Admit it. You wanted to hate it. You can't.
mp3
Friday, 24 July 2009
Wednesday, 15 July 2009
A Jingle
Give me some hope in this backwater town,
I’ve staring on upwards from my comedown
The year that was spent can drag out the sweat
Of a penchant for fun and no time for regret.
Tuesday, 23 June 2009
me oh my
Oh, noose
Tied myself in, tied myself too tight
Looking kind of anxious in your cross-armed stance
Like a bad tempered prom queen at a homecoming dance
And I claim I'm not excited with my life anymore
So I blame this town, this job, these friends, the truth is it's myself
And I'm trying to understand myself and pinpoint who I am
When I finally get it figured out, I've changed the whole damn plan
Oh, noose
Tied myself in, tied myself too tight
Oh, noose
Tied myself in, tied myself too tight
Talking shit about a pretty sunset
Blanketing opinions that I'll probably regret soon
Changed my mind so much I can't even trust it
My mind changed me so much I can't even trust myself
on a lighter note i pissed in a punch bowl at a party and someone drank it.
holler
Thursday, 11 June 2009
Leeds, Stag & Dagger
for (www.musosguide.com)
Stag & Dagger Leeds
Friday May 22
Various Venues
It would be easy to dismiss an event sponsored by Vice and Firetrap as cheap throwaway hipster nonsense. It would also be easy to look at the majority of the crowd and expect the same. A Bravery for 2009 perhaps. But then there’s the matter of the most impressive and varied lineups ever to grace the working men’s clubs and University bars of Leeds.
First on the agenda are Abe Vigoda at TJs Woodhouse, branding the audience with their own brand of tropical power-punk. Despite a recent lineup change and near constant technical difficulties the Los Angeles four-piece give a tight and thoroughly agreeable performance, climaxing with a joyous rendition of ‘Skeleton’. Abe Vigoda, unfortunately, have the problem that they are followed on the bill by three of the greatest live acts of today, so many of the nuances and fine distinction of their intricate guitar lines grow hazy in memory.
Crystal Antlers do not suffer from this problem. On record they pass themselves off as a fairly dull and trite affair, but stick the guys on a stage and suddenly a whole new beast is created. The wall of noise sound, intercepted by bongo rhythms and wailing vocals perfectly suit the fairly diminutive surroundings, giving the impression of a primal explosion of noise. Crystal Antlers are complimented perfectly by the visceral delights of White Denim who seem intent on allowing their fans to expel their entire bodily fluids through their foreheads with an unstoppable half hour jam of Workout Holiday favourites and newies, cutting and pasting sections of different songs together to create a patchwork setlist that makes them simply irresistible and sends a jolt of electricity through the packed out crowd. It would be easy to dismiss White Denim as the sum of their parts, southern rock MC5 wannabes perhaps, but their performances certainly are unique.
The Mae Shi step up to the plate next, with the solid groundwork of a band renowned for their chaotic and charismatic live shows. It’s a shame then that something may have been lost somewhere over the Atlantic, because for the majority of their set, try as they mae (sorry) they can’t seem to find the magic today. Perhaps it could be attributed to the loss of a member or to several overzealous superfans jumping into a fairly sparse crowd but the first several songs fall rather flat. Despite these early jitters the band manage to pull out few tricks from their sleeves, covering the crowd in a giant tent and a sit-down singalong pull in the strays from the bar and the added numbers create an atmosphere sorely missing for the first half of the set. The Shi respond in kind, hugging stage invaders and throwing themselves into the throng at every opportunity before launching into a superb rendition of ‘Run to Your Grave’. The pinnacle of the night comes as security pull the plug, the band grab their mics and serenade the audience to cries of ‘Fuck the Police’ goading fans onto the stage for one final dance before they’re on their merry way.
A quick jog over town leads to the Brudenell brings the band with easily the biggest buzz surrounding them, Cursive. Dinosaurs of the alt-rock world their devoted fanbase is out in force to scream every lyric from the bottom of their lungs into the ears of anyone who cares to listen. On record their writhing anthems can create a sense of real emotion and raw feeling but on stage all they cause is numb feet and the urge to squeeze out for a cigarette. A below-par setlist consisting mostly of songs from new album Mama I’m Swollen, falls distinctly flat each song merging into a grey pulp of sound, nothing distinct or particularly impressive. Perhaps it would be unfair to compare the performance with those seen earlier. Cursive certainly would not feel the need to resort to gimmicks or trickery to win over an audience, but the standalone properties of many of the songs on show wasn’t enough to warrant watching a miserable old man ranting at screaming fanboys.
Just an opinion.
Stag & Dagger Leeds
Friday May 22
Various Venues
It would be easy to dismiss an event sponsored by Vice and Firetrap as cheap throwaway hipster nonsense. It would also be easy to look at the majority of the crowd and expect the same. A Bravery for 2009 perhaps. But then there’s the matter of the most impressive and varied lineups ever to grace the working men’s clubs and University bars of Leeds.
First on the agenda are Abe Vigoda at TJs Woodhouse, branding the audience with their own brand of tropical power-punk. Despite a recent lineup change and near constant technical difficulties the Los Angeles four-piece give a tight and thoroughly agreeable performance, climaxing with a joyous rendition of ‘Skeleton’. Abe Vigoda, unfortunately, have the problem that they are followed on the bill by three of the greatest live acts of today, so many of the nuances and fine distinction of their intricate guitar lines grow hazy in memory.
Crystal Antlers do not suffer from this problem. On record they pass themselves off as a fairly dull and trite affair, but stick the guys on a stage and suddenly a whole new beast is created. The wall of noise sound, intercepted by bongo rhythms and wailing vocals perfectly suit the fairly diminutive surroundings, giving the impression of a primal explosion of noise. Crystal Antlers are complimented perfectly by the visceral delights of White Denim who seem intent on allowing their fans to expel their entire bodily fluids through their foreheads with an unstoppable half hour jam of Workout Holiday favourites and newies, cutting and pasting sections of different songs together to create a patchwork setlist that makes them simply irresistible and sends a jolt of electricity through the packed out crowd. It would be easy to dismiss White Denim as the sum of their parts, southern rock MC5 wannabes perhaps, but their performances certainly are unique.
The Mae Shi step up to the plate next, with the solid groundwork of a band renowned for their chaotic and charismatic live shows. It’s a shame then that something may have been lost somewhere over the Atlantic, because for the majority of their set, try as they mae (sorry) they can’t seem to find the magic today. Perhaps it could be attributed to the loss of a member or to several overzealous superfans jumping into a fairly sparse crowd but the first several songs fall rather flat. Despite these early jitters the band manage to pull out few tricks from their sleeves, covering the crowd in a giant tent and a sit-down singalong pull in the strays from the bar and the added numbers create an atmosphere sorely missing for the first half of the set. The Shi respond in kind, hugging stage invaders and throwing themselves into the throng at every opportunity before launching into a superb rendition of ‘Run to Your Grave’. The pinnacle of the night comes as security pull the plug, the band grab their mics and serenade the audience to cries of ‘Fuck the Police’ goading fans onto the stage for one final dance before they’re on their merry way.
A quick jog over town leads to the Brudenell brings the band with easily the biggest buzz surrounding them, Cursive. Dinosaurs of the alt-rock world their devoted fanbase is out in force to scream every lyric from the bottom of their lungs into the ears of anyone who cares to listen. On record their writhing anthems can create a sense of real emotion and raw feeling but on stage all they cause is numb feet and the urge to squeeze out for a cigarette. A below-par setlist consisting mostly of songs from new album Mama I’m Swollen, falls distinctly flat each song merging into a grey pulp of sound, nothing distinct or particularly impressive. Perhaps it would be unfair to compare the performance with those seen earlier. Cursive certainly would not feel the need to resort to gimmicks or trickery to win over an audience, but the standalone properties of many of the songs on show wasn’t enough to warrant watching a miserable old man ranting at screaming fanboys.
Just an opinion.
Wednesday, 15 April 2009
God Help The Girl
(for www.musosguide.com)
God Help The Girl
Come Monday Night
In the three years since The Life Persuit it would be totally unfair to say Belle & Sebastian’s fan-base has diminished, as any cardigan-cocooned fop will testify, but perhaps it is fair to say that anticipation of new output from Stuart Murdoch isn’t quite at the giddy peaks it reached around the time of the classy If You’re Feeling Sinister.
Interestingly Murdock’s has chosen to stake a step away from his band of merry Scots with new project God Help The Girl. ‘Come Monday Night’ is set to be pieced into a concept album of sorts, involving grandiose strings and a vague idea of storytelling, sound-tracking a musical film of Murdock’s own creation.
This may all sound like the makings of an insane, Prince-esque vanity project but the track itself is a slice of ‘60s indebted sweet and soulful balladry, swooning over a sunny London day. From the outset the track conjures to mind very prominent reference points of Bryter Later era Nick Drake, with bittersweet vocals that could easily be mistaken for those of Nico. Lyrically, the song is very similar to Murdock’s previous output, revelling in the quirky reference points and clever puns that made Belle and Sebastian so popular to the romantically minded, opting for a simplistic approach to daily monotony.
“Come Monday night/the day of work is done/Tuesday morning looms/the grey of ordinariness”
Rather than a ham fisted attempt at retro-chic this naivety creates a charming and loveable atmosphere.
'Come Monday Night' is hindered by its insistence at aping its relative influences, but still manages to conjure up a slice of enjoyable sweeping pop nostalgia – despite never straying far from safe territory.
Come Monday Night
In the three years since The Life Persuit it would be totally unfair to say Belle & Sebastian’s fan-base has diminished, as any cardigan-cocooned fop will testify, but perhaps it is fair to say that anticipation of new output from Stuart Murdoch isn’t quite at the giddy peaks it reached around the time of the classy If You’re Feeling Sinister.
Interestingly Murdock’s has chosen to stake a step away from his band of merry Scots with new project God Help The Girl. ‘Come Monday Night’ is set to be pieced into a concept album of sorts, involving grandiose strings and a vague idea of storytelling, sound-tracking a musical film of Murdock’s own creation.
This may all sound like the makings of an insane, Prince-esque vanity project but the track itself is a slice of ‘60s indebted sweet and soulful balladry, swooning over a sunny London day. From the outset the track conjures to mind very prominent reference points of Bryter Later era Nick Drake, with bittersweet vocals that could easily be mistaken for those of Nico. Lyrically, the song is very similar to Murdock’s previous output, revelling in the quirky reference points and clever puns that made Belle and Sebastian so popular to the romantically minded, opting for a simplistic approach to daily monotony.
“Come Monday night/the day of work is done/Tuesday morning looms/the grey of ordinariness”
Rather than a ham fisted attempt at retro-chic this naivety creates a charming and loveable atmosphere.
'Come Monday Night' is hindered by its insistence at aping its relative influences, but still manages to conjure up a slice of enjoyable sweeping pop nostalgia – despite never straying far from safe territory.
Sunday, 29 March 2009
Writingzz
We creatures who dream of our own mortality
Who think of our deaths and then turn to our coffee
And scan the news for the hate and atrocity
And speak offhand ‘its oh such a tragedy’
We lie and we steal to feed our own egos
To pathologically turn our lives into shows
We are the characters who will never ever change
Create the same problems again and again
The statements we swear that we live our lives by
Are changed the next day to fit our changing lives
The situation’s not perfect, neither are our thoughts
But we say that we live by some book we have bought
A theory you pay your hard cash for
To make you have purpose, to make you want more
From the hole you have dug, the grain in your hand
To be more assertive, more specific demand
Can you fit your whole thesis in the lines of a song
Or will it just change when your needs move along
For something more fitting, to all your desire
Do you feel support? Do you grimace or smile?
Who think of our deaths and then turn to our coffee
And scan the news for the hate and atrocity
And speak offhand ‘its oh such a tragedy’
We lie and we steal to feed our own egos
To pathologically turn our lives into shows
We are the characters who will never ever change
Create the same problems again and again
The statements we swear that we live our lives by
Are changed the next day to fit our changing lives
The situation’s not perfect, neither are our thoughts
But we say that we live by some book we have bought
A theory you pay your hard cash for
To make you have purpose, to make you want more
From the hole you have dug, the grain in your hand
To be more assertive, more specific demand
Can you fit your whole thesis in the lines of a song
Or will it just change when your needs move along
For something more fitting, to all your desire
Do you feel support? Do you grimace or smile?
Sunday, 15 March 2009
Dinosaur Pile Up
Dinosaur Pile-Up
City Screen Basement
Imagine the worst gig you have ever been to. Chances are it was a shambolic event, maybe a PA broke or the singer stormed off. These are pretty standard grievances which go hand in hand with the clichés and pitfalls of rock ‘n roll, but my main gripe will always remain the middle of the road.
Dinosaur Pile-Up are a fairly interesting new band, dark basslines and crunching guitars mixed with enough shoutalong choruses to peacefully blend mass-appeal and blogger’s delight. Couple this with a tiny, intimate venue and enough hype to pack it to the rafters and it seems the scene is set for a myth inducing event soon to be the parable of the word on the grubby street. But, unfortunately everything runs smoothly. Too smoothly.Following a slew of dire indie-by-the-numbers support bands DPU take to the humid stage surrounded entirely in a pincer movement of hungry punters. Despite their rapidly increasing repertoire of anthemic gems every track seems to slide easily into the next with the minimum of banter or elation, the non-plussed crowd never really entering the spirit. Take nothing away from Dinosaur Pile-Up’s musicianship, every song is played expertly and with a minimum of fuss but by busting out easily their best track (the fantastic ‘Love is a boat & we’re sinking) in the opening ten minutes they crash the nail directly into their own coffin. Even drunken students wandering the stage and thrusting behind band members cannot bring excitement to what is a very disappointing and dull gig.
City Screen Basement
Imagine the worst gig you have ever been to. Chances are it was a shambolic event, maybe a PA broke or the singer stormed off. These are pretty standard grievances which go hand in hand with the clichés and pitfalls of rock ‘n roll, but my main gripe will always remain the middle of the road.
Dinosaur Pile-Up are a fairly interesting new band, dark basslines and crunching guitars mixed with enough shoutalong choruses to peacefully blend mass-appeal and blogger’s delight. Couple this with a tiny, intimate venue and enough hype to pack it to the rafters and it seems the scene is set for a myth inducing event soon to be the parable of the word on the grubby street. But, unfortunately everything runs smoothly. Too smoothly.Following a slew of dire indie-by-the-numbers support bands DPU take to the humid stage surrounded entirely in a pincer movement of hungry punters. Despite their rapidly increasing repertoire of anthemic gems every track seems to slide easily into the next with the minimum of banter or elation, the non-plussed crowd never really entering the spirit. Take nothing away from Dinosaur Pile-Up’s musicianship, every song is played expertly and with a minimum of fuss but by busting out easily their best track (the fantastic ‘Love is a boat & we’re sinking) in the opening ten minutes they crash the nail directly into their own coffin. Even drunken students wandering the stage and thrusting behind band members cannot bring excitement to what is a very disappointing and dull gig.
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