I was your other, that's what you said...

The Lodger "A Year Since Last Summer" [taken from the album Life is Sweet - Bad Sneakers Records, 2008]



Everyone knows the best pop songs are the short ones; Life Is Sweet, the wonderful second album by Leeds indiepop heroes The Lodger, is an understated 35 minute flurry of handclaps and heartbreak. One of its highlights, 'A Year Since Last Summer', rushes by in a brief two minutes - still, that seems to be all it needs. Its lyrics are similarly brief, but perfectly express the melancholy of a love gone wrong ("The photograph is fading now, a year since last summer..."), belied by the short, sharp and irrepressibly jangly guitar attack that surrounds it, which barely allows you time to catch your breath between verses. While there are catchier tracks on the album - namely 'The Good Old Days', a pretty strong contender for single of the summer, if not the year - there are few as addictive.

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As ever, I apologise profusely for not updating this thing in ages; exam season somewhat put the kibosh on my urge to write anything whatsoever. Thankfully, that's all over now, and with a long hot summer ahead, expect plenty more gems in store.

I've got a taste for human blood - I'm gonna tear your bones apart...

Ten City Nation - Exhibition Time Again
Ten City Nation - Everyone's a Tourist [both taken from the 2008 album Ten City Nation - download it for absolutely free right here!]



Formed from the ashes of undeservedly forgotten agitpopstars Miss Black America, Ten City Nation have just released their blinding debut album for free on their website. Seven years on from the first album this lot ever put out as MBA (the underrated God Bless Miss Black America), they sound hungrier, more passionate and...just damn louder than ever before. Ten City Nation is truly a thing of beauty - tracks like 'Positive Sickness' show that singer Seymour Patrick's rage is alive and well, while 'The Air is on Fire' rocks out with a dusty atmosphere that makes it sound like a recording of a gunfight in some distant desert. That's a good thing, by the way.

'Exhibition Time Again' kicks the album off with speaker-blowing intensity, as hundering Queens of the Stone Age style drums jostle with detuned riffs played by sandpaper-raw guitars not heard since the last Shellac record. Meanwhile, 'Everyone's a Tourist' centres around a spiralling riff which tumbles into the most unashamedly anthemic chorus on the entire album, perfectly capturing the energy and vitriol that fuel their live shows. Both tracks should, in some parallel universe, but absolutely massive hits, but that would probably ruin it for anyone who hears them.

It's teen rock for grown-ups - there's shades of early Idlewild (or should that be iDLEWiLD?), Fugazi, mclusky, and even traces of Blur (try the beautifully discordant opening riff of 'Skeletons') - and, by all rights, deserves to change at least one lonely bedroom-bound teenager's life for the better. It's loud, melodic, passionate and everything that most bands these days aren't; Ten City Nation (both the band and the album) demands to be heard, and you'd be a fool to ignore it...and for the price you're paying for it, there's no excuse. As a wise man once said, "What happened to your urge to destroy?"

Your list of top ten songs to self-destroy to is a decoy, too...

Fosca "Confused and Proud" [taken from the 2008 album The Painted Side of the Rocket on But Is It Art? Records - order the album here!]



Sorry I've been just as lax with updating this thing as ever. Still, to make up for it here's a review of a rather splended new album by Fosca, which you should all check out. Like...right now.

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There's a school of literary criticism which claims that a work of art is best interpreted without taking into account any biographical or canonical information whatsoever about its creator. This school of criticism has obviously never encountered Dickon Edwards. A self-confesed "dysfunctional dandy", his resumé since 1995 includes a brief stint in indiepop legends Spearmint, Romo pioneers Orlando (whose album Passive Soul remains an essential, if slightly embarrassing, addition to any Britpop fan's collection...if you can seek it out), as well as the official title of The First Blogger On The Internet Ever. Impressive stuff. His latest album with current band Fosca – their third in eight years – sees the band moving in far more openly pop territory than ever before, while Edwards continues to prove himself as someone for whom "being himself" is less a state of mind than a career path.

The album kicks off with the misanthropic Howard Devoto-isms of 'I’ve Agreed To Something I Shouldn’t Have', previously released on How Does It Feel To Be Loved's superlative The Kids at the Club compilation, and immediately shows off Fosca's unique brand of hyper-literate fop pop. 'It Only Matters to Those to Whom it Matters' ups the cutesy ante somewhat, with a singsong melody, barbed lyrics – "You always carry a book – not as something to read, but somewhere else to look..." – and the inevitable handclaps, that make it one of the catchiest cuts on the record. Still, that’s nothing compared with 'We See the World as Our Stunt Doubles', one of the best things Edwards has ever written; it sounds like Mansun rewriting a Bond theme – all sinister strings, chiming guitars and ringing glockenspiel – and ends with one of the greatest lines Morrissey never put his name to ("Why bother, why bother when life is elsewhere?").

The Painted Side of the Rocket is rife with extremely quotable bon mots, the best of which come from 'Kim', a curious tale of an obsessive pop fan who goes in search of his heroes, only to be confronted by "a churlish chap...who fronted some band in the mid 1990s" (a dig at Edwards' former Orlando cohort Tim Chipping, perhaps? - EDIT: apparently not.) and a journalist who claims to be a virgin "if alcoholic sex doesn’t count". It's the most relaxed cut on the album, and certainly one of the most lyrically interesting things in the already-erudite Fosca oeuvre.

The album's highlight comes with the dreamy 'Confused And Proud', a reworked version of a track originally released eight years ago as the b-side to the band's first single; an open letter to those unsure of their sexual identity ("If we held a protest demonstration," Edwards croons, "we’d all march off in different directions"), it sounds like Pet Shop Boys rewriting Pavement’s "Here"; Indeed, that song's opening lines – "I was dressed for success/But success, it never comes/And I'm the only one who laughs..." – seem as good a summary of Edwards' career as any. Far more ethereal than the original, its constant state of sonic flux perfectly suits the uncertainty of its subject matter, while its lyrics remain some of the most affecting and heartfelt that Edwards ever penned. The track is a masterpiece of bedroom balladry, the likes of which have been unheard since The Field Mice, and five of the finest minutes of music you’re likely to hear all year.

A couple of tracks seem to take the Fosca template somewhat by numbers , while Rachel Stevenson's sole lead vocal on the album, on the Kate Dornan-penned 'Evening Dress at 3pm' provides a little bit of light relief (especially following 'Confused...'), much like Hilarie Sidney's tracks with The Apples in Stereo. Still, by the end of 'Come Down From the Cross (Someone Else Needs the Wood)' – what a title! – you're left with few urges greater than to press play again and reemerse yourself into the psyche of one of England's greatest eccentrics, who just happens to have written one of the best pop albums of 2008. No need to be confused anymore, Dickon. Just proud. (8.5/10)

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So yes, if you know what's good for you, order this album quick march!

I used to be down with the faithful, man - now I'm hanging with the doubting Thomases...

Nick Cave And The Bad Seeds "Accidents Will Happen" [b-side from Dig, Lazarus, Dig!!! single]


Yet another Nick Cave-related post, I'm afraid. Thanks to the uni paper, I've recently acquired a copy of the man and his Seeds' new album Dig, Lazarus, Dig!!! I'm terrified witless by all the blurb on the back of the sleeve of the promo (words to the effect of "You must not lend a copy of this album to anyone, you must not play this album to anyone named Frances, you must not play this album on Guy Fawkes' night or listen to it while wearing a beefeater's hat, and YOU DEFINITELY MUST NOT PUT IT ONTO THE INTERNET"), so rather than make Mute Records hate me, I'm going to upload the b-side to Mr Cave's latest single for your listening pleasure instead. It could well be another showcase for his limited guitar skills, and the whole track's a pretty light-hearted affair, bordering on the countryish. Still, it would have found a rather loving home on the album, but who am I to argue with a 'tache like that?

Anyway, to tide you all over until the album itself drops (March 5th, UK-dwellers), here's my review of the LP, written (as I said previously) for the Leeds Student paper with a pretty compact limit of 500 words...

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NICK CAVE AND THE BAD SEEDS "Dig, Lazarus, Dig!!!" (Mute)

In 1989, the NME gathered three great elder statesmen of what was then called indie – The Fall's Mark E Smith, Shane MacGowan and Nick Cave – for a drink or twenty. Nearly as many years on, Smith continues to be "always different, always the same", while MacGowan is tragically wheeled out every Christmas like a ramshackle pantomime horse on its last legs. Only Nick Cave has, since then, written almost all of his best work, continuing to at least try to forge out a new path with each album with absolutely no regard to relevance to the world around him. Dig, Lazarus, Dig!!! is his fourteenth album with the ever-faithful Bad Seeds behind him, and his first since last year's brutal Grinderman project, and finds him sounding far more bloodthirsty than his fifty years should allow.

The title track shows The Horrors exactly how it's done, welding a Nuggets-style organ riff to shards of visceral guitar noise, while Cave waxes lyrical about what would happen if Lazarus was reborn in New York City in the 70s. As you do. Conversely, tracks like "Hold On To Yourself" and the droning "Night of the Lotus Eaters" see the band at their atmospheric best, evoking the deserts of their native Australia for the first time in years. Meanwhile, "Lie Down Here (and Be My Girl)" and "Albert Goes West" show off the kind of noisy pop that Cave has perfected over his thirty(!) years in the game.

"We Call Upon the Author" is a self-mocking ode to those who look to literature for the answers to life, the universe and everything. Clearly the epitome of the album's quest for "the haemorrhaging of words and ideas", Cave words are practically epileptic here, referencing writers left, right and centre ("Bukowski was a jerk! Berryman was best!"), and even stopping the song dead in its tracks to welcome some guy named Doug to the festivities. No, really. Meanwhile, if The Bad Seeds sounded hungry anywhere else on the album, they sound fucking ravenous here; inexplicable noises appear at every turn, while the tongue in cheek backing vocals only add to the gruesome fun. Potential career highlight, much?

"More News From Nowhere" brings the album to a serene close, drifting through a beautiful chord progression, with more disembodied backing vocals from the Bad Seeds. while seemingly surveying Cave's entire career through a series of spooky characters, from the ghosts of Deanna and the Cyclops to a thinly-veiled reference to one-time beau PJ Harvey. In the album's press release, Nick Cave states that "I want to make as many records as I possibly can", but it does seem like "More News..." could have been an ideal place to stop. Still, as a whole, Dig, Lazarus, Dig!!! is far from perfect (taxi for "Moonland"), and comes across more like a signpost towards yet another phase of his ever-evolving career; if that does indeed turn out to be the case, bring on album number fifteen. Keep digging, Nick. Keep digging.

7/10

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Hope you enjoyed that, and look out for more frequent posts over the coming months. Honest, guv.

Johnny Cash died today, and you say "It's not like Elvis though, is it?"...

The Wave Pictures "Now You Are Pregnant"


I first heard about The Wave Pictures when I saw Darren Hayman play upstairs at a pub in Leeds late last year. Unlike the majority of those who hear them for the first time, I wasn't overly taken, and went downstairs to get a drink and some fresh air. If I'd stayed, I would have been subjected to the kind of jangly indiepop that I hold so dear, with a lyrical flair that tends to have me swooning by the PA system after the first witty couplet. Bully for me then, really.

Still, I couldn't shake the feeling like I needed to seek them out further, and picked up their debut Moshi Moshi 7" (their previous releases - and there are many - were mostly self-released affairs) on my last day back home in London. "We Dress Up Like Snowmen", billed as the main feature, most likely because it's a faster one, was a nice enough Modern Lovers-esque chugger, with some wonderfully nasal vocals and the odd funny line here and there ("I went to the movies...FOR THREE YEARS"). It was alright; passable stuff, but it didn't really encourage me to flip the vinyl over the examine the delights on the other side...

I'm glad I did though - "Now You Are Pregnant" is one of the most heartbreaking songs I missed out on last year. A countrified waltz-time ballad, it comes over like one of the best songs Hefner never wrote, with some exquisite wordplay thrown in for good measure ("Stacks and stacks of slacks and black platform shoes" in particular just rolls off the tongue), sung by a nasal, tone deaf Morrissey (and I mean that in the best possible way). There's a great deal of girl-based angst to be found here, but it falls on just the right side of the emo divide, and the whole thing ends with an extremely satisfying singalong that will irritate Johnny Cash fans the world over. In short, it's just plain gorgeous; a lush pop gem not to be missed.

The bell tower is ringing, and the moon, it is high...

Shane MacGowan - Lucy
Nick Cave And The Bad Seeds - Lucy


Not content with coming up with instant classics of his own, Nick Cave, as proven by his superlative 1986 album Kicking Against The Pricks, is a master interpreter of songs. Shane MacGowan is similarly an extremely talented singer when it comes to other peoples' songs (witness "The Band Played Waltzing Matilda" from the Rum, Sodomy & The Lash album), as well as his own. Get the two together for a single, and you've got one of the more interesting releases in either man's catalogue.

Rather than the a-side, the pair's fantastically kitsch cover of What A Wonderful World or Cave's competent rendition of the Pogues' classic "Rainy Night In Soho", my highlight has to be Shane's solo contribution, seemingly tucked away as an afterthought - a cover of "Lucy", another forgotten gem in the Nick Cave repertoire. MacGowan, a man who Amy Winehouse aspires to drink like, infuses any song he sings with a broken-hearted, whiskey-soaked charm that few singers can match. True, he doesn't hit all the notes (this cover in particular, from 1990, was recorded at the start of an extreme decline in his health and general well-being) but it's more the emotion he brings to the song than the technical acumen with which he sings it that impresses. Propped up (most likely in more ways than one) by the Bad Seeds, this may well be one of the last great performances MacGowan ever committed to wax.

By contrast, the Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds' version shows Cave in full crooner mode - much in the same way he sings "Rainy Night In Soho". "Lucy" was the final track on The Good Son, Cave's first album written and recorded entirely clean from heroin, which led to a glimpse at the more reflective side of Nick Cave that we know today. Not as widely regarded as established classics like "The Ship Song", the original version is more striking for its etherial bluesy outro, noticeably absent from MacGowan's cover (most likely because it was taken from a live recording, and unable to be reproduced quite so effectively). In that context, neither version could be called the definitive cut, but it's still interesting to compare the differences in performances between (as it were) the Songwriter and the Drunk.

Nick Cave And The Bad Seeds - Lucy can be found on The Good Son (Mute Records, 1990).
Shane MacGowan - Lucy can be found on Nick Cave And The Bad Seeds' B-Sides And Rarities (2006)

All you ever wanna do is drink and watch TV...

The Weakerthans - Plea From A Cat Named Virtute


First off, apologies for not being as prolific with this blog as I would have hoped - returning to uni, and having to cope with revision and exams seems, at this point in time, slightly more important than telling people what to listen to. However, this is a track I've been meaning to thrust in peoples' general direction for some time, so best to get this done now, and then service will resume as normal sometime in the next week or so, hopefully.

To be honest, my knowledge of The Weakerthans is somewhat limited, other than the fact that they're Canadian, signed to Burning Heart (a subsidiary of Epitaph, the legendary punk label), and their lyricist, one John K Samson, is a genius. The band's 2003 album Reconstruction Site is a loose song cycle about a dying hospital patient, with some off-topic interludes inserted along the way. 'Plea from a Cat Named Virtute' is one such interlude; it's sung from the perspective of a cat belonging to a manic depressive. When I first heard the track, I was astounded by just how spot on it is - the track has Virtute looking at the way his owner leads his life. While the cat doesn't fully understand his owner's motives for his actions, he still gives him advice on how to get out of the rut he's in, including "opening up the house" and "inviting the tabby two doors down". Because quite frankly, we all know that even if cats could help out their owners, they'd still put priority on getting their leg over too.

Other than that, there's little else to say about the song, other than that there's a sequel to it on the band's latest album, last year's Reunion Tour, which sees Virtute explaining why he buggered off. It features the word "loamy", and quite frankly, that's reason enough to seek it out. If you're a fan of The Hold Steady or any other literate indie rock, with emphasis on the ROCK, The Weakerthans are definitely a band worth seeking out.

I know a thing about lovers - lovers want the moon...

The Go-Betweens - Love Goes On!



16 Lovers Lane by The Go-Betweens is one of those records that strikes me in a very subtle way; I've had it for about 18 months now, give or take, and while it's not one that I make a point of digging out, or going "I MUST listen to 16 Lovers Lane", it's an album that I find myself playing at least once a month. For the past week, it's become at least once a day. I'm not really sure why, either. The two impeccable songwriters behind the band, Robert Forster and Grant McLennan (RIP) were, like all great songwriting duos, very much a ying and yang. It's embarrassing to admit that I only learnt which was which (in terms of who wrote which songs), but now I can at least say that McLennan is my favourite Go-Be. He was the "pop" one, at least, in comparison with Forster's more angular, miserable tendencies - allegedly, 16 Lovers Lane was recorded as Grant was going through a purple patch with his girlfriend, while Forster was mid-break-up - and it's his songs that have been lodged in my head a little bit more for the last seven days.

'Love Goes On!' is the opening track to the album which was to be the swansong for the band's original line-up, and it remains a striking piece of music; as catchy as the band ever got, there's nothing about it that's obvious in any way. For example, the reason it's one of Forster's favourite Go-Be's songs, is apparently because "There's nine chords in a row, which he doesn't repeat. It's so him." The song sounds like pure, undiluted Australian sunshine which, at their best, The Go-Betweens were capable of writing in their sleep. If you've never heard any Go-Betweens, do yourself a favour and download this song, if only to tide you over until you hit the record shop tomorrow to get 16 Lovers Lane.

Why should I care? I'd rather watch drying paint...

Electronic - The Patience of a Saint



Looking back on my first term at university, I've realised I've fallen into a bad way; not only am I conforming to the stereotype of being a student and falling in love with New Order (a band whose name, in conversation, I had previously followed with vomit noises), but I've befriended a group of people who actively indulge and encourage this filthy, filthy habit...that is to say, it's got to the extent where I now own an Electronic album. For those of you who don't know (or can't tell from the picture), Electronic were a part-time supergroup, comprising Johnny Marr (a man whose name, in conversation, I continue to follow with a Wayne's World-esque "We're not worthy" bow of worship) and Bernard Sumner, writer of some of the most gloriously appalling lyrics in the history recorded sound. Together, they sound...well...much like a Peter Hook-less New Order. The lyrics are better, but aside from the rather wondeful 'Gangsters', and singles 'Getting Away With It' and 'Get The Message', it's pretty pedestrian stuff.

The best track on the album, as with 'Getting Away With It', was co-written by a third love of mine - the almost perfect Pet Shop Boys*. 'The Patience of a Saint' sounds like it could have come from the PSB's most accomplished album, Behaviour, which is a masterclass in elegiac synthpop that few others have matched. The track is an understated beauty, a totally different beast from anything Sumner had previously worked on (aside from maybe 'Your Silent Face' from Power, Corruption & Lies), and more in line with Marr's minor-key miracles from his work with The Smiths. The lyrics seem to sit somewhere between Sumner's and Tennant's, with a certain clumsy but caustic charm that sounds convincing from either of them - "If I drove a faster car, I'd drive it bloody well".

Were it Just Another Song from any of the three parent bands, 'The Patience...' would not be nearly as special, but even 15 years after Electronic was first released, it still remains thrilling to hear three of the most singular talents of the 80's working together on at least one track that goes beyond their previous achievements.

A x

*On certain days, I'd probably go as far as saying they're better than The Smiths, but in some (most) quarters of the world, I'd get lynched for it...

This is shit, that is shit and being shit is great...

Malcolm Middleton - Total Belief
Ignoring all of the hype surrounding his bid for chart glory (last I heard in the midweeks, a disappointing number 26, with a bullet EDIT: a respectable 31), it's easy to forget that Malcolm Middleton is one of the most underrated songwriters of the past few years. The new mini-album Sleight of Heart is a much lower-key affair than the massive-sounding A Brighter Beat, which is a damn good thing; although it was interesting to hear him go that way, it didn't really suit him. Sleight is closer in sound to 2005's Into The Woods, which did the pop thing without being exhausting.

'Total Belief' has been a fixture of Middleton's solo shows for the whole year, and apparently wasn't good enough to make it onto A Brighter Beat (though he probably just couldn't find a way to make it a full band extravaganza with whistles, bells and a children's choir). It's far jauntier than his usual efforts, while the lyrics, as usual, straddle the fine line between candid and stupid. The track's pulled off with too much charm for it to ever lapse into self-parody, which seems to be a talent Malcolm Middleton is extremely good at. How the album will fare following the 'We're All Going To Die' pallava remains to be seen, but this is certainly not going to disappoint the faithful.


The Mountain Goats - Lovecraft In Brooklyn
The Mountain Goats - Source Decay

On top of the Middleton album, I managed to find a promo of the new Mountain Goats album. My theory on the Mountain Goats, at least as far as the newer, 4AD material is concerned, is that they alternate in quality. Tallahassee - great. We Shall All Be Healed - meh. The Sunset Tree - amazing. Get Lonely - alright. They were due another near-classic, and good Christ have they delivered. With Heretic Pride, John Darnielle may have just written his best batch of tunes since All Hail West Texas.

Lovecraft In Brooklyn is the heaviest thing on the album, and probably the heaviest track he's ever penned. It was also the one that struck me the most when I gave the album a cursory listen on the way back from work - the first Mountain Goats song you can dance to...if you aren't too busy listening to the lyrics, that is. Purists may be appalled at how much more produced it is, even than the rest of Darnielle's recent output, but it's nice to hear JD going in a slightly different direction from the introspective musings of Get Lonely. YET another of the first great albums of 2008.

Oh and Malcolm, seeing as you say you still can't get your head around them, let's see if the other track can change your mind. Source Decay is an older track from the boombox days of 2002's album 'All Hail West Texas'.


British Sea Power - No Lucifer
Aside from the absolutely glorious production, the best thing about Do You Like Rock Music?, the album this comes from, is hearing Hamilton (whose shaky, almost-twee delivery underpinned earlier tracks like 'Blackout' and 'The Land Beyond') come completely into his own with his songwriting and vocals; the three best tracks on the album are his, and he sounds far less scared of the microphone than he ever did before.

The whole LP is an epic pop monster - it merges The Decline Of...'s spiky punk temperament with Open Season's pastoral grandeur, and emerges as the most confident collection of songs the band have written yet. While Yan's songs veer into more epic territory (witness new single 'Waving Flags' or the multi-part epic 'Lights Out for Darker Skies'), Hamilton is writing the (relatively) straightforward anthems that cry out to be heard by more people. This is probably the best of the lot - hell, it's probably the best track BSP have ever done. If they don't release this as a single, they're even barmier than I thought...


Rivers Cuomo - Wanda (You're My Only Love)
It's common knowledge that Rivers Cuomo wrote at least 25 of the best songs of the 90s. His new collection of old demos, Alone, is essential for hardcore Weezer fans and innocent bystanders alike, and shows that there are plenty more waiting in the wings. This, originally intended for the soundtrack of the film Angus (no, me neither...) but pulled at the last minute), crops up on the album in the middle of the much-coveted run of demos from the aborted Songs From The Black Hole album, which appears to take attention away from the fact this song exists at all. A heartfelt countryish lament for lost love, 'Wanda' seems a little out of step with the rest of the demos on the album, which mostly sound like classic Weezer fare (aside from This Is The Way's dire excursion into synthpop and Crazy One's Elliott Smith-esque chug), but deserves a place in the hearts of any Weezer fans who didn't give it a chance the first few times they spun the record.


Longpigs - Jesus Christ
This one's really just a personal indulgence. The past few months of my life have been soundtracked by very little else but the first Longpigs album The Sun Is Often Out, and this has fast become one of my all-time favourite songs, and a compilation tape staple. It's got thrash, bite, guitars that sound like dying pigs and most importantly, a fucking fantastic chorus. TSIOO is easily one of the finest records of the 90's, and one that most bands nowadays could do with listening to before deciding whether or not they should even bother.

A x