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PageOpinions of this record have pretty much been 50/50. The reason why so many people dislike it is because they think it's too pretentious and art wank for the band's own good. But that's precisely the reason why I dig it. It's just far enough out there that the songs still retain their pop structures, but it's not your run of the mill Brit indie either. And yes, Thom Yorke's still writing those catchy hit songs - see "Paranoid Android" for proof. Radiohead have done it again. "OK Computer" is a most brilliant album indeed. (DW)
I LOVE this band. I think they're the greatest thing since sliced bread (or for a more recent reference, the importation of Hooch into this country...) But I can't figure out why more people don't agree with me... These guys have been churning out brilliant creations for ages now and loads more individuals should cop on to their highly addictive, power pop-infested punk rock. And although I prefer their last effort, "Phaseshifter", to this one, I still can't stop listening to "Show World". The McDonald brothers have done it again. (DW)
If you think this record contains the angstiest elements of Lync and Modest Mouse, you have another thing coming to you bucko. This recent effort by a Northwest supergroup of sorts is a mellower, relatively tense-free soundscape into the lovelorn minds of these four guys. ("Thick With The Paint Swaying" is a fantastic little wankfest though.) James Bertrand of the sadly missed Lync takes the helm, backed by the fantastic drumming of Modest Mouse's Jeremiah Green and two Satisfact(ers). I bought the record on Sunday, and have listened to it five times already. It's Tuesday only and I just can't get enough. (DW)
A lot of people have found fault with this album, disappointed that it doesn't sound more like The Stone Roses. But what else would you expect from a bunch of people, still bitter over the fact that "The Second Coming" was a major letdown? But, "Do It Yourself" isn't nearly as bad as people make it out to be. But by the same token, a lot of work still needs to be done. A few of the tracks, especially "Blinded by the Sun," are strong, but vocalist Chris Helme needs a little something extra to match up to John's powerful guitar riffs. Still, I dig the record. But I guess I'm not as critical as most others. (DW)
When track one 'Comb the Carpet' kicks in you're well aware of the fact that this guy's got a bee in his bonnet about something. However, the screaming soon gives way to a more melodic angst that is a lot more pleasant to listen to. (TW)
Two words : relentlessly poppy. Half very punky slam of guitars, half happy guitar strumming. Attempts at perfect pop-style harmonies that hit a high pitch very frequently. Lyrics that may have more 'bite' than their delivery suggests. And everything's at or below the 3:30 mark, with the basic verse-chorus-verse-chorus-bridge-chorus til fade set up (with the exception of "Animal's Feet", their shot at a piano ballad). Actually, it sounds like the Beach Boys on speed. (Don't believe me? Try listening to "Lava" or "Julia".) Tongues are planted firmly in cheeks, and this isn't supposed to be anything but fun. Put it on and just TRY not to bob your head around. (I tried and didn't bob my head around...-eds.) (AE)
I think by now, we're all quite aware of how much I love this band, championing them since the early days. But they've returned after a short hiatus (read: breakup) and have released a most phenomenal cd indeed. Sure it's laden with Beatles inspiration, but it's brought to life by a style that's all their own. They're truly brilliant and by all means, Chris Murphy should be a superstar. So Run! Run! to your local record shop and buy a copy already. (DW)
Manchester 1997 circa 1992. This debut album from Space Monkeys recalls the glory days of rave, when Happy Mondays, Stone Roses and Primal Scream's "Screamadelica" were all the rage. It's the updated version of baggy with a late 90s hip hop groove - all meshed together with a Mancunian lager lout vibe. When I first put this album on, I looked at my Stone Roses poster and sighed. Because no matter how hard Ian Brown and John Squire will attempt to win back the old school fans, they'll never make Roses diehards as happy as when they listen to "Daddy of them All". (DW)
Pete Kember&emdash;or as I still like to call him, Sonic Boom - is one interesting, complex, and well, fucked-up individual. But, he is also most definitely a genius. His latest effort is more than ample proof. On each and every track, no ground is left unexplored. Sounds and experimental tones come at you from every direction - dark, spacey drones, vintage analog synths... Minimalist and slightly experimental, "Forever Alien" is a welcome change to the hundreds of indie bands churning out derivative rock (not that I don't love my fair share, but...). 54 minutes of soundscapes that transport you to another, higher level. It's one of the most intriguing records I've heard lately. Leave it to Sonic to challenge us and entertain us at the very same time. You will be transported to another world. And on Sonic's planet, we are all aliens. (DW)
It's warm & fuzzy, it's poppy, it's...Stereolab? Where are all the quirky blips & from-outer-space sounding instruments? Well, they're still there, but in moderation. The use of (wait for it) acoustic guitars more than suggests a change has happened. Not so much a move towards accessibility but toward focusing on the tunes, the melodies, rather than the weird instruments used to create the sounds. After listening to it, you remember the actual songs, not the weird sounds that popped up occasionally; always a good sign. As you get further into the album, the quirk returns slightly, but even that feels like there's a bit more emotion attached. High point of the album is "Refractions in the Plastic Pulse," for being a whopping 17 minutes without being boring - it actually sounds like several different songs, all of which have a common thread linking them, but none are just repetitions of the previous. And for band that used to seemingly get off on being as out-there experimental as possible, for that to be the only real "dabbling" and have it be successful gives them a lot of credit. There's no mistaking it's Stereolab, but it's a more user-friendly Stereolab. (AE)
Three Welsh guys doing songs about small-town life. Thankfully, it completely lacks the condescension that would make you think "Britpop" in seeing the subject matter of the songs. Also, comparisons to "another Welsh band" (you know, that currently-hugely-popular group, member disappeared a few years back...) go away once you hear that the songs are intensely personal, but not in the MSP-style; no Nazi prison camp comparisons or songs about self-destruction. Here, life's just frustrating and tedious. With strong, heartfelt vocals, pounding guitars, some crankingly good tunes (esp. "Local Boy In The Photograph" and the nearly-chirpy "More Life In A Tramp's Vest") this is more than "a good debut album." They've found a strong style early on in their recording career that doesn't feel over-the-top or like a put-on, and makes me think this band might be, along with worth listening to now, worth watching in the future. (AE)
This, Strangelove's third album, isÉwell, strange. The first two albums showcased a band that heartily embraced gloom, moodiness & a whole lot of angst, mainly courtesy of their singer, Patrick Duff, possessor of a set of vocal chords so good that he could get away with the glum/angsty posturing. Something's obviously changed in Strangelove-land, because the angst is pretty much gone. Instead of introspection, there are abrasive, up-front displays of emotion that seem to feel false. The music follows suit, replacing the dramatic tension, swells & build-ups of previous albums, with a sludge-fest of guitars. Exceptions to this are a weirdly poppy "The Greatest Show On Earth" and the nicely muted ballad "Jennifer's Song". Strangelove's previous albums seemed to be emotionally charged to a point where you felt like they were dangling on the edge of "losing it," and this earned them the scorn of some folks who weren't fond of whingeing. Now, they've switched, replacing the old, more engrossing feelings with something that resembles anger that's more "acceptable" - they just sound pissed-off in the same way everyone else does. But, on them, it feels false.(AE)
Losing your principal songwriter must be a true bitch. Having everyone write you off as a result of the loss, another bitch. Having to follow up a very orchestral, dramatic, possibly overblown album (with equally overblown lyrics) that positively screamed 'epic', still another bitch. Under these circumstances, this album really should have been awful (should have been? surely you mean is-eds). Surprise, surprise, this isn't as dreadful as it could have been (Really? - eds). It's a return to the form of the first album, with Brett Anderson's previously pretentious lyrics replaced by 'life-around-me" lyrics that are logical and (since they're about him and his friends) friendly. There are a few choruses that are definitely crowd-pleasers (wisely, these have been chosen as singles - "Trash", "Beautiful Ones", "Lazy"). It almost feels like they read all of the harsh words about their last album and acted on them; it's back to the glammy, 70s sound that got them noticed in the first place.
I'd love this album except for one problem: the vocals sound awful. I'm not sure if they sound metallic (in a recorded in a tin can way) or are just pushed too far back in the mix. But despite the fact that Brett can hit the tried-for notes, it ends up sounding whiny, which isÉwell, a bitch (expected surely - eds). (AE)
"B-sides", as a general rule, tend to fall into two categories: wacky little ditties & well-intentioned songs that just didn't quite make it on to the album. Suede could NEVER be considered a wacky bunch, so the first theory's not represented here, a collection of nearly all of the "other songs from the singles" (Suede don't call them "b-sides," don'tcha knowÉ). This covers Suede's history in 2 CD's: the early days when their gauche, glammy style was something entirely new and everyone who was anyone fell in love with them (define anyone-eds); the mid-section when Bernard Butler's head started to creep up his own posterior (as lovely as the music isÉ"self-indulgence" was the order of the day at that point); the "re-vamped" Suede who have achieved new success at the hands of Brett & "The Young One" as co-writers and a more straightforward approach to songwriting. The songs fit nicely into either the guitar-wailer or piano-based melodrama categories, as befits Suede's constant desire to take things seriously. As a long-standing Suede fan, revisiting some of these songs does serve the purpose of allowing you to "remember where you were when you heardÉ{insert name of song}" Ébut I suspect this release is "for the new fans" more than an attempt to convert naysayers to the wonders of Suede or allow loyal from the beginning fans a stroll down Musical Memory Lane. If this sounds a tad cynicalÉit is: while I understand the desire to want to give "new fans" the chance to hear the older singles, it still strikes me as being a "repackaging" con to separate fans from pocket money. Putting that asideÉ as a collection of songs, it perfectly represents all of the stages of Suede, with no songs that had that little extra bit of magic like the ones that seemed like natural choices as singles. SoÉno howlingly awful, embarrassing skeletons in their musical closet, but no overlooked treasures unearthed here. If Suede makes you want to put your fist through a wall, you'll give this a miss as you've given everything else a miss. If you love the band but don't have all of the singles, buy with abandon to complete your Suede collection. If you've got themÉnothing on here's worth owning twice. (AE)
Since the beginning, The Sundays have been a decidedly non-threatening band. With sweet, school-girly singing, gentle guitar strumming and chiming melodies, this album is the musical equivalent of sipping hot tea with honey - very warm, pleasant and soothing. Completely devoid of sonic blasts, rock-out moments or angst-filled diatribes, there's nothing exciting or groundbreaking here, but I can't think of a better word to describe it than "comfortable." For people who were familiar with The Sundays before, this album's like running into an old friend and discovering that nothing about them has changed - it may be a little disconcerting at first, that sameness, but ultimately it's reassuring. (AE)
Oh, I just don't know about this one. As much as I love this band, it just seems as if they've lost some of their edge that made all their past efforts so damn great. Is Mac in love again? Are they no longer bitter? Are they all grown-up and content? Okay, "Indoor Living" is not as bad as I'm making it out to be. In fact "Nu Bruises" is a pretty stellar song. It's just that it appears as if they didn't put their whole heart into the effort - some songs just appear to be half-assed. It's too bad because they really are a brilliant band - better luck next time. (DW)
An introduction for Americans to a very, very exuberant five-piece. A lot of people have likened them to Ash, probably because they're British, very young and share the same UK label, Infectious. Although Symposium are as enthusiastic as Ash, they take more cues from ska than Sonic Youth. Nonetheless, they are a band to keep your eye on, They'll probably make a fortune with their likeable formula. (DW)
To make the comparison to the band they may most resemble, this is the Symposium equivalent to Ash's "Trailer" EP - a collection of Symposium's singles to date (minus one) before they hunker down & record their first "proper" album. Like Ash, this is a YOUNG band - all under twenty, except a doddering 22 year old. Also like Ash, they are extremely... exuberant. Really, REALLY exuberant. Not a lot to speak of in the way of thought-provoking lyrics (there's one song that has a chorus that begins "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eightÉ" - no weight of the world matters here), but that's made up for an intense enthusiasm. They may be young, but they're going to be really fun to watch grow up. (AE)
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