The xx @ Manchester Academy 2
06/03/10
The Academy 2 is sold out. That’s not entirely rare. What is rare is that unlike the attention seeking Mumford & Sons, The xx chose to keep it intimate rather than upgrade to the morbidly large Academy 1.
Keeping with the shy vibe, a white sheet shields the stage from prying eyes and as the lights go down it becomes apparent as to why it’s there.
The opening chords from Romy Madley-Croft’s guitar are accompanied by her shadow which is cast onto the sheet as a result of the lights behind it. As the other two members lick off their contributions, so to their shadows appear.
The roar from the crowd is intense and goes completely against the hushed appreciation that blanketed the band during their last Manchester outing at The Deaf Institute.
That performance was never going to be mimicked and it was always going to be a natural progression for a band whose music was always destined for bigger things.
Despite the upgrade in size the songs still bring a gentle, happy sway from those in attendance.
If anything, they are appreciated more as Jamie Smith’s shin shaking rumblings on songs like ‘Fantasy’ drown out the hyena chatter from the habitual bint who “heard them on Radio 1 just this week”.
‘Shelter’ brings a different kind of rumbling to the table, as the gentle murmur from the crowd’s sing-a-long accompanies Oliver Sim’s bass after its brief hiatus during the aforementioned ‘Fantasy’.
The band’s excellent eye for a cover song is in force again with Kyla’s ‘Do You Mind’ and Womack & Womack’s ‘Teardrops’ being given the treatment. The latter’s guitars are more reserved live than the studio version. There’s no need for flair here as Croft’s talent and introspective demeanour shines through.
‘VCR’ brings with it the familial chimes of appreciation that walk in hand in hand with a current single.
The verbal and instrumental sparring on ‘Basic Space’ both retain the distant familiarity that Sims and Croft seem to excel in. Before it gets to “nicey nice” Smith’s contraptions bowl in and wipe the floor with them both; leaving Croft’s guitars to whimper to fade.
A refrained menace lurks throughout ‘Infinity’ and rears it seismic horns as Smith grins demonically in the background.
Not to be outdone, Sims drops his bass and proceeds to smash the bejeezus out of the percussion cymbal. His hulking frame flashes black and white in the epileptic lighting, making for a striking visual.
This display of showmanship and focus on the visual as well as the musical negates the worry that The xx’s sentimental music would be unable to translate to larger venues.
The words “stars” and “shine” in the same hook tend to evoke memories of when Chris Martin wasn’t a dilbert. Fortunately this time round, The xx show us that those words together can still resonate during ‘Stars’.
Smith’s apocalyptic vibrations bring a nervous quiet, with the crowd wondering if the bricks and mortar can withstand the onslaught. In fairness, they make Pompeii seem like a wet fart.
The gathered masses are left to their own devices as the band leave the stage to their remix of Florence & The Machine’s cover of ‘You’ve Got The Love’. The enraptured applause and hollering suggest the irony of the songs title may not be lost on them.
Saturday, 20 March 2010
If It 'Aint Broke, Don't Fix It...
Sophomore albums are always pivotal. You put out a bad 2nd offering and a slippy slope waits, with the cess pit at the bottom filled with acts like The Strokes and The Hives; bands that could have been contenders.
So it is that Vampire Weekend grimace with hope and pray that they avoid the slag heap of promising acts that never breached the cocooned success of their 1st offering.
Contra does not disappoint. It does however, polarize. For those who view Vampire Weekend with disdain, so too shall you dislike this album. It is completely unapologetic with its opener. ‘Horchata’ not only sounds identical to their 1st LP, it walks hand in hand with it, playfully giving the two fingered salute to the non-subscribers.
In fact it would be apt to label the two albums as siblings, with Contra simply wishing to unabashedly emulate its elder. Only, as is often the case, the younger sprog is more adventurous, learning from their kinfolk’s mistakes.
Gone are the nicey nicey guitars on songs like ‘Boston’, having been replaced with more experimental numbers such as the M.I.A. sampled ‘Diplomat’s Son’.
Rostam Batmanglij’s keyboards on ‘White Sky’ are sublimely accompanied by differing, intertwining percussion from Chris Tomson. With his vocals, Ezra Koenig is seen to be embracing a cosy little penchant for Kate Bush.
‘Cousins’ doesn’t mince its nature as it announces itself as the LP’s attempts at recapturing the rip-roaring success of ‘A-Punk’.
Whilst there is nothing necessarily wrong with the song, it’s not really a shade on its predecessor. ‘A-Punk’ was such a behemoth of a club tune that the band may struggle to ever to better a song that, in its own intentions, was near perfection.
That being said, Tomson’s drums piss all over this song and are brilliant.
Koenig’s vocals on ‘Giving Up The Gun’ are softer than on the rest of the album, as he chimes “Your swords grown old and rusty/Burnt beneath the rising sun/It’s locked up like a trophy/Forgetting all the things it’s done.”
Ezra’s lyrics are greatly matured on Contra, with layered references to “Tokugawa smiles” demonstrating it’s not just Batmanglij and the rest of Vampire Weekend that are looking to mature.
The album closes on the delicate ‘I Think UR A Contra’, with Koenig lamenting “Never pick sides/Never choose between the two/But I just wanted you”.
Contra is an incredibly endearing album that serves to show Vampire Weekend as a band with depth and desire. In hindsight, their new found triteness fits them well.
So it is that Vampire Weekend grimace with hope and pray that they avoid the slag heap of promising acts that never breached the cocooned success of their 1st offering.
Contra does not disappoint. It does however, polarize. For those who view Vampire Weekend with disdain, so too shall you dislike this album. It is completely unapologetic with its opener. ‘Horchata’ not only sounds identical to their 1st LP, it walks hand in hand with it, playfully giving the two fingered salute to the non-subscribers.
In fact it would be apt to label the two albums as siblings, with Contra simply wishing to unabashedly emulate its elder. Only, as is often the case, the younger sprog is more adventurous, learning from their kinfolk’s mistakes.
Gone are the nicey nicey guitars on songs like ‘Boston’, having been replaced with more experimental numbers such as the M.I.A. sampled ‘Diplomat’s Son’.
Rostam Batmanglij’s keyboards on ‘White Sky’ are sublimely accompanied by differing, intertwining percussion from Chris Tomson. With his vocals, Ezra Koenig is seen to be embracing a cosy little penchant for Kate Bush.
‘Cousins’ doesn’t mince its nature as it announces itself as the LP’s attempts at recapturing the rip-roaring success of ‘A-Punk’.
Whilst there is nothing necessarily wrong with the song, it’s not really a shade on its predecessor. ‘A-Punk’ was such a behemoth of a club tune that the band may struggle to ever to better a song that, in its own intentions, was near perfection.
That being said, Tomson’s drums piss all over this song and are brilliant.
Koenig’s vocals on ‘Giving Up The Gun’ are softer than on the rest of the album, as he chimes “Your swords grown old and rusty/Burnt beneath the rising sun/It’s locked up like a trophy/Forgetting all the things it’s done.”
Ezra’s lyrics are greatly matured on Contra, with layered references to “Tokugawa smiles” demonstrating it’s not just Batmanglij and the rest of Vampire Weekend that are looking to mature.
The album closes on the delicate ‘I Think UR A Contra’, with Koenig lamenting “Never pick sides/Never choose between the two/But I just wanted you”.
Contra is an incredibly endearing album that serves to show Vampire Weekend as a band with depth and desire. In hindsight, their new found triteness fits them well.
A Familiar Voice In Unfamiliar Surroundings...
“I was moved in with her, temporarily, just until things were patched,
‘Til this was patched and ‘til that was patched,
Until I became at 3,4,5,6,7,8, 9 and 10,
The patch that held Lily Scott,
Who held me and like them 4,
I became one more.”
These are some of the insights offered by the incomparable Gil Scott-Heron during ‘On Coming From A Broken Home (Part 1)’, the opening salvo from his new album I’m New Here.
It seems like a strange album title for a man so well versed as GSH. How can someone who has seen just about everything, be new to anything? Well the man has spent the worst part of the last ten years incarcerated for various drug charges.
During that period he has been virtually forgotten, aside from a brief appearance alongside Blackalicious and a respect laden shout out from LCD Soundsystem’s James Murphy on ‘Losing My Edge’.
So it is he sets out to address his woes and misdemeanours with I’m New Here.
“Being blessed is just not being able to float on air, I’m saying if you’ve gotta pay for things you’ve done wrong, I got a big bill coming, at the end of the day,” GSH laughs.
Songs like ‘Me and The Devil’ address his spells in prison and his drug addiction. The music is far from friendly as Scott-Heron attempts to tackle the issues head on, shirking nothing and apologizing for even less in his handling of the problems.
His brutal honesty is what makes him endearing, in the same way it did Johnny Cash. He doesn’t run from the issues that plague him, with ‘Running’ being the most direct example.
His mind is still as razor sharp as it was when he released the unfathomable Small Talk at 125th and Lennox in 1970, even if his voice is not. In fact, it’s this croaky, weathered version of his baritone delivery that really makes you believe what he’s saying.
“Turn around, turn around, turn around, and you may come full circle, and be new here, again” he laments, almost as if he is singing to himself in the mirror. The album is so cathartic. The audience is the proverbial priest and he is attending confession.
Further religious implications are evident on “Your Soul and Mine” as our sage host profess lyrical on the battle for a man’s soul. Again, it all appears to cut close to the bone.
‘New York is Killing Me’ sees GSH confess rather frankly that the city that never sleeps has a constrictor like hold on him, a hold that is detrimental to his health. “Bunch of doctors coming round, and New York was killing me, got to go back home and take it slow in Jackson, Tennessee,” stresses Scott-Heron.
The album closes by coming “full circle” with ‘On Coming From A Broken Home (Part 2)’, again with Kanye West’s ‘Flashing Lights’ – an obvious ode to old chipmunk cheeks’ sampling of GSH in the past – providing the backing track.
I’m New Here is obviously a very personal album, as are all GSH LP’s. This one deviates from the norm though in the sense that it addresses his personal problems, not his problem with the world he lives in but the problem with the world he has created for himself.
It’s a return to form for an artist who has been nothing but sorely missed over the years, not just for his output but also the input he has in other artists’ lives and opinions. Let’s face it, there would not really be Hip-Hop without GSH. The king is not dead, long live the king.
“My life has been guided by women,
But because of them,
I am a man,
God Bless you Momma,
And thank you.”
‘Til this was patched and ‘til that was patched,
Until I became at 3,4,5,6,7,8, 9 and 10,
The patch that held Lily Scott,
Who held me and like them 4,
I became one more.”
These are some of the insights offered by the incomparable Gil Scott-Heron during ‘On Coming From A Broken Home (Part 1)’, the opening salvo from his new album I’m New Here.
It seems like a strange album title for a man so well versed as GSH. How can someone who has seen just about everything, be new to anything? Well the man has spent the worst part of the last ten years incarcerated for various drug charges.
During that period he has been virtually forgotten, aside from a brief appearance alongside Blackalicious and a respect laden shout out from LCD Soundsystem’s James Murphy on ‘Losing My Edge’.
So it is he sets out to address his woes and misdemeanours with I’m New Here.
“Being blessed is just not being able to float on air, I’m saying if you’ve gotta pay for things you’ve done wrong, I got a big bill coming, at the end of the day,” GSH laughs.
Songs like ‘Me and The Devil’ address his spells in prison and his drug addiction. The music is far from friendly as Scott-Heron attempts to tackle the issues head on, shirking nothing and apologizing for even less in his handling of the problems.
His brutal honesty is what makes him endearing, in the same way it did Johnny Cash. He doesn’t run from the issues that plague him, with ‘Running’ being the most direct example.
His mind is still as razor sharp as it was when he released the unfathomable Small Talk at 125th and Lennox in 1970, even if his voice is not. In fact, it’s this croaky, weathered version of his baritone delivery that really makes you believe what he’s saying.
“Turn around, turn around, turn around, and you may come full circle, and be new here, again” he laments, almost as if he is singing to himself in the mirror. The album is so cathartic. The audience is the proverbial priest and he is attending confession.
Further religious implications are evident on “Your Soul and Mine” as our sage host profess lyrical on the battle for a man’s soul. Again, it all appears to cut close to the bone.
‘New York is Killing Me’ sees GSH confess rather frankly that the city that never sleeps has a constrictor like hold on him, a hold that is detrimental to his health. “Bunch of doctors coming round, and New York was killing me, got to go back home and take it slow in Jackson, Tennessee,” stresses Scott-Heron.
The album closes by coming “full circle” with ‘On Coming From A Broken Home (Part 2)’, again with Kanye West’s ‘Flashing Lights’ – an obvious ode to old chipmunk cheeks’ sampling of GSH in the past – providing the backing track.
I’m New Here is obviously a very personal album, as are all GSH LP’s. This one deviates from the norm though in the sense that it addresses his personal problems, not his problem with the world he lives in but the problem with the world he has created for himself.
It’s a return to form for an artist who has been nothing but sorely missed over the years, not just for his output but also the input he has in other artists’ lives and opinions. Let’s face it, there would not really be Hip-Hop without GSH. The king is not dead, long live the king.
“My life has been guided by women,
But because of them,
I am a man,
God Bless you Momma,
And thank you.”
Monday, 19 October 2009
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.
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
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.
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.
Monday, 10 August 2009
Teenage Kicks...
It’s been almost 30 years since Ian Curtis echoed “Here are the young men/Well where have they been?”
As the air raid intro of ‘Hideaway’ rings out, it’s obvious that most of them are in the crowd for Mystery Jets’ performance for the Manchester International Festival.
The reason for that is because the gigs promoters – XOX & Same Teens – have decided to only open their doors for people aged 15-19.
This lovely little stroke of genius has seen Clint Boon declare this as “the most important night for Manchester music since The Sex Pistols played at the Free Trade Hall in 1976.” Bold words indeed.
The march of the teenagers is in full effect as the band segues into ‘Half in Love with Elizabeth’.
By the time the familiar beginnings of the aptly titled ‘Young Love’ begin to blanket a rapturous audience it’s obvious that with their 2nd LP, the Erol Alkan/Stephen Street produced Twenty One, they’ve earned a greater degree of exposure to a younger demographic.
It also portrays a band that is not afraid to take the necessary measures needed to move up to the next echelon of music.
Midway through the gig, the bass of Kai Fish stands tall as ‘Hand Me Down’ is introduced. However, by the end of the song any doubters who dared believe this Twickenham based foursome weren’t an ensemble piece are silenced.
The keyboards sound like something you’d hear from a B-movie take on ‘Invasion of the Body Snatchers’ and perfectly suite Blaine Harrison’s vocals.
Half way through the song William Rees rips into the audience with his guitar and it’s all capped off by some excellent showmanship from drummer Kapil Trivedi. The song is easily the highlight of the night and leaves the crowd breathless and reaching for the free bottles of water as the heat kicks up a notch.
‘Two Doors Down’ and ‘Behind the Bunhouse’ bring an end to the sweaty set, leaving the teenagers to seek their kicks in the form of fresh Mancunian air as they reflect on a unique gig that catered only for them.
3 1/2 out of 5
As the air raid intro of ‘Hideaway’ rings out, it’s obvious that most of them are in the crowd for Mystery Jets’ performance for the Manchester International Festival.
The reason for that is because the gigs promoters – XOX & Same Teens – have decided to only open their doors for people aged 15-19.
This lovely little stroke of genius has seen Clint Boon declare this as “the most important night for Manchester music since The Sex Pistols played at the Free Trade Hall in 1976.” Bold words indeed.
The march of the teenagers is in full effect as the band segues into ‘Half in Love with Elizabeth’.
By the time the familiar beginnings of the aptly titled ‘Young Love’ begin to blanket a rapturous audience it’s obvious that with their 2nd LP, the Erol Alkan/Stephen Street produced Twenty One, they’ve earned a greater degree of exposure to a younger demographic.
It also portrays a band that is not afraid to take the necessary measures needed to move up to the next echelon of music.
Midway through the gig, the bass of Kai Fish stands tall as ‘Hand Me Down’ is introduced. However, by the end of the song any doubters who dared believe this Twickenham based foursome weren’t an ensemble piece are silenced.
The keyboards sound like something you’d hear from a B-movie take on ‘Invasion of the Body Snatchers’ and perfectly suite Blaine Harrison’s vocals.
Half way through the song William Rees rips into the audience with his guitar and it’s all capped off by some excellent showmanship from drummer Kapil Trivedi. The song is easily the highlight of the night and leaves the crowd breathless and reaching for the free bottles of water as the heat kicks up a notch.
‘Two Doors Down’ and ‘Behind the Bunhouse’ bring an end to the sweaty set, leaving the teenagers to seek their kicks in the form of fresh Mancunian air as they reflect on a unique gig that catered only for them.
3 1/2 out of 5
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