Coldplay sop-rock with more sonic, shoegaze/post-rockin’ leanings – and it’s at its best when the latter come to the fore. Three songs hit home in a big way: lead track ‘Sophia’ evokes Low at their narcotic finest, while ‘Carpark’ is a powerful instrumental; awash with noise and brimming with melancholy. On ‘Chemistry’ the group develop more of a swagger, incorporating some of Spiritualized’s drone-rocking tendencies, without losing their undercurrent of bulging sadness. The formula (sugar-sweet melodies peeking through a blizzard of guitar noise) may be familiar, but it’s still irresistible when executed this well.
A spirited take on an old Lewis Taylor soul record, spiking it up with some funky electro touches. Still, can’t help but feel that performing cover versions minimises Robbie’s impact; he is a personality first, musician second (which is why his gigs have always been better than his records) – if I can’t scrutinise the lyrics for salacious titbits on his latest personal dramas, I’m less inclined to pay attention.
More rock bands should format their gigs like this – snippets of each song, segueing into each other, rapid-fire. Playing the entirety of each track on the setlist is not good for the momentum of a show, especially to people with attention spans as short as my own.
Does anyone give a toss about Badly Drawn Boy anymore? A lot of people, judging by the sell-out crowd at The Village tonight, though I have to say I’m a little surprised.
Idlewild is the soundtrack to Outkast’s upcoming movie of the same name, and the follow-up to 2003’s massively acclaimed double album Speakerboxxx/The Love Below.
The Marlay Park crowd are more engrossed in the FAITHLESS Experience than in Faithless themselves and - despite their gargantuan record sales across Europe - they are small-time celebrities in an individual context...
Despite being thoroughly cohesive in sound and form, the West London DJ collective’s debut proper is best appreciated as a collection of great moments rather than a consistent album.
She Wants Revenge, the first record from the Los Angeles duo She Wants Revenge, is in many ways the generic debut: occasionally promising, frequently overreaching, rather too in-thrall to its influences and, ultimately, not wholly satisfying.
The Radio look a lot more compelling and fully-formed than they sound. There’s those four axe-wielders strung across the front of the stage, clad all in black, along with two stunning female singers, flanked by two slightly more intense fellas. Visually, it’s intriguing. But tonight’s performance lacks both the conviction and sense of implacable cool necessary to provide the look with the correct context.
This self-titled debut is the type of record you’d expect from someone who has been a close friend (and musical kindred spirit) of Antony, Rufus and co. – lavish, theatrical and brimming with soul.
Since releasing her self-titled debut album in 1997, Susana Baca has built a formidable worldwide audience for her intense take on Afro-Peruvian traditional music. Touted by former Talking Head David Byrne, she first sprang to prominence when he included one of her songs on his The Soul Of Black Peru compilation.
Son is the fourth album from Argentine singer-songwriter Juana Molina, and hopefully it will be the one that introduces her unique talent to a worldwide audience.
Adem Ilhan plies his trade as bassist with brittle post-rockers Fridge (also home to the acclaimed-but-bland Kieran Hebden, aka Four Tet), but is now set to release the second album of a promising solo career.
Quasi are Sam Coomes and Janet Weiss, an (ex)-husband-and-wife team who have been delivering a steady stream of albums since the mid-90s, always taking care to lace their sweet organ-driven alt-pop with darkly humorous, acidic lyrical poison. They may be the musical equivalent of Father Ted’s outwardly-blissful, secretly-psychotic “odd couple” John and Mary, so at odds are their sound and their words.
An over-14’s event at the Ambassador tonight – though some crowd members look even lighter in years than that, making this possibly the youngest audience at the venue since its days hosting cinema matinees.
A full-blown reunion tour may have persuaded a majority to alter their views favourably, but a proper comeback now looks unlikely. So, those who had their appetite whetted for more Floyd material last summer will have to make do with projects like On An Island, guitarist/vocalist David Gilmour’s first solo album since 1984. Happily, it delivers at least some of what they may be looking for.
Graham’s Sonic Youth/Pavement fantasies may have marked him out as the exception within Blur, but appreciated in any other context, he’s defiantly traditional. Far from sounding oddball or avant-garde, Coxon now peddles gnarled indie-punk almost entirely devoid of quirks and innovation.
Bell X1 at the RDS? It would have seemed unthinkable a few years back, but 2005 was a good year for the group – one in which they took steps to ensure that they will be remembered as more than just Damien Rice’s old playmates.
Don Mescall is a Limerick-raised singer-songwriter who has been plying his trade on London’s music circuit for almost 20 years. Innocent Run, his debut album, should have been an impressive culmination of two decades’ worth of experience, but instead feels like a regrettable last-ditch compromise.
Recorded at Green Day’s Milton Keynes gigs in June 2005, the album catches the band at what may be the peak of their ear-bleeding, deliriously melodic powers.
The formula employed on Try Everything 2wice is straightforward and wholly unoriginal, yet thoroughly enjoyable: monster riffs, beefy production and lyrics so cliché-ridden that Feeder would dismiss them for lacking depth.
While they lack the pop skills to become stadium beasts, We Are Scientists do offer more sonic delights. They can build furiously enjoyable storms of sound; full of bleary Sonic Youth riffage and pounding bass – and even incorporating a jerky, new wave sensibility on occasion.
Singer-songwriter Emm Gryner hails from Canada, but she looks to the Emerald Isle for inspiration on Songs Of Love And Death, interpreting material from an eclectic mix of Irish acts.
Jamie Cullum is naff, and not in an endearing way. There are many artists whose lack of cool is a pleasure to behold (who could not be charmed by The Darkness’ ability to be entertainingly out-of-step with their contemporaries?), but Cullum is a different species.
50 Cent’s rise to the top of the rap game has been impressive, but he remains dogged by critics who claim that his fame owes more to a compelling personal history than any remarkable talent. Shows like this represent an excellent, defiant response to the haters, but not quite enough to dispel all lingering doubts about his rap credentials.
Belgian folk-grungers dEUS have returned, five years after their last acclaimed album The Ideal Crash. A cursory listen to Pocket Revolution’s opening track, ‘Bad Timing’ confirms that they are not about to alter their gameplan, and remain dedicated to slowly filling their melancholy-tinged pop songs with extra sheets of guitar noise.
While Zinedine Zidane's return makes the task considerably more difficult, Ireland have both the players and mental strength to beat France in next week's crucial World Cup qualifier. That's the verdict of our panel of celebrity fans who tell Killian Murphy why they're looking forward to another night of international footballing glory.
Daddy Yankee has been touted as a spearhead of the reggaeton movement, a musical hybrid born in his native Puerto Rico, which incorporates elements of reggae, salsa and hip-hop.
Craig David’s opening volley of singles – ‘Re-Wind’, ‘Fill Me In’ and ‘Seven Days’ – were so devilishly entertaining and filled with youthful promise that following them was always going to be a tough task.
Nikka Costa’s 2001 single ‘Like A Feather’ was one of the year’s best – a sassy, funky slice of minimalist pop that provided its creator with a deserved worldwide smash.
Few artists – people, even – can bring out high levels of irritation and revulsion in their fellow human beings as consistently as Jason Kay. That he has managed to build a hugely successful career with such an obvious lack of charm and humility, only makes him harder to stomach.
On her sixth album, Missy Elliott has – for the most part – ended her long-running working relationship with gifted producer Timbaland. It’s difficult to be happy about the death of a partnership that has thrown up some of the most dazzlingly futuristic pop music of recent years, but it was a collaboration that had been on the wane for some time.
Timo Maas built a reputation as a skilled DJ and producer in his native Germany, before enjoying a successful foray into “album-dance” on 2002’s well-received Loud. He tries to repeat the trick on Pictures, assembling a range of star vocalists for added accessibility.
Pina Kollars is an Austrian native, who re-located to West Cork seven years ago. Her music reflects this transition: one can detect the thawing of Alpine cool in her resolutely cheery songwriting, giving way to the blissful security of the Irish countryside.
Common has retreated from the sonic adventure and wilful eclecticism of his previous release, 2002’s Electric Circus. Perversely, he has managed to achieve greater creative success in doing so. Rather than minimising its impact, the tight, cohesive nature of the material on Be is a welcome change of focus.
The Black Eyed Peas emerged in the mid-‘90s as “positive” underground rappers, who aimed to provide good vibes as an alternative to gangsta fraternity’s macho excesses. More recently, the group have attempted a balancing act between indie-rap’s relaxed outlook, and the pop immediacy of more primal hip hop. This is not as exciting a cross-pollination as it sounds – frequently feeling like a tame, uninspired compromise – though still managing to throw up some undeniably fun pop moments.
