As early-80s scratchy pop mavericks moved on in search of the perfect production sheen, ex-Fire Engine Davy Henderson formed Win to nail down the bubblegum sound in his head. You’ve Got The Power was relentlessly pushed towards the charts without a jot of success, but is only one of a clutch of day-glo gems on the album. Henderson’s sneer added edge to a sparkling pop fluff confection.
(This piece originally appeared in The Guardian's '1000 Albums To Hear Before You Die - The Ones We Missed' on November 23, 2007)
Monday, 26 November 2007
Thursday, 11 October 2007
[33s] Radiohead, In Rainbows
At the end of the last series of BBC 1’s Doctor Who, the whole world stopped and said “Doctor” simultaneously to free David Tennant’s Timelord from the Master’s shackles and have him reborn as a Messiah-like figure. Yesterday, it seemed that everyone was united in downloading, playing and talking about Radiohead’s new album – all at once. God, what have we done?
Over the past week, countless column inches have been devoted to the audacious gambit of putting In Rainbows online within 10 days of any acknowledgement of its existence, and allowing the punter to put his own price on it. We’re yet to judge the dramatic effect on the record industry as a whole, but we’re ready to see if the music’s any good.
And it is. After the alienating twists of Kid A and Amnesiac (in a good way) and Hail To The Thief (in a not-so-good way), Thom Yorke and co have decided to engage with us again. The overall atmosphere of the album is warm, delicate, even intimate. As familiar skittering beats give way to cosy, sly, bluesy guitar within the first 30 seconds of ’15 Step’, the listener is locked in and not going anywhere for the next 40-odd minutes.
Fluid, hip-swinging rock follows with ‘Bodysnatchers’, and more sinuous guitar snakes through ‘Nude’, with Yorke holding up his hands and telling us to not “get any big ideas, they’re never going to happen”. He doesn’t seem bereft himself: wonderfully melodious strumming drives ‘Weird Fishes/Arpeggi’, we’re in almost Beatle territory on the mutter-sung ‘Faust Arp’, and ‘Reckoner’ hypnotises with all manner of percussion and effortless mingling of piano and slinky strings.
While the mood is laidback and open – recalling the later, reflective work of jazz converts like Talk Talk and Tears For Fears – Radiohead haven’t forgotten the hooks this time around. We’re never going to get big choruses again, but the spine will tingle over and over and tunes will lodge in the head once more. Nowhere is this clearer than on standout track ‘House Of Cards’ – a sexy, sensual, dubby, funky song, leading us via reverbed guitar and dulled beats to a world of wife-swaps where Yorke coos “I don’t want to be your friend, I just want to be your lover”. This is new ground!
Of course, there are still well-worn lyrical themes – “infrastructure will collapse”, “I’m an animal trapped in your hot car” – but we’re complicit here, not bewildered. Just like the good old days, the whole world is enjoying an album for the first time at the same time, not through drip-feed leaks – it’s exciting, it’s here and it’s now. No need for time travel.
(A version of this piece will appear on www.orange.co.uk/music on October 11, 2007)
Over the past week, countless column inches have been devoted to the audacious gambit of putting In Rainbows online within 10 days of any acknowledgement of its existence, and allowing the punter to put his own price on it. We’re yet to judge the dramatic effect on the record industry as a whole, but we’re ready to see if the music’s any good.
And it is. After the alienating twists of Kid A and Amnesiac (in a good way) and Hail To The Thief (in a not-so-good way), Thom Yorke and co have decided to engage with us again. The overall atmosphere of the album is warm, delicate, even intimate. As familiar skittering beats give way to cosy, sly, bluesy guitar within the first 30 seconds of ’15 Step’, the listener is locked in and not going anywhere for the next 40-odd minutes.
Fluid, hip-swinging rock follows with ‘Bodysnatchers’, and more sinuous guitar snakes through ‘Nude’, with Yorke holding up his hands and telling us to not “get any big ideas, they’re never going to happen”. He doesn’t seem bereft himself: wonderfully melodious strumming drives ‘Weird Fishes/Arpeggi’, we’re in almost Beatle territory on the mutter-sung ‘Faust Arp’, and ‘Reckoner’ hypnotises with all manner of percussion and effortless mingling of piano and slinky strings.
While the mood is laidback and open – recalling the later, reflective work of jazz converts like Talk Talk and Tears For Fears – Radiohead haven’t forgotten the hooks this time around. We’re never going to get big choruses again, but the spine will tingle over and over and tunes will lodge in the head once more. Nowhere is this clearer than on standout track ‘House Of Cards’ – a sexy, sensual, dubby, funky song, leading us via reverbed guitar and dulled beats to a world of wife-swaps where Yorke coos “I don’t want to be your friend, I just want to be your lover”. This is new ground!
Of course, there are still well-worn lyrical themes – “infrastructure will collapse”, “I’m an animal trapped in your hot car” – but we’re complicit here, not bewildered. Just like the good old days, the whole world is enjoying an album for the first time at the same time, not through drip-feed leaks – it’s exciting, it’s here and it’s now. No need for time travel.
(A version of this piece will appear on www.orange.co.uk/music on October 11, 2007)
Monday, 10 September 2007
[33s] Eg & Alice, 24 Years Of Hunger
In a world where Belle & Sebastian release records, Brother Beyond’s ex-drummer and a female BMX champ scoop the improbable accolade of making the feyest album ever. 24 Years Of Hunger is fragile, starkly emotional and talks about going "for a smoke at Josh’s house". It’s also lovely. I bought it in that difficult second year at university, when you’re forging your identity away from the raucous first year gangs; its jazzy, pristine pop fitted with my Prefab Sprout and Scritti Politti affinities, and the boho Notting Hill seemed so glamorous. Alice sang with a gossamer, broken voice, Eg with a throaty, quiet roar, and they watched over their W11 friends like a louche Zeus and Hera, chronicling the banal and the parochial with a tender eye. It doesn’t seem so obscure now that I’ve spent 15 years bothering my friends with it. They don’t know how lucky they are.
(A version of this piece appeared in The Guardian's '50 Secret Weapons' on November 3, 2006)
(A version of this piece appeared in The Guardian's '50 Secret Weapons' on November 3, 2006)
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