Vampire Weekend Review

Vampire Weekend
Brighton Audio
Sunday 24th February 2008

“You’re shit hot!” shouts a typically animated Vampire Weekend devotee. “You don’t like us? Oh…” enquires clearly deflated singer Ezra Koenig. “No, no, shit hot means good over here,” he is assured. Although some things are lost in translation, the band’s irrepressibly joyous pop kitsch is well understood.

The New York band have enjoyed (or endured, depending on your viewpoint) more hype than is strictly plausible for a preppie four-piece with a penchant for Peter Gabriel. If this had gone to their heads the ridiculously tiny stage wouldn’t be able to fit even one of their egos, let alone a drum kit. When they jumble into view, forced to perform in a straight line due the delightfully cramped setup, it’s clear they’re as enthusiastic as the opening aural fling of ‘Mansard Roof’ suggests. The lyrical quirkiness charges fragmented rhythms in a strolling idiosyncratic salute.

The difference of this beginning is misleading though. Despite their billing as composers of thrilling, new musical ideas, Vampire Weekend are really just another indie band, who happen to throw in some world influences to compliment the angular riffs. This doesn’t decrease their attraction though, as new single ‘A-Punk’ shows. It’s infectious melody and buzzing bass are brimming with a frazzled energy that disperses into an already vivacious audience. It’s unadulterated playfulness, with enough “whoa” chants to engage and not too many to annoy.

The set careens past, a blur of communicable vim. Themes of unswerving simplicity in ‘Campus’ and ‘M79’ increase the hurtling pace of the show, with cheery exuberance favoured over showy dramatics or complexity. The former showcases the loveable naivety of the group as they reminisce: “In the afternoon you‘re out on the stolen grass/And I‘m sleeping on the balcony after class.” They look startlingly young, and suitably untroubled. ‘Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa’, with its calypso attitude and clinking melody, is a calming respite, less frenetic but equally jubilant.

The closing couplet of ‘Oxford Comma’ and Walcott’ raise smiles and spirits further. Ezra’s sardonic drawl of “All your diction dripping with disdain,” in their knowing ode to grammatical accuracy proves a glowing highlight. The tempo changes, vocal gimmickry and clever stylistic blending characterise the band’s tongue-in-cheek astuteness and overriding aim to entertain.

‘Walcott’ is a plain old sing-along, containing about four lines, but enough spark to make the crowd desperately want to visit the mysterious Cape the song’s protagonist wants to get out of. The drumming is basic and overwhelmingly loud, the tune is easy to follow, the hook itching to be yelled. This is timeless sunshine music, but equally effective at warming a Brighton basement in February. Vampire Weekend are far too fun to be revolutionary, and all the better for it.

Los Campesinos! Interview

Los Campesinos! have admitted they “really aren’t that bothered” by unlawful downloads of their new album.

“I have downloaded music illegally in the past,” Ellen, the band’s bassist, told Gigwise. “And if I really like it I’ll buy a tangible copy. We’re not that driven by money anyway, with seven of us in the band.”

Their debut record, ‘Hold On Now, Youngster’, is released on Monday, but was leaked on the internet a month ago.

“We’re excited that it’s finally coming out, but it’s almost an anti-climax because we recorded it so long ago and it’s been leaked.”

New single, ‘Death To Los Campesinos!’ came out this week, and Ellen explained the idea behind its rather colourful video, which sees the band ‘killed’ by the likes of flowers, feathers and unicorns.

“Making videos can be a long and boring process, but we were all incredibly excited to be surrounded by kittens,” she said.

“We always get associated with the word twee, so it was nice to be murdered by twee things.”
Los Campesinos! are currently on a UK tour, with dates still to come in Kingston tonight (February 22nd) and Portsmouth on Saturday.

They then head off to Europe for a series of dates in such glamorous locations as Paris, Berlin and Milan, but Ellen insists she favours the homeliness of Britain.

“I prefer touring in England. It’s a lot colder in Europe. The food’s amazing, and the sights and stuff, but I like the routine and familiarity of the UK.”

The Cardiff collective will be doing the rounds at festivals this summer, with All Tomorrows Parties and South By Southwest already confirmed.

However, thoughts are already turning to the next album. “We’ve got lots of songs left over, and will be recording over the summer whenever we get chance.”

The Best Love Songs Ever

20. Blur – ‘Tender’ Graham Coxon shuffles about uncomfortably, Damon Albarn is all gawky certainty, and Blur have never been so powerful. Backed by a gospel choir, recalling the imagery of Fitzgerald and Keats, it had altogether loftier ambitions than Blur’s earlier records. However, its charm is the devastating simplicity of both words and music, combining to make a song full of affection.

19. The Stranglers – ‘Golden Brown’ A love song about heroin, it waltzes past, seemingly propping itself up on a merry-go-round rhythm that bobs along constantly. Full of contradictions and a tickling vocal, it sounds peculiarly English, a strange vagueness mixing with a stately delivery to get that bubbling affection creeping through.

18. Oasis – ‘Wonderwall’ One of the most recognisable riffs in music gives way to a brooding vocal, part-sneer, part-croon, and millions of people recall millions of moments this song has soundtracked. The faint strings bring depth, lyrics effortless togetherness. A track so universal it makes rabbles of drunken lads show signs of emotion on a daily basis.

17. Buzzcocks –‘Ever Fallen In Love (With Someone You Shouldn’t Have)’ Buzzcocks masterpiece of hormonal adulation pits a confused Pete Shelley against his confusing lover and produces a rollicking two and a half minutes of unadulterated punk revelry. The repetition of ‘Ever fallen in love’ gives the song its heart and a quality that ensures reminiscence on every listen.

16. Donna Summer – ‘I Feel Love’ A trance-inducing loll through romance, ‘I Feel Love’ contains a synthesized backing so hypnotic it takes on an ardent glow. This lays the platform for Summer to sing piercingly pure vocals that bring an elated atmosphere to the track that revolutionised disco.

15. David Bowie – ‘Be My Wife’ “Sometimes you get so lonely/Sometimes you get nowhere.” Bowie is both playful and heated in this particularly frank plea for love. The key is the unconventional alteration of the repeated set of lyrics, changing slightly each verse and tapping into the desperation of Bowie’s appeal.

14. PJ Harvey – ‘This Is Love’ “I can’t believe life's so complex/When I just wanna' sit here and watch you undress.” PJ Harvey wastes no time in this rumbling blast of authoritative infatuation. It is unswerving in its intentions, as direct as it is commanding. The lack of complexity adds to the raw passion of a song of lustful pleasure.

13. The Smashing Pumpkins – ‘Tonight’ “The indescribable moments of your life tonight/The impossible is possible tonight/Believe in me as I believe in you, tonight.” Could be a bit cheesy, that. But sung in Billy Corgan’s unmistakable croak, it’s an empowering rollercoaster of a track, with grandiose strings ensuring an altogether affecting song.

12. Super Furry Animals – ‘Fire In My Heart’ A track of warmth and tenderness, it sees the Welsh scamps build up an exquisite but plain beginning. It evolves into a strong assertion of dedication, which clashes euphoric delivery with the underlining feeling the song should just collapse at any moment. Brilliantly different.

11. The Cure – ‘Friday I’m In Love’ Robert Smith penned this jovial ode to joy with a knowing simplicity that ensures it is as catchy as it is sincere. He uses the hook of days of the week eight years before Craig David made it annoying, and sings with enough jubilant abandon to lay claim to the title of happiest Goth of all time.

10. Led Zeppelin – ‘Thank You’ The first song that Robert Plant ever wrote for Led Zeppelin pays homage to his beloved wife Maureen; it features such heartrending lines as: “If the sun refused to shine / I would still be loving you /Mountains crumble to the sea / There will still be you and me.” Lovely.

9. Serge Gainsbourg and Jane Birkin – ‘Je T’aime (Moi Non Plus)’ Few love songs have been officially denounced by The Vatican, but Serge Gainsbourg managed it with this sensual saga. It was deemed outrageous and explicit, with hushed French vocals and a deliciously suggestive style, but is also delicately delivered. Gainsbourg’s then-girlfriend Brigitte Bardot asked him to write 'the most romantic song that you could imagine', which is a fairly apt description.

8. The La’s – ‘There She Goes’ The lyrically sparse, wandering spirit of ‘There She Goes’ sounds as fresh and free today as on its release. The liberating, uncomplicated nature of the song may be at odds with interpretations it is actually about heroin, but, regardless, it remains a startlingly loveable tale of adoration.

7. The Beatles – ‘Something’ A majestic, swirling, and unashamedly sentimental track written at the stage when The Beatles seemed to have left this type of balladic tune behind, the song showcased the genius of George Harrison. He claims to have had Ray Charles in mind when writing it, and captures a sentiment of both openness and elusiveness.

6. Lou Reed – ‘Perfect Day’ The former Velvet Underground man showcased sensitivity on this release from acclaimed solo album ‘Transformer.’ The track is a subtle trip down a seemingly conventional romance, and is stark in its honesty, with lines such as “You make me forget myself/I thought I was someone else/Someone good.” Of course, it could all be about heroin again, but it’s cute nonetheless.

5. Marvin Gaye – ‘Let’s Get It On’ With more “ooh ooh”s, primal cries and “baby”s than most singers manage in a career, Marvin Gaye was at his most persuasive on this classic groove of charismatic seduction. A laid-back slice of soulful perfection, thousands of bad karaoke renditions haven’t tainted the pure smoothness of this expressive perfection.

4. Sebastien Tellier – ‘La Ritournelle’ The almost unbearable lushness of ‘La Ritournelle’ is tantalisingly visceral, a song that breezily drifts away aches and pains. It’s stylish, but oozes a soft vulnerability that only adds to the aching beauty of this crafted composition. The kind of song so gorgeous it should be annoying.

3. The Beach Boys – ‘God Only Knows’ From the French horns of the introduction to the airy vocals of Carl Wilson, reluctantly allowed to sing the song by his brother Brian, ‘God Only Knows’ is a twinkling composition as gorgeous as it is complex. The understated harmonies and emotional lyricism complete a delightful pop moment.

2. Joy Division – ‘Love Will Tear Us Apart’ The delineation of destructive love, Ian Curtis’s tortured vocals are tormented by pulsating drums and a tainted melody, giving the song a prodigious power. The well-documented context in which the song was created adds a spectral quality to the sound, but it is the lyrics of isolation and devotion that make this an essential song of love and pain.


1. The Smiths – ‘There Is A Light That Never Goes Out’ Undoubtedly the most beautiful music ever to include lyrics about getting hit by a bus, this manages to be a touching love song despite, or perhaps because of, its ambiguous lyrics of isolation and death. Morrissey at his most poetic.

The Worst Love Songs Ever

20. Robbie Williams – ‘Angels’ After he left Take That, they soon fell by the wayside, and everybody assumed it wouldn’t be too long before the chubby one from Stoke did the same. But no, he released this behemoth of sentimental pap and it went and saved his career. So we still have to look at his smug face in the paper every day.

19. Lionel Ritchie – ‘Hello’ Does anyone else get ever so slightly scared by the video? How is the blind love interest’s sculpture so worryingly accurate? Is Lionel Ritchie really that creepy? He shouts hello with such exclamation, and so many times, you can’t even just ignore the song, you’re stuck listening to the repeated greetings of a gibbering idiot.

18. Bryan Adams – ‘Everything I Do, I Do It For You’ This Robin Hood soundtrack song was Number One in the UK for 16 weeks. 16 consecutive weeks! Who was still buying it? After four whole months of Bryan Adams telling you to “look into my eyes,” you’d have thought there was nothing left to see. But no, people kept buying it, the result being fits of cold sweats every time we see a bow and arrow. (This isn’t that often, admittedly.)

17. Eric Clapton – ‘Wonderful Tonight’ Didn’t he used to, erm, play rock music and stuff? Quite handy with a guitar, if we recall. The former Yardbirds and Cream member went all slushy with this tribute to his other half, Pattie Boyd, taking ages to get ready for a party. It’s frustrating when that happens, sure, but there’s no need for a syrupy four minute track to immortalise it.

16. Celine Dion – ‘My Heart Will Go On’ Sure, Titanic was a tragedy. But the real disaster was having this song unleashed on an unsuspecting public. Unlike the ship in the film this song soundtracked, it just wouldn’t sink. It was everywhere, winning Oscars and Grammys, while ingraining Celine Dion’s irritating, exasperating warble on a world not quite ready to realise it was absolute drivel.

15. Keane – ‘Somewhere Only We Know’ Back in the days before Keane singer Tom Chaplin was a plump, pompous, infuriating rehab-attendee, he was still plump, pompous and infuriating. This kicked it all off, the high vocals, plonking keys and empty sound adding up to a hollow track of stabbing irritation.



14. The Bangles – ‘Eternal Flame’ So awful it was deemed fit to be covered by Atomic Kitten. “I watch you when you are sleeping/You belong with me,” was apparently romantic, but in The Bangles’ sharp voices it sounds more like the behaviour of a deranged stalker. Naturally, it was a tasteless hit worldwide.

13. Sherman Brothers – ‘You’re Sixteen’ The question is, how old were the Sherman Brothers? Sure, sure, 16 is legal. But the age of consent is 12 in the Philippines – that doesn’t make it right. Regardless of that, the song is just plain, cheap, nasty, throwaway, boring music. Ringo Starr did a cover version. Hmmm…

12. Westlife – ‘Flying Without Wings’ Westlife release a song, it gets to Number One, it becomes increasingly difficult to believe the nation has a soul. The Irish crooners have been belting out slight variations of this formula for years now, but never more excruciatingly than on this 1999 hit. It all comes to a head at the chord change, when even if you’re hearing the song on the radio, you can picture them getting out of their stools, fists clenched, faces punchable.

11. Goo Goo Dolls – ‘Iris’ Songwriter Johnny Rzeznik is rumoured to have ended a long spell of sobriety when he penned this cult favourite. If Alcoholics Anonymous needs any help convincing people of the dangers of drink, that’s as good an incentive as any. You can still catch them peddling this at festivals, if you’re unlucky.

10. Savage Garden – ‘Truly Madly Deeply’ Darren Hayes reels off lines supposed to be of life-altering importance and earth-shattering beauty as if he’s reading a shopping list. Some kind of twiddly nonsense is going on in the background, and it ends with him squealing rather pathetically. But at least it knocked Elton John off the top of the charts.



9. Mariah Carey – ‘Hero’ She’s obviously pretty demanding, a bit detached from reality and more than a little unhinged. But she (or her management) knows how to sell records. Now, she’s shifting millions of sub-R&B; in 1993, schmaltzy, tear-jerking ballads about looking inside yourself were all the rage. Naturally, Mariah out- schmaltzed and out-cried all the competition.

8. Paul Anka – ‘You’re Having My Baby’ “You’re a woman in love/And I love what's going through you.” Or: “Whoa, the seed inside you/Baby, do you feel it growing.” Or even: “Having my baby/What a lovely way of saying/What you’re thinking of me.” Shameful sexism, vulgar imagery and downright shoddy lyricism combine in one of the most shockingly ghastly moments in music history.

7. Phil Collins – ‘Groovy Kinda Love’ The problem here is all in the lyrics. You can’t get much cheesier than “When I’m feeling blue, all I have to do/Is take a look at you, then I’m not so blue.” The worst part is that this is a cover! Collins took a truly atrocious song and somehow managed to make it so trashy it would be even more popular with middle England. Nothing groovy about that.

6. Nilson Harry – ‘I Can’t Live If Living Is Without You’ Agonising power-pop of the highest order, Nilson Harry stretches the boundaries of taste in this churning epic. None of the notes sound right, the lyrics are cobbled together and the whole thing relies on an enormous chorus that is just sickeningly needy. More depressing than romantic.

5. Barry Manilow – ‘Mandy’ Just edging Westlife’s version of the same song in terms of drippiness, this poppy ballad is utterly soaked in maudlin affection. That Barry Manilow’s ‘Mandy’ manages to gather up such an abundance of tackiness into just one song is its main achievement.4. Chris DeBurgh – ‘Lady In Red’ Bill Bailey has him very high up his patented ‘Scales of Evil,’ chiefly for infecting music with this tribute to a woman (maybe his wife, maybe Princess Diana) wearing a bright dress. Ending with the inspired lyrics of “Lady in red/lady in red/lady in red/I love you,” it is destined to grate on you at weddings forever more.

3. Donny Osmond – ‘Puppy Love’ He’s presenting some horrendous quiz show on daytime television now, but even that isn’t as nauseating as this memorably juvenile take on love. It could be deemed as cute and innocent, but is produced with such a layer of sheen you feel it is plastered onto you. Being fourteen is no excuse, this is plain rubbish.

2. Billy Rae Cyrus – ‘Achy Breaky Heart’ Country music, mullets and broken hearts don’t seem essential ingredients for an enormous crossover hit, but that’s all Billy Rae Cyrus had to work with. To make matters worse, it led to line dancing, the refuge of the elderly and the insane. Breaky isn’t even a word.

1. James Blunt – ‘You’re Beautiful’ He sits on the edge of a cliff for the entire length of the video. If they’d known what they do now, surely somebody would have pushed him before he jumped, wouldn’t they? The ultimate pitiful singer-songwriter’s definitive song, it’s painstakingly bad. “But I won’t lose no sleep on that/’Cause I’ve got a plan/You’re beautiful.” That’s not a plan, is it, now leave us alone.

Milan Misadventures

Giorgio Armani and me, we don’t often cross paths. Tina Turner sends him a panther every Christmas; I watch Peterborough Panthers speedway team occasionally. He’s got an estimated fortune of £4 billion; until recently I spent Friday nights sitting on a Tesco till. As he sat in his mansion, I was hunting down my £13.50-per-night hostel.

After a day spent investigating the Duomo cathedral, I sought some less sophisticated entertainment; there’s only so much refinement you can stand on a Saturday afternoon. Even though Milan is a destination known for fashion, style and elegance, these were far from my mind when entering a pub imaginatively named ‘The Football Bar’ to watch some British sport after a day of continental culture.

With Six Nations rugby on TV, I grabbed the last remaining table. A few lads wandered in, briefcases in tow, fresh from a conference. I offered seats, and was soon explaining the morals behind England fielding a Tonga-born former New Zealand international in a match against Wales, to a Scotsman, an Australian and an Italian. This seemed to go down well, the suits suitably impressed with my passable sporting knowledge.

They were interested enough to keep the drinks coming my way, and convinced me - through the persuasive power of Peroni - to join them for dinner. With only 15 Euros in my wallet, thankfully they were picking up the tab. I felt slightly out of place as champagne and lobster began to be served. Finally, I asked: “So what exactly is it you do?” Turns out I was in the midst of 16 international law firm partners, which came in handy when the bill reached two grand.

I thought it was time to depart, only to find I was on the guest list at “some club or other.” This was Armani Prive, Giorgio’s private nightclub, noted by theworldsfinestclubs.com for its “exclusive, luxurious atmosphere of personal expression.” My personal expression was crazed bewilderment, being the only non-millionaire/supermodel inside, dressed more H&M than D&G.

Realising the best way of fitting in with my newfound friends was a combination of polite nodding and gratuitous leering, I exited at 4am. But, unbeknown to me, the paparazzi were waiting. As they snapped away I considered a Bjork-esque attack on them for daring invade my privacy. Instead, I made my way to the hostel, reminiscing about my night of glamour before reality hit in the form of stale-bread for breakfast.

Cat Power - Live

Cat Power
Shepherds Bush Empire, London
Sunday 27th January

You don’t quite know what to expect from Cat Power. She never seems sure what to expect from herself. Tonight, she is an intoxicating mix of alluring emotion, kooky elusiveness and vocal presence.

The start is pedestrian as she pitter-patters onstage, suitably understated in waistcoat and jeans. Her four-piece band, The Dirty Delta Blues, are restless, a note shy, a foot wrong. ‘Metal Heart’ simmers by, adequate but uninspired; Cat saunters, comfortably subdued. It takes the contiguous charm of ‘Dark End Of The Street’ to pierce the normality of the show, coaxing a quivering croon from Cat and sparking her into newfound theatrical interaction.

Suddenly, the crowd is laughing at her exaggerated cockney impressions, swooning at a stylish take of ‘Naked If I Want To’, gaping at a smoky cascade through ‘New York, New York.’ Cat Power looks like a star, relaxed amid the luxurious sound she is conjuring. Yet a tension remains. She dances with flowers, but stays strangely side on, rarely centre-stage. She seeks refuge in her band, never assured the whole business isn’t a mirage. “I’m so sorry,” she says, sincerely, after merely dropping her mic. “Turn the spotlight off."

It is this self-conscious complexity burrowing within that charges the potential to create striking moments like ‘Lived In Bars.’ In a set heavy with covers, it is the reinterpretations of her own tracks that are most intriguing. The song, underpinned by a melting melody, wrestles with its singers contradictions. Ethereal subtlety becomes anguished howls, passing into joyous release before reconnecting with a lost hopefulness as the drums fade out.

The soulful American retains shards of mystery as she disappears offstage, returning with fresh drinks and a ban-defying cigarette. She’s playful again, pitching paper in baseball fashion into the audience, casually coasting in jazz-tinged renditions of ‘Could We’, and ‘Willie.’ Her tribute to Dylan, ‘Song To Bobby’, is more revealing. An open tenderness amplifies her wounded vocals, spreading warmth. The atmosphere is inclusive - tight but never constricting. Cat feeds on this, drawing you closer with the bashful imagery of ‘The Moon.’

Ultimately though, there is always distance. The adorable sorrow in her voice as she ends with Otis Redding’s ‘I’ve Been Loving You Too Long’ never quite gives way to reckless abandonment; you get the feeling there’s more, she’s subconsciously holding back. This enigmatic nature is undoubtedly part of her attraction, and probably keeps her just about sane. As she departs without encore, scattering petals as she goes, those present appear satisfied to witness as much as she is willing to show.

Seasick Steve - Live

Seasick Steve
Astoria, London
Thursday 24th January 2008

If you see an old haggard man wearing dungarees staggering towards you, a guitar slung over his shoulder and a bottle of Jack in his hand, you probably cross the street. If he happens to be Seasick Steve, you join 2000 other people and watch him play blues so raw and raucous you don’t know whether to take that whiskey from him or buy him another bottle.

After emerging with a manic grin from the eager crowd, he reels straight into ‘Things Go Up’, churning up a primitive riff before orchestrating aurally-pleasing audience accompaniment. The Astoria’s terraced style aids his aim of producing a sound “like a gospel choir,” but the results owe more to infectious enthusiasm than acoustics. With each brash stroke of his guitar, his songs, with the simplicity and authenticity that define their singer, marry visceral rage with loveable ease.

This twisting of tenderness and harsh reality is evident in his freewheeling storytelling. As he casually reminisces of simpler times, he is glib without being deceptive, indulgent but never boring. The set is loose, but hangs on to the exciting edge of uncertainty. A willingness to experiment is seen when KT Tunstall appears to duet on ‘Happy Man.’ The Scottish singer’s voice is slightly lost underneath Steve’s coarse vocals, but it’s a moment as charming as it is bizarre.

Seasick Steve’s horizons are limited, but his portraits are illuminating. ‘Cut My Wings’, which sees the drummer of former band The Level Devils add depth to Steve’s instinctive playing, isn’t particularly different from ‘Fallen Off A Rock.’ Most songs see a deep, booming sound rumbling over narrow, charged lyrics. There isn’t much to analyse or build on, the music feeds on a more blatant, physical attachment.

The secret is the passion the tracks are played with and the sheer geniality of Seasick Steve. He sings a soft, clumsy melody to a girl lifted from the audience; he looks genuinely startled by the adulation. “I wanna say if my mama could see me now,” he chuckles, wide-eyed. “But I didn’t like her too much.”

As he brings his grandson onstage to play tambourine on the emphatic force of ‘Dog House Boogie,’ the sense of occasion grows. The song refuses to end, Steve grinding the notes into the ground with savage intensity. It finally collapses inwards and the crowd reluctantly retreats. The prevailing feeling is that one of the good guys has made it.

Lightspeed Champion - Falling Off The Lavender Bridge

Having garnered critical praise for the unruly din his former band Test Icicles made, Dev Hynes decided he didn’t like all that blaring mischievousness after all. The result is another new musical identity, another rubbish name, but surprisingly not another shoddy album.

It seems Hynes was hiding an aptitude for melody all along. Falling Off The Lavender Bridge is considered; glossy but understated, a seemingly light listen, yet resonant. Perhaps the source of this thoughtfulness is producer and long-time Bright Eyes collaborator Mike Mogis. Lightspeed Champion doesn’t reproduce anything like the juvenile profundity Conor Oberst sometimes conjures, but he picks up the country-tinged romanticism and shattering simplicity.

It slides towards flimsiness at times, notably on the pointless 72 seconds of ‘All To Shit.’ and the clunky piano of ‘Salty Water.’ It makes no attempts at innovation musically, and is lyrically rooted in the present. This is an album for the generation that will get the references to The OC, and not squeam at lines like “Wake up and smell the semen.”

However, it is most outrageous in its inoffensiveness. If you’re expecting the cutting edge of cool, Lightspeed Champion isn’t it. Sure, he names a track ‘Let The Bitches Die’, but generally he’s heartfelt, sincere and pretty wholesome. Your mum would listen to the likes of ‘No Surprise,’ if she ever takes Michael Buble off repeat.

The possibility of commercial success is there in ‘Tell Me What It’s Worth’, the kind of hysterically likeable tune that perforates your skin on repeat listens. But the album’s real vigour lies in ‘Midnight Surprise’, a decadent 10-minute voyage full of pensive sadness and weighted irony. It revels in its own inconsistencies, an emotive frolic that captures the feel of this loveably self-indulgent record.

The album invites few conclusions, but is an intriguing insight into a bemusing man. After trawling along in projects his heart wasn’t in, he seems to have found some purpose in these songs. They aren’t masterpieces, they’re easily dismissed portions of pop more easy to discard than find. But if you’ve got the time and inclination, it’s worth persevering.

I'm Not There Original Soundtrack

These songs were written by music’s most gifted songsmith and are reinterpreted here by a selection of today’s most talented artists. This sounds like a winning formula, but actually produces a shapeless batch that rouses as much infuriation as inspiration.

Luminaries such as Sonic Youth, Antony & The Johnsons and Jack Johnson attempt the impossible in covering Bob Dylan for the soundtrack to his upcoming experimental biopic. His voice is so distinctive that hearing the likes of ‘The Times They Are A-Changin’ in anything except his absorbing, hoarse hum generally sounds alien and ineffective.

However, many people find Dylan’s tone more excruciating than exhilarating, so this album is a chance to experience his songs with more acceptable audibility. Cat Power brings a simmering charm to ‘Stuck Inside Of Mobile With The Memphis Blues Again’ that is alluring and effortless, while Sufjan Stevens conjures a sweet, marauding spell with ‘Ring Them Bells.’

In a 34-track collection misfires are acceptable, but their regularity is disappointing. While Yo La Tengo’s performance of ‘Fourth Time Around’ is perfectly adequate, it sounds so similar to Dylan’s version you merely yearn for that. Eddie Vedder, Stephen Malkmus and Jeff Tweedy’s efforts all border on karaoke impressions.

The most effective renditions are those that alter the originals significantly. Karen O blends Dylan’s gravel-tinted elusiveness with her own kooky, feline snarl to muster an atmosphere of agitated fun on ‘Highway 61 Revisited.’ Willie Mason adds country grandeur on ‘Senor’, The Black Keys bring their deliciously filthy sound to ‘Wicked Messenger’ and suddenly the scope of Dylan’s versatility is partly found.

Nevertheless, the brilliance and ambiguousness of his character is never captured, as Sonic Youth’s cover of ‘I’m Not There’ shows. It’s moody, heartfelt and professional. But the album ends with Dylan singing the same track. It’s haunting, memorable - and superior. This soundtrack can serve as an introduction to his music, an antidote for his voice’s critics and an interesting portrayal of various artists being challenged. But by the end, you’ll be reaching for Blonde On Blonde, or The Freewheelin’, or Blood On The Tracks, or…..

Bloc Party & The Cribs Live

Alexandra Palace
Friday 14th December


If a band is trying to gage how far they have progressed, playing Alexandra Palace is the acid test. “Let’s pretend for a moment that this is a sweaty little club instead of a huge exhibition centre,” pleads Kele Okereke. When you are facing a hall more suited for a political conference than a gig, this isn’t an easy task. Bloc Party manage it with a jerky medley of understated style and in-your-face bravado.

The Cribs find the transition less comfortable. Chaotic kings of sticky-floored settings nationwide, in front of a larger audience they sound flat. ‘Our Bovine Public’ is a disastrous opener marred by the venue’s notoriously troublesome acoustics and poor timing. Things improve with ‘Hey Scenesters’, the Jarman brothers mastering the mix between enthusiastic thrashing and maintaining rhythm.

Three albums in, the band have an array of songs to choose from, but pluck mostly from latest record Men’s Needs, Women’s Needs, Whatever. Despite the catchiness of singles ‘Moving Pictures’ and ‘Men’s Needs’, there is a surprising lack of reaction from an audience still muttering about the injustice of £3.50 pints. ‘Another Number’ is the highlight, raising spirits and arms in an enthralling surge of simplicity. But Ryan’s inability to perform a trademark stagedive due to the gap between him and the audience is ironically representative of the distance between The Cribs’ sound and its suitability for venues like this.

Bloc Party have a few more tricks, a few more hits, and a lot more showmanship. These don’t make a band great, but they make a crowd move. ‘Positive Tension’ is unleashed early, a juddering, uneven triumph; ‘Banquet’ follows sharply, still sounding audaciously fresh.

Singer Kele revels in his shape-shifting role, simultaneously a siren of despair and a symbol of debauchery. He exudes energy during a raucous rendition of ‘She’s Hearing Voices’, he glows with emotion through a tender ‘So Here We Are.’ Matt Tong may look like an IT expert and has an annoying tendency to take his shirt off, but he drums with imagination and tenacity, keeping an ungainly momentum to Bloc Party’s performance.

They generate a thrilling sense of occasion that peaks as the band reappear with latest single ‘Flux.’ Often you wish Russell would stop messing about with effects and just play his guitar; here, the sound soars, lasers blaze above and the track zips by with outrageous rapidity. ‘Sunday’ adds balance and warmth, before a wired race through ‘Helicopter’ and the grand exploration of ‘Pioneers’ complete the set. Bloc Party pace the gig expertly, controlling its tone. Everyone leaves feeling it speeded past, yet was exhaustingly epic. Test passed.

Kings of Leon Live

Kings of Leon
Brighton Centre
Thursday 6th December

Kings of Leon look angry. “You guys sing along,” shouts Caleb Followill. “Because the technicians are fucking terrible tonight.” They’re definitely annoyed. Having made the move to venues that resemble airport terminals, they now have to adjust to sound systems that have all the subtlety of a 747.

Despite the technical problems, the preachers’ sons show why they’re able to fill such vast venues. Opening with Slow Night, So Long, they play with carnal force and relentless tenacity. Black Thumbnail continues the coarse, spirited sound of a band in charge. The stage set is sparse; four large screens show images ranging from a creepy pole dancer to Caleb’s impossibly skinny legs. It feels aptly uncluttered, providing a platform for the music, not a distraction.

With so many arena-friendly anthems, the band can be selective with their setlist. However, they lean heavily on latest album ‘Because of the Times’, following the logic that this record catapulted them into indie’s top bracket, so should be flogged mercilessly to keep them there. McFearless showcases Nathan’s ferocious drumming, full of beguiling flair and mesmerising complexity. Fans is dainty and well-received, while On Call’s bellowed refrain reverberates passionately. But once they charge through Camaro’s clunky chug, preceding a droll Ragoo and a plodding Arizona, the new songs sound saturated.

Where are the band’s brash, grubby roots? Except a snappy shot of Holy Roller Novocaine, songs from debut album Youth and Young Manhood are conspicuous in their absence in the first hour. The unkempt rawness that made Kings of Leon fresh and invigorating is also missing. Milk is delivered with sincerity, but the set begins to lag.

Thankfully, a thunderous Molly’s Chambers revives proceedings, a bombardment of plundering masculinity. Suddenly, Spiral Staircase flashes past in a whirr of frenetic gusto, Trani adds an atmosphere of epic oddity and chaotic order is restored. The Followill family return to cajole the throngs with a smouldering rendition of ‘Knocked Up, before Four Kicks and Charmer close in an assault of blazing, primal rage.

Kings of Leon seem a more mature, less reckless outfit and poorer for it. Their newfound ability to produce hit singles (or the public’s newfound ability to realise they write hit singles) will ensure they have time to regain their edge. With such a powerful arsenal of songs, coupled with genuine instrumental ability, they’re still an incredible live prospect - even with poor sound, a soulless venue and a lop-sided setlist.

Tottenham Hotpur 3-2 Aalborg BK

Juande Ramos’ Midas touch in the UEFA Cup continued as he oversaw Tottenham Hotspur surmount a 2-0 half-time deficit to defeat Aalborg BK.

Ramos has won the tournament with Seville two years running; his new side are well placed to reach the knockout stages after a victory that looked very unlikely at one stage.

Aalborg out-battled and out-thought Spurs in the first half and were good value for their two goal lead. But Tottenham stormed back after the break, blitzing the opposition with three goals in 20 minutes. Second half goals from Dimitar Berbatov, the impressive Steed Malbranque and substitute Darren Bent sealed a 3-2 win.

White Hart Lane was stunned into silence after one minute and 50 seconds when Thomas Enevoldsen, the Aalborg striker, scored with a venomous shot from 20 yards. Collecting lifelong Spurs fan Martin Pedersen’s throw, he shrugged off a half-hearted challenge from Robbie Keane, the Tottenham captain, before rifling the ball past Paul Robinson’s despairing dive.

Spurs were tentative after this early setback and the ball broke down in central areas too often. Jermaine Jenas injected some pace into their play in the 15th minute when his driving run forced a corner, but the home side’s attacks were not as direct or as frequent as Aalborg’s.

As Tottenham’s frustrations grew, so too did the Danish side’s confidence and they began dictating play. Young Pyo Lee, playing in an unfamiliar right-back role, was caught napping as Rade Prica raided down the wing. Lee appeared to bundle him over in the penalty area, but the referee gave a corner.

Spurs did not heed this warning. In the 37th minute, Lee was again out of position and Prica took full advantage. He crossed accurately to Kasper Risgaard, who stabbed the ball in from three yards after getting in front of Michael Dawson.

Aalborg were playing their 19th game of their European campaign, having qualified through this season’s Intertoto Cup. They had won only two of their previous fixtures, drawing six. Yet their organised approach outwitted Tottenham’s unbalanced play in the first half.

Juande Ramos didn’t scream at his players at half-time; it appears this isn’t his style. “The most important thing is to explain things,” he said. “Not to shout at them, but to solve problems.”

He did this by introducing Darren Bent for the woeful Lee and Tom Huddlestone for Jermaine Jenas, who picked up an ankle injury. Huddlestone made an instant impact. After 39 second-half seconds, his subtle through-ball fed Dimitar Berbatov, who slid in to poke the ball past Aalborg goalkeeper Karin Zaza.

The visitors looked shell-shocked as Tottenham increased the tempo and tenacity of their play. Altering their formation to 4-3-3, with Bent joining Berbatov and Keane in a three-pronged attack and Didier Zokora slotting in front of a back three, rejuvenated the home side.

Berbatov revelled in the improved service he was given. After 50 minutes, he showed strength and hunger to power past two defenders before squaring the ball to Bent. His shot was blocked, but Keane calmly laid the rebound off to Steed Malbranque, who smashed it into the roof of the net.

Aalborg dropped deeper as they sought to steady themselves, but this only allowed Huddlestone to pull the strings in midfield. He was able to bring Spurs’ wide players, largely ineffective in the first half, into play. Malbranque probed intelligently on the left, while Aaron Lennon’s speed caused havoc on the right.

It was Lennon who created the winner for Bent, Ramos’ other inspired substitution. Gareth Bale’s free-kick was parried out to the diminutive winger and he drilled the ball to Bent who poached from four yards.

Their endeavour in the first 45 minutes had drained Aalborg’s energies and they lacked the guile to force an equaliser. Ramos’ half-time changes turned the match around. But the Spaniard is aware his side need to improve if they are to progress further in this competition and climb the Premier League.

“At the moment we are conceding too many chances,” he said. “We can’t rely on us scoring three goals each time.” With such sloppy defenders, he may have to, but with so many attacking options, they just might manage it.

UK Flavours Press Release

UK Flavours Festival – British-Russian festival of new culture

The territory of the Peter and Paul Fortress, Saint-Petersburg

A new type of festival set in the Russian heartland of Saint-Petersburg is set to promote multiculturalism through music this summer. Lily Allen tops the impressively varied mix of acts, with Dub Pistols featuring The Specials’ Terry Hall also on the line-up.

UK Flavours Festival, organised by The British Council, will celebrate the positivity of diversity in society. However, it doesn’t want to force-feed these values, preferring to allow an eclectic musical line-up to illustrate its message. The all-day festival will attract a wide range of people from Saint-Petersburg; its 4.7 million population includes over 50 different ethnicities.

The line-up depicts the evolution of multicultural influence in British music. With reggae, ska, dub, bhangra and jungle all developing into fashionable music trends as the decades have passed, as a consequence they have integrated into mainstream music.

The Russian public will see this first-hand in headliner Lily Allen’s work. Debut album Alright, Still owes its ska-tinged melodies heavily to the influence ethnic minorities living in the UK have had on British culture. Lily says: "I listened to punk, ska and reggae when I grew up, courtesy of my parents' record collections.” Heavy radio rotation has made Lily a rising star in Russia, while the huge popularity of her MySpace site also extends to the country.

Lily’s status as a successful mainstream artist is seen as the culmination of a cultural and musical progression that is reflected in the line-up. This journey is shown from Glaswegian bhangra outfit Tigerstyle Sound System, via London’s reggae stalwarts Misty in Roots, right up to Dub Pistols hip hop, dub and ska concoction. There are also two Russian bands on the bill, W.K.? and I-Laska. It is completed by militant hip hop collective Fun-da-mental and dub artist/producer Mad Professor.

The festival takes place in the stunning setting of the Peter and Paul Fortress. Founded over 300 years ago, it stood as a symbol of oppression. It was used as a jail for political prisoners including Trotsky and Dostoevsky. Now, as host of the UK Flavours Festival, it will stand as a symbol of a new, multicultural Russia.


Fans will watch acts while standing on the picturesque beach, looking out to the Baltic Sea. They will be able to gaze on the musical portrait of the city the line-up represents, while costume parades and 22 hours of daylight will add to the carnival atmosphere.A conference will be held by the British Council in Saint-Petersburg the day before the festival to promote its purpose. The day after the main event, Franco Rosso’s classic 1980 film Babylon will be screened. Biographies of artists playing are below:

The British Council
The British Council is the UK’s international organisation for educational opportunities and cultural relations.
We operate in 233 towns and cities in 109 countries and territories worldwide.
We build relationships and understanding between people in the UK and other countries and increase appreciation of the UK’s ideas and achievements overseas.
The areas we focus on are creativity, education and civil society.
We are a non-political organisation which operates at arm’s length from government.
Our income in 2005/06 was £517 million, of which our grant-in-aid from the British government is £189 million.

Lily Allen: Having conquered the UK, the USA and most of the Western world, Lily is setting her sights on Russia. Her flowing pop style, which incorporates the ska and reggae music that influenced her from a young age, has become a mainstream sensation. Her first single ‘Smile’ reached Number One in England, while debut album ‘Alright, Still’ cracked the American Top 20. The singer-songwriter is now as well known for her outspoken antics and the devotion of her MySpace fans as for her music. However, her incisive lyrical observations, youthful exuberance and laid-back delivery make her a fascinating live performer.

Dub Pistols featuring Terry Hall: The band formed after Barry Ashworth and Jason O’Bryan realised they shared a love of The Clash, The Specials, Andy Weatherall, King Tubby and Public Enemy. These influences, together with hip-hop, dub, techno, breakbeat ska and punk are all thrown into the Dub Pistols sound. They soon attracted the attention of Terry Hall, singer with iconic band The Specials. After collaborating on a single, Hall is now an integral part of the line-up. His laconic singing style is now inspiring a whole new generation as Dub Pistols genre-mashing style brings them more and more success.

Fun-Da-Mental: One of the few uncompromising bands in terms of not only sound but also politics, Fun-Da-Mental are fiercely anti-racist and outspoken. Since 1991, this variety of rappers, poets and singers has been crafting music that melds Eastern and Western influences into a hip hop sound.

Misty in Roots: A reggae institution, Misty in Roots have been at the forefront of the genre in England for four decades. They are noted for their powerful roots reggae sound and uncompromising lyrical vibrations. The group are active supporters of the Rock Against Racism movement and their social awareness comes through in the music they make.

Mad Professor Ariwa Posse: Mad Professor is one of the country’s most prominent dub producers. He launched his own label, Ariwa, which consistently produces some of the Britain’s most important reggae and dub acts. Many of these will join Mad Professor at UK Flavours Festival, bringing a different sound to the people of Saint-Petersburg.

I-Laska: Playing a home town show, this 6-piece band delivers unorthodox reggae and funk. The multinational line up is open to experimentation, making every gig a unique experience.

W.K.?: Meaning ‘Who Knows?’, the name signifies the determination of this Moscow-based band to create their own musical style. The result is a mixture of Break Beat, Drum’n’Bass, Electro, Funk, Hip-Hop, Dub and Reggae. No strangers to entertaining big crowds, they even organised their own festival of live electronic music - ‘Vdokh.’

Tigerstyle Sound System: Scottish DJs, who blend their roots in Bhangra with trip-hop. Using rap music as inspiration for their own sound, they have cut white label mixes for rap stars including Busta Rhymes, Eminem and 50 Cent. Notably they contributed to a remix on Raghav’s hit single ‘Angel Eyes’ which charted at No.4 in the UK charts. Their music makes people dance, but is also an exploration of their identities.

Operator Please & Good Shoes Live

Operator Please & Good Shoes
Concorde 2, Brighton
Tuesday 20th November


Operator Please sound sketchy, rough and natural. They look fresh, if a little bit frazzled, and genuinely animated. They sing a song about ping pong called ‘Just A Song About Ping Pong.’ It’s fast, jumpy eccentricity with an Aussie twang and a violin.

There are certainly more inventive bands around; some of The Maccabees are inside Concorde tonight, for a start. The five-piece may include a violinist, but this isn’t affecting Arcade Fire grandeur and doesn’t intend to be. ‘Get What You Want’ is a bass-driven canter to a bouncy chorus, showcasing the band’s style. The aforementioned table-tennis tribute is well-received, while new single ‘Leave It Alone’ shares its charged pop sensibilities. They may not be ground-breaking, but as the keyboardist giddily galumphs around behind her instrument, their quirky enthusiasm is infectious.

Operator Please have the beguiling advantage of striving to elevate their exposed potential. Good Shoes have long since passed the point of acceptance and acclaim. The kids strutting around in the groups patented ‘I’m in a band but I’ve got no talent’ merchandise emphasises this. Yet recognition seems to have gleaned an edge from the Morden outfit.

That t-shirt slogan contains an endearingly gentle insecurity that seeps out of tracks like ‘Blue Eyes.’ The jerky lure of the song’s angular (it’s impossible to write about Good Shoes and not call them angular) riffs is joined with lyrical nervousness that transfers onstage in physical form. Now though, frontman Rhys Jones looks confident, unnervingly comfortable. He beckons the crowd to join in a frantic ‘Never Meant To Hurt You’, while the band climb aboard speakers.

This newfound showmanship has distinct advantages. The audience is active and laps up the energy swirling around the pillared cove of a venue. The band are more direct, notably on ‘Nazazin’, all sparring guitars and gabbled lyrics. But they also relax enough to slow down, with melodies forming more frequently and lyrics resonating more clearly. ‘Morden’, the band’s most thoughtfully-shaped song, has the room to breathe and sounds increasingly striking with this space.

A couple of new tracks are aired, not departing from the trademark snappy dizziness of older songs like closer ‘All In My Head.’ They leave without encore or fuss, content at the crowd’s thirst for more. Good Shoes are in transition, no longer hot new things, not yet established. Their catalogue of hits, snapshots of suburbia, are easily liked and impressively performed. As they continue the bravado will swell, but they need to combine it with the nervous energy that made them so exciting originally.

The Raveonettes - Lust In Music

Sune Rose Wagner is a pretty insouciant character. Not surprising really – last year he accepted death.


When a Hawaiian holiday went wrong, there looked to be no way back. “I was surfing, but I can’t really surf. My board almost knocked me out; I was stranded for half an hour, nobody could see me. I just let go, I felt very warm and calm. I wasn’t afraid.” Thankfully for him, and for devotees of his band’s inimitable brand of garage-pop, some fortuitously-placed coral reef intervened. A few months on, The Raveonettes have returned with a new album. It’s no wonder the pressures of a hectic touring schedule seem a rather minuscule grievance. Gigwise has found a genuinely humble rock star.

Don’t confuse this humility with contentment though. New album Lust Lust Lust is the result of a brooding, self-examination for Sune, its sole songwriter. As the title suggests, it deals with issues of relationships. “It’s primarily based on personal experiences,” he admits. “It’s a reflection of my life in New York City.” As he glances around at the stuffy underground changing room we’re sitting in, it’s clear he’s a long way from home. The cosmopolitanism of The Big Apple can be heard in the variety of influences and styles The Raveonettes utilise. But so can a more sinister side; the paranoia of frenzied city life, the claustrophobia that can destroy relationships. Sune remarks: “Sometimes I wonder, is it natural for a man and a woman to spend their entire life together?”

This gives away his need for solitude. “I never write when I’m on tour. I can’t write unless I’m alone, all my ideas go away when I’m with other people.” Does this explain the lack of songwriting involvement for Sharin Foo, The Raveonettes' demure female singer/guitarist? “I tried writing with Sharin; we went away to a winery to write together. But I just froze…..She’s happy that I write the songs, it’s always been that way.” The personal feel of tracks such as ‘Blush’ and ‘Black Satin’ – Sune’s ode to his near-death experience – is rooted in Sune’s insular but prolific songwriting style.

While Sune lives in New York, Sharin, his fellow Dane, resides nearly 3000 miles away in Los Angeles. He ponders the make-up of The Raveonettes. “Sometimes it doesn’t feel like a band as we’re often apart. Yet we always seem to be doing something together.” Onstage, the duo is a much clearer partnership. When thinking of boy-girl two-pieces in modern rock, The White Stripes immediately spring to mind. The musical make-up of that pairing mirrors The Raveonettes in that the male is the songwriter and driving force behind the sound. But live, the connection between the two bands ends. Whereas Jack White dominates, a virtuoso performer, Sune and Sharin are grounded in parity, as their harmonious singing and sparring guitars illustrate. “We never even talk about it,” assures a perplexed-looking Sune. “It’s just natural.”


Sharin brings luscious vocals and a carefree stage presence to the band, complimenting Sune’s reserved manner in front of a crowd. But they aren’t born entertainers, believing the intricacy of the music they create is enough to enrapture their audiences. “We just got off a tour with The Cribs, they were really cool guys. They play with such energy, just go crazy. I was like, ‘Why don’t we have that?’ But we have a different style; still intense, just different.”

What overrides everything Sune does is a delight in control. He took personal command over Lust Lust Lust’s artwork, convincing The Raveonettes label to spend the cash to make it 3D. “I thought there’s no way Fierce Panda would agree to it, so I did a sales pitch to them, and they bought it.” Being in charge onstage is also important to him. “I prefer our own gigs, where if we fuck up, we can laugh about it. I’m more nervous at festivals, where people might not know our band and you don’t know how many will turn up. We’ll hopefully do lots of festivals this summer – Reading, Glastonbury – I’ll be checking the schedules to see who we’re up against!”

There are few bands in direct competition with The Raveonettes style. They’re still all B-Movie chic, fashionably alternative with just enough substance. Groups like The Ronettes influence their 50s/60s vibe, though the experimentation and melodious tendancies of The Velvet Underground are equally evident. “I still listen to the same stuff I always have, but everything around me influences. Recently, I Googled Best Screenplay Oscar winners from the 1970s, got hold of these obscure films and now some of them are my favourites. I like searching…”

This absorption of pop culture extends to technology, which Sune is keen to use to involve fans in the band’s progress. “We posted lots of demos onto MySpace, and we take the comments from fans into account. I love that closeness.” They are also giving away tickets to their current UK tour to fans that send messages asking for them. For a band four albums and seven years into their career, they have a remarkable openness. This extends to critical responses to their music. “I don’t mind if reviewers give the album two out of ten or eight, as long as they have an opinion. Don’t give it a six, have something to say about it. Give me something I can use.”

The urge for feedback of any kind stems from a writer’s mindset. The Raveonettes new album is barely released, but Sune’s attention is already turning to how to make the next one better. “I wanna go home and write really fucked up songs. More fucked up than these ones. I wrote 100 songs for Lust, and will have that many again for the next one.” But surely his enthusiasm wanes with the constant grind of touring and recording? “I get to write and to play music, I don’t have to get up in the morning and I get to hear my songs on the radio – I love that shit!” If nearly drowning leaves everybody with such intensity, creativity and enthusiasm, maybe we should all take up surfing.

The Raveonettes Live

The Raveonettes
Brighton Barfly
Thursday 15th November 2007

“I used to live in Brighton,” says The Raveonettes’ Sune Rose Wagner, with a wry smile to some friends in the crowd. Maybe this is how a rock gig in a raw little venue has appropriated this homely, wholesome feel. The band play nostalgic music with an ear to the future, garage rock with an eye on ‘50s pop; there’s something for everyone to enjoy – and everyone seems to.

As Sune saunters onstage, he appears distant but at ease. Fellow singer/guitarist Sharin Foo glides into view looking equally comfortable; a radiant muse for Sune’s understated persona. They plough into new material with little introduction. ‘Blush’ stands out as a showcase for sun-soaked guitars and simple rhythms. The duo is joined by a drummer who provides a platform for their gentle two-pronged guitar combination.

Old favourite ‘Love In A Trashcan’ allows those whose tapping feet desire more strenuous movement to scratch their itch. The more aggressive, direct performance gets bodies jumping and adds an increased energy to the setting. New single ‘Dead Sound’ has a similar catchiness that maintains the momentum, but with increased subtlety.

The negative of two combating guitarists is that the noise they create can overawe the harmonies they perform. They sing in unison, Sharin’s ethereal voice soaring over Sune’s lower murmurs, making a distinct and charming vocal pairing. However, on more raucous numbers like ‘Attack of the Ghost Riders’ and thunderous closer ‘Aly, Walk With Me’ these voices are lost under a blanket of noise.

There’s a relaxed atmosphere that swallows up any annoyance at unpolished playing and dodgy sound, aided by the band’s eagerness to interact. Sune reacts to glowsticks being thrown at Sharin by defining The Raveonettes as “old rave.” Later, they play Stereolab’s ‘French Disko’ because they believe their cover to be far superior to Editors’ attempt.

Where they excel is in delicacy and minimalism, times when Sune’s hauntingly intimate lyrics can be heard and Sharin’s ghostly presence savoured. ‘Black Satin’ provides such a moment, its pulsating riff matched by considered, refined singing. ‘Here Comes Mary’ is another captivating song of oppositions. It’s dreamy refrain hides sinister undertones in a gentle but edgy saga of suicide.

The Raveonettes mould their live show into a nuance of passionate intensity and passive melancholy, always keeping a flow to proceedings. This makes every melody float past but remain ingrained; the show does likewise. It’s unspectacular and not instantly striking, but the Danish duo and their songs have a captivating allure that warms the crowd – friends of the band or otherwise.

XFM Big Night Out - Maximo Park & The Maccabees Live

Maximo Park’s second album was rubbish. The Maccabees have been plodding out the same set for the last two years. The chances of this night out being as big as its name suggests are slim. The possibility of everyone staying in the pub to watch the rugby is high. So how was this gig so bloody good?

Regretfully, Pete and the Pirates are sacrificed in favour of Jonny Wilkinson and “Swing Low Sweet Chariot”, meaning Gigwise is left with a mad dash to catch The Maccabees. They are already onstage as throngs of patriotic gig-goers bustle into the Academy. With the excitement of greetings and jubilation of English victories, the band struggle to press their authority over the hubbub. ‘Toothpaste Kisses’ is lost beneath its own daintiness and the boisterous crowd’s inattentiveness.

Their set needs something to trigger a turnaround. This duly arrives with ‘Latchmere.’ The childish purity of its refrain echoes around with gleeful contagiousness. There’s a gripping nonchalance to Orlando Weeks’ vocals that compliments the jarring riffs and anomalous stage presence. ‘Precious Time’ combines insecure build-up with a tumultuous climax, ‘First Love’ buzzes with a zealous energy that spreads to the crowd and the recovery is complete.

As Maximo Park burst onstage with archetypal enthusiasm, Paul Smith leaping and leering, it’s soon clear their show won’t be typical. Opener ‘The Coast Is Always Changing’ is tight and focused, Smith looks positively manic and the most dismissive of observers can’t help but be hooked. They almost ruin it by playing ‘A Fortnight’s Time’ next, a painfully feeble song including the chorus, “five times five equals twenty-five, don’t you know your times-tables by now?” However, solid playing and Smith’s undeniable passion carry it off.

He orchestrates the tone of the set. When he races around the band is frenetic, when he screws up his face in pantomime anguish they are subtle, giving his showmanship a platform. The bass player still looks like he’s wandered onstage and nobody dares ask him to leave, but with Smith’s histrionics and a hyperactive keyboardist the visual spectacle matches the musical performance.

The explosive catchiness of ‘Apply Some Pressure’ and ‘Our Velocity’ are dispatched amid expected bedlam. ‘Books From Boxes’ adds a winning earnestness to proceedings, while other past singles ‘Going Missing’ and ‘Girls Who Play Guitars’ appease the masses. But the surprise is the triumph of Maximo Park’s less-lauded tracks. ‘Limassol’ is a paranoid riot, while ‘Russian Literature’ manages to be more captivating than pretentious.

‘Graffiti’ closes powerfully, before the night continues with a DJ set from everyone’s second-favourite curly-haired ex-Popworld host. Alex Zane has an easy job; after sporting success, impressive bands and cheap Carling, the mood is elated and the dancefloor full.

Jack Penate - Live Review

Jack Penate

The Old Market, Hove
Sunday 7th October

With his debut album’s release only hours away, Jack Penate looks nervous as he meanders onstage hid beneath a hoodie. Soon though, fuelled by the screams of an adoring crowd, pure adrenaline releases the born performer inside him.

His anxiety is shown when he races through ‘Spit at Stars’, often a centre-piece of his sets, to open the show. The tension, coupled with Jack’s own frenetic style, makes it seem over prematurely. Soon though, he is charming his way through anecdotes about “breaking in his new guitar” and throwing up last time he came to Brighton. Phew, he’s finally relaxing.

This is clear as he rumbles into a tumultuous rendition of ‘Got My Favourite.’ It includes an extended intro that burns away the image of Penate as sensitive songwriter. The alteration of numerous tracks, while showing rapid musical progression, suggests he is tiring of them already. The readiness to rearrange and alter is as much for his own enjoyment as for the audiences.

When performing balladic numbers, such as the sparkling delicacy of ‘My Yvonne’, there is restlessness in the room that makes the arrangements seem even sparser. However, Penate’s voice proves emotive enough to resonate over the hubbub and deliver passable presentations.

The songwriting contains an innocence that the setting exaggerates. The Old Market - complete with makeshift drinks desk - resembles a school disco, especially as it is brimming with excited teenagers. The shaky lyrical simplicity of ‘We Will Be Here’, including “Embrace your sleeping sweetheart with hush/The words I love you mean so much,” manages to be poignant rather than mushy.

The whole set seems an appetiser for the combination of much-loved singles ‘Torn On The Platform’ and ‘Second, Minute or Hour.’ Both are accompanied by the elated backing vocals of a satisfied crowd, plus the bandy-legged joyfulness of Penate’s chaotic dancing. In these tracks, he achieves the middle ground between affecting subtlety and electrifying showmanship.

Nevertheless, they are overshadowed by a cover of The SOS Band’s ‘Just Be Good To Me’ sandwiched between. Backed by a deep, throbbing bass line and a frankly giddy drummer, Jack’s high falsetto slides over the track with a cheeky sneer. The choice is inspired, the delivery audacious, the night complete.

The fact a cover proves the highlight illustrates the lack of a strong catalogue of songs, but Jack Penate’s endearing manner and the few dazzling tracks he does possess make him a flawed yet enduring live treat.

The Killers - Sawdust

‘Tis the season to be jolly – unless you’re a music reviewer. In a plentiful period, pickings are slim. While children look forward to presents, the music industry gives gifts of turgid greatest hits churned out with tedious inevitability. The Killers haven’t sunk this low, disguising their cash cow as a B-Sides and rarities collection.

The Las Vegas quartet’s albums are notorious for their lack of consistency. They mix bona fide pop classics with misplaced overindulgence on sub-Springsteen epics. Sawdust has a similar variety of quality. ‘Under The Gun’ is a pulsating cut of gleaming synths and vociferous drums. An Abbey Road recording of ‘Sam’s Town’ shines similarly, showcasing Brandon Flowers’ underrated vocal exuberance.

Yet also present are versions of ‘Where The White Boys Dance’ and ‘Glamourous Indie Rock and Roll’. This record is going to appeal to existing fans, not attract new ones, so why include old album tracks as familiar as Brandon’s bristling moustache? Plus, as anyone who has visited a cheesy nightclub knows, dance remixes of ‘Mr. Brightside’ are less fun than spending Christmas with that aunt who has more cats than sanity.

The covers included summarise the inequality of the 18 tracks. Dire Straits’ ‘Romeo and Juliet’ is poorly executed, oozing lethargy and lacking bite. Then, inexplicably, ‘Shadowplay’ defines how to cover a song, altering it significantly but preserving its heart. The Killers take Joy Division’s gloomy genius and marry it with a neurotic fizz that brings glam, while maintaining just enough positive tension.

Sawdust is the shavings on the studio flaw that have gathered as the band has crafted a career. It lacks precision and flow; it’s overlong and inconsistent. But it does have inspired moments, namely Lou Reed singing gibberish lyrics of “Ring around Rosie,” on the quirky paranoia of new single ‘Tranquilize’. For a moment, it’s 1972 again.

The Killers are a band that wears their influences on their silver-sequinned sleeves. Although Sawdust is only essential for superfans, if it turns them on to Reed’s eccentricity, or Joy Division’s electricity, it’s a worthwhile exercise. And at least it’s not a bloody greatest hits.

Radiohead - In Rainbows

For many, Radiohead ceased being merely a band long ago. The devastating expansion of their development has consistently revitalised music. Now they’ve set their sights on revolutionising the way we buy it. Which is thoroughly intriguing and commendable, but only if the end result is an album equally praiseworthy.

‘In Rainbows’ doesn’t disappoint. If you have a shrine to Jonny Greenwood in your bedroom, or ever tried to fabricate a squint to venerate Thom Yorke, then it might. It isn’t era-defining (OK Computer), isn’t utterly radical (Kid A), isn’t full of riffs that make your head dance and your body ache (The Bends.) It’s, essentially, ten beautifully crafted, thought-provoking tracks that mark a band from Oxford’s return to form.

The key is the composition of an album, rather than a jumble of collective ideas placed under one name. There is togetherness within the record that gives it purpose and clarity. This makes it seem less reckless, seemingly safer than its predecessors. However, it constructs a cohesiveness that produces accessibility. The sombre devotion of ‘All I Need’ and the strident assault of ‘Jigsaw Falling Into Place’ are examples of Radiohead’s reaffirmed affection for melody and solid songwriting.

Opener ’25 Steps’ electro-tinged stomp suggests the experimentation of Yorke’s solo work will be central, before the rollicking, guitar-orientated whirr of ‘Bodysnatchers’ demolishes this conception. Nevertheless, neither technical-filled tinkering nor testosterone-fuelled thrashing dictate. Instead, a stripped, sensitive feel dominates. ‘Nude’ and closing track ‘Videotape’ are excruciatingly bare laments that mysteriously mesmerise. ‘Reckoner’ is sent soaring by Yorke’s aerial vocals; his voice is a flux of wavering emotion that underpins the album with soul and verve.

The record is only available for download and buyers decide the price, a seemingly commercially dismissive statement. Yet, conflictingly, it is a certain economic success. It remains lyrically evasive, but the scope for interpretation is huge. A band of oppositions and intrigues, as ever, Radiohead’s essence remains elusive as they continue to evolve. However, if new to their music, ‘In Rainbows’ is a good place to start searching. If you’re already a devotee, the glorious exploration continues…..