Arctic Monkeys - AM (Domino Records - released 09.09.13)

And so it begins! The torrent of praise for another beautifully sculpted record by the Arctic Monkeys. This title might be no more than an acronym of their name, but one listen overtly proffers the fact that these songs are made for the small hours of the morning, when you've not been to sleep and have no intention of trying. Its a little schizophrenic, but its central theme seems concerned wholly with that internal struggle. To fuck or not to fuck. Or can I fuck? A lady is laced throughout its shady rooms like LSD on a hobnob. Maybe she's real, maybe she is a fantastic figment of this man's mind. In any case, she is all things to all people, encompassing great passion and complete confusion. Turner's impressive turn of phrase, and the beautiful descriptive qualities he employs throughout are unrelenting and cosmic. A true poet of our time, some moments will send shivers running down your spine, repeating lines to those who haven't heard them yet. Having an affinity with John Lennon among others, he takes runs with this link, but never relies on it. 

By now there are some tracks you know already. 'Do I Wanna Know?', tempo and growling undertones making you want to dry hump everything in sight, the ecstatic shredded guitar sitting atop the chunky base-lines of 'R U Mine?', and 'Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High?' (a little lower on the dry-hump scale, but still up there) with cosmic guitar riff swirling around you, coming to a halt to reveal the sturdy beat underneath at intervals. And aside from these, here are some other die-hard lovelies, some hardcore bad-assery, and a whole lot of chemistry between you and the Monkeys. The slightly kitsch psychedelia peppering the record is interesting.  'Arabella' is a marvel, sultry and smooth, gliding through Turner's mind with this chick. Lyrics "Arabella's got some interstellargator skin boots, and a helter skelter 'round her little finger and I ride it endlessly" set up such an amazing image of this woman that when he quietly suggests "She's made of outer space. And her lips are like the galaxy's edge, and a kiss the colour of a constellation falling into place", the the Led Zepplin guitars swell, catching your breath as you feel that desire well up in your chest. This one's got a cheshire cat smile, and devours your attention whole.

Written and recorded on Americas west coast, at the Rancho De La Luna in Joshua Tree and Sage & Sound Recording in LA, the overwhelming raunchy atmosphere in tracks like 'One For The Road' truly sets this scene. Josh Homme guesting his vocals on this one truly clinches it. The undeniable cool is oddly complimented as they croon over the opening bars "One for the rooooaaaad!", almost sounding oddly like a boy-band. As the track progresses, the high and low tones of Homme and Turner respectively guild the sense of yearning and fear nicely. Undulations of base and drums, culminating in a pause to allow the parenthesis of plucked strings to frame the chorus. The slick dulcet tones of 'Mad Sounds' also has this Californian shimmer, indicative of a Velvet Underground tune, sweet and silky. The heart-breaking beauty of 'I Wanna Be Yours' falls within the realms of R&B in its 'sexual healing' quality, and compacts this ability the Monkeys have of slipping effortlessly between swaggering riffs and gentle cajoling calm. 

Its notable by this point I'm sure that sex is a heavy feature with this record. It creeps into every corner, sweeping you off your feet to carry you into the filthiest daydreams you've ever had. The dirty quality of Jamie Cook's rhythm turbo boosts this notion for 'Knee Socks'. There's this gorgeous little funk pace set against driving

beats that set your heart racing. Lyrics "never stopping me getting hold of your sweet spot by the scruff of your knee socks" are a possible contender for the sexiest ever written. Bravo Alex, bravo. It's understated swagger bleeds into 'No. 1 Party Anthem', Turner strolling through a crowded party "leather jacket, collar popped like antenna, never knowing when to stop." The title suggests preconceptions of a relentless blinder, but its slow twirling pace calls to mine Turner's solo collection of 'Submarine' fame, eking into ballad territory. 

And then there is 'Fireside'. Its a slow burner (pardon the pun) but you will find yourself subconsciously singing it in your head, body-popping to the staccato rhythmic machine gun that is tempered by the crooning Turner's yearning. Spangled guitar riffs coupled with a shimmery, stretched out solo create an ethereal air and sense of the unbearable lightness of being as we hear "Theres this image of you and I, and it goes dancing by, in the morning and the nighttime… I'm not sure i should show you what I found. Is it gone for good or is it coming back around?". It makes you want to dance almost as much as 'R U Mine'. Whilst we have already discussed this one, but its worth repeating just how fucking good it is! Probably the most like a track you'd find on their first album, yet more mature in its precision beats, and mid 90's elegant licks. 

'Snap Out Of It' holds a rarity. It is almost Vaudevillian, full of character and cartoon-like, with balls by the bucket load. Remonstrating a person who's fallen in love with "it sounds like settling down, or giving up, but it don't sound much like you, girl." Perhaps cajoling a lady-figure into leaving her current love for the singer. Its got a charming underlay of piano keys that inform the pace of the track, colouring a big theatrical sound, inspiring big dance moves. 

As a complete entity, it feels a little more disparate than anything that has come before. Never to be ones to stay in their safe zone (I'm not even sure they have one), the Arctic Monkeys are no stranger to experimentation. Whilst heavily stylised, it encompasses a broad range of influences, connected by the thematic exchange of lust, sex, frustrating indifference, and self-medicated confidence. The relentlessly shifting tempo and Turner's truly genius writing style hold your attention in a vice like grip for the duration of the record. It is a billboard for a band who still have so much more to give. And will continue to give it to us as long as we ask for it and they can draw breath enough to make it happen. And for that we wholeheartedly thank them! 

Howl For The Cash

Children and animals, the age-old curses of the cinema, and those you should never work with. Having said that, cinematic history proves that no one has ever heeded this advice, or steered clear of concepts involving such beings. Still, it has to be a tough field to navigate! Anyone who has children or pets in their employ is a brave soul indeed.

With this in mind, allow me to introduce you to Howl. The brain-baby of 14 Film Production students at UCA Farnham, this short film employs not one or two, but a bevy of child actors to wrangle with. Forming the central class of students within the village school, the story unfolds around devoted Teacher Miss Crawshaw, the apparently troubled new pupil Eleanor Stagg, and the mysterious man stalking the young girl. This is bound up with hints of a hellish animal within the village, framing the narrative in an otherworldly terror.

Ok, so perhaps animal is not so apt a word, seeing as the supernatural element of this tale is bound up in this beast, and the horror that lies within. The ambiguous ‘Howl’ that titles the film beautifully frames the bestial figure, and its darkness within. Miss Crawshaw’s seemingly futile endeavors to protect her students in the face of school politics hurl her down a rabbit hole of sorts, which will test her fraying nerves.

And all of this, the horror, the darkness, the beautiful imagery, would not be possible without your help. Yeah, that’s right, I’ve got your interest now, and you want to get into the meat of the tale? They need your money! Do a bit of good for our burgeoning student film market, and log on to; http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/howlshortfilm/howl-short-film-2013?ref=live  Help push this project into fruition, and onto our screens. The funding will go towards production of the set, costumes etc, but most importantly, the realisation of the beast into flesh and fur form! Delicious.

Maestro’s of the mayhem; Allan MacLeod (writer),  Nina Kästner (Producer), Jamie Sims (Director), Adam Baldock (Production Manager) Ben Cowan (1^st AD and Marketing), Samuel Hooper (Director of Photography), Jason Bourke Velji (Camera Operator), Zavinta Karsokaite (Lighting), Sophie Newton (Production Designer), Louis Grant (Art Director), Emily Britton (Costume), James Wright (Sound Design), Jasper Marriott-Tuft (Location Sound Recording/Mixing) and Ross Cameron (Editor/Marketing Team) are working hard, bringing you behind the scenes videos, outtakes and beautifully rendered concept art for your delectation on their website www.howlshortfilm.com, so the payback for your donation is instant (Allan MacLeod’s pledge video outtakes are compulsive viewing).

This ain’t just another supernatural flick, this film has the backbone of narrative mesmerism and consciousness, with a substance of flesh, fur and fear, but needs your money to feed the beast. Howl needs you! 

Laura Marling - Being Is Marvellous

Laura Marling should have her own word for what she does. For the moment I cannot think what it is, because she is too many things rolled into one. It would have to be prosaic, historic, encompassing the kind of tales that traditional story tellers hand down through generations. Women turning into wolves, singing over the bones, giving life, taking life, suffering and becoming whole though the rich, unfurling tapestry of experience. For now, I strongly offer up her last name as a shortened form of ‘Marvellous’, perhaps an amalgam of marvellous and darling? “That is Marling!” they will say.

Roving through the corridors of light and dark that frame her three studio albums from 2008 to 2011, Marling’s maturity grows with a confidence in her voice and an ability to shape a tale. It is stunning to hear it play out, forming the words then setting them running across your open mind. She has been hailed as the modern day Joni Mitchell in her latest offering, A Creature I Don’t Know, and I can think of few who are so deserving of the prestigious title. Mitchell is known for her compelling lyricism and sultry vocal arrangements which beg innocence, yet gilded with slightly tarnished vignettes of life maturity. Laura excels in these areas, wielding her dual sword of mildness and strength, weaving it into each magical chapter. Her tunes can be read as fairy tales, walking in the footsteps of the Brothers Grimm perhaps? Yet in removing the theatrical facade of these tales, you can also see the very real situations which have shaped a past and carried her through to the present.

Throughout the pages of her latest record there is a candid tone. Marling is sometimes cloaked by resigned acceptance of life’s suffering, at other times revealing a rage that has been fatigued by the marching of time. This statement seems to infer she has become dull. On the contrary, pure rage is fresh and furious. It screeches to be heard and claims victims until all energy has been sacrificed to its cause. Maturity seeks alternative routes to quell anger, views different sides of the same coin, and expends this energy in a more worthwhile pursuit. Her maturity is in taking a different route. ‘All My Rage’, the final track on album speaks volumes in its upbeat tempo alive with banjo riffs and sturdy base notes, choral arms lifting her; a crystal clear voice cutting through to the fore, repeating “I leave my rage to the sea and the sun”. Both are elemental, fierce and raw; both necessary for our survival. With this final line Laura is recognising the patchwork of emotions we contend with every day is part and parcel of our world, and is nothing to fear.

Looking back to her debut, Alas I Cannot Swim, the title alone epitomises a deep sense of fear that comes with the territory of being a teenager. Hitting the gig scene at 17, having already been a devoted fan of folk from a young age, Marling experienced discomfort at not being able to “slot [her]self into the age appropriate genre”. Her schooling at the private Quaker School in Leighton Park, she has said, gave her a feeling of unease when around others, along with a fear of death. Tracks like ‘Night Terror’, with its dark overtures and confusion, drags our protagonist down into the depths as she muses “I woke up on a bench on Shepherds Bush green, a candle at my chest, and my head on his knee. I got up, it was dark, there’s no one in the park at this hour how do I keep finding myself here?”. However, ‘Cross Your Fingers’ earns Laura the ability to laugh in the face of the inevitable and uncontrollable. “Cross your fingers, hold your toes, we’re all gonna die when the building blows. And the house that you were born in, is crumbling at the corners, sagging skin and feet of crows”. Alluding to the very real spectre of death, Marling’s saving grace is her ability to view our collective demise as poetic, and almost welcoming; “and you’ll be reborn bigger and stronger”. 

Regardless, there is also a very real sense of fear, tinged with regret and perhaps the odd peek of mild depression, Marling’s arrangements often speak of lightness, perhaps aiming to combat these fears. She becomes ethereal; waiflike she floats through the lyrical scenery using her voice like wings. Singing with a grace and smoothness that refuses to be brought down by the real and imagined “hollow thing” that lies in wait, a song like ‘Shine’ gathers strength which expels any corruptive force “step away from my light I need shine”. But it is not mere existential angst which brings down our heroine. ‘Ghosts’ offers an insight into emotional baggage carried from past relationships into new connections. Lyrics “Lover please do not fall to your knees, it’s not like I believe in ever-lasting love” are both comforting and terrible, hemmed with a carousing arrangement of strings and skins that illuminates fear in the heart of joy. The record in its entirety flits between real and imagined terrors, teenage rebellion, confusion and enlightened perspectives. It shimmers with all the energy of a soul both corrupted and exalted by life’s contradictions.

Second studio album is graceful still, but with more fire, like the silver lining of all her soul searching. Again, the title of the Record, I Speak Because I Can, is full of meaning. Opener ‘The Devil’s Spoke’ is sharp and biting. It owns a rage that is yet to be harnessed, with lyrics “eye to eye, nose to nose, ripping off each others’ clothes in a most peculiar way” decrying a latent sexuality that moves with age. She is cautious of romantic feeling, and of relying on another, as she bitingly remarks “What of which you wish to speak, have you come here to rescue me?” She can also be possessive of this person “I am your keeper, and I hold your face away from light”. The track speaks of destruction in the want of another. There is, however, a depth maturity in her tracing of romantic love. ‘What He Wrote’, penned after reading war time love letters, toys with the idea of longing and loss. It also softens Marling’s inferences of independence that colour the record. ”forgive me Hera I cannot stay, he cut out my tongue there is nothing to say.” Calling to the Goddess of Women and Marriage, it is as if she offers apology for not being stronger, as she calls “I miss his smell” in her half broken  voice.

Hera, Sophia, and God are just three of the guiding forces that are called upon within the records. Being a religious lady, her faith can be called in to question, but often is fiercely clung to. In ‘Hope In The Air’ she asks “pick up your rope Lord, sling it to me if we are to battle I must not be weak...for I am your saviour your last serving daughter.”  However, it is the assistance of Hera in I Speak Because I Can and Sophia “Goddess of power” in A Creature I Don’t Know that is in sharp relief. The presence of these ethereal totems buoys resolve, creates a strength through which the musical arrangements soar, but also causes moments of chaos in which female rage rises through the restraints.

Appearing in the final Reord A Creature I Don’t Know, Sophia has her own song, but appears throughout the narrative. Her strength lifts the spirit of ‘The Beast’, in which the thunderous drums and soft strummed riffs convey loss, lyrics “where did our love go, you will never know” telling of a love gone sour. The addition of the beast in the tale, and lyrics “tonight I choose the beast, and tonight he lies with me” as the riff reaches full throttle attacks the memories of the past in favour of destruction of body and mind. Connotations of savagery have this unbridled rage bubbling to the top for the moment. Recurring lyrics in ‘Sophia’, “Oh I have been wandering, where I have been pondering. Where I’ve been lately is no concern of yours” retains this taint of soured love. Yet it is the arrangement again which refuses to fall under the weight of loss. Sophia is invoked, as she admits; “Sometimes I sit stare, sometimes you look and sometimes I don’t care. Rarely I weep sometimes I must. I’m wounded by dust”. As she kicks the bridge, the track tumbles through to an up-tempo country number, backing vocals heralding her Goddesses’ entrance. Its astoundingly beautiful, almost as all encompassing as ‘My Firends’. This track epitomises her signature dichotomy between lightness and heaviness in arrangements and lyrics. Lightly strung acoustics hang over her open vocals as lyrics concede “You’re very tall, you’re very handsome, you have it all, your skin smells like man and, you’ll never know how I ached.” Reaching a tempo crescendo alive with banjo strings, guitars and drums, with the lyrics “a few good mothers go for what they ought not, what they ought not teach” heralds a joie de vivre in following your own path, for good or ill.

This is the very bed of her beauty. The paths that are explored are many and varied. They offer little judgement save for the raw emotions that spring from each new experience. It is because Marling is so elemental and thoughtful in arrangements and lyrics that she is so compelling. The differing conclusions you can draw on each song each time you hear them makes for an ever changing canvass upon which she has put her mark, and so can you. Her albums offer a catharsis, expel rage, soften fear, prop you up, allow you space and time to breathe and focus. It can offer a sadness that becomes a short term dwelling to revel in, but offers an escape route into the joy and light which is rightfully yours, when you want to grab it. There are no excuses, no apologies, just the elemental emotions we all are capable of, and a sense that there is no shame in these experiences. We are all, and all have, a creature we don’t know, we fear drowning but yet speak, because we can.

'Toothbrush' - By Jamie Sims: Teaser Trailer

Im breaking back into this blog, after a long sojourn. But that’s another story.


I’ve started again inspired by my friend Jamie, who has an unfailing sense of drive, a view of where he wants to be, and the talent to take him far. He has just finished a short film, which is beautiful.

Many people have loved and lost in their brief history as a human. Some let the current of sadness that guilds the memories take them under, some bury the past deep and refuse to dig it up, regardless of the cost to their future happiness. Others learn and live, safe in the knowledge they tried, were loved, and can love again.

It’s safe to assume, then, everyone has felt a multitude of positive and negative feelings towards an ex at any given point of an irreconcilable break-up. Written and Directed by Mr Sims, ‘Toothbrush’ takes a journey into the very personal and singular feelings one can feel when this occurs. Opening with the ceremonial packing up of the others belongings, the narrative soon takes a surreal visitation into the collective experiences that keep you hanging on. What paths can you take to exorcise these painful and yet beautiful memories? Is it really enough to capitulate and banish? Both uniquely singular in its treatment of one side of a split, and yet fiercely protective of the experiences that prove catalytic to heartbreak, this short film tugs at your heartstrings. It burns with recognition of what we all have felt. Im not going to give too much away, but watch the trailer. The full film will be out soon enough.


Toothbrush TEASER from Jonny Ruff on Vimeo.

Bombay Bicycle Club - I Had The Blues But I Shook Them Loose

Having been a mass advocator of these guys since they appeared a few years back, in my peripherals possibly around the time that I was leaving University. I definitely remember seeing them at Glastonbury in 2009, and being blown away by them, as I sheltered from the white hot sun in a hollowed out and halved wooden track casing. Leaning against the cushions with the customary pint of cold, cold cider, I was taking it all in. even my techno-head buddy was all about them within two tracks. But listening to their album ‘I had the Blues but I shook them loose’ was another story. I bought it, but did I listen? Hell no. Irregular downloads and pre-polished beauties kept me going when I got my Bombay phases and needed a fix.

It’s the divide between an established artists cut-glass chimes and vocals and the old grit that gets me. Why would you want to lose that. The same way vinyl has way more character; there is no beating the flaws that are held within an early rendition. But alas, I broke at last and put the album in the CD drawer and explored the entrails. In a stunned tale of difference, it is mature. Perhaps this is what held me back all that time ago? Their innocence and subtle anger, heard in the voice and lyrics throughout even the quietest moments, has morphed into calm austerity that lurks above the feelings reigned in, an atmosphere of armor. Spanning the tracks, more intense feeling spreads across like spilled ink. So when I listen to ‘Magnet’, the lyrics have been hacked and divided between this and ‘Cancel on me’, severing the distraught distaste and a complex love affair, and rooting it in a more sober approach.

His distinct vocals still itch with that unbridled passion, stretching into forlorn disinterest, despair and then back into positive calm, an understanding of fact and fiction. Moments of energy and anger are met with an affected shaking in his voice. Shuddering on the brink of a relapse into the old ways of the Club. It is interesting, like watching someone breakdown, whilst trying to hold it together. This willful edge is met with clashes of snarling snare and pulsing drums in ‘Cancel on me’ as the end is in sight. It highlights that even under this presence of mind there is tumult. Breaks and beats in moments of ‘Autumn’ with pure mixes of indie from the true heyday, latterly forgotten in the haze of noughties ‘Indie’ efforts.

Golden oldie ‘What If’ in its re-dubbed state trips off skillfully spangled riffs and gently hissing high-hats, gliding through the air and meeting head on moments of crescendo where the lament becomes all too much. ‘Giantess’ in its more acoustic state still harnesses the drum machine in a break that is satisfying in the combination of old and new. Soporific and lilting, it differs almost entirely from every other track, but as a foray is beautifully engineered to wind you down after a hard and mostly fast jaunt into this little world. Difficult to pigeonhole as Bombay Bicycle Club are, the feeling of being in a warm bath when you hear them is difficult to escape. It is the one thing you can truly say about them, and its not a genre bound description. They hold you with their odd angled views and intone safety. It feels like purity, though how that is conveyed I don’t know, like magic, or charisma. Some people just have it I guess.

Iron & Wine - 'Kiss Each Other Clean' Review

Released 24.01.11 - Warner Brothers

With a little over three years since the release of The Shepherds Dog in 2007, Samuel Beam brings us the fourth studio album under the name he found on a dietary supplement in a store whilst shopping, ‘Beef Iron & Wine’. Nice. Well, if his 2007 release repined from the elemental folk of Our Endless Numbered Days, this offering entwines both, sweetening the deal with a little tribal timbre which bounds in and out of focus.

The repetitive and resounding quality within ‘Walking Far From Home’ drops you in through a hole filled with feedback, waning as Beam vocalizes over his observations in crowds, setting himself apart from the casual lives that pass. Crunchier qualities are lifted through choired choruses and the strains of a didgeridoo, lightening the mood in moments of clarity.

Beam really shows his respect for those musical greats who have gone before, ‘Me And Lazarus’ and ‘Glad Man Singing’ at times echoing Chris Rea, and perhaps jimmy Page, in the studied riffs and bubbling bass that lay under Sam’s rhythmic lyrical delivery and silky intonation. ‘Monkeys Uptown’ layers this feel with the elasticity of tribal drums, resounding throughout, entwining in chimes and the very image of rain. In other golden moments, there is a definite feel of the fields and golden sunshine of a hazy festival, ‘Tree By The River’ evokes this place in spades, infectious choruses and striking imagery masterfully dispelling any other thoughts from your head.

Inded, the pace changes so quickly throughout it could make your head spin, but with a guiding hand that seems to be present at all times, and the intertwining of those slower moments with bigger, more peopled tracks, Kiss Each Other Cleam is both dizzying and reassuring. ‘Your Fake Name Is Good Enough For Me’ speeds through an opening riff, drawing in flutes, trumpets and the odd strain of a saxophone in the style of an eternal jazz band, before slowly extinguishing each instrument, leaving a more peaceful outtro.

Perhaps the finest moments though, come from those stripped-back tracks where Samuels charming vocals and musicianship come to the fore. ‘Godless Brother In Love’ is one such moment, where the piano plays an endless ebbing tune over which the lyrics soar, entwining with simple chords from the mandolin and a sparse backing chorus. It is both achingly beautiful and optimistic.

So Iron and Wine is back, and not a moment too soon. With a track for every moment, from every facet of Samuel Beam’s repertoire, it combines crystal elements of the folkster we love, alongside the more playful elements which dig deeper into the past, making up some of the present. Needless to say Kiss Each Other Clean inspires philosophical thought in the minds of those who are attuned to it!

Pulled Apart By Horses - 16th September 2010

Guildford Boiler Room

With Support from the sans-base duo Phantom Theory, who manage to whip up a storm with tough drums, riffs and vocals, and a stage presence not to be reckoned with, alongside the equally grand Young Legionnaire, members of which have cut their teeth belonging to some well known diamonds such as Yourcodenameis:milo and of course Bloc Party, Pulled Apart By Horses take to the stage with little grandeur and open with I Punched A Lion in The Throat. Reminiscent of a boy-child staking outrageous claims, the title lyrics are repeated with a ferocious tenacity and defiance, all the more appealing since the statement is so damned absurd! From this instance you are drawn from your mind into the swirling vortex of a force you cannot see, but is pulling you gently into an abyss of savage energy and joyous degradation.

The jam-packed crowd twist turn and stagger to the heady riffs and thrashing drumbeat, speakers swinging from the ceiling as we whip back and forth, and in not time at all the gents are reeling off their last few bars, and settling us in with some choice banter, channeling around lead guitarist James Brown being ‘single and riddled’, a catch in essence! Ripping into the fresh and tasty single Back To The Fuck Yeah, Tom Hudson shows off both challenging and charming vocals as the chorus riff demands a long shrieking cry from the pit of his soul, set apart from the latter reverberating guttural cry of “Yeeah-huh”. Its a beaut, and no doubt worthy of the esteem it has collected for the quad.

The most notable, chaos-inspiring tracks follow shortly behind in the shape of E=MC Hammer and Yeah Buddy, the latter of which takes inspiration from a steroid freak, and drips with a sarcastic, menacing strut as they muse “Yeah buddy. Thats Super heavy. Lightweight baby!... Thank God for pure natural strength.” The divide between the stage and the surrounding chaos becomes incomprehensible as Tom drives through the crowd, shrieking and shaking with an unbridled wonder-lust, bassist Robert stands high on his bass-amp, cutting one mean silhouette, James pulls one dumbstruck lady into a one armed hug, and Drummer Lee Vincent hammers out and impressive backdrop for the proceedings. in a whirl of shredding riffs and raw vox from centre stage, we are left reeling and ready for the last, and most bloody of all, not least because those of us privileged to be at the front can see James’ claret dripping from his fingers onto the collection of strings he covets! Den Horn opens as one over-energised bunny hops up and climbs monkey-style over the crowd to hang off the ledge above the stage, supported by the over-fueled arms of all those who cant stop shouting for more. As reality seeps back in, and we are left to stare blinking into dim recollection, there is an unsaid thought we all share. I want to do THAT again! The night has ended on a high, but all to quickly and we are left wanting more. PABH deal in inspirational chaos, and it is a drug we will continue to crave for eternity after this night.

Mercury 2010 Nominated Rundown

Nominated:

Corinne Bailey Ray - The Sea

Half written before and after her late husbands death, the album feels both new and fresh, and thick with yearning. This seems to be a feeling that Corinne has tapped into, not dwelling too much on her own pain it seems, but on the beauty that can be felt with it, and an empathy for everyone and everything surrounding her. The camaraderie she says she shared with her eclectic group of top musicians whilst creating this album, and healing her torn life, can truly be felt throughout each different thread running through this tapestry of tracks. It is a coming together of emotions and styles, elegantly structures and dripping with soul.

Mumford & Sons - Sigh No More

One of the most beautiful albums i have ever come across, listening to the group discuss their debut, and the effort that went into the composition of each individual track is a truly beautiful thing, and effortlessly paints them as talented musicians with a deep and proficient talent, as well as a deep emotional connection to the music they make. With a driving force behind every sound, movement can be heard in every single track, soft or rough. Their choral lyrical moments are pure gems.

Kit Downes Trio - Golden

The only representation of Jazz in this mix, Kit Downes reaches into his deep well of musical knowledge and presents a whirlwind foray into the bands own particular brand of off-kilter tunefulness. At times sounding like you are standing between two music rooms listening to separate practices, there is a whimsy to their style. Golden, the title track unfolds, revealing layers to explore, as the tune subtly changes with each few bars.

Dizzy Rascal - Tongue N Cheek

There has been a lot of discussion surrounding Dizzy, and it cannot be said that he is a lazy artist. His tracks have evolved since he started to make music, and his shrewd take on each musical style he lends his hand to is palpable throughout the track. The tracks are upbeat and pithy, as is to be expected from Dizzy’s own style of lyrical banter. This album has already been given such critical Kudos, and bore Dizzy an embarrassment of number one singles in the charts, if this were a more mainstream commercial based award, there is not doubt this one would be in the bag.

Wild Beasts - Two Dancers

One of the most bizarre and baffling groups of this years nominations, with Hayden Thorpe’s falsetto yowl etched across many tracks throughout the album, Wild beasts have also one of the most powerful albums. With discussion of the ‘fulcrum’ between the two sides of the album being the title track ‘Two Dancers’, listeners can feel the pull between broken emotions riding high and a gentle goading love for fun and enjoyment. The album is like a tale of life, with no beginning or end, but it continues. This sense is captured in the last track, which the band members favoured as one which gives a hint as to what will follow upon their return.

Paul Weller - Wake Up The Nation

With Weller’s ‘key track’ being the title of the album, and feeling this best sums up his efforts on this record. As the proffered ‘Mod-father’ and veteran of rock, his appearance on this list sets up the Mercury’s as indifferent to length of service in the music industry, and only celebrating all forms of truly great music, whatever the background.

Biffy Clyro - Only Revolutions

One of the more commercially popular albums, and from a background that stands out against the rest as more mainstream, Biffy Clyro have been rewarded for a long line of releases in this years Mercury awards. This certainly is one of their finest works, encompassing sensitive tracks, with the riff heavy larger numbers, inspiring moshpits across the festival scene this year.

Villagers - Becoming A Jackal

An irish artist and friends of the epic James Vincent McMorrow, links can be seen between the two pals, though his smooth and inviting voice sets him apart and places him in the Simon and Garfunkel era, recalling tracks such as America. With complex and insightful lyrics and a thunderous beat, sounding as though hacked out on the hull of his acoustic guitar, the title track becoming a jackal opens a new path to self discovery.

I am Kloot - Sky At Night

With gentle stirring riffs and rolling beats amongst some of the more powerful tracks, and lyrics which could make the most shallow person pensive, Kloot without question belong in this mix. You can sense the deep connection and understanding between band and producer in the shifting weight between dark and melodious, joyful and sweeping tracks. The most powerful has to be ‘I Still Do’, who’s bright and beautiful plucked guitar rhythm weaves a story behind its shimmering facade.

Laura Marling - I Speak Because I Can

One of the most beautiful albums to come out of a painful experience that has ever been penned, recorded and presented before an already sizable fan-base. the meek and mystical Laura speaks to the heart and beseeches you to feel every note.

The XX - XX

Embodied as ‘A lifetimes work’ by band member ollie, this is one of the most expansive albums on the list, rivaling even foals in this field. with Both Romy and Ollie engaging with the lyrics, there is a bitter-sweet battle of the sexes involved, sometimes singing in turn, sometimes together, overlapping their voices in the same lyrical pattern, but never vying for the limelight. this represents a fantastically produced and epically involved collection.

Foals - Total life Forever

a master-class in the creation of space, and time. with barbed lyrics which bizarrely compliment the synthy backbeats and sneaky bass. All the undercurrents and over-exertion come together to form what can only be described as Ennui-Disco in my ears, though they may hate that. Its the culmination of being drowned in sound, and swept to a new and intuitive setting, which you will never tire of exploring

The Winner:

It has been announced and The XX have indeed won the coveted prize. The minimalist, futurist and deeply dark artistes have trumped all others and come out speechless in the award ceremony, bereft of a clever quip, or hundred mile and hour gabbled thanks. The XX have divided opinion in their figurative arrival centre stage earlier this year, and yet having had their track Intro used in the UK Election coverage this year, alongside other snapshots in adverts and television shows, they were tipped as one of the forerunners for the award.

Listening back to the album, you can see why the prestigious award was given to these bright young things- they have the gift of creating a world of space, and time to explore it. Through the sparse lyrical foreground, and the slow yet gaining rhythmic structures that support it, you can feel a strength grown and cultivated from inside out. there are no half measures within each track. Every composition has been thought about in depth, and with their own admittance that this album has been imbibed with everything they have ever written you get the sense that every single tune is their own baby, to be nurtured and set out into the world, but only when fully ready.

Under The Driftwood Tree - London - 17th June 2010

Opening with their trademark of mash-up covers, Under The Driftwood Tree skillfully work The Killers Mr Brightside, Kings of Leon’s Use Somebody and Stereophonics Local Boy in the Photograph into their own breezy summer model, Local Boy Mr Brightside Uses Somebody. It is a testament to their talent that this foray into their stylings on stage take three of the most recognisable tracks of the recent past and twists them into a creature of their own making. Beautiful in its own right. There can be no better way to describe the Welsh wonders than that. With a fabulous array of covers, and their own songs interwoven with banter and the odd impromptu free-styling from the gentlemen up front, Chris and Robbie, the magic and sparkle of their set is visible even in daylight.

Formed in 2009 it is amazing to see a collective who are so comfortable, at home even, in front of an audience, and indeed with each other. The fluidity of movement, and the sounds coaxed and spun from their instruments beautifully compliments the shared harmonious vocals, and all around them seem enraptured. The instruments on stage are swapped and tuned with ease as the set up seems to change from song to song. This adds a fantastic element to the set, as each member showcases their talents; Robbie and Kathryn on Accordion and Percussion, Chris on Ukulele, Guitar and Didgeridoo, Alex on lead guitar, and Sam on Bass.

With their stage presence and collective impish humour in full swing, they pull out of their repertoire a song apparently written by their neighbours, detailing their annoyance at having loud music played next door at all hours. The whimsey with which they retell this tale speaks volumes of each individuals easy going nature.

As the day moves on, and the sky gets hazy with the coming dusk, we are treated to a further mash-up cover. one which whips up energy within the sun dazzled audience and stirs some movement throughout. Weaving the pre-Kid Rock ‘Sweet Home Alabama’ and Reef’s ‘Put Your Hands Up’ into another hand-made classic Pink Alabama, we are swept along into their final song, a beautiful instrumental which conjures images of country village dance and large tankards of Cider and Guinness in the sun. Perfect for the days setting! We are left wanting more, and the juggling woman, who has stood by the stage the whole set rhythmically bouncing her balls in time with the music ceases. Just another example of the level of involvement the crowd feel with the band!

There is no doubt that Under The Driftwood Tree have the talent and energy to sustain interest from the audience, to engage with and perform to the crowd and generate a great reaction. There is a great deal of certainty within me that there will be so much more to come from a this Welsh band, who have come so far and achieved such beauty in their stylings in just over a year. Carving out their own perfectly formed bohemian niche in the weathered stone that is Folk. If they continue on this path, they will be unstoppable, and this is a fact.

www.myspace.com/underthedriftwoodtree

Canterbury - Thank You - November 2009

Right at this moment, Canterbury are giving out their album free. On their myspace. This is not a gimmick, this is free genius! Please go and download, then read this. or the other way round, it doesn’t really matter. I found these guys by accident, and that makes me worried. what if there is a whole host of amazing bands I will never hear because there aren’t enough hours in the day to hunt them down. All the more reason to up my game.

So, the album. It is an Über showcase of the talents encompassing these young men. With titles which follow a flow, like a semi concept album (titles follow in sequence, such as; Accident Ambulance & Hospital), the audio equilibrium is constantly rocked, as the lyrics whip from angry bitterness to soulful melancholy. But this isn’t an album of alternating rage and static. No, no. The tunes are full of fluid movement, whether pensive and endearing with dulcet tones and lyrics gently pulling you in (Hospital, Diver), or 11,12, which oozes an angsty energy. Generally the word angst makes me cringe, I use it in a good sense here, when that tightness in your chest rips through you, the chorus kicks in and you let it all go.

This album can be alloted a place alongside those of You Me At Six and artists of that ilk. perhaps, dare I say it, they go one better in creating a debut of this form. It would seem as though it is a dismissive action, but there is a reason there is such a collective who adore this style. It simultaneously argues for emotion and passion as well as F***ing S**t UP. This is what we should all choose embody in our lives, and as the opening of Ambulance crashes with symbols and drums, there can be no other case than for the latter. it really embodies the confusion and energy that would actually go with the appearance of an ambulance, funnily enough. That is where the concept lies, in the attention to detail with the lyrics and the cultivated sound. They make sense together.

This fluctuating mixture involves a touch of upbeat controlled chaos, with Set Your Right delivering a fast paced staccato beat with an impeccable sense of timing, leaving you feeling ready for a night out with your best male friends. Witness the amusing highlight of Friends_ We’re More Like A Gang. The sheer range of paces and ideas that are traversed within Thank You leaves you feeling slightly addled, but in a good way. Though we traverse the stages of joy and heartache with the foursome, there is little room for melancholy, and absolutely no room for boredom. With the hidden melancholic tang of the ending track Hometime, and lyrics ‘I never had something mess me up like this...You were a sunset, I was a hurricane’, it feels as though this story is unfinished. If music is set by the pace of a lifestyle, it is clear that these guys never have a dull moment.

Knock2Bag - Comedy Gold!

21st April 2010 - Shepherds Bush - Bar FM

Ascending the steps to the underground 'Bar FM', there seems to be no better setting for a comedy night than this. There seems to be an undeniable sense of other-worldiness in the plush darkness within. The Knock2Bag stage is raised almost imperceptibly from the ground as chairs tables and sofas occupy the surrounding space creating a sense of intimacy. We are all in this together, which is just as well as in a setting this small, very few can escape the ever watchful eye of the comics, especially MC Fergus Craig, starting off the evening with a tailored brand of childish imagery and musings, effortlessly delivered and sandwiched between his sharp wit and impeccable timing.

Tonight's ensemble are a charming mix of established and upcoming talents, and without much ado Mike Wozniak appears onstage, the embodiment of Tom Selleck after a nervous breakdown. With perfect diction he delivers an observational eye, twisted with a surreal cerebral vision, culminating in a story about his father taking a job cleaning mice on the underground. Perfectly executed with a remark about his fathers competency in such a job, given the state of underground mice these days, he exits to a roar of applause, replaced with an even fresher face, named Grainne Maguire.

Gawky and nervous as she is, her comic style takes some getting used to. There is a fine line between comic awkwardness and a nervous disposition. Nonetheless, a fair few laughs bestowed to us from this 2009 Mercury New Act Of The Year finalist, especially in her take on our relationship with the new Conservatives, drawing links between the British public and a battered wife. "They've changed! They recycle now!". Finishing with a terribly awkward but lovable 'reclaiming of the belly' rap, which only serves to reinforce her naive charm, she scurries off stage indulging us in a quick break to sate our thirst for booze.

The next portion of the event is reserved for the well established comics which took the headlines of this particular event. Doc Brown takes to the stage, armed with a folder and an amazing penchant for comic rapping. His swagger and charm are a winning combination, and rapping about anything from his love of David Attenborough, to the correct pronunciation of urban 'gang speak' and its middle class translation, a quick scan of the audience will see most people bent double in silent fits, or choking on their chips. As usual, this particular set is not long enough. We move on to the mysterious 'top secret telly guest'.

Award winning writer and actor Stephen Merchant is not one best known for his standup. A change he is prepared to make, as he introduces himself thus, stating his interest in having something "he can't get his hands on". No need to ask to whom he refers! unleashing his wealth of observations on the responsibilities men have in the dating stakes, height and levels of 'geek', he is every bit as brilliant as you can imagine. Here is a wealth of talent which we hope he will continue to utilise to great effect. His personality, passion and delivery smack of his unique writing style, a winning combination it seems.

We end on an absolute high, as Robin Ince spews bile on all and sundry, covering a ten mile radius in enraged ramblings. Prophecising the failure of his set due to his 'good mood', he is soon berating all those who own up to "guilty pleasures", calling for these pleasures to be far more guilty, crossing the lines into downright illegal. Just how far into guilt is a bit too rich to put into print! After too short a time, the end is nigh, and we are spilling out on to the streets once more, a gaggle of half remembered jokes, too rare to be repeated, and too blue to be aired on television! With the wealth of amazing upcoming and well-known comics treading the boards within the realms Knock2Bag enterprises, it is a perfect gem of brilliance which never fails to deliver. A cheap night out at £8 per ticket, the only solution is to go and see it for yourself. You will choke on your chips, so be careful!

Fionn Regan - A Late Review If You Please!

The Shadow of an Empire – 8^th February 2010

With a grand chasm opening up between Regan’s last album, ‘The End Of History’ in 2006, one could be forgiven for thinking hope had been lost for the Mercury award nominated Dandy-haired wonder. However, time has given birth to his latest little capsule of Irish folk-itude in the form of ‘the Sahdow of an Empire’, an album that doesn’t so much ask for your attention, but forcibly pulls you to the ground and shouts in your face, urging you to give a damn.

If Fionn Regan’s debut album envisions the “morning after”, then ‘The Shadow of an Empire’ is most definitely the fabled “night before”. With much the same vocal tones that made his brand of magic unique, and an extra unmistakable tinge of Bob Dylan as exemplified on House Detective and Coat Hook, Regan shatters his easy acoustic image and spins a revved up electric country-folk concoction, engorged with harmonica soundscapes, banjo rhythms, and the odd piano solo. Even with tracks like Little Nancy, which is slower than most, the resulting effect is louder than any you will find on ‘The End of History’.

The single release Protection Racket continues on the Dylan trail, rich as it is in Americana culture reference such as the perfect lyrics “you curse the darkness and I’ll strike a match’, and of course “Let’s raise our glasses to Mr Onasses”. Its upbeat nature and untiring rhythm is sharply backed up by Catacombs, who’s lyrics “Let’s take it outside…I’ll pay you to do me some damage” support the overall Texan bar-brawl feel, along with the atmospheric Genocide Matinee, with its classic rock overtones.

Fionn Regan has broken radically with expectation, and while it is clear that the long wait has proved necessary for personal growth and upheaval, there are still those tell-tale glimmers of the route taken to reach this altered perspective. This is obvious in Violent Demeanour, where the deep and dark lyric prevails over all others “and now there’s pennies on your eyes”. Again, in Lines Written In Winter Lord Help and My Poor Soul, with the raw and beautifully under-produced vocals we had become accustomed to, arching over those nostalgic lilting acoustics, we are treated to a celebration of his old youthful melancholy. This is harking back to times of a more authentic innocence, whereas Fionn Regan’s subtly deeper newfound voice heaves with the challenge of maturity and experience.

Tim Ten Yen - Everything Beautiful Reminds Me Of You

In October 2008 I attended a gig, a Club Fandango three day city festival event in a bar I cannot even recall now, and I saw the most amazing thing that had graced my tiny mind to that date. The event went by the name of Tim Ten Yen, and his method of wonder was a performance of sorts, of his own musical styling. He is in fact a one man band, but the performance is so much a part of his art that it cannot go without being mentioned. Awkward thrusting arms and funky leg-kicks make him seem less than comfortable in the limelight, but his stage presence refuses to let him depart from it. Even on the street, there is a spotlight following this awkward lord of the dance.

I duly bought his album ‘Everything Beautiful Reminds Me Of You’, which came out the following week, and have never looked back. Mr. Ten Yen harnesses a wealth of Divine Comedy style croonings, reggae based 80’s synth pop, the occasional thrum of the steel drum, and the odd stealthy guitar solo to create a heady base of joy, which frolics unchecked with his wonderfully naïve and creatively deep lyrics. This album, which slipped by unnoticed in 2008, and indeed latterly, is quite simply a cult classic. Confusing though his style is there are songs like ‘Radio Nowhere’ which forms the perfect basis for an electro re-mix, whilst the acute rhythmic step and subtle production of ‘Move with the Wildpalms’ was made for radio play. A coveted favourite at the minute is ‘Sea Anemone’, which wouldn’t sound out of place in a collection of nursery rhymes, an bears the lyrics ‘the kind of enemy, that gets hold of me, and gently lets me go with an apology’, along with the extremely sage line ‘if I ever had complete control of my life, would I ever keep hold of what I have?’. Pure genius! This is one for you all ladies and gents. Disregard your particular ‘tastes’, because this defies genre, and your expectations.

Designated Graffitti Moan

With the ‘Banksy Years’ well under way, Bristol has had quite some time to bask in the reflective glow of his magic touch. Whilst every cultural outlet indulges in naked profiteering from another’s talent (in the form of Coasters, Card and Canvas bearing their chosen graven image) and stars such as Angie Jolie clamour to collect various pieces, or so I’m told, I can help but feel a little sorry for those little graffiti imps forever in the shadow of the lord of spray-can. Well, with this chosen method of self expression not favoured by the more ‘society conscious’, maybe they are used to it? It may even be preferred. Whilst the art market is now claiming graffiti as one of its own, I am forced to wonder how much the profile of its art has changed. Is it really more acceptable? Or more except-able, failing under the light that only Banksy brand Graf is good. I am using the term ‘good’ loosely to mean ‘worth money’. The gentleman is an exception to the rule.

With almost every surface he touches turning to concrete gold, it seems that he is standing on the shoulders of other artists such as himself, pushing them further underground, where it is much darker and there is no golden ticket. Whilst the savvy among you will know of and appreciate other artists, this IS what they are, those who didn’t know before Banksy, will care less about others as they have their own acceptable form of defacement, which they can display with pride and purchase at great expense, all the while feeling edgy and ‘out there’.

I have nothing against Banksy, he deserves his rewards for being talented and insightful, but the artist hasn’t changed, just the canvas. Whether we like it or not, graffiti hasn’t been lifted higher as an art form, one man has, and the rest have been sentenced to a lifetime in the gloom, unless they copy the golden child, then losing the meaning of what this method of self expression is. Self expression is now just another mode that we use to congratulate or castigate. It seems if it is ‘good’ (worth money) it is art, if it is ‘not good’, it is vandalism. Those who love it, will always appreciate, but for now, I have half a mind to hold an impromptu cocktail party on the streets of Stokes Croft, loudly applauding and discussing other artworks, whilst ignoring those already famed. Maybe even hold mock auctions to buy a piece of the wall, complete with price tag stickers. Graffiti-ing graffiti? How postmodern.