Versing - 10000

Before we go on, let us be clear: there is absolutely nothing wrong with bands or artists emulating work of years gone by.

Such approaches hark back to the genesis of rock and roll, probably even further. Cover versions were always par for the course. No Jerry Lee Lewis, no Elvis. No Syd Barrett, no David Bowie. The Rolling Stones basically followed The Beatles’ career path for the 1960s before finding their own. Certain punk bands were interchangeable. Then, in the 1990s, a whole movement in Britain was largely dedicated to celebrating the past.

However a few years prior to that, guitar music was in a healthy and eclectic state. In the USA, grunge was dominating the alternative charts. Across the pond, as well as welcoming the plaid shirt invasion, the fuzzy pan-swept noise of shoegaze was on the rise. Two differing approaches, each with their own strengths and weaknesses, which now sound so quintessentially tied to those few years that they evoke memories of Tab Clear, smiley-face hoodies and fizzy drink branded yo-yos. Both have been imitated but never bettered, but there have been very few bands brave enough to try and merge the two. Until now.

Versing have the pedigree; songwriter/guitarist/vocalist Daniel Salas was an alternative music director at a college radio station in Seattle, where he met the rest of the band. After gracing the local scene for a few years, they released an album in 2017 called…Nirvana. If you are thinking that they must be extracting the Michael, you’d be half-right. All too knowingly aware of the noise they are making, Versing are getting their pre-emptive strikes in whilst also paying tribute. 10000 is unashamedly nineties, and once you’ve stopped smiling at their gall, there is much to enjoy here.

Comparisons are easy but unavoidable; the early R.E.M. of recent single ‘Offering’ is combined with a very Dave Grohl-esque vocal, whilst having the breezy attitude of The Lemonheads. ‘By Design’ channels Elastica and by proxy Wire in the chugging riff which accompanies slacker vocals before becoming its own thing with an aspirational outro. ‘Violeta’ is more disconcerting, being moody, dramatic and angst-ridden akin to the Smashing Pumpkins with added feedback, while ‘Tethered’ opens with a Peter Hook bassline and then follows the Pixies formula of quiet verse/loud chorus.

On it goes: ‘Long Chord’ has the yearning vocal delivery and swampy sound of early Ash, while ‘Loving Myself’ is pure Slowdive in its panoramic glory. Whilst college grunge is the main touchpoint, there are sprinklings of shoegaze throughout. Fortunately, there is purity beneath the plagiarism, as ‘3D’ conveys a feeling of defiant inadequacy while closer ‘Renew’, which works very well as an accompaniment to opener ‘Entryism’ (the songs have very similar guitar melodies, tempos and moods), finds Salas reflecting that, ‘Some things never stay the same’. Ironically put, purposeful and, like the rest of the album, delivered with an enthusiasm that is impossible to ignore.

The band know exactly what they are doing, and make no bones about. ‘9/11 messed up a lot of things culturally, including music’, Salas insists, ‘it engendered a deep social conservatism’. It’s a valid point and deserves further discussion beyond the ‘rock music is dead’ arguments. But for now, with this strong collection of songs, Versing are at least breathing life into the corpse by evoking one the genre’s many heydays.

Fat White Family - Serfs Up!

And so the Fat White Family allow us entry into their decadent world once more.

It’s been quite a while since we heard from the south London outfit; after intriguing us all (and grossing some out) on their depraved debut Champagne Holocaust, in all its gleeful grime, things took a turn down a dark alley. The follow-up, Songs For Our Mothers from early 2016, sounded like their lifestyle had taken its toll on their psyches. No strangers to the more sinister trappings of inner-city London life, whilst also being a favoured rock band, the Whites had taken their high street sleaze and seemingly embraced the dark side on an album which was at points unbearably downbeat.

Not only that, but it was a lifetime ago. We were still in shock about David Bowie’s death when the album was released. Countless heroes have fallen since, to say nothing about the state of the western world. Whilst all this was happening the band’s core members, brothers Lias and Nathan Saoudi and Saul Adamczewski, relocated to Sheffield to distance themselves from temptation. Adamczewski followed after a sabbatical. They weren’t idle; numerous side projects occupied their creative urges including The Moonlandingz and The Insecure Men.

Now, the mother ship is ready to sail again and their extracurricular activities have broadened horizons to bring us a more refined, albeit no less cynical, sound.

Marketed as their ‘slick pop album’, Serfs Up! is a much more eclectic mix of sounds than that which has gone before. First single ‘Feet’ is slinky disco with striking strings and a restless humming choir adding to the song’s in-built sense of urgency. Better with every listen, there’s a sparkling gleam to the song which was missing from their previous work.

The whole album sounds like it has been given a polish after being bolted together industrially; ‘I Believe In Something Better’ pulses to accompany Lias’ whispering intensity over drunken banshee wailing and wonky synths. ‘Fringe Runner’ features crashing guitars and an addled bass line which add to the drama inherent in the song. It sounds like late-90s Blur as produced by Brian Eno in Berlin and is by far the most interesting thing they’ve ever done.

‘Kim’s Sunsets’ is almost joyful, steel drums adding to the drenched tropical air. We’re a long way from Peckham now. ‘Tastes Good With The Money’, meanwhile, has the boisterousness of Slade and The Monkees with added Dury (Baxter, not Ian) just for effect, and ‘Oh Sebastian’ has a gorgeous string arrangement worthy of McCartney.

Lyrically we’re often in familiar territory; ‘Feet’ references anal sex while ‘Bobby’s Boyfriend’ discusses prostitution at length. Whether or not that’s your cup of tea is a matter of choice, but abstaining for that reason would be short-sighted. Their previous albums were intriguing but hard listens. ‘Serfs Up!’ is smoother in every way; the blackened tinfoil has been stripped away, the hands have been washed and the core has been soaked in glitter.

They won’t trouble the hit parade, and may even lose some of the manly parka mob, but Fat White Family have finally made music as fascinating as themselves, without losing their subversive edge.

TVAM & Hockeysmith - Live at The Thekla, Bristol

Now this is a curious proposition. Hockeysmith consist of three members; a lead vocalist/keyboard player, a guitarist and a dancer. The stage setting is minimalist, consisting only of said members and their instruments.

But there is a lot to watch as the trio engage in some in-your-face dancing (hopping) against a backdrop of wind-swept squalling guitar, accompanied by beats and backing music. It’s a bit performance art, and initially the crowd aren’t sure what to make of it. The music is solid, electric pop with a twist, whilst the guitarist doesn’t so much play the guitar as ravish it. But the performance of the trio and, importantly, their beguiling enthusiasm does win you over.

As a precursor to headliners TVAM, there couldn’t be more of a contrast. It’s like cheese and chalk; the high energy of Hockeysmith compared to the inconspicuousness of TVAM is striking.

The two piece are drenched in darkness, naught but silhouettes, the meat in the sandwich of a television (see what they did there?) front and centre, the images also displayed on the backdrop of the stage. Throughout the set, the imagery includes mirrored split-screens, car safety videos from years gone by and simple displays of the world. It’s nondescript, but as literally the only thing to look at for the entire set it’s perhaps a statement of how dominant the idiot’s lantern is that we’ll watch anything. Some lyrics are also displayed, which comes in useful as one cannot decipher what Joe Oxley is saying.

Not that all this matters; the music itself is fantastic, albeit perhaps not for a Sunday evening. It’s more Sunday morning music, namely witching hour at the end of the night. ‘We Likes Fires’ sounds like the soundtrack to an 80s synth led sci-fi B movie. The psychedelic drone of ‘Narcissus’ brings to mind Death In Vegas at their most intense and experimental, and ‘These Are Not Your Memories’ sounds like the road Tame Impala should have taken had they not succumbed to success.

The key touch-point is the driving rhythm of krautrock, specifically Neu. The propulsion is claustrophobic at points, working in tandem with the industrial beats and tempo. The ice-cold electronica works well with the neo-psychedelia which is their starting position. To be making all this noise from a guitar, a keyboard and more effects pedals than you can shake a stick out is some feat.

The last track, ‘Total Immersion’, could not be better named; when the two down tools and walk off stage, to come back to the real world and realise there were other people sharing that experience with you is a slight wake-up call.

The Good, The Bad & The Queen - Live at Cardiff University

There are supergroups and then there are supergroups; as The Good The Bad & The Queen take to the stage, one is immediately reminded of the amount of history that each of these individuals have. Simon Tong played on Urban Hymns and was part of The Verve during their most successful period, Paul Simonon was a member of one of the most important groups of all time, we haven’t got time to list Damon Albarn’s achievements, and Tony Allen is Tony Allen. The fact that not one of them relies on past glories or presumption of recognition makes it all the more remarkable.

Not only that, but not any of the music played tonight would be recognisable from any other musical avenue they may have frequented. The winding lament that is ‘Merrie Land’ gets more tragic each time, but when contrasted to the pomp of ‘Gun To The Head’ it could be a different band. Meanwhile, the heartbreak of simplicity of ‘The Poison Tree’ is a welcome respite following the funk chaos of ‘Last Man To Leave’. Merrie Land the album definitely grows on you, but when everything is given space to breathe in the live arena it highlights what an impressive feat it is.

Playing it in full, in order, it’s interesting to get an insight into the foursome’s chemistry. Their laconic, shuffling style seems casual but actually requires the attention to detail that only experienced musicians can bring. Specifically, Allen and Simonon are in perfect sync. Allen comes from the same school as Charlie Watts; perhaps oblivious to his talent, he has the air of a man bemused by finding himself in this situation. He doesn’t miss a beat. Simonon, meanwhile, never stops moving and carries the air of authority that suggests he’s the one really in charge, despite Albarn conducting matters as he often does.

And what of Damon Albarn? We know of his genius, but as a stage performer for this outfit it’s a tricky balance which he never quite pulls off. The music doesn’t lend itself well to the confrontational style he uses when with Blur, but he still tries. Other times, when he chooses to hide behind a performance as he does for ‘The Truce Of Twilight’, he seems more comfortable. Although he does shoehorn his location (‘in the dancefloors of England…and Wales’) which as a crowd pleasing tactic isn’t worthy of him. At another point he tries to encourage the crowd to a singalong but Simonon, pulling rank, cuts the idea down in its prime. Above everything else he’s a musician, therefore he is at his best when he’s sat at the piano or behind the comfort of the acoustic guitar. His voice has aged beautifully and when the intense noise is stripped back for ‘Ribbons’ you could hear a pin drop.

The encore consists of a healthy chunk of songs from their first album. Simon Tong adds real spike via his guitar for ‘80s Life’, and his frenzied introduction to ‘Kingdom Of Doom’ is a sight to behold before it becomes a full on stomper. The added strings provided by a quartet ensure ‘Herculean’ ascends and somehow make ‘Green Fields’ even more gut-wrenching. Perhaps Albarn’s masterpiece, the track gets the biggest response of the night and is bolstered by a majestic full band performance. Displaying remarkable restrain, perhaps aware that they could go on all night, ‘The Good, The Bad & The Queen’ (the song) is cut short but loses none of its music hall madness.

A majestic end to an astonishing set.

Sleeper - Live at The O2 Academy, Bristol

It’s pretty easy to differentiate between those bands who have reformed; those that are in it for the money (and perhaps always have been) and those that are doing it for the love.

Naming no names (the Stone Roses) you can virtually smell the ambivalence from the crowd if relationships are sour and haven’t improved despite lengthy absences. Then there’s those that cannot take the smiles off their faces and are just happy to be doing something they love.

There’s no doubt which category Sleeper fall into. The Britpopiest of Britpop; featured on the Trainspotting soundtrack, frequent appearances on TFI Friday, they couldn’t be more 1990s if they tried. By rights, there shouldn’t really be a place for them in 2019. There was a reunion tour last year which sold out quickly, but one would assume that was the nostalgia thirst quenched for a while before another round of touring in a couple of years’ time. So good on them for not resting on their laurels; this year’s splendid The Modern Age album is as strong as anything they’ve ever put their name to, if not better, and to be touring just one year later with a new album in tow means there can be no cynical accusations thrown at them.

All that said, it would be naïve to assume this crowd is present to hear the new songs, despite their excellence. If there’s anyone present under 35 they must have had a tough paper round. Perhaps due to their age, the audience take a while to warm up. The jaunty ‘Nice Guy Eddie’, one of the hits from their peak, doesn’t get much of a reaction as an opener, so lesser known second song ‘Delicious’ doesn’t stand much of a chance. Ironically the first slice from the new album, ‘Paradise Waiting’, gets more of a response, but the anthemic ‘What Do I Do Now?’ really kicks things into life and from there on it’s smiles all round.

Perhaps the mind is playing tricks, but your correspondent seems to recall that Louise Wener always played guitar back in the day, yet she does so very rarely tonight. The key line-up has been bolstered by a couple, so perhaps there is less requirement to do so. Wener makes the most of it; ever the star, she strides around the stage like she owns it, which frankly she does. Meanwhile, the Sleeperblokes (Google it) do their thing more than capably and are the solid foundation she can rely on. It’s a glib comparison but has some merit; her breathy vocals, particularly on ‘The Modern Age’, command the occasion and her resistance to the aging process brings to mind Debbie Harry. That their clever move of including the cover of Blondie’s ‘Atomic’, complete with mid-section mini-cover of ‘Love Will Tear Us Apart’, makes the comparison obvious doesn’t mean it’s invalid.

The new material is the most interesting from an objective point of view; the intense ‘The Sun Also Rises’ is a perfect reminder of how powerful and heavy they can be while the wry, confrontational Look At You Now belies their generally sugar-sweet pop.

However, these occasions are about more than that. They are no-lose situations; new songs justify their existence and keep the band interested, the crowd get what they want with the old stuff and when you can see what are presumably their children at the side of the stage dancing with wilful abandon to the classic ‘Sale Of The Century’…well one realises that’s what it’s all about.

Fontaines D.C. - Live at the Thekla, Bristol

There’s something special about watching a band live in the week they release their new album.

They’re normally brimming with energy and crackling with confidence, safe in the knowledge that their latest masterpiece is finally finished and about to be unleashed. That can be doubly applied to debut albums, when the finishing touches have been put on songs that have been worked over, pulled apart and reconstructed for years. Throw in the fact that a lifetime ambition has been achieved, and you can see why they are pleased.

So it is with Fontaines D.C. Their album Dogrel has been met with positive reviews, justifying their ‘ones to watch’ status. Promotion has been extensive and with this, the first night of the tour, expectations are high. They are ‘hot’. The crowd knows it; it’s body-to-body in the sold-out venue, one of those nights when you have to hold your drink to your chest because there’s nowhere else for it to go.

The boys from Dublin (ish) have the crowd in their hands as soon as they take to the stage. A sizeable chunk of the songs on display have already been released in some way shape or form, so there are singalongs a-plenty. ‘Chequeless Reckless’ kicks things into gear, its jet plane guitars whipping the anticipation up some more before Big, which follows ‘Supersonic’ and ‘I Wanna Be Adored’ as a perfect mission statement: ‘my childhood was small but I’m gonna be big’. Few here would doubt that prediction.

They are a band in the truest sense; everyone has their role and obviously takes it very seriously. Frontman Grian Chatten has the slightly withdrawn confidence of Mark E Smith, his lyrics delivered in such a matter-of-fact way that you don’t doubt it’s anything but gospel. The rest of the band either look down at their instruments or, occasionally, at the whipped up crowd. They’ve honed this sound and these songs for years and aren’t going to mess it up now. The performance is minimalist but the music is powerful. The winding and claustrophobic ‘Hurricane Laughter’ could go on forever and probably has done in rehearsals. It’s simple and intense, as Chatten repeats ‘there’s no connection available’ while all is refined chaos around him.

There’s a real wisdom and maturity beyond their years. ‘Television Screens’ has levels of both anxiety and righteousness that should only come from experience. ‘The Lotts’ sounds musically like The Cure and is a succinct epic, given more chops live by virtue of its insistence. More familiar tracks like ‘Boys In The Better Land’ and ‘Too Real’ are delivered with a bravado that must come from their roots; the whole album is loosely themed around Dublin and its gentrification, and it’s not hard to surmise that they’ve played most toilet venues and haven’t always been met with positivity. Indeed, the defiance it’s given birth to is their defining feature (‘as it stands, I’m about to make a lot of money’).

This is a band who know they are going places but will be unfazed by the stop-offs.

Drenge - Live at SWX, Bristol

As we know, and has been proven on countless occasions, momentum is key.

Ordinarily you’d hear this principle applied in the sporting arena, namely football, but it’s equally as important in music. Many is the band that have stalled after taking a long break, and Drenge could have found themselves at such a fork in the road; their third album Strange Creatures was released a few weeks ago, nearly four years after their last.

It wasn’t completely barren before then; the Castleton mob kept their toe in through an EP release and a large amount of touring, but it’s been a few years now since they were lauded alongside Slaves as heralding the return of British rock. The landscape has changed, with kitchen sink punk being the order of the day. Is there room for Drenge?

Simply put, yes. The band have shuffled the pack a little; now a four piece, Rob Graham has moved from guitar to bass and they’ve brought enforcements in that department in the form of Ed Crisp. Their sound, always meaty, has been bolstered by the adjustments. They open with ‘Prom Night’, which sounds like a doom laden Arctic Monkeys in both lyrics and music. It’s a perfect tone setter before ‘Bonfire Of The City Boys’ explodes all senses; the mammoth beat is like the Prodigy at their most ferocious whilst the light show which accompanies it in time is hypnotic. It’s a barnstorming start.

From there on it’s an equal split of songs from their three albums. As ever, the earlier material gets the bigger crowd reaction; the chainsaw guitar on ‘Never Awake’ drowns them out, while it propels like mid-era Strokes on ‘Face Like A Skull’. Rob Graham’s move to guitar has been a revelation, he is the star of the show and the heart of the sound. Deserving of a specific mention is the sitar-esque chiming he adds to a new brooding version of ‘Backwater’, and he adds spectral mood to a Balearic breakdown during ‘Running Wild’.

The new boy Crisp gets his moments on bass too, sounding meaty on ‘Teenage Love’ and ‘Strange Creatures’. As for the Loveless brothers, Rory on drums is as stoic as ever and provides the patter between songs and Eoin gets lost in the songs, giving no care to the shapes he’s throwing. His vocals do sail quite close to Ricky Wilson at points, but offset against his intense delivery it’s purely coincidence.

The main set closes with ‘Let’s Pretend’, the live version inevitably expanded, scraping the sky then staring from the gutter for a glorious eight minutes or so. For the encore we are treated to the slinky, sleazy ‘When I Look Into Your Eyes’ before proceedings are brought to a close by the poptastic ‘We Can Do What We Want’. Although Drenge may have stepped out of sync, this showing is a pure distillation of why they should not fret if that this the case.

Their musicianship and power will always stand them in good stead.

Idlewild - Interview Music

It’s something of a shock to learn this album is Idlewild’s eighth offering; a perfectly reasonable amount – they’ve been active for 24 years with only a short hiatus in the early part of this decade – so perhaps it’s because it feels like they should be in double figures by now.

They’ve outlived several trends and, based on this evidence, are clearly still going strong. Opener ‘Dream Variations’ blows away any cobwebs that might be lurking in your cynicism (as good as Idlewild are, they aren’t particularly exciting) with agenda setting drums and harmonised vocals from a number of different tonsils. There’s no chorus as such, just a smattering of powerful verses that eventually gives way to a gentle, laconic coda reflecting on the nature of dreams.

‘There’s A Place For Everything’ serves as a reminder of how far Roddy Woomble’s voice has come. Far from the inner Billie Joe Armstrong he was channelling in the early days, here he delivers vox with a gravitas and confidence that can only come through experience. It’s still recognisably him, but there’s an assuredness that he once lacked. It’s quite high in the mix, which helps.

The title-track gives the entire band a workout. The bass holds the song together but guitarist Rod Jones provides a sense of scale on the verse before doing an about turn to squawk frantically. Again, there’s little in the way of a chorus save for a piano sequencing that appears intermittently. For the last two of its five minutes it’s basically a jam session, and it’s not hard to imagine the smiles in the studio.

In fact, that’s very much a pattern of the album; the songs are so packed that it’s more of a series of opuses. As you’ll have gathered, the trick of changing tack mid-song is frequently used, keeping the listener on their toes. It’s perhaps over-played one too many times; at 52 minutes it’s a bit overwhelming, but the whole thing has a joie de vivre that’s difficult to resist.

‘All These Words’ is classic Idlewild, positive, life-affirming music tempered by lyrical melancholia which then morphs into the more downtrodden ‘You Wear It Second Hand’. And so it goes on; ‘Miracles’ is a burst of buzz-pop, offset by ‘Mount Analogue’ which has an ear-worm of a verse before becoming a brass-led Primal Scream-esque beast. ‘Familiar To Ignore’, on the other hand, sounds like a spectral off-cut from Ryan Adams’ heart-breaking Love Is Hell albums before bursting into confrontational work.

Idlewild have outlived numerous fads, and it’s fair to say this is down to their timeless quality. Although they became briefly associated with the Travis/Starsailor acoustic rock that was mainstream on UK shores in the early part of this century, that was on the basis of one song (‘American English’) when in reality they were always more upbeat and, ultimately, heavier.

Harking back to the well of their indie-punk roots with some liberal splashes of tenderness, Interview Music is the most fully rounded Idlewild record yet.

Hightown Pirates - Hope Street Eternal

The story of Hightown Pirates is a fascinating one; highlighting how rock music can consume your soul, spit you out but how the passions and emotions it generates within the chosen few of us can lead to personal redemption and then, even better, how it can actually help lives.

The architect of Hightown Pirates is Simon Mason, who back in the 1990s was often found to be the chemical supplier to numerous rock outfits of the day. He released a book some years ago which outlines some of his associates, and it’s fair to say the names wouldn’t surprise you. Since then he’s hit record bottom (putting it lightly) through addictions but, long story short, amassed a collection of songs which he put to record over a very short period which became the fine debut Dry & High, released in 2017.

Now the Pirates set sail again for this special Hope Street Eternal EP. The title-track was released as a single late last year with proceeds going to the actual Charter Street Mission, a homeless charity serving the local community in Manchester. The track itself is evolved punk and mod psychedelia wrapped into one, a charging number which breaks down for its middle eight into a mellotron-lead pastoral offering before the burst of guitar which punctures the whole song reminds you that you are dealing with a rock band. Throw in some female, Gimme Shelter-esque vocals that add to the drama and there’s no mistaking we’re in a world where only integrity matters.

‘This One’s For You’ is aspirational, love-lorn and wistful, with lush production as provided by Youth (he of Killing Joke, who was an impressive production track record including work by James, The Charlatans and on The Verve’s masterpiece Urban Hymans). The third track, ‘God’s Country, is eerie, like a missing 60s scouse garage classic which winds around before coming back on itself. Lastly, the kitchen sink drama of final track Hope Street Eternal channels northern soul but with both more bite and more hope, which is the ultimate message of the EP.

In his past, Mason has been close enough to rock talent to get what it takes, a combination of hard work and passion which he and the band clearly have in spades. It resonates through his vocals, which bear resemblance to the gravity and maturity of 21st century Paul Weller but the urgency of his output while in The Jam.

But it’s the content that matters, and the passion oozes from every note of this fine collection.

Interview - Little Comets

As we talk, Brexit is no closer to being resolved; it’s such a fast moving beast that by the time you read this, things will almost certainly have significantly changed, perhaps even in a decisive manner.

The after-effects will long be felt and seem to have had a disconcerting impact on the way discourse is conducted in the UK. As ever, Robert Coles and Little Comets are keeping a keen eye on the state of the world, but have a radical solution to the problems we in the western world are currently facing. It’s called listening.

“These days, when everything is kind of apocalyptic and negative – I was watching Question Time last night and the fact that people are just shouting at each other and arguing at each other – the thing is, with the way our media is, everything has to be black and white,” he says to Live4ever during our chat this month. “Everybody has to take a side.”

“Whereas yes Brexit is an important thing, but most people in our country have a lot more in common with each other than this one dividing line that someone’s just drawn. Regardless of what you think, you should be respectful and listen to someone’s point of view.” With some justification Coles, Little Comets’ singer, co-writer and guitarist, believes we as a society need to focus on what unites us rather than what divides.

“Try and focus on the things you have in common with people and the values that people have in common. It’s easy news to have two sides of the debate and polarise it. Sometimes I have 5Live on in the car and they just seem to get people with the most extreme point of view from either side, and they just put them in the bear pit. It’s fairly reductive.”

“The World Cup was a good example: even if you don’t like football people had a common goal to unite around. The atmosphere everywhere was far more communal and people had a smile on their face. You would more readily stop and speak to people you wouldn’t normally have a five-minute chat with. That’s the other side of it. But since then the negative news-stories have just been piling up. People are like, ‘oh well, we just need to get on with it’. It’s hard, it’s complicated. How many years’ work have gone into this relationship? This is a complex thing to get right.”

Little Comets are back, and not before time. It’s been two years since the release of their last album Worhead, the second on their own Smallest Label. But the trio are doing things are bit differently this time. They recently released a single entitled ‘The Sneeze’ which followed hot on the heels of ‘M62’ in 2018. “I think we really enjoyed it a few years ago, when we started releasing things on our own label and had a really productive year,” Coles continues.

“We did three EPs and an album in the space of twelve months. It was nice to be constantly busy, and the good thing about having things like Spotify is that you can upload things straight away without necessarily playing the game of a release schedule. You can be quite fluid with it and that suits us. With our family situation we don’t tend to tour for 12 months and then be in the studio for 12 months. It’s a lot more piecemeal. The idea of uploading things as and when we finish them, and then putting them together for a physical release…I think that’s a pattern we’ll use over the next couple of years.”

Does this signify that the boys are giving up the ghost and turning their back on the traditional album format, which has apparently been dead for some time? “In terms of an album, because the songs are written in a similar timeframe and in a similar part of our lives that’s what gives our group of songs an identity and is the glue that keeps them together,” Coles says. “As long as we stick within time periods they’ll be quite cogent anyway. We will be doing the singles, but I still love the idea of producing something that people can hold and read. We do the artwork as well and I love that part of the process, decorating the cake. So we’ll still do that periodically because I think the songs will work together in an album format, simply because they’ve been done in a similar time. I think that’s what gives each of our albums a distinct sound rather than a conscious ‘this is the sound of this album’.”

As artists and musicians, Little Comets try not to stick to a regular style, format or cause, rather letting the process take its own natural journey. Yet sometimes it’s impossible to avoid the world around them. At the moment whichever newspaper headline you read, whichever television channel you watch, whichever social media platform you use, we seem to be at peak argument. Like there’s no escape. ‘The Sneeze’ was an attempt to distance themselves and the listener from it. “The Sneeze’ was quite cathartic; the way things have been going the last couple of years, things seem to be heading in quite an ominous direction,” Coles believes.

“That’s what ‘The Sneeze’ is about. On the front you can see a man-made disaster which could spell catastrophe just around the corner. It was nice to write about that. The video is quite intense so when we finished the process of the song and the mixing we were happy that it was out of us. When we did the video in Sheffield it was just around the time they were doing the real serious debate around the Brexit deal. We were listening to it all on the way home. It was almost purposely designed to turn yourself off from the process. I just felt so over-saturated with it so I just took no notice for two or three weeks. It’s dangerous because if you do turn off you’re just letting it wash over you, but I just think sometimes you need to do that.”

As hard as it is to believe right now, there is a future beyond March 29th, or even the end of June. The boys have big plans for the year. “We’ve got quite a bit coming up this year. We’ve got a bridging song which is quite a chilled out acoustic number coming out, then the one that sounds most like a single (‘American Tuna’) coming last. That’ll be the start of April and then after that we’ve got a tour announcement, and we’ve done something a bit cheeky with the first album that’s kind of under wraps. Then the album at the end of the year. The next song is completely different from ‘The Sneeze’, it’s a lot more positive and upbeat. It’s a nice contrast really.”

And presumably there will be a tour to follow? “We normally do about 10-12 dates, but this one’s going to be a bit longer. We’re looking to do a few dates in Ireland which will be good because we haven’t been over for a few years now. We’d like to book some American dates as well. If you look at where people are when they listen to music, a lot of top cities on Spotify data are actually in the US so it would be a shame not to do a few dates over there. But again, it’s got to make sense as we don’t have a label to fund the shortfall.”

“It has its upsides but that’s certainly a downside, in terms of getting to a new territory because you just can’t afford to make a £50,000 loss on the tour. It’s just not happening. We’d try and consolidate it into two or three weeks. It wouldn’t be a ‘let’s go and try and break America’ 12 months. It’d really be making sure we’d get something tangible from it.”

For their first two albums, Little Comets were signed to Dirty Hit, home to The 1975, Wolf Alice and Pale Waves among others. One of the founders of the label was former footballer Ugo Ehiogu, who sadly died in 2017. Rob worked with Ehiogu as the label was forming and has positive memories. “It was really sad,” he tells me “It was just after we’d left Columbia; I had an email from a guy called Jamie Oborne who manages The 1975. At the time he was setting up this new label and he said, ‘I’ve got a couple of other investors, one of whom is Ugo Ehiogu’. He said that he’d not necessarily made a lot of money from traditional investments, so he wanted to do something where he could have a bit of fun with it, and one passion he had was music.”

“So he came to a few gigs and we played football with him a couple of times. He was just a really lovely bloke. We hadn’t been working with Dirty for a few years, and I think he was taking a bit of a backseat because he hadn’t been coaching at Tottenham for that long. He was almost deciding what his next step was going to be, so it was a real shock. Such a shame, because not only was he a nice bloke but he seemed to be doing really well with his coaching career and he was obviously highly respected.”

Tellingly, the recollection brings to the forefront a key insight into Rob’s mindset, and a valuable lesson for us all: “Whenever anything like that happens you just try and relate it to your own life. You’ve just got to have fun with it really. Make positive decisions all the time.”

Anteros - When We Land

When is a new album not a new album? This one has been gestating since 2015, when Anteros released their first EP.

A smattering of singles and further EPs have followed and they largely make up the content of this debut album. As such, will long-term fans of the band perhaps feel slightly short-changed? Whatever, that’s not a question to trouble the rest of us too much – we can simply take When We Land on its own merits.

Of which it has many. The album has all the elements required for mass appeal; opener ‘Call Your Mother’ (‘she will make it better’) instantly sounds like it’s been around forever with a classic chorus which explodes into life. Second track ‘Ring Ring’’s crunchy guitar and circular bass complements it well and elsewhere, ‘Drive On’ is literal with a pummelling pace that is over before it’s finished and would sit well on compilation albums. Recent single ‘Breakfast’ is held together by frenetic guitars akin to early Bloc Party.

Indeed, the whole album is geared around the traditional song structure of a looming, functional verse which then both completely changes gear and ups the tempo for the chorus. No avant-garde nonsense for this four-piece; they are aiming for hearts and guts, and if they make you think then all the better. ‘Wrong Side’ has a ground level verse followed by an air punching, fist clenching middle eight. The best touch-point is the ambitious, widescreen pop of The Killers circa-Sam’s Town, or even the pop perfection of ABBA.

Wisely, the epic songs are allowed to breathe by the sequencing as the intermittent lower key moments also demand attention. The science fiction synth of ‘Afterglow’ brings the mood down for something a bit more layered yet equally determined, a reflection on the intimacies that can only be accessed post-coitus. ‘Ordinary Girl’, meanwhile, sounds like Florence Welch’s more tender moments, complete with epic drums and again, it’s got a nagging, familiar chorus that you know you’ve heard before, but this is perhaps testament to the songwriting chops of these young bucks. ‘Let It Out’ is initially more sparse, starting with electric guitar and vocals before allowing the rest of the band in for a mournful, intense ballad.

Proceedings are brought to a close by ‘Fool Moon’ which echoes the disco glam of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and the long forgotten Long Blondes. Final track ‘Anteros’ is a nod to their past, having been on their first release, with a closing coda (‘be the first part of the last start’) bringing to mind the grandeur of The Killers’ (them again) high point ‘All These Things That I’ve Done.’

But, for there must be a but, therein lies the rub. Those long-term listeners will have little to reward them here, aside from demonstrations of how the band have improved musically and sonically. This is nit-picking though; good pop can and should be heard countless times, and When We Land is nothing if not good pop.

Avey Tare - Cows On Hourglass Pond

Now there’s an album title to grab your attention.

As is the way of all the projects associated with Animal Collective, it’s ambiguous to the point of irrelevant, but that’s part of the fun of following this ever evolving outfit. This is ostensibly David Portner’s third solo album, with a project under the name of Avey Tare’s Slasher Flicks (Enter The Slasher House) – another cracking title – also put out under his name.

It’s as beguiling as before. Opener ‘What’s The Goodside?’ gently permeates into life with disconnected, dream state vocals offset by a dub bass line which eventually takes over the song, building up gradually to a soothing languid malaise rather than a grandstand finish. ‘Eyes On Eyes’ features the trademark Portner fast-paced vocals that carry a sense of disunity, and that also don’t scan. Meanwhile, ‘K.C. Yours’ has a wonderfully simple melody, again with soft staccato vocals.

It’s a deeply philosophical album (probably) lyrically. The over-arching theme is of questioning the bigger elements of the universe but striding into it headfirst regardless. The aforementioned ‘What Is Goodside?’ is the obvious example and on album highlight ‘Nostalgia In Lemonade’, Portner’s grandiose vocal delivery (‘my only lemonade’) reflects the comfort he finds in something familiar and recognisable amidst the unknown. A similar trick is pulled on ‘Our Little Chapter’, simply repeating the title as chorus but adjusting his vocals to a lower, warmer key.

The album somehow manages to sound minimal whilst being absolutely drenched in layers upon layers of production. At points both ethereal and earthy, each spin of the disc rewards the listener with something new. That said the bass (be it guitar, drum or keys) is the key musical element of the album. On ‘Nostalgia In Lemonade’ the pulsing is the backbone of the song, whereas on recent ‘single’ ‘Saturdays (Again)’ the mournfulness of the bass dictates the mood and texture of the piece. The familiar trope of sampling is used to greatest effect on the instrumental interlude ‘Chilly Blue’. Your reviewer may be wrong, but the sampling is used to great effect to generate whale noises, formulating a dense, underwater atmosphere.

Having listened to this and his co-collaborator Panda Bear’s Buoys in close succession, it’s slightly more apparent as to what the two members bring to Animal Collective. Avey Tare is a bit more down to earth and structures his songs traditionally, adding the human element via acoustic guitar, whereas Panda Bear contributes the sparse distant psychedelia. That’s by no means an exact science though; the lines are very blurred, which explains why they work so well together and equally as well apart.

Embrace - Live at the O2 Academy, Bristol

It’s very easy to be cynical about these ‘Album In Full’ gigs, especially this far into the game.

It’s virtually an industry in itself, and the logical evolution from band reformations. As there are very few bands that would generate excitement in reforming, we have basically come to the end of that road. Amidst all the (justified) hype about Doves’ return, it’s largely ignored that they didn’t actually split up in the first place. Similarly, while everyone is revisiting Sleeper’s back catalogue and are pleasantly surprised, it’s not doing them a disservice by suggesting their return wasn’t the most hankered for.

These bands ride the crest of a wave, but what of the long-suffering, long haul merchants? To want a slice of the pie is human nature, and the potential audience to play a beloved album to is considerable – Peter Hook has made a new career out of it. This year alone we have Massive Attack, Manic Street Preachers and Bloc Party all performing album shows, with countless others on the circuit. In the case of the latter, there’s not even a reason to celebrate; Silent Alarm being 14 years old is hardly a landmark.

That said, at least Embrace have the good grace to play the game; it’s been 21 years since their debut The Good Will Out hit the shelves. It was quite a big deal at the time; feted as the next Oasis (northern, brothers in the band), the Yorkshiremen made quite a splash following a series of hit singles. They’ve been plugging away ever since with varying degrees of popularity, but if tonight is anything to go by, they will always have a place in hearts.

Obviously the album is played in full, in order, so it’s a strong start; the anthemic ‘All You Good Good People’ has the crowd in fine voice from the first moment. Sadly, the purse strings don’t stretch to having a full brass section, such an important part of the song, but throughout the set the orchestral flourishes are ably provided by Mickey Dale on keys. It’s a barnstorming start, sustained with ‘Come Back To What You Know’ two songs later. As they work through the album, one is reminded of how much of a rock band they were before settling into Coldplay-influenced, uplifting melancholia on later albums; ‘I Want The World’ sounds mighty, as does ‘The Last Gas’.

Sadly, the McNamara brothers (Danny on lead vocals, Richard on backing and guitar) have never been able to list singing as their key strength and it briefly shows at points; Danny is a bit flat on certain songs, and when Richard takes the lead on ‘We Are Family’ and then ‘Refugees’ in the encore, he’s barely audible. Not that it matters, they have the crowd in their pocket throughout (‘let’s see if you can be louder than Manchester the other night’) and as such any deficiencies are drowned out through the power of the band or the audience singing along.

The encore is a run through of more recent hits, and by the time the closing salvo of ‘Gravity’ and ‘Ashes’ are reached the atmosphere is at fever pitch. But the gig is summed up at the close of the main set via a cannon shooting confetti into the crowd: good natured, a bit cheesy but ultimately about bringing smiles to faces.

So yes, it’s easy to be cynical about ‘Album In Full’ gigs, but when you’ve got a beaming band – one who have worked tirelessly for over two decades – being applauded rapturously by a thoroughly satisfied audience, the cynicism is swallowed by joy.

BC Camplight and White Denim - Live at the O2 Academy, Bristol

Brian Christinzio, for BC Camplight is he, has been around the block several times now.

His first three albums didn’t make much of a dent despite critical approval, and he was subsequently dropped by One Little Indian. With his second album on Bella Union, his fourth in total, he seems to be starting to gain some traction on this side of the pond.

It has to be said that is largely down to last year’s crossover hit ‘I’m Desperate’, but beyond that there is much to enjoy. Christinzio is quite the raconteur, and throughout the entirety of this support slot he has the continually expanding crowd entertained. There is a real off-beat sense of humour to both he and his music, more akin to one of those wise-cracking American stand-ups; ‘When I Think About My Dog’ is a solemn, piano-led ballad complete with barking, for example.

He regales the crowd by informing us that ‘Am I Dead?’ was written about a previous experience gigging in Bristol, and ‘Fire In England’ was inspired by a rejection letter, as signed by Theresa May, following his request for citizenship. But, everyone is here for ‘I’m Desperate’, and his live band don’t let him down, shaking the rafters and leaving White Denim with a tough act to follow.

They don’t even try to follow suit. The Texans are all about the music, delivering their set in a series of medleys, demonstrating their impressive musical ability and synchronicity. It’s very clearly built on friendship and respect as the four members frequently make eye contact and nod appreciatively at one another, be it during bass solos or drumming frenzies. The sky gets kissed a lot.

At one point, Steven Terebecki breaks a string on his bass and the band have to stop. Frontman James Petralli awkwardly addresses the crowd as he tells us that it’s only the second time in twelve years such a thing has happened. But undeterred, they pick up exactly where they left off, what surely must be hours and hours of rehearsal times paying off. Not so much watertight as ironclad. Nearly as impressive are Petralli’s facial expressions as he mouths every movement on the fret to himself. It’s pure unadulterated joy and is worth the entrance fee alone.

With eight albums in a decade, and a ninth forthcoming this spring, White Denim have built up a formidable back catalogue and the set spans their whole career. The medley style they’ve adopted isn’t wholly successful and does start to get repetitive during the fifth or sixth offering. It becomes hard to differentiate and appears as one long jam, which must be great fun to participate in but not so much to watch.

But on its own merits, not least for the proficiency on display, there is much to admire here.

Interview - The Howlers

As always happens at the start of a new calendar year, a clutch of bands come to the fore fighting for attention. Dark garage rock is on the rise, and there are a host of acts flying the flag.

The latest members of this pantheon are naught more than embryos in the music scene; drummer Cameron Black joined his university colleagues Adam Young (vocals, guitar) and Gus Ter Braak (bass) in the late summer of 2018 and together the trio, rising like a phoenix from the ashes of their former moniker Scrubs, have become The Howlers.

As part of Independent Venue Week, the trio put the cap on an impressive week having supported indie mainstays The Rifles at a sold-out Borderline in the heart of London by going west for their own headline show at Bristol’s The Lanes. I caught up with the band before this show to hear all about their recent past and burgeoning future.

So you guys have had a good week!

Adam: Sort of yeah. I was ill towards the beginning of the week, so we had to cancel our headline gig in London. But we had The Rifles at the Borderline which was sold out, so that was cool.

And how were the gigs?

Cam: The Borderline was great, really really good. Good sound and stuff. We were a bit off. It felt sloppy for me.

Adam: It was sloppy, but that gig was a highlight. BBC Introducing for the area said it was a highlight of the festival. There was a magazine reviewing the festival that said our set was a highlight. Even though we were sloppy, even when we’re shit we’re good. It was packed anyway.

So, how did you meet?

Adam: We met in London.

Cam: Me and Adam met in 2015 when we went to uni. We kind of fucked about for a year or two.

Adam: We were just taking Libertines songs and re-writing them.

Gus: We fucked about for two years without a drummer, and our housemate played bass for a while and I was playing drums. We started the band with a guy called Sam, then after half a year we got Cam in. We did the first EP with Sam, and we got Cam in about five months ago.

Adam: We all bonded over different interests. Me and Gus like the 00s indie stuff. Me and Cam bonded over Afrofunk, and those two bonded over Led Zeppelin and stuff. So we all bonded with each other. We all like pretty much the same stuff, but that is the stuff we grew up listening to. And it just so happens that’s the stuff that we have the most inroads to.

When we walked onstage and supported The Rifles…the fans have never heard anything like us so we’ve got to be…it takes a lot of balls to do. Most gigs aren’t scary, but when you’re walking out on stage to a crowd who you know are loyal to their band, you have to be unbelievably good to turn them. It is a bit daunting but I think we’ve found our groove.

You were called Scrubs initially. Why the name change?

Adam: There’s a couple of reasons as to why we chose that name at the time. But me and Gus were living right by Wormwood Scrubs prison, so that was why we picked it. Then we moved and brought Cam in, so it felt like a rebirth, and that we needed a new name.

Adam: We had that name before we wrote these tunes. That name sort of carried on while we wrote these tunes, but it was sort of wearing thin. Every night I’d have to say it and it just felt horrible.

So why The Howlers?

Adam: We moved out to East London and there’s a pub around the corner called Howling At The Moon.

Gus: It’s where Arctic Monkeys recorded the ‘Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High’ video.

Adam: We only realised when we were drinking there, there’s a big photo of Alex Turner in the bathroom. We debated it (the name) pissed in the corridor next to the toilet. It came from that. These boys weren’t 100% on it for ages, but it’s grown on them.

What are you trying to achieve with the music?

Adam: Ourselves, the Blinders and the Wytches are a genre that is being formed, or given a re-birth, the garage surf sound, but is combined with darker themes. But we’re not political. Us and the Blinders both pay homage to the Wytches in a sense of where we take some influences from, but we’ve both gone our separate ways. Our songs are open to interpretation. I write the lyrics, but I write them in a way where I have a thing in mind. But then once it all comes together, that thing could be about something else.

Cam: Look at Fat White Family, for instance. They are very staunch, brilliant lyrics and political view. But they’re disgusting, and they write about whatever they want to write about. They don’t put all their eggs in that one basket. Not to say the Blinders do, that is their message and we respect that.

On that, how does the songwriting work?

Adam: I wheel a skeleton into a room and say ‘put some meat on that.’ I’ll have an intro riff, an idea of how the lyrics are going to go, but I don’t know anything drums. I know a little bit about bass but he (Gus) always changes it anyway so it doesn’t matter.

What’s the plan this year?

Gus: We’ve recorded six songs. It’s probably going to be singles. We do want to do singles. You do an EP, it’s four songs, but you do want a single.

Cam: We’ve got a lot of plans. We’ve finished off the tour. We’ve done a lot of shows since I joined the band. My first gig we played to about two people, then ten gigs later we played at the O2 Academy in Birmingham. The Nottingham gig at Rock City at the end of February is going to be our biggest show yet, and our biggest crowd.

Where are you hoping to be in 12 months’ time?

Gus: Fyre Festival headliners! If we release new tunes, we’ve got some PR stuff behind us. Hopefully it’ll get to radio and to bigger audiences.

Adam: We’ve signed to a Sheffield label called These Bloody Thieves. They absolutely love what we’re doing. In the studio we did a b-side, one take. It’s something that’s been knocking about for a long time. He’s always liked it. That was half-finished the day before we went into the studio.

Adam: We’ve got a few gigs lined up, in terms of possible festivals. We’re doing Thousand Island in London and Camden Rocks, which is a massive festival. We hope that people like it, and we’re pretty sure that people will.

You can’t control what people think, all you can do is keep playing.

The Specials - Encore

This shouldn’t be happening.

It’s indicative of where Blighty is right now, both musically and socially, that this album has not only been made (the first album from this version of the Specials in forty years) but also that it’s depressingly relevant.

A quick recap: The Specials shot to fame in the late 1970s with a string of Top 10 singles. Their ska sound was revivalist, but the content wasn’t. Social commentary was the order of the day against a backdrop of urban decay and violence in the inner cities, most famously detailed on their 1981 UK number one single ‘Ghost Town’. From there they became something of a revolving door for members, to an extent that you’d need a flow chart to keep track of it. They span off into various collectives but always maintained a key message of equality and, most especially, anti-racism.

They’ve been ‘back’ for a good while now, but Encore is their first album of new material in that time. Sadly, in the age of Brexit, austerity and Black Lives Matter, they and their message have never been more prescient and vital.

Although a cover (the original by the Equals back in 1973), opener ‘Black Skinned Blue Eyed Boys’ is their manifesto; ‘The world will be half breed’, they sing against a disco funk that Chic would be proud of. Hammering home the message, ‘B.L.M.’ (see above) is a desperate tale of one Jamaican man (guitarist Lynval Golding) orating his experiences of discrimination from being a Windrush passenger to strolling around contemporary America. Lead single ‘Vote For Me’ pulls from their past most obviously; the haunting trumpet echoing ‘Ghost Town’ as Terry Hall laments the dire state and short-termism of modern British politics. ‘The Lunatics’ is another diatribe against those in power, they having unsurprisingly ‘taken over the asylum’. It’s not hard to see who he’s referring to. (Hint: he lives in a white house.)

By now you’ve got the gist; ‘Breaking Point’ is an ooompa-loompa tread around where we are as a western society, with all the pressures we work within. ‘Embarrassed By You’ is a scathing condemnation of the more confidently certain characters that walk our streets and occupy our screens. ‘Blam Blam Fever’ takes a more light-hearted tack on rising gun crime. Best of all is ‘10 Commandments’, with vocals from Saffiyah Khan, the young woman who was famously photographed standing up to a member of the EDL. It puts you in her shoes and is unforgiving but enlightening.

If this all sounds a bit intense, fear not. Musically the Coventry mob are perhaps more jaunty than they’ve ever been, their traditional ska sound given a rhythmic bounce which is held together by some outstanding bass work. Closer ‘We Sell Hope’ is more reggae than ska and accentuates the band’s strength as more than a one trick pony, a slower beat requiring much more discipline. ‘We’ve got to take care of each other’ as a closing salvo complements the opening track perfectly.

There’s an argument to be made that their peers four decades ago were Madness and The Jam, in musical style and lyrics respectively. Paul Weller no longer sings the songs of the suburbs, and Madness do what they always do. Probably due to their own internal diversity, The Specials were always more intent on railing against the wrongs of life. It’s no different on Encore, and once peace is made with the sound of men in their 50s railing against the inequalities of life, you’re left bewildered as to why they should still be doing it.

We’ve never needed them more, but to be listening to music of this quality is some consolation.

Panda Bear - Buoys

Unusually Noah Lennox’s solo career hasn’t followed the traditional path – the one usually consisting of a key member of a hugely successful band (Thom Yorke), a mid-tier one (Kele Okereke) or a not-so-successful one (Miles Kane) breaking away to either completely sever ties with the former group or have the two projects work in conjunction.

As is his way, it’s a variation of a well-told tale.

Lennox has been operating under the moniker of Panda Bear for over two decades, releasing his self-titled debut album back in 1999. Although like most self-released debuts it was an unassuming, lo-fi effort that didn’t make huge waves, it was a key first step in his story. Shortly afterwards, he collaborated with Avey Tare for an album that was retroactively classed as the first for Animal Collective.

Since then, such is the free-following nature of the collective, the lines have become blurred as to what constitutes solo albums and what constitutes band projects; although he hasn’t left the group, last year’s Tangerine Reef marked Animal Collective’s first album without Lennox. Although he hasn’t left. Clear?

During his solo career Lennox has released a number of albums, the most notable of which, 2007’s Person Pitch, was met with critical acclaim and subsequently a permanent slot on ‘Influenced By…’ lists. Two more albums and three EPs of the by now trademark psychedelic electronic pop have followed. In contrast, for this sixth offering, Lennox has stripped away the swirl of effects and broken the sound down to guitar, bass and vocals, with some textured samples liberally sprinkled across its 31 minutes.

Opening with recent single ‘Dolphin’, the sparseness sets a precedent. Lennox’s vocals seem to have gone backwards through the hedge that is Auto-Tune, backed by only a gentle acoustic and a rather irritating water dripping sound. Several other background noises pop up at various points, the most notable being a female crying on Inner Monologue, all lending themselves to make the album both intimate and alien.

Initially sounding quite congested, Buoys rewards after multiple lessons, revealing itself it to be dub-like in its atmosphere, being more about evoking feelings and thoughts rather than amazing with its dexterity. It’s mid-paced, enabling the album to flow together well, each song following the tone of its predecessor but adjusting the emotional course ever so slightly.

The gentle, spindly acoustic guitar sound is the only permanent setting across the nine songs, so tonally it’s more of a piece than an album. Indeed, Lennox himself admits he was looking to find a single vocal take and then add Auto-Tune effects afterwards. It’s melodically straight-forward, although every now and again something stands out, the highlight being the gorgeous chorus on Token.

Thematically and lyrically, in his own obtuse way Lennox is addressing the present-day climate and the problems younger generations will inherit. The title is a metaphor for human emotion, being both the definition of humanity but also ever so slightly repressed, floating primarily beneath the surface.

Panda Bear has opened another insight into his soul. He’s left us no clearer, but emotionally fulfilled.

White Lies - Five

Terrifyingly, it’s been ten years since White Lies found success with their fine debut album To Lose My Life. Building on the doom-laden post-punk of the 2000s, which had been spearheaded by Interpol and given a twist in the UK by Editors, it managed to be both anthemic and maudlin.

Although seemingly a bit late to the party, the Ealing trio found an impressive level of success following the number one album with good mid-afternoon slots at various festivals during the turn of the decade. In truth, it was always a bit incongruous to see frontman Harry McVeigh whip crowds into a frenzy by encouraging them to sing along to lyrics such as ‘this fear’s got a hold on me’, but it did the job.

Since then, as is so often the case, it’s been the law of diminishing returns. Second album Ritual was cut from the same cloth as its predecessor, but more lumpen. The brave BIG TV (a concept album) in 2013 and the hesitant Friends of 2016 did little but consolidate their standing. So where next? To quote another noughties act, back to the start.

The cunningly titled Five brings all the ingredients of their once-successful recipe to the boil, with some new garnishes for good measure. It’s book-ended in epic fashion; opener ‘Time To Give’ is a good simile for their career to date – after a solid start, four minutes in the mid-section is a seemingly endless circle of synths that ascends through the keys before coming back on itself. Just when you think it can’t go any further, it does. And then it does it again. It’s an ambitious, albeit repetitive, start. Half an hour later, closer ‘Fire And Wings’ is built around a gentle but striking use of two chords, slow paced but grandiose in tone.

The rest of the album covers recognisable bases both sonically and lyrically. Harry McVeigh’s theme is a focus on the human condition and it’s most evident on ‘Finish Line’, which is an outsider’s look at the last days of a relationship backed by some overlaid synths and their trademark chunky guitars (think ‘Death’ from the first album). Although they’re heavily reliant on the glacial sounds of the synth, acoustic guitars do crop up on a couple of occasions throughout, giving proceedings a more organic and human feel than before.

However, one thing that hasn’t changed is McVeigh’s delivery. Only once does he deviate from his comfortable pitch, attempting falsetto on ‘Finish Line’, and the (self-inflicted?) vocal limitations make it quite hard to differentiate between the songs. Dramatic as always, it engenders little emotional connection beyond that. Perhaps that’s intentional, to encourage us to listen elsewhere; ‘Kick Me’ has some good axe work, particularly during the solo, while ‘Denial’’s guitar is sky-scraping. Jo is so fast paced it almost can’t keep up with itself, a slice of pure 1980s that echoes (sorry) the Bunnymen. Best of the lot is ‘Tokyo’, all juddering disco bass and chamber filling vocals. It’s a synth strut and stands alongside any of their best singles.

By not trying too hard, White Lies have managed to release themselves from the shackles of their successful but increasingly distant past to make an album that, ironically, comes closest to the high level of their debut.

Pavo Pavo - Mystery Hour

Back in 2008 MGMT were figureheads for ‘dream pop’, a brand of wistful offerings with breathless or distant vocals which added to an air of melancholia, alchemised by synth-driven, washed out arrangements with enough guitars to satisfy the polemic factions of ‘pop’ and ‘indie’.

Inevitably, and predictably, many followed in their wake, including Empire Of The Sun and Niki & The Dove, Tame Impala being the current kings of the playground. Often the music of dream pop is so effect-driven that the lyrics get either lost in the mix or are frankly of secondary importance. At surface level, Pavo Pavo’s sophomore effort is made up of similar stuff. But context is everything.

Ostensibly a five-piece but creatively a duo, the Brooklyn outfit’s debut album Young Narrator In The Breakers was released back in 2016 to a positive response. Oliver Hill and Eliza Bagg are the key driving force of the band and were dating for some time but fragmented as a couple at some point after the release of the first album. Rather than let that affect the band, it galvanized Hill into writing the bulk of Mystery Hour. It surely takes some strength of character to be in the vicinity of an ex, let alone work with them. To then lay bare your emotions for said ex, then the band and then the wider world to see, is inspiring. It’s been done before of course (it’s still nothing compared to the gestation of Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours) but it’s no less remarkable.

Not only that, but there is little moroseness here. Whilst lyrically rooted in pure human emotion with no punches being spared (the near-opening salvo of ‘I realise love is to see every side of you, but mon cheri, I’m designed to be unsatisfied’ is particularly poignant and sets the tone), musically the album’s eclecticism rarely channels anything but joy. The first song and title-track is awash with luscious strings and choir, then in immediate contrast Mon Cheri channels the grinding guitars of David Bowie’s ‘Fashion’, even including some superfluous but welcome ‘beep beeps’.

Easy dials back to wistfulness due to Bagg’s vocals, backed by sturdy drumming that’s out of kilter with the vibe of the song yet compliments it at the same time. ‘100 Years’ initially could be White Album-era Lennon: ‘such a f***ed up outcome when you’re near me’ Hill laments, before Bagg’s floating soprano skills (she actually is one) take over for the Byrdsy chorus, then winding guitars take centre stage as all elements clash. The highlight of the album, it’s a mini odyssey that’s over in three minutes but feels like twenty. Meanwhile, ‘Close To Your Ego’ is built around wobbling bass and depression-crunching guitar, and if stripped of Bagg’s by-now distinctive voice would sit comfortably on any of Unknown Mortal Orchestra’s albums.

‘Around Part 1’ is a gentle yet urgent stomper, 1920s music hall keys taking stage before seguing into ‘Part 2’, a woozy slice of anxious choir and distorted vocals-driven confusion. The pace slows right down for the final two tracks; ‘Statue Is A Man Inside’ and the sparse ‘Goldenrod’ are two sides of the same coin; the former defiant and the latter reflective in both tone and lyrics.

Both widescreen yet succinct, Mystery Hour is a record that encapsulates the intricacies and intimacies of a relationship as well as any that has come before. Managing to channel both joy and despair, as only being in love can do, it’s a bittersweet beauty that rewards multiple listens.

Acknowledging the befuddlement of one’s subconscious, it’s the most accurate representation of dream pop yet realised.

Ride - Live at The Trinity Centre, Bristol

Since their reformation in late 2014, Ride have been ubiquitous.

Firstly there was a tour in 2015 to reacquaint themselves with the songs and their audience. Then, in 2017, they released the wonderful Weather Diaries, an album which managed to update their atmospheric soundscapes with the songwriting skills Andy Bell had only improved during his time working with Noel Gallagher and Oasis.

There followed another tour, an EP and a remix album, both released earlier this year. Possibly saving the best for last, this show is one of a handful of special acoustic shows celebrating their 30th anniversary.

A cynical soul would say they are milking it, but it’s more accurate to say the Oxford quartet are making up for lost time. At first glance an acoustic set seems a brave move; so definitive and recognisable is their own unique wall of sound, would stripping away the bombast reveal the band’s strength to be in the noise they make rather than the songs they write?

Not a bit of it. In actual fact it has the opposite effect; these songs have stood the test of time. From the sense of melancholy on ‘Howard Hughes’ to the brief blast of joy served up by ‘Taste’, each number perfectly reflects the tone of the night; intimate, reverential yet celebratory.

Last year’s ‘Lannoy Point’ sets the tone with its intricate, almost flamenco guitar as Bell and Mark Gardener trade vocals with Steve Quaralt’s blunt, lesser-spotted acoustic bass holding things together. ‘Weather Diaries’ (the song) throbs along in its hypnotic beauty while ‘From Time To Time’ becomes a thing of wistful wonder.

The gig also highlights what a good guitarist Andy Bell is, and how strange it was that he was happy to be on bass duties during his time with Oasis. He clearly runs the show, and comparing his driving guitar on ‘Lateral Alice’ to the dexterity he demonstrates on the aforementioned ‘Weather Diaries’ flags up an unheralded talent.

He’s ably supported by his old friends: Mark Gardener is all smiles, toe-tapping whenever Bell takes lead vocals, and embracing with smiles when he’s called on to perform his day job as lead vocalist. When the band cover R.E.M.’s ‘The One I Love’ to a rapturous reception, his glee at being Michael Stipe for a few seconds is matched only by the uncanniness of his impression. Quaralt and drummer Loz Colbert obviously have less to do than normal, but keep their percussion simple and effective.

At times the gig is almost ethereal. More so than many of the others, ‘Drive Blind’ is a guitar-based song that shouldn’t work so well acoustically but does. It’s too early to ascertain newbie ‘Shadows Beyond The Sun’’s suitability to this environment, but it sits well alongside the behemoths surrounding it. In the encore, the sublime ‘Vapour Trail’ is matched only by closing number ‘Leave Them All Behind’, wisely edited but losing none of its power. 18 songs pass by in the blink of an eye.

One of the reasons Beady Eye parted ways in late 2014 was due to Andy Bell’s desire to reform Ride. Gem Archer and Chris Sharrock re-joined big brother, while Jay Mehler became part of Liam’s touring entourage.

Ride are unlikely to be playing any huge shows, but creatively they are at their most rewarding and, after fifteen years in the shadow of the Gallaghers, Bell, together with his old friends, certainly isn’t coasting.