A Path of Pitfalls & Plaudits...

Opinions; they’re like arseholes ey? Everyone has one and these days, everybody’s a critic. It has become increasingly important when making music, that a band or artist keep it fresh.

It used to be that music was a privilege whereas today it has become almost an expectation. It’s this saturation of the musical market that has forced bands to get up off their backsides and discover new ways to tickle their listener’s ear drums.

A change of direction is almost mandatory now. It used to be that there would be uproar over an artist changing their musical bearings. Recall if you will the brouhaha that surrounded Bob Dylan’s decision to switch from acoustic to electric at the Newport festival in ‘65?

The 50 year veteran alienated a large section of his fans, who felt he’d turned his back on the American Folk Revival he’d help to spearhead.

There’s a thin line between acclaim and scorn when shifting musical penchants. Invariably, you’re always going to have somebody who gets their knickers in a twist because they don’t agree with the path you’ve chosen to take as an artist.

There is a hatful of contemporary bands that have changed their musical penchants of late. Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Arctic Monkeys and Outkast have all wandered off the beaten track. However, I’m going to focus on The Horrors and Kings of Leon.

These two examples are instances of how to, in my opinion, both successfully and unsuccessfully wander a new path.

The Horrors first album, Strange House, was met with mixed reviews. Songs like ‘Count in Fives’ and ‘Sheena Is a Parasite’ were pretty decent, but on the whole the album was mediocre garage punk from a group of lads who seemed as though they were trying too hard.

So off went The Horrors, looking for that change in direction that would see them receive the adulation they always seemed intelligent and committed enough to achieve.

Ditching their garage punk roots as if they would give them HIV, they instead opted for a dark synth hugging juggernaut. The album sounded like the bastard love child of Joy Division and Human League, with Nick Cave’s heroin addiction thrown in as the feckless uncle of the whole sordid affair.

I recall being told I just had to listen to their single, Sea Within A Sea, and so it was with trepidation that I gave it a blast. I was blown away. It was eight minutes long, it was by The Horrors, the vocals sounded a bit too Ian Curtis-ey and by all accounts I should of hated it; but I loved it.

The formula was perfect and seemed to suit the band to a tee. Gone was the forced, laboured appeal of the first LP. It was replaced by a look and sound that demonstrated that love him or loathe him; Farris Badwan was born for this kind of thing.

Speaking of forcing something, allow me to move on to my next example of a change in direction. Some of you will cry “blasphemy,” some of you won’t; but at the end of the day I’ve grown to be incredibly disappointed with KoL’s 4th album.

For me, they could do no wrong. Youth & Young Manhood is still one of my favourite albums and whilst some said they’d “sold out” with 3rd LP Because of the Times, I believe now it may very well turn out to be their opus.

However, after moving past the original excitement that they had a new album out, I began to discover that my love affair with the band may very well be heading for an annulment.

“But they’re both the same, stadium fused albums,” I hear you cry.

Wrong. The success of Because of the Times lay in its musicianship, whereas the downfall of Only by the Night is that it seems to have disappeared altogether. Instead it has been replaced by an over reliance on Caleb’s goose bump inducing voice.

I just feel that OBTN sounds rushed and in some instances the production is what lets it down. For instance, when I hear ‘Notion’ or ‘Seventeen’ I don’t think “yeah mate” I think “hmmm, I wonder what’s on sale at ASDA this Christmas?”

KoL have always been this ornery bunch of Texans who enjoyed women, whiskey and weed. You always gained a sense of who they were on their albums and it was easy to connect with that. Now they seem more distanced than ever and that’s just bobbins. It really is.

I know eventually every band has to ‘grow up’ and that’s fine by me. Both The Rolling Stones and Bob Dylan have managed to do this whilst retaining the essence that made us love them in the first place.

In conclusion, I’m left pondering how exactly can an artist change direction, yet still stay faithful to what it was that endeared them to their fans in the first place? In the end I think the answer is simple. So long as they stay devoted to who they are, the rest will come naturally.

Keith Richards said “when I’m on-stage I don’t think, I feel.” That’s what music is, its instinct and it’s what you know. That’s how we’re able to connect with it. It’s a raw form of catharsis that is almost unrivalled and to listeners it’s obvious if it’s real or forced.

My my Mr. Wolf, what great potential you have...

There’s something about folk music that just tantalizes people. What, exactly, is difficult to pinpoint. Maybe it’s because, when executed properly, it sounds lovely. Maybe it’s because it evokes memories of hippie protests and fonder times. Maybe it’s because Bob Dylan is that fucking good.

Whatever it is, the mere mention of a band being ‘folk’ is enough to peak people’s interest. It’s even better when they’re actually decent. So it is we come to Kurran and The Wolfnotes, even if their music isn’t exactly folk in its truest sense.

They’re a London based five-piece that make music that seems far too advanced for such a nubile band, and will soon stand alongside Rachel & The Unthanks, Johnny Flynn and Mumford & Sons as being responsible for reviving British Folk.

‘What A Bitch’ is their first single and it’s plain to see why. Of the three songs on their MySpace it encompasses the most genres and embraces that ‘indie’ sound more so than the other two; not that that is necessarily a bad thing. It has a great canter to it and is the kind of song that wouldn’t have been out of place on a Johnny Cash album.

However, whereas Cash’s voice was beautifully deep and macabre, Kurran’s is rather cherubic and lends an air of vulnerability to lyrics that can at times, be quite laddish and cocksure.

‘Your Four Limbs’ is a harmony driven acoustic treat that contains wistful lyrical delights such as “and how I long for your four limbs/and long to sleep amongst there bends.”

Despite the song sounding heartfelt it is quite clever and conniving in its make-up. With his soft vocals, just like The xx, Kurran manages to mask the notion that he’s basically just after getting his end away. The fact that he sounds vulnerable when doing so is a brilliant ruse and makes it all the more Machiavellian.

‘Better By The Minute’ is a clever ditty that, to be honest, Caleb Followill would love to write. Kurran demonstrates swagger and cockiness with lyrics like “there are still some songs that can stir your soul/and if I play one now then she takes me home/because with a tongue this sharp I don’t sleep alone.”

The band has a fantastic blend and they’ve certainly hit the proverbial nail on the head with what they’ve released on MySpace so far. They’re currently touring with Ex-Lovers at the minute so get off your backsides and have a gander yourself.

http://www.myspace.com/kurranandthewolfnotes

Beauty on wax...

In life, there are many things that can be labelled as ‘beautiful’. Gaudi’s Sagrada Familia church, F. Scott’s The Great Gatsby and Natasha Khan all spring to mind.

Music is beautiful too, usually. 'Straight to Hell' by The Clash, 'Hurt' by Johnny Cash and 'It Aint Me Babe' by Bob Dylan are all songs I’d describe as “beautiful,” but in terms of contemporary offerings I’m hard pushed to be truly moved by a piece of music.

This is where The xx enter the fray, with their debut album ‘XX’ set to warm the hearts of listeners the world over. Singer Romy Madley Croft and bassist/co-vocalist Oliver Sim have known each other since nursery, which is touching in its own right.

Their close bond is as clear as Japanese rain when recounting the music they make. Songs like ‘VCR’ and ‘Heart Skipped a Beat’ are lovely little limericks that lighten even the blackest of pin sized hearts.

The xx are a foursome though, Baria Queshi is sublimely refrained on ‘Shelter’, with Jamie Smith’s production giving the song all the subtleties and nuances of a real life relationship that most other producers struggle to master.

The song is beautiful, simply beautiful. Madley-Croft is endearing to boot with her soft vocals asking her scorned lover “Maybe I had said/something that was wrong/can I make it better/with the lights turned on?”

Juvenile thinkers will assume she’s being a naughty lady, but there is something more wholesome about the statement when coming from Madley-Croft, as opposed to say, Lovefoxx.

Morrissey famously declared that “shyness is nice” and The xx are definitely subscribers to this philosophy. Unlike most writers who woefully scratch at the surface of honest intimacy and wishful lamentation, The xx simply say how they feel, yet they say it with a sincere sway that resonates with their listeners.

The album closes on ‘Stars’, with the pianos and Sim’s dulcet tones making Coldplay’s ‘Fix You’ sound more akin to ‘Raw Power’ by The Stooges in comparison. This is how reflective pop music should be done.

Almost sinfully though, their cover of Teardrops by Womack & Womack is not on the album. The guitars are masterfully at work on this one and I strongly recommend you search it out.

So, in a world of Baby P’s and pig germs, let’s be grateful for acts like The xx. They’re able to remind us that, when it wants to be, this existence can be rather lovely.