Albums of 2013

A list of albums for 2013, in which I update this blog for the first time in 16 months, finish a full albums of the year post for the first time since 2009, and rail against twerking for ruining the year's music and dictionaries.

1. Youth Lagoon – Wondrous Bughouse

Amid comparisons to The Beatles and The Flaming Lips in GIITTV’s review of this second album from Trevor Powers, aka Youth Lagoon, I said ‘Wondrous Bughouse is a melodic, enchanting delight, a densely layered yet still lo-fi pop album that stands up against more psychedelic pop hallmarks’. Since then, its immersive atmospheres and hypnotic chord cycles have only grown ever more irresistible, with practically every listen revealing hidden depths to the songs. Be it lyrics charged with emotion hidden underneath a wash of reverb, or a wonky piano melody linking two entirely different sections of songs together, Wondrous Bughouse reveals a more ambitious, more earnest and more considered artist at work, two years on from his equally pleasing  debut The Year of Hibernation. Though it arrived straight out of leftfield, for me at least, Wondrous Bughouse was a surprising, unique and unrivalled delight.

2. Everything Everything – Arc

Everything Everything’s second album will do well to make it high up in the end of year lists in 2013; coming as it did just two weeks into the year, Arc’s quality remained a high bar across 2013, yet it seems as though many other sources have forgotten about it. Forgotten, for instance, how the band’s subtle evolution had given their excitable indie ideas more time and space to breathe, how the vocals had moved to the centre of songs without ever hiding the talents of the band as musicians and songwriters. The record massively impressed as a result of this progression: Arc saw the four piece let brilliant pop hooks – on Kemosabe, Don’t Try and Duet to name three – temper their fondness for quirky, intricate songwriting; though the likes of Undrowned and Cough Cough still delivered that creativity in spades. That Everything Everything ended the year touring Europe with Foals – who had their own massive success with Holy Fire this year – perhaps indicates how their stock has risen this year, but it’s without doubt that Arc deserves to be remembered in its own right for its impact throughout 2013.

3. Fuck Buttons – Slow Focus

Andrew Hung and Benjamin Power of Fuck Buttons have had quite the 18 months. As the London Olympics arrived last summer, it was the duo’s Surf Solar that accompanied the very first opening television sequence (while the appropriately named Olympians featured prominently during the Games). This summer, Fuck Buttons headlined the Park Stage at Glastonbury, just before releasing their third album to widespread acclaim. It was well deserved: Slow Focus sees the pair relax the abrasive palette that epitomised their debut, but it also does away with the euphoric and melodic dance elements of their follow up, Tarot Sport. The result is something yet again arresting, challenging and rewarding: rhythms, actual beats play a more central role on Slow Focus, and many of the songs seem to unfurl in long, menacing movements, relentlessly growing until they become close to awe-inspiring. It’s not to say the third album is devoid of melody entirely, but the focus is very much on landscapes, the bigger picture. The bigger picture for Fuck Buttons is just how good a year 2013 has been, and now, Slow Focus has put them on the verge of something massive.

4. Dutch Uncles – Out of Touch in the Wild

Like Everything Everything, Dutch Uncles hail from the north west; like Everything Everything, this release came early in 2013; and perhaps most similarly – certainly most importantly – Dutch Uncles’ Out of Touch in the Wild is a frenetic tour through complex stuttering rhythms, spiky off-beat instrumentation and wandering melodies. Bouncy first single ‘Fester’, for instance, shoots marimba notes back and forth between stabs of bass guitar, while ‘Flexxin’ nods towards Field Music in its use of chirpy violins and stomping drums. But aside from those singles, there are plenty of other standouts: ‘Bellio’ enchants with its harmonies, and the crashing drums and siren synths of ‘Nometo’ signal the album’s boldest moment. Its sprawling musical ideas are marshalled by clinically tight time-keeping , perhaps more like the juxtaposing creativity you might associate with a debut (such as Everything Everything’s Man Alive), yet this is Dutch Uncles’ third album. That is no criticism though: Out of Touch in the Wild is a big success because its creators master that schizophrenic sound deliberately and naturally, and few albums this year delivered such an exhilarating mix to so great an effect.

5. MGMT – MGMT

One wonders whether MGMT will ever make an album that lays bare their true intentions and motivations. Accused of being deliberately obtuse on Congratulations, their second album, after almost apologetically releasing two of the best loved crossover hits of the mid 00s from their first,  the duo claimed it was Congratulations’ folk psychedelia-aping sound, and not the synth-led pop motifs of Oracular Spectacular, that was the ‘real MGMT’. Yet if that is so, it is interesting that album three – self-titled, no less – sees that sound fade underneath an influx of musical quirks and murkier atmospheres. Certainly, MGMT is their most challenging LP yet: there’s very little to grasp hold of on first listen, save perhaps for the swaying tune of ‘Plenty of Girls in the Sea’. But give it a chance, for all of the 10 tracks contain at least something worth going back for. ‘A Good Sadness’ is Pink Floyd-esque, the sadness of the title haunting you through inescapable vocals, while ‘I Love You Too, Death’ is an eerie song that spends five minutes coming into focus from an impenetrable blur. If that sounds a difficult listen, by the end you realise it’s all the more worth it. And that sums up MGMT as an album: it is only afterwards you realise that, having absorbed it, evasive unnameable moments are drawing you towards it again to recapture a feeling you almost hadn’t noticed. Frustratingly clever, surprisingly memorable: that, at least, is something that has always been true of MGMT.

6. Laura Marling – Once I Was an Eagle

Laura Marling gives the impression of having been born old. At 18, her debut Alas I Cannot Swim addressed themes like loss, fear, heartache and sex with the acuity of someone twice her age; that was before taking into account her sublime songwriting ability that seemed to come effortlessly while others strove to get even close.  On the two albums in between that debut and Once I Was an Eagle, Marling has dealt with womanhood, patriarchy and family with the searing aplomb of a celebrated wordsmith, while broadening her musical palette and darkening her soul with choice of instruments and arrangements. It comes as some surprise, then, that for the most part on ...Eagle she has done away with the choirs, strings and pianos that had become integral to albums two and three, and returned to a simpler set up more akin to her early sound; indeed the initial four songs here are almost solely Marling murmuring intimately over her guitar in a spellbinding acoustic run of songs. And, while a swelling of instruments does bolster the central trio of Master Hunter, Little Love Caster and Devil’s Resting Place, the album retains that sense of intimacy throughout as Marling puts her trust in her acoustic guitar to lead the songs, and leaves plenty of space for her graceful storytelling to weave its magic. The stories concern putting Marling’s past to bed, or at least accepting it, and in dealing with it on Once I Was an Eagle she sounds at her most naked and convincing. If (coinciding with her recent move to Los Angeles) this album does mark an end of an era for the 23 year old, it does so as her boldest statement to date.

7. Los Campesinos! – No Blues

Each time Los Campesinos! release an album, each time it feels like ‘this is the one’ that will see them finally step into a limelight that has been waiting since Hold On Now, Youngster arrived way back in 2008. If ’08 doesn’t seem that long ago, for LC! and their fans it almost feels a different lifetime. Their development, through five albums in five years, has been like one of those word puzzles where you change one letter in a word to make a new word, change one letter in that word to make another one, and so on until you end up at a word that seems impossible it could ever relate to the one you started with – yet it only required a consecutive series of minor changes. That’s how the Campesinos’ back catalogue fits together: each new album a strengthening, a step up from the last; an acknowledgement of its predecessor but an identity of its own. Which is why No Blues seems such a powerful album compared to that twee pop debut just five years ago: the simple joy of music and words combine perfectly on 10 occasions to form 10 unique wholes, a tale, a heartbreak, lovers lost and lusted after, defeat and defiance in its face; it’s the familiar Los Campesinos! themes, but on No Blues it’s the most personal they’ve ever sounded. At the same time, this is the biggest this band have ever sounded, each of the tracks on No Blues produced masterfully to complement the record’s overall feel that this is a real force to be reckoned with. “There is no blues that can sound quite as heartfelt as mine” laments Gareth, and faced with the evidence on this triumphant fifth album, you’d be hard pressed to disagree.

8. Savages – Silence Yourself

Twelve months ago, Savages’ single Husbands was the most exciting sound going. A gasping, tearing two and a half minute tornado that promised something almost too good to properly put into words: a snarling all-woman post-punk outfit able to make guitar music in the 21^st century sound necessary again. Though it recalled Joy Division, Siouxsie Soux and others, with Husbands they really threw down a marker in that no one in the UK was making music quite like it. On their full length record, Savages made good on that promise: an 11-track debut whose whole was a greater sum of its bared bones and bared soul parts. The bitterness in the vocals and uneasy guitar lines produce contrastingly frosty and vociferous atmospheres that jar, perhaps purposely, but in doing so they light up Silence Yourself with moments of unrestrained emotion. Accentuated by swaggering bass lines and ferocious drumming, the songs disturb and linger, but most of all, leave the listener without doubt that Savages are here to be heard. Silence Yourself will, rightly, echo through British music for years to come.

9. Villagers – {Awayland}

Becoming a Jackal, the 2010 debut record unveiled by Conor O’Brien, the man behind Villagers, received rave reviews, led to sell out tours and support slots with Elbow; and heaped expectation upon the shoulders of the slight Irishman with a mystical way with stories and a mournful timbre to his guitar. {Awayland}, arriving almost three years on, is certainly a departure: away from the acoustic sound of that first album, electronic influences pepper the 11 tracks here, to particularly great effect on The Waves, which screeches to a crashing, dissonant crescendo. It’s a feature of several of the tracks, that sense of growing power from simpler beginnings, and the musicians who make up the Villagers band come to the fore much more frequently on this record too, at points where the noise threatens to overspill the confines of the song. But it’s not noise for noise’s sake: it’s the sound of a songwriter and band more confident, wiser and happier to experiment, a logical but imaginative reinvention that made {Awayland} one of 2013’s best records, and suggests Villagers can go almost anywhere from here.  

10. The Knife – Shaking the Habitual

Shaking the Habitual could have been one of 2013’s “massive fails”. Seven years since The Knife’s celebrated Silent Shout, and with Karin Dreijer Andersson’s (admittedly excellent) solo album as Fever Ray the only real output of note in between, returning with a 90-minute album that relies on distorted vocals and clanging percussion, often dodges conventional melody and regularly meanders into dark, electro alleyways with no guarantee of remerging into the light might have been seen as pushing your luck in an age where three-minute pop songs with videos of jiggling naked girls (Cyrus, Thicke, Allen) is what makes the music industry go round. No matter – The Knife did it anyway. Shaking the Habitual is more than challenging, being abrasive in sound and political in theme; half the time almost too frustrating to bother with, the other half too enthralling to ignore. For that alone, it deserves end of year recognition, but so too do the eventual rewards on offer: A Cherry on Top, when you get past the industrial noises, sounds immensely sad; Full of Fire is menacing and mesmerising; and Wrap Your Arms Around Me is, in the duo’s own way, a heartwarming love letter. In the end though, the stubborn manner in which this politically charged album has been conceived, created and released took people aback, and those that can get through it may well only do so once or twice. But to get this album out there and enjoyed at all is an achievement of its own, and if we can’t also celebrate that, when ‘twerking’ ends 2013 as an entry in the Oxford English dictionary, then we might as well start up the wrecking balls and bring the whole sorry state of pop music crashing down for good.

Tracks of the year:

1. John Grant - GMF http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ekFWPsXXcg0
2. Midlake - Antiphone http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vyzs9_Oifik
3. TV on the Radio - Mercy http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P0Ji2sxk0Uc
4. Arcade Fire - Reflektor http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7E0fVfectDo
5. The Pixies - Bagboy http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lGdSYPh5_BI
6. Jagwar Ma - The Throw http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1vU6a7Haw78
7. Lorde - Royals http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LFasFq4GJYM
8. Chvrches - The Mother We Share http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_mTRvJ9fugM
9. Hockeysmith - Let's Bang http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZxlzlHUFmlI
10. Lady Gaga - Applause http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pco91kroVgQ

Andy Murray banishes 76 years of hurt with US Open triumph

In the end, after 76 years of increasingly desperate hope, despairing hope that had begun to border on the hysterical, only the most hardy few of Brits were still watching, praying, keeping up with the sport in New York as the clock passed 2am GMT and the 2012 US Open final threatened to roll into a sixth hour. In the end, the final's four hours and fifty-four minutes, which will have felt like a lifetime to Andy Murray, his team, his family and supporters, were nothing compared to the decades of history that had weighed ever heavier on the Scotsman's shoulders as he progressed surely but achingly slowly on his trajectory to become the first British Grand Slam winner in three quarters of a century. 

For that yawning chasm of time, the record books simply noted the lack of a British male taking home any of tennis's biggest prizes. But though the five-set final between Andy Murray and Novak Djokovic was long, epic even, the result instantly swatted away the many years of nagging doubts, the false hopes, the also-rans, the just falling short, all of that was gone at a stroke. By becoming Britain's first major winner since Fred Perry in 1936, Andy Murray banished the past and erased the need for that statistic to ever matter for the future of his career.

Before the final had even begun, Great Britain had enjoyed an incredible, opulent summer of sport, dominated quite rightly by the achievements of the GB Olympic and Paralympic athletes, with victories and success stories of sporting ability and determination that have led many to laud 2012 as the best year for British sport since 1966 (it is, quite arguably, far greater). The London 2012 heroics overshadow astonishing achievements such as a British Tour-de-France winner and Rory McIlroy's second career major, while there may still be a British Formula One champion before the year is over.

And yet. Has any British sportsperson had quite the 2012 that Andy Murray has?* He reached two Grand Slam finals, winning one, a got to a semi final and a quarter final in the other two Slams. He responded to the gut-wrenching Wimbledon final defeat against Roger Federer by winning an Olympic gold medal just weeks later, against the same opponent upon the very same grass. That medal gave him the confidence to suggest that he could beat the best when it mattered, something which had been hinted at when he had break points to serve for the match in a gladiatorial Australian Open semi-final with Novak Djokovic in January, and again when he took a set off Federer at Wimbledon in June. 

But despite the positives, both of those tournaments still ended in heartbreak, a by now familiar sight of the Brit failing just short (Murray having made the semi finals or final of eight of his previous 11 majors). Indeed, this year's Wimbledon showed how close he was to winning a Grand Slam, but as cruel as it was hopeful, with four defeats in four Slam finals, it also gave rise to more doubts: was it simply beyond him, in a time of Federer, Nadal and Djokovic, to break the duck, to lay the ghost of Fred Perry to rest, to go where Tim Henman had occasionally threatened to tread, and win a major? 

There is no doubt that Federer is one of the greatest three players of all time, and yet in the same era, Nadal and Djokovic are two players who can go toe to toe with him. Murray's increasingly competitive matches against these three titans over the last two years has shown he too was able to win against the highest calibre of opponent - but his performances, while pointing towards potential Grand Slam success, simply added to a weight of expectation so great it was matched only by the sheer awesome magnitude of the obstacles in the way. 

But at the US Open, the final Slam of 2012, nurtured carefully and skilfully by Ivan Lendl, and having learned the toughest and most valuable of lessons from his career highs and lows, Andy Murray, the best returner in the game and perhaps, with Nadal's injury problems, the fittest too, finally delivered the result his whole career had been building up to, the result many had predicted but had begun to doubt, something British supporters had dared to dream about, then dared to hope for without belief: a result that makes 1936 an almost meaningless year for British tennis, now that 2012 is the year Andy Murray won his first Grand Slam.

And it is his first - when he broke into the top 10, years ago, the question was: can Murray win a Grand Slam? After reaching his first Slam final in 2010, the question was: when would Murray win a Grand Slam? After losing his fourth Slam final in 2012, the question was: will Murray ever win a Grand Slam? Now, only one question remains. Not if, not when, but: how many? 

*Murray, as you've probably guessed by now, would be my choice for BBC Sports Personality of the Year

Eighteen extraordinary months on Tyneside

As Newcastle occupy fifth place in the Premier League after an astonishingly accomplished season, with European football a very likely possibility next year, I thought I would revisit a blog I wrote for football website Two Footed Tackle in December 2010, on Alan Pardew's appointment as Newcastle manager. While all around were decrying Mike Ashley the Newcastle chairman, and mourning the loss of Chris Hughton from the Premier League, I instead wrote - why not give Pardew a chance?

(Originally posted here)

All we're saying is give Pards a chance 
(15 December 2010)

On the 30th anniversary of John Lennon’s death, two days after the untimely sacking of Chris Hughton to vehement disapproval across English football, Alan Pardew became the favourite in a short race to the Newcastle United manager post. A day later, the ink on Pardew’s gargantuan contract was dry. Seen as a poisoned chalice by many, Pardew admitted in his opening press conference that some of his peers had labelled him ‘mad’ to take a position vacated eight times in six years, under the shadow of one of the most ignominious managerial dismissals in recent seasons.

Eventually, of course, someone had to dance on Hughton’s grave, and many people were confused that it was Pardew who has been given the opportunity.

But what choice did he have? Pardew is a manager, like Newcastle are a team, with ambitions that reside with best of them. He does not doubt his own ability to manage at this level and, it appears, from the length of his new contract (or his ability to negotiate such a strong deal at least) neither does Mike Ashley.

Pardew does have previous here: after taking West Ham back to football’s top table in 2005, he led them to a respectable ninth and FA Cup final the following season. It is a situation not altogether unfamiliar to that in which Newcastle find themselves – though with respect to the Hammers, the opportunity for greater things is richer this time around.

Furthermore, he has something to prove. He left West Ham under a cloud, although his legacy has ultimately been enough to see the Hammers maintain their Premier League status since. However, Pardew is earning a reputation as a difficult character, and commentators point to his record of sackings – three out of his last three positions.

Pardew has, though, shown considerable dignity and honesty since joining the club. “Chris Hughton is very, very unfortunate not to be sitting here discussing this win,” he said, following Newcastle’s fine 3-1 defeat of Liverpool. After all, he of all out-of-work managers prior to last weekend will have empathised most with Hughton, having been dismissed three league games into Southampton’s 2010/11 season, a day after a 4-0 win and off the back of a promising league campaign and trophy-winning season.

It is Pardew’s frankness, a tendency not to pull any punches, that lends him a hint of arrogance, which too often seems to rub people up the wrong way – players, colleagues and superiors alike. Alternatively, having seen Pardew manage my club first hand and do several media appearances, it is becoming of a man simply not prepared to mince words, a man who cuts through the crap and evaluates himself and his charges as honestly and clearly as possible.

That might be a tough transition for a club who are used to the more considered opinions of Hughton and, further back, Alan Shearer, Kevin Keegan and Sir Bobby Robson, and might cross Pardew off the Christmas card lists of one or two players. But for others reeling from the loss of a perfectly good manager – particularly the English spine of the side, from Steven Taylor through Kevin Nolan and Joey Barton to Andy Carroll – Pardew’s no-nonsense style and disregard for sentimentality might be just the tonic for a side capable of both winning and losing 5-1.

For all the headline-grabbing results Newcastle have pulled off so far this season – and there have been many – it probably doesn’t hurt to point out home defeats to Blackburn Rovers and Stoke City, too. Pardew may be the man to ensure the rest of the season passes smoothly, putting on hold for the moment the conveyor belt of sensational events at St. James’s Park since Ashley took over.

By beating Liverpool, Pardew delivered the perfect start, ensuring that the fans’ immediate disgust stays trained on the board. They do not have any particular animosity towards Pardew, of course – he can hardly apologise for stepping into Hughton’s shoes – and if he can keep a low profile without undoing much of his predecessor’s good work, he shouldn’t be in any immediate danger. It wouldn’t take long for that to change, however.

But for all the pros and cons that can be made for Pardew’s appointment, for neutrals and for football it would be great to see a manager stuck by, a lengthy contract adhered to (by both sides), and patience, support and stability reign over a football club.

Too often now, managers go like resigning MPs, surface wounds for deeper illnesses. Roy Hodgson and Gerard Houllier have already experienced early feelings of discontent in their respective fledgling Liverpool and Aston Villa careers, and with bookies slashing odds on Pardew being the next managerial sacking, his extended stay in the Newcastle hotseat as they develop into a top six club once again would be the light at the end of a long tunnel. You might say I’m a dreamer. All I’m saying is, give Pardew a chance.

Los Campesinos! live @ Electric Ballrooms, Camden

Los Campesinos! @ Electric Ballrooms, Camden

22 March 2012

Despite having existed for the best part of six years, Los Campesinos! have become something of a rarity in these times. They were one of the original ‘internet hype’ bands in 2006-07, back when online buzz around a band really felt genuine – not now, when any old song can go viral in a day via Facebook and YouTube – back when ‘You! Me! Dancing!’ on MySpace made you dizzy with the promise in its exuberant, bouncy pop sound with fuzzy guitar scrawls all over it. They’re rare because if they were unsigned now, you’d wager the chances of people caring in six months would be slim, never mind six years. They’re rare because since they formed they’ve amassed some 45+ songs across four brilliant albums*, yet they’re still something of an insider band, a band you have to seek out, rather than a band that come to you via seemingly omnipotent media messages.

(*To me, We Are Beautiful We Are Doomed must be a second album, since it is 10 songs long and contains surely their best opening track to date).

They’re rare, too, because they realise this and appear to have wry and pragmatic self-deprecation in spades: I can think of no other band around today who, after writing four LPs in six years, would introduce their breakthrough track from the previous decade by all cheerfully clinking bottles of Budweiser – the beer ‘You! Me! Dancing!’ helped advertise in a commercial at the end of 2010 and into 2011. Yes, of course that sort of deal is great news for a band that spent their first years gigging in between writing dissertations and taking exams, but there’s a certain irony in that their breakthrough song is only recently standing up on its own merit, years later.

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Capello leaves England post with reputation intact, but the FA have done too much, too late

As Rafa Benitez once said, 'I want to talk about facts'.

Fact 1. Fabio Capello has the highest win percentage of any post-war England manager (66.7%).

Fact 2. Fabio Capello lost just one major tournament qualifier, in 18 games, leading England to World Cup 2010 and Euro 2012, both times as group winners.

Fact 3. Fabio Capello has won a domestic league title at every club he has managed (Real Madrid, Roma, Juventus, Milan).

But today, the English Football Association concluded their bumbling and conceited handling of John Terry's racism allegations by forcing Capello into a position where he felt he had no choice but to resign.

Let's get that fact straight: the manager who has led England to qualify undefeated for this summer's European Championships has had to resign, four months before the tournament.

To discuss the Terry saga quickly: the FA were wrong to strip him of the England captaincy. Terry was accused of racist remarks in October 2011, and charged in December 2011. He pleaded not guilty last week, and the case was adjourned until July this year - after Euro 2012. This is when the FA decided to take matters into their own hands.

Why the FA were wrong to do so is simple. John Terry's racism accusations have never disappeared from view since the allegations were made, and they presented no more of a problem to England and the FA right now than at any point since allegedly taking place - and let's not forget that Terry has already captained England in that time - yet the FA decided that since the case would now be hanging over Terry during the tournament (if he was selected), he should be removed from the spotlight by having the captaincy taken from him.

This is the wrong decision, and Capello's frustration is more than reasonable.

He believed that John Terry should not be punished for something he is not currently guilty of. Yes, he faces criminal charges, but he is not, at this moment (and won't be come Euro 2012), a criminal. Steven Gerrard, for example, was charged with affray in 2008 after punching a man in a bar and played in four England games while still accused, before eventually being acquitted.

Compared to the other recent racism charge, John Terry's situation differs from the Suarez-Evra case because in that instance, the case was always a matter for the FA: it was reported by the game's referee to the association and they dealt with it as a football matter. The allegations against Terry were made by a member of the public to the police, have been dealt with by the Crown Prosecution Service, and have therefore never been a matter that the FA have needed to make a ruling on. Their decision over the England football team captaincy would have been acceptable in the immediate aftermath of the allegations, but they are not a legitimate excuse three and a half months on.

That Capello didn't agree with the FA is just one problem. As manager of the England team, for such a crucial decision affecting his squad and the dressing room to be taken out of his hands, without consultation, and to be done so publicly, undermines his position. It displays on the FA's part a complete lack of communication with Capello, or even the willingness to discuss the matter. And it shows their total misjudgement that by acting at the wrong time, and with too much force, they have ousted a manager from his position just 119 days before the biggest international tournament for two years.

Fabio Capello's resignation, therefore, is understandable; perhaps even admirable. He has never quite been at ease with the English media's disgustingly insatiable appetite for scandal and carnage: witness the deliberate trapping of Sven Goran Eriksson by the News of the World as an example of how this country likes to set up its own for a fall, and the relentless abuse Steve McLaren received (in some cases justifiably) throughout his tenure as manager. And Capello has never quite understood why results such as those he has delivered in tournament qualification - 14 wins out of 18 - doesn't appease the English press's criticisms.

(This is a sports press who have idolised a stray cat for running on to a football pitch.)

But the England manager's job is a poisoned chalice: it is the most revered position within the most hallowed sport in a country that still kids itself it should be winning major honours in international football, when the reality is that at least seven nations around the world are miles ahead of England, and the chasing pack are getting closer to us than we are to the top nations.

Against these unrealistic expectations, Capello's job had been compounded by England's pool of talent being incredibly thin: where Spain has a second XI that could compete with the world's top nations, England arguably has less than five world class players to call upon.

It is doubtful, then, that Capello would have been given a fair and respectful send off after the European Championships, even before this debacle. We'll never get a chance to find out, and success certainly won't happen now, no matter who is appointed.

With no captain, no manager, no star players and four months until the tournament begins, the Football Association might think they have done the right thing, but when Euro 2012 comes to an end, and John Terry heads to court, it will be Fabio Capello, not the FA, who will look back on today's events with relief.

2011 in 12 words; 2012 in 12 bands

This is one of those new year's blogs. One of my loose resolutions is to start writing for pleasure (clearly I'm going to have to do it more often if I'm going to get away with phrases like 'loose resolutions'), and while there's barely 150 words here, it's a start at least.

2011 in 12 words
January: Job
February: Flat
March: Elbow
April: Carpet
May: BBQs
June: Tour
July: Turkey
August: Bournemouth/(Cornwall)
September: Run
October: Twenty-six
November: Campervan
December: Parties

2012 in 12 bands:
The band everyone should love by now - Los Campesinos!
The band you always remember you love - The Shins
The band who said they'd never reform - At The Drive-in
The band you tell people at parties you're into - Django Django
The band you've never heard of - Pengillys
The band who are actually really good at folk music - The Civil Wars
The band whose song drops and you go crazy - Niki and the Dove
The band who are the newest (and best) 'we're a proper band' band - Dry the River
The band where you have to believe the hype (ok, solo artist) - Lana del Rey
The band you JUST WANT to be utterly brilliant again - Bloc Party
The band whose 'good song' really is - Friends
The band who I will properly discover this year - Real Estate

The Spotify playlist

LIVE: Bombay Bicycle Club, Brixton Academy, 19 October 2011

There are points on Bombay Bicycle Club’s second album, ‘Flaws‘, where the band could quite easily be mistaken for a singer-songrwiter project. Less than a year on from their distorted guitar led debut, the acoustic melancholy of album number two was as far removed as it was possible to get from the first LP without doing a full on ‘Kid A‘, and the only thing more surprising than the new sound was the speed at which it had arrived.

But when Bombay Bicycle Club approach the end of their euphoric Brixton show, the 16th and final date of their largest ever UK tour and a homecoming of sorts for the four young north Londoners, they have 11 people on stage: the band themselves, who tonight are grown to a six-piece by vocalist (and burgeoning solo artist in her own right) Lucy Rose and multi-instrumentalist Louis Bhose – starring particularly on banjo during ‘Ivy & Gold’ – two brass players and three backing vocalists, courtesy of members of earlier support act Dry The River.

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Ten for '10, pt. 1

Though it was officially the first year of a new decade, 2010 somehow felt more a by-product of the previous 10 years than the dawning of some fresh new age. For while there were a series of original and exciting début albums that flirted with wider acclaim, the majority of plaudits in 2010 went to artists returning with second, third or fourth efforts (Vampire Weekend, The National, Arcade Fire, Laura Marling, Kanye West, LCD Soundsystem...).

In some ways this is no bad thing; given the lifespan of a new band at the moment is akin to that of a mayfly, that any of the last decade's popular acts are earning considerable recognition now they're further on in their careers offers at least some suggestion that music in the digital era isn't entirely fucked.

After contributing my nominations to GodisintheTV's end of year poll, my much belated annual review of the year's albums goes into a little more depth on the best music 2010 had to offer.

1. Villagers - Becoming A Jackal
12 months ago, Conor O'Brien was the lead singer of the little known, and defunct, Irish indie outfit The Immediate. One breathtaking appearance on Later... Live With Jools Holland last April changed all that overnight. Outshining Paul Weller, Hot Chip and Gogol Bordello was no mean feat, but he did it with just his trusty guitar, his earnest voice and the heartbreaking lyrics to 'The Meaning of the Ritual'. It was that rare thing: a truly spellbinding piece of television.

The experience listening to Becoming A Jackal upon its release a month later was much the same; 11 songs of heartfelt intensity, built on delicate guitar arrangements and often augmented by sumptuous string parts and atmospheric percussion. Always at the fore, however, was O'Brien's keening vocal, flitting between a menacing mutter on 'I Saw the Dead' to the rueful lament on 'The Meaning of the Ritual' and rousing cries of 'That Day'. His distinctive voice dispatched a series of arresting lyrics, tales vivid with imagery and shimmering with poignancy.

In the end, though, there's little that can be written to do absolute justice to the uniquely affecting album Conor O'Brien released this year as his Villagers début. Now having spent six months touring the LP to awestruck reviews, his is a star that is resolutely rising, and 2010 was the year that all who discovered Villagers set sail on his ship of promises.

2. Arcade Fire - The Suburbs
Had it not been for Villagers' unique effort, in fact, ordinarily Arcade Fire's third album could well have been been my number one. With both 2005's Funeral and its magnificent follow up Neon Bible heralded as defining albums of the last decade, their track record was only made more immaculate with the 16 songs of The Suburbs; a quality of music that moved the BBC reviewer to cause something of a stir when he proclaimed it was 'better than OK Computer'.

Whatever it might be better than (or not), it was certainly another paradigm shift from the Canadian crew into territory that, at first, had listeners confounded. Here was a band who, having spent much of their grandiose second album railing against the ills of the modern world, were reverting to the simpler loss of childhood pleasures.

After repeated plays though, it made sense - of course - as each of the songs gave up their individual treasures. The pounding 'Ready to Start' and 'Month of May' were joyously instant single material; 'City With No Children In' and 'Empty Room' were The Suburbs's anthemic calls to arms; while the trio of 'Suburban War', 'Deep Blue' and 'We Used to Wait' towards the album's end saw Arcade Fire at their intense, majestic best. Even the title track's unexpected piano jaunt soon gave way to a haunting, unforgettable chorus.

But it was the group's two-part crescendo 'Sprawl I & II' - half morose waltz, half quite brilliant Abba-ish Europop - that finished The Suburbs in the style it deserved. Worlds apart sonically, 'Sprawl I & II' was nevertheless representative of the album as a whole: where Arcade Fire's outstanding first two records may seem more cohesive units, it's the individual songs, melodies and more immediate arrangements of The Suburbs's wistful, 65 minutes of childhood longing that ultimately made it their strongest, and most necessary, long player yet.

3. Rolo Tomassi - Cosmology
Two years ago, this Sheffield five-piece were barely on my radar when, as teenagers, they released the mind-melting hardcore début album Hysterics. After seeing them tour the album in 2009, however, their difficult screamcore/math-rock/jazz-metal hybrid began to make sense, even though it continued to be an assault on the ears at loud volumes. Another year on, and their sophomore release has racked up more plays on my MP3 player than any other album I own.

Back then, the prodigiously talented band demonstrated a dizzying ability and creative scope that surpassed their years - and peers - to ignite one of the most exciting releases of 2008. Its only real fault was in the way the juxtaposing elements were crammed together over the album's course, suggesting youthful exuberance at the expense of musical direction.

Now, all concerns have been washed away. Rolo Tomassi have retained the unrepentant ferocity that blew Hysterics apart, but in 2010, the quintet have produced an album that utilises this force most effectively: in short, sharp barrages of abrasive noise. Indeed, the first six songs of this 10-song LP clock in at less than 15 minutes; the visceral 'House House Casanova' and 'Unromance' are almost as lightning quick in length as the pummelling guitar riff brilliance of Joe Nicholson - who I can only laud highly enough by quoting the NME review: "...as a young musician his ability as both a player and songwriter is unbelievable".

But it was during Cosmology's second half, when Rolo Tomassi revisit the slower and more readily melodic soundscapes they flirted with on Hysterics (especially 'Fantasia'), that the album turns from a fascinating work into an unforgettable one. The contrapuntal duo of 'Kasia' and 'Sakia', brimming with spiralling guitar work, mixes Eva Spence's angelic singing voice with her brutish screaming to mesmerizing effect - I defy anyone to listen to the latter song and not recall her line "Mirror mirror on the wall/I'm a liability if there ever was one" days later. 'Tongue in Chic' presents the band's most complete five minutes to date, with a frenzied intro not unlike The Mars Volta's Take The Veil, Cerpin Taxt balanced against an almost overwhelming wash of guitars and hypnotic vocal cycle.

When the title track's combination of displaced vocals, off-kilter time signatures, a guitar solo and a crashing instrumental outro of intergalactic proportions brings Cosmology to a close, the full effect of Rolo Tomassi's second album takes a moment to sink in. When it does, the crux of the issue is this: for such a young band, their transition from hardcore aggressors to masterly and innovatively ferocious songwriters in 2010 was little short of astounding. Cosmology was an achievement that wrestled hardcore from its moorings and crossed spectacular new frontiers for the genre.

4. Everything Everything - Man Alive
It was only after a chance meeting - I happened to be visiting HMV in Oxford Street one lunchtime when the band were doing a 1pm in-store live session - that I even gave Everything Everything a second glance this year. It was on the strength of the two and a half songs I heard then that I bought Man Alive - and discovered it to be perhaps the most enjoyable listen of any album this year.

Vocalist Jonathan Higgs's staccato/falsetto may take some patience at first, but it soon mattered little with each song so brilliantly forged. Opener and previous single 'MY KZ, YR BF' (My keys, your boyfriend) is all spangly R'n'B-stealing bombast, ingenuously soundtracking the awkward moment of one relationship ending for another's beginning. Newly re-released single 'Photoshop Handsome' pitched synth stabs, pattering drums and ringing guitars under a video-game eulogy, while 'Schoolin'' warps expectations by being another R'n'B throwback brushed with funked-up art-rock.

The latter song's difficulty to define is indicative of Man Alive as a whole, not least when 'Final Form', the album's glittering, slow-burning mull over life and death happened to contain the best chorus of the record.

Album reviews often talk about 'single material', and Man Alive was one of those rare, and in this age almost unnecessary, albums where the majority of songs were strong enough to be potential singles. But unusually, this made Everything Everything's first album so much more a sum of its parts; a collection of irresistibly exciting and creative songs that simply outshone pretty much every other 'indie' début in 2010.

5. Foals - Total Life Forever
Foals had the unusual success of actually delivering copiously on early hype back in 2008 when their first album Antidotes collected the spiky electro promise of 'Hummer' and 'Balloons' into an album of angular, pulsing tunes that dominated end of year lists.

Expectation this year, then, was high, but musically, Total Life Forever was a very different beast, more out of necessity than anything: Foals' 2010 would have been very disappointing if they had simply made Antidotes pt. 2. True, they employed a similar use of minimal clean guitar lines in sound, but in scope, their follow up was a deeper, more fervent affair, with tracks building over their not inconsiderable lengths into overwhelming waves of sound.

Lead single 'Spanish Sahara' spent seven minutes drawing blood from its whispered beginning, culminating in one of the defining choruses of this year, Yannis intoning, I'm the fury in your head/I'm the fury in your bed', but across the album other highlights gleamed: 'Miami' was Foals' most straightforward indie rock song to date, 'Black Gold' and 'Alabaster' revelled in their rumbling, moody atmospheres, and second single 'This Orient' bounced with a lightness of energy that stood out among the eloquent sonic weight around it.

Total Life Forever was the sound of an artist deliberately turning their back on earlier success and setting about creating an ambitious record that would change people's opinions of the band. That it received so much critical acclaim and further raised Foals' stock in British music in 2010 was merely verification of that ambition being scaled.

Underestimating Social Media; a recipe for disaster

Ten days ago, a phenomenal wave of anger surged through the internet thanks to social networks and media sites, vilifying the unknown Western New England-based Cooks Source Magazine for its blatant and unapologetic copyright infringement - which had been uncovered by a blogger whose work had been stolen to go into October's issue.

I wrote about this for Birddog here. Not only was the journalistic crime obvious and pretty unforgivable yet flippantly denied, but it showed the power of social media and the internet in bringing brands to justice - if that justice now seems in hindsight a little severe.

In the interests of fairness, too, the editor responsible finally broke her silence here. But it's a rather biased woe-is-me tale; which perhaps isn't surprising given how badly the magazine's "apology" that sits on their website does its job.

Villagers, live at Scala - 5 October 2010

London’s Scala boasts a colourful history as both a cinema and live venue. Now one of the capital’s most coveted locations, its vaguely steeping stalls and balconies and close standing area seem to bear down on the stage almost as intently as the spotlights above.

They fall first on Welsh songstress Cate Le Bon and her three compadres, who flit around the cramped stage, swapping locations and instruments like good friends exchanging playing cards. Cate Le Bon initially caught the eye as vocalist on Neon Neon’s debut single, ‘I Lust You’, resulting in her year-long tour with the band. Now forging her solo path, Scala sees her deliver a quaint performance, in which Cate’s syrupy but dextrous tones float and soar over her mix of rough-edged guitars and woozy organs, just about winning over a rather cooler-than-thou audience with her bursts of heady folk: warm applause sends the Welsh songwriter on her way.

The real spotlight tonight, though, is all on one man, Conor O’Brien. The face behind the misleading Villagers moniker... more

Blogger's block

It's been a day short of three months since I last blogged depressingly about England's world cup exit. Happily, I have managed to put some words into comprehensible sentences in my spangly new job as Content Editor for Birddog B2B.

I've managed three blogs for Birddog in six weeks or so, which is not a terrible ratio, but it's allowed me to try my hand(s) at pretending to do marketing/brand type posts. Anyway, here they are:

What's in a name?
Location, Location, Location
Birdjob!

That last one looks faintly lewd but I can assure you, disappointingly, it's not.

Have a read and if you're of the media, marketing, B2B or blogging disposition, comment.

K THX BAI

The morning after the 44 years before

It was probably with relief, more than anything, that England fans reacted to the final whistle - and final nail in England's sorry World Cup 2010 coffin - as the gut-wrenching score was crystallised in memory and in history at 4:45pm on Sunday. Not quite payback for '66, though any bragging rights leftover from Munich in 2001 are well and truly handed back to the German supporters; expect the sea of scarves to bear this scoreline for now: Germany 4 - 1 England.

The result was as if finally and thankfully waking from a growing nightmare, rather than descending into one. The dream familiar to so many English fans (you know, that one where England win the World Cup?), preceded by weeks of feverish, optimistic expectation, faded almost instantly. If the insipid 1-1 draw against the US, where England, looking tired and short on ideas, battled gamely and little else, soured the first steps on what was supposed to have been a glorious path, the excruciatingly dire stalemate against an inferior-in-every-way Algeria demolished the path, and tore up the map.

This, incidentally, was the game where Gareth Barry, injured for the previous two months, was supposed to slot into the England puzzle and make the picture clear. Instead, Barry was ineffective in all three subsequent games, offering no protection to the back four against Germany (indeed, Barry was directly at fault during both of Germany's second half goals, giving away possession for 3-1 and failing to deal with a long punt to Mesut Ozil for 4-1), and in the games against Algeria and Slovenia, lacked any guile or passing flair - an asset Barry has always been short of.

The 'dream', now on the verge of dying, was burnished by the slightly more convincing first half display against Slovenia, Capello's two line up changes combining for the only goal. Yet as it turned into a fully fledged nightmare after all, like a Shakespearean tragedy there was a final, drawn out despondent end to the play, the inevitable descent into the sombre, damning ending.

Though Lampard's clear goal was academic by the end, there is something to be said that maybe, just maybe, an England side, pumped up and level 2-2 against the old enemy at half time at the World Cup, just might have had one last effort up their sleeves.

There is also something to be said that an England side, pumped up and harshly behind 2-1 to the old enemy at half-time at the World Cup, should have had even more of an effort up their sleeves than did emerge on Sunday.

Because apart from 15 frenzied minutes before half-time, England offered nothing against Germany to suggest that there was any more to this side than the three limp group games had shown. The failings of an England team, at the last opportunity for the heralded Golden Generation, were exposed against a young, exciting, clinical and organised German side.

Exposed, in every department. In goal, England's traditional problems since David Seaman retired continued: Green's woeful error was punished, but James, though competent when called upon in the must-win game against Slovenia, might have done better for the second and fourth German goals, and arguably should have reacted quicker to prevent their first, too. In defence, though their display against lowly Slovenia was also admirable, John Terry and Matthew Upson had no answer for Germany's attacking talent, whose prowess also left Glen Johnson and Ashley Cole hopelessly out of position on what seemed like countless occasions.

In midfield, Aaron Lennon struggled but was inexplicably replaced twice by unimpressive substitutes - Shaun Wright-Phillips has no doubt earned the last of his England caps, although Theo Walcott must be sunning himself somewhere, positively beaming - while Gareth Barry's lack of match practice showed alarmingly. Gerrard and Lampard, AGAIN, looked shadows of their club selves, and brought very little star quality into a midfield that consistently lacked energy, creativity and threat. James Milner showed glimpses of what may be a fruitful long-term England career, but Joe Cole's fleeting appearances were disappointingly ineffectual cameos.

Jermain Defoe looked lively against Slovenia and Germany and may just have done enough to earn a few more starting XI spots. Ignoring Emile Heskey, as Capello should have done from the start, that leaves Wayne Rooney.

Rooney looked like he played the tournament in a pair of bricks. His touch was barely there, his passing wayward and lacklustre, his goal threat non-existent. Something was wrong, whether it was the ball, an old injury, the long 50-game season spent single-handedly winning games for Manchester United or the pressure of similar expectations for his country. It would be hard to believe the pressure did get to him, given his consistency for club and country prior to the tournament, but one way or another, the magnificent and gifted footballer everyone knows just didn't show up.

Rooney will have another two, maybe three World Cups but by the end of 2010, the key quartet of Steven Gerrard, John Terry, Rio Ferdinand and Frank Lampard will all be the wrong side of 30. The England stars of tomorrow are few, far between and, where they do exist in players like Adam Johnson, Jack Wilshere, Jack Rodwell and Joe Hart, inexperienced. It's time for a shake up, and it may be some time before the dust settles on an England side capable of challenging at major tournaments.

For all the clear changes and difficult decisions needed, however, Capello cannot go just yet. He is, after all, responsible for galvanising this same squad who failed to even reach the Euro 2008 tournament, under Steve McLaren, to win nine out of ten World Cup qualifiers, and, with the right selections here on in, deserves the opportunity to lead England's Euro 2012 campaign. He has learned quicker than Sven, and will deal with better than McLaren, the massive media pressure that comes with heading the England national team, and with his undoubted pedigree and results delivered prior to this World Cup, should be given the chance to help English football turn this corner.

But right now, for those remaining talismen of England's Golden Generation, the greatest prize in world football will forever remain as tangible as the everyman's dream. It's a recurring dream that football players and football fans alike have had for 44 years, but on Sunday it was starkly and inescapably shown up for what it is. Now, a long-overdue wake up call is needed immediately to restore any faith in the future of English football.

Operator Please - Gloves

I’m not sure that everyone has been looking forward to Gloves, the follow up long-player from Australian racket Operator Please, as much as I have. Their brilliant and infectious debut was only mildly received on this site two years ago, but without doubt, the still gratingly young five-piece are an Aussie storm to be reckoned with – certainly live – proving themselves to be accomplished songwriters, with a catalogue of songs capable in the same breath of turns of genius and unrestrained fun.

It's interesting, then, that... more >>

Short changed

Whatever happens for the rest of tonight, and over Friday, the frenzied final weeks of the election campaign have largely flattered to deceive. For all the bright yellow sunshine of the Liberal Democrats' false dawn, very little change has been seen - and is likely to be seen - to challenge the usual political suspects.

It's not really Nick Clegg's fault. Given a podium on national television three weeks in a row, the country warmed to the impassioned, reasoned and (frankly) MOR performance from the calm, clean cut new face of British politics. Three months ago, he wasn't even the foremost political party leader called Nick, and suddenly he was the second coming, the real alternative, the answer to years of Conservative and Labour gridlock.

For about 15 minutes. After Clegg's surprise popularity spike following the ITV debate - a bit like winning over undecided Sun readers - Cameron and Brown spent the next week drawing level with Clegg, offering him a seat at the top table, and then promptly dropped him from their gang the week after, when the two main party leaders locked horns in front of the biggest television audience yet.

And despite the continued public favour for Clegg and the Lib Dems, into the last week of campaigning the press followed Cameron and Brown instead, relentlessly. Unfortunate pictures of the Tory leader, unfortunate recordings of the Labour leader, it remained that Cameron and Brown drove the headlines, and spent the last days of the campaign prior to election day obliterating Nick Clegg's slowing hype-train.

What had given Clegg his spotlight was, it appeared, the sort of smooth-talking, persona-based party leadership that earned Cameron such derision not so many months before. All very well talking the talk, but where were the policies? It was on policy where Clegg lost his way in the third televised debate. His defence policy was attacked on all sides, his European stance washy. The immigration views, when pressed, was eyebrow-raising. A case of not enough, and much too late.

But the response at large to the familiar TV format - like a mix between The Weakest Link and Question Time - caused the overreaction. The glamour of the television screen, so instilled in American political history, yet so conflicting with the very different British system, widely misrepresented the strength of serious backing behind the Liberal Democrats that the impressed viewers seemed to be gushing forth. Anyone wholeheartedly convinced by the debates' influence over voter attitudes is going to be mightily let down come Friday morning.

As the night's gone on, the failure of the Lib Dems to obtain any ground on the major two parties augments the disappointingly small shift in the playing field at this election. While the hype surrounding 'Cleggmania' among the online column inches grew, none of it, it seems, has transferred into hard political evidence. And though the television debates may have engaged with a wider band of the electorate, increasing voter turnout and, it could be argued, furthering democracy, the only picture that remains now is one of slight confusion. The fresh start seemed a great idea in theory, but very little of it has been put into practice.

What change there is suggests a clear turn away from 13 years' hard Labour. It looks unlikely that there will be a majority victory for any party, but in the serious business of politics, the only shift worth checking will be just how wide a margin the Conservatives have gained over Labour. Their 'vote for change' campaign might be tainted by naysayers who affect to be unable to differentiate between the parties' policies, but by promoting future change, instead of warning of past problems, the Conservative party just might get their opportunity to start implementing it.

The Rebs launch debut album 'In A Heartbeat'

For a band whose star is in the ascendancy, The Brook in Southampton gives independently signed acts like The Rebs something of a natural pedestal on which to stand and survey their audience. The place is full to the rafters, literally, as the first floor balcony is jam-packed: eager locals ready to consume the Southampton band's invigorating indie/electro-pop songs. But the stage, you see, is raised a good five feet from the floor, forcing the crowd to gaze up at its occupants - whether they like it or not.


This is, you suspect, how The Rebs prefer it. They're no strangers to limelight, having come good in 2008's Road To V competition and opening the festival for Kaiser Chiefs, The Zutons and The Courteeners, and winning two Exposure Music Awards for Best Pop Song and Best Overall Song in the last 18 months. On first glance though, they're a curious bunch: guitar-wielding frontman Russell Edmonds is almost transatlantic in his good looks, as though forged at the height of Strokes and New York garage rock fever. The beaming bassist, Nader Rezaie, seems much more laid back with his elongated basslines and falling black locks, while Vicki Averre-Beeson hops about behind her Korgs, lost in the atmosphere and stabbing out synth melodies. Sticksman Sim Cracknell provides big bouncing rhythms, also wearing a large grin throughout the night.


The night's main event is to see The Rebs entertain, and they come out in buoyant mood, visibly excited to impress the crowd on this, their début album launch. Taking the unusual step of playing through the tracklisting in order, the crowd are treated to the full Rebs repertoire; the best of their blossoming catalogue causing some of the avid audience to break in to chants of 'Reb Army!'. The army deal, primarily, in thumping pop rock, the attitude of Edmonds's driving guitars balanced out by a series of knock-out choruses. Début single 'Don't Fool Yourself' is exemplary, a punchy mid-tempo affair that throws in the night's main foot-stamping, sing-a-long moment.


The Rebs appear to have taken their cues from that golden early to mid-00s period, their widescreen indie reminding of Hot Fuss-era Killers - see 'Superman' - and early Franz Ferdinand. Despite any misgivings that sentence may have just stirred in you, live, it still works, thanks to the full throttle treatment it gets from the confident foursome. Standout moment is the fast-paced 'Would I Remember', forceful but irresistibly catchy - perfect summer festival stuff - while sort of title track 'Always in a Heartbeat' spears numerous synth lines across a crashing rock backdrop to memorable effect. Even if it does draw comparisons with The Automatic.


What quickly becomes obvious is just how saturated the tracklist is with strong single potential. With a commendable motto on their MySpace - "Influences: artists with great songwriters - we like singles" - each song tries to pack in that classic sounding chorus, and most are successful. It's no mean feat building 11 songs to a fervent indie template, yet managing to produce almost as many pop choruses from the top shelf among them, and credit is due to The Rebs for this. A breather tonight, however, comes in the form of three acoustic tracks in succession, the band leaving Edmonds alone under the lights to amuse himself for 10 minutes. Not all of the acoustic numbers feature in the tracklisting, thankfully, but it's a disappointingly typical (or perhaps naive) début album tactic, including an obligatory 'quiet one', the supposedly introspective, deep track, and it doesn't quite sit with a band who for the main have canon of excellent songs that don't necessarily conform to the typical début album.


Nevertheless, tonight it's all about The Rebs collectively - an affirmation of their award-winning songwriting, the headrushing performance of their songs in the live arena; the strut of a band who've got something and believe they're ready to take it to the world. And if people start catching on, The Rebs just might come out on top.


Also avilable on God is in the TV

The Noisettes + support, Bournemouth 02 Academy, 24/2/2010

The Noisettes live are a very different prospect these days. Their incredibly well-received second album Wild Young Hearts was shorn of the rattling blues-punk that captured their enthusiastic spirit on (poorly-titled) first album What’s the Time, Mr Wolf?, but it gave rise to a slew of hit singles driven by the Mazda-sponsored success of ‘Don’t Upset the Rhythm (Go Baby Go)’ – a single so good, they squeezed both hooks into the title for good measure.

Before a quarter of tonight’s expectant crowd have drifted in though, more...

NME Awards Tour review

Nearly five years ago, my best friend from school sent me an almost indecipherable text message to say he was backstage at the NME Awards Tour and had just drunkenly introduced himself to Brandon Flowers. Back then, NME magazine were championing the best in what everyone still loosely accepted as rock, with perhaps indie leanings, and they were getting it pretty much right: on the line-up that evening were The Killers, Bloc Party, The Futureheads and Kaiser Chiefs. Three now globe-bestriding acts all starting to crack the path to success, and one bright star that would quickly burn itself up.

It is difficult to see many similarities five years on. More...

Thrown to the Lions

Morris's return will reignite the debate about humour and taboo

Last week Billy Connelly, in his twilight years as a leading British comedian, stoked the flames of the old debate about the remit comedians have to push the boundaries of comedy, flirt around (or not) taboo subjects and advance ever further into the heart of dark humour.

Connelly was talking specifically about the outrage performers can invoke through swearing, which is rather self-serving given that the man can barely deliver a joke without punctuating every pause for breath with an obscenity, but personal taste aside, it was a timely, if moot, stirring up of the debate. One of the most divisive comedians and satirists of the last two decades Chris Morris returned to the public eye at Sundance, finally unveiling his latest work: a comedy about British jihadists. What else?

Morris, made infamous by his Brass Eye special (some nine years ago now, which itself was four years after the original series), still retains the mysterious, unflinching and publicity-shunning satirical edge that enveloped him during the fallout from the 'Paedophilia special', and has given his customary lack of media time to promote this début feature, his first major work since Channel 4 series Jam. Critics have already begun to advise who it will offend, though since showing at Sundance it has been largely well-received.

Many will look at Morris's film as just the latest in a line of controversial treatments of difficult subjects, given his history, but that is to discount Morris's acute contextual awareness. Terrorism, at home and abroad, has been a heated political, cultural, religious and social issue post 9/11*, but it has yet to be properly and overtly approached by humour, though it provides a decent source for stand up material. Britain's broad position on terror, from abhorring wars in Iraq and Afghanistan to harbouring concerns over Muslim schools, and the conflicting policy on religious preaching, has since the London attacks in July 2005 descended into increased confusion. Out of that, though, there is much humour to be found, reckons Chris Morris, and he's approached it from a particularly thorny and - following the failed plane bombing on Christmas Day 2009 by a London University-educated man - pertinent angle.

*(That said, there is a painfully funny 'Easter Egg' on The Day Today DVD whereby Morris conducts a telephone interview with Peter O'Hanarahanarahan, who should be covering a business conference taking place in the Twin Towers later that day (September 11th 2001) but quite clearly, it emerges, isn't there).

Does the subject's high profile in the media and penetration of cultural and political zones sanction, or indeed call for, a film being made specifically to raise a laugh? If a certain topic is capable of stirring up emotions such as anger, confusion, compassion, then why not humour also? If art imitates life - and Morris reveals that he was in part inspired by a report of a real failed terrorist attack - it is not to suggest that the imitation can only serve as a mirror and end there.

One of Morris's greatest skills to date has been holding that mirror up to an audience, warts and all, letting the eyes see and the brain disbelieve. It might forever be his albatross, but the hysterical fallout from Morris's Brass Eye 'Paedophile Special', a 'mockumentary' about hysterical fallouts to taboo like paedophilia, transcended the boundaries of satire, humour and social commentary with a peerless brilliance, exactly because it probed at something that was at the time the most controversial of subjects.

The difficulty, or genius, of this type of work is the way in which it is received. Politcial and media outlets dispense and encourage an accepted stance on contentious issues like terrorism, which becomes a stock and recognised view. The reaction to acts of terrorism, quite clearly, is one of shock and disgust. Sometimes outrage and war. But what happens when the issue is displaced, in two ways: by treatment from a different source, namely a film, book or even song lyric, and secondly, in a manner which deliberately contradicts what might be a 'generally-accepted' view?

Imagine this scenerio: a family and guests mourn the passing of a grandmother at a funeral service. As they go to leave they realise her husband, the grandfather, has died during the service. Aside from the morose real life reaction to this, consider the ironic comic possibilities were this a scene in a sketch show: discount for repeat customers, 2-for-1 coffin offer, loyalty card etc etc. This is the detached treatment that art's (un)limitation allows, for any subject matter going.

For a film, as a piece of art, is not limited by an audience or a market, nor by an overarching agenda - unlike the media or political arenas - it will find or make its own. (Whether or not it is then successful is a different matter). It is perhaps fair to say that a film is not and cannot be barred from touching certain subjects simply by its being.

It's more a question of the boundaries writers and performers like Chris Morris and Billy Connelly should or shouldn't impose, in the search to find new angles from which to approach topics, and even to find new topics themselves. Because the less interested in your work the audience is, the quicker it will fade and be forgotten about. And the key point is, for a film like Four Lions, 'interested' doesn't have to mean amused or impressed; it could just as well mean shocked, furious and upset.

But Morris hasn't simply made this film by sticking a number of touchy subjects to a dartboard and taking aim, in order to goad a reaction out from the typical Daily Mail reader. Firstly, while the issue is contentious, it is still 'on-topic' and as a piece of work slots into the current cultural context. Secondly, as a film, the treatment of British terrorists as a source of humour presents the interesting spectacle of whether it will even succeed in its intentions to make people laugh. Often, the closer to the bone, the bigger the risk - and the laugh. Morris is of course well of this, but even so, for a début commercial feature and his first major work in some time, it's a bold opening salvo.

But the third and most important point is that humour does not undermine or belittle that which it uses to raise laughs. Because as Morris himself says, terrorism matters. A film like Four Lions might treat it in a way which might be different, but that is not necessarily 'offensive'. If it makes people think about terrorism in a different way, exposes subtleties to the subject because of the unusual angle, then it serves a purpose of simply adding a voice, a side to the story, on a very broad, current, feared and often misunderstood topic. If Four Lions makes people roar with laughter, and it makes some of them think as well, then, really that's all there is to it.

Nine for '09

It wasn’t the most vintage year of the Noughties, 2009 – it didn’t throw up heavyweight classics (despite releases from bands like U2, Muse and Green Day), its debutants were often too lightweight (La Roux, Empire of the Sun, Dan Black) and it failed to really settle on what was supposed to be the sound of the year.

(Except for the number one here, and everywhere: pretty much anybody who has ever acted on an urge to translate their feelings about a record into the written word agreed on this year’s best album.)

What 2009 seemed to suggest was the increasing closeness of the oft-perceived class war between mainstream and underground, popular appeal and critical acclaim. Nobody who had an ‘album of the year’ in 2009 made music that wasn’t too far out for Radio One or Jools Holland. Solo female electro artists like La Roux jostled for airplay with chillingly sparse guitar-soulers The XX, while French neo-pop artists Phoenix adorned television adverts and instrumental mind-melters Fuck Buttons got played on Top Gear.

All in all, 2009 seemed to say, when music got good, it was very good. Some of it is outlined in more detail below.

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1. Animal Collective – Merriweather Post Pavilion
When Noah Lennox’s solo album Person Pitch – released under his moniker Panda Bear –romped home as an album of the year in 2007 (and more recently cropped up in many lists as an album of the decade), it served to turn a few more heads toward Lennox’s band ‘proper’, Animal Collective. Their late 2007 album Strawberry Jam was equally well received, but even then, despite that step up in visibility, few would have wagered on their next studio album being by some stretch the best thing to come out of anywhere this year.

But it was, and everyone from bloggers to newspapers to zines to David Letterman joined forces to proclaim, all but unreservedly, that the album of 2009 had been won just two weeks after the year had dawned. Perhaps the most pertinent note to support this is that when 2009 came to a close, no one had changed their mind. The reason? Its irresistible collage of synth loops, primal rhythms and ecstatic joy-infused vocal melodies was mind-expanding, life-affirming and simply the best music released in 2009.

2. Wild Beasts – Two Dancers
By contrast, Wild Beasts’ second album was the year’s laudable slow-burner. Released to decent critical acclaim in August, Two Dancers’ appeal grew stronger and brighter with each listen, as its elegance revealed more glistening musical nuances and turned up gloriously eloquent lyrics – not least when Hayden Thorpe proclaims delicately and menacingly, “Trousers and blouses make excellent sheets / down dimly lit streets”. Like a blood stain smattered across deep pure snow, Two Dancers was a case of beauty struggling to envelop a dark underbelly: a perfect – and timely – counterbalance to Animal Collective’s winning effort.

3. Fuck Buttons – Tarot Sport
The boundless sense of ambition shared by the Fuck Buttons duo Andrew Hung and Benjamin John Power manifested itself in wild, sprawling and at times plain awkward instrumentals on their debut, often exerting a sustained pressure of head-spinning soundscapes. With the follow up Tarot Sport, Hung and Power decided to uncork their ambitions further still, and yet somehow created frameworks in which their ideas and verve could work as ‘songs’. The insistent battering rhythm of ‘Surf Solar’, the climax of ‘Olympians’ and the hissing euphoria of album closer ‘Flight of the Feathered Serpent’ were just highlights from an extraordinary and unique sophomore album.

4. Florence and the Machine – Lungs
It was this time last year that everybody was getting very, very excited about a young Florence Welch. The flame-haired songstress was riding the crest of the hype wave, with storming live performances that hinted at greatness and singles that were, simply, ‘it’: that new sound that 2009 was going to be all about.

So it was to Florence’s great credit that Lungs turned out to be anything but that new sound. Explosive single “Kiss with a Fist” was lost among the embarrassment of gems on Lungs that wielded an unwavering power, presence and talent to the 22-year old. 12 fierce and passionate songs burned with Florence Welch’s voice, spilling reams of harp strings, not guitars, over everything, a cacophony of drums making and shaking Lungs’ foundations. Somehow, what came out the other side was a sound that was uniquely Florence’s (inspiring an infamous dressing-down from DiS), a different new sound that no one had really seen coming. Flo might have started the year as one of the BBC’s top sound for 2009 tips, and ended it with countless airplay time on Radio 1, but it was a success that her otherworldly debut record thoroughly merited.

5. The Mars Volta – Octahedron
Whatever it sounded like, The Mars Volta’s fifth LP in seven years was always going to land somewhere in this list for 2009. Having spent four albums expanding his band’s sonic palette to ever greater heights, Omar Rodriguez-Lopez came over all ‘acoustic’ on number five. The term was never expected to be more than tongue in cheek, but Octahedron’s eight tracks – bar, perhaps, the explosive ‘Cotapaxi’, whose climbing riff and intense wailing vocal wouldn’t have sounded out of place on previous album The Bedlam in Goliath – certainly took people by considerable surprise.

‘Since We’ve Been Wrong’, one of the band’s more inherent nods to Led Zeppelin, and ‘With Twilight as My Guide’ both flowed with barely a patter of drums, instead relying on layers of subtle guitar and a more natural use of Cedric Zavala-Bixler’s voice to focus the attention. Elsewhere, the restraint only increased quietly ferocious tracks ‘Teflon’ and ‘Desperate Graves’, the latter seeming to hint at a reference to Eriatarka, all the way back from their debut 2003. For purists, especially those who’ve still not forgiven Cedric and Omar for At The Drive-In ‘what ifs’, Octahedron was noticeably short on urgency and The Mars Volta’s usual psychedelic challenges, but its power and finesse came from a far more majestic, if softer, sound. New formula: same result for album number five.

6. Grammatics – Grammatics
The original foursome who released this gleaming debut back in February have, unfortunately, since jettisoned two members, including cellist Emilia, whose sweet string melodies and vocal harmonies combine to produce some of the album’s finest moments.

A grower, the self-titled LP was anything but guitar-driven, despite the band being fronted by ex-Colour of Fire man Owen Brinley His clever riffs and chords interplay with the cello lines, letting song structures ebb and flow, sometimes packed with intensity – especially Brinley's vocal histrionics – and sometimes allowed to simmer. Full of constantly surprising nuances and musical turns of phrase, on top of some striking rhythm work, Grammatics’ first record made for very affecting indie, grand with unbridled ambition but tempered by hints of pop. It’s a shame that half of the people who made this debut are no longer around to create the follow up. But in some ways, that just makes it an even more intriguing prospect.

7. Bombay Bicycle Club – I Had the Blues But I Shook Them Loose
When these youngsters burst onto my radar a couple of years ago, (ahem), their melodic, youthful output glimmered with promise, with one EP crafted and another equally exciting one soon to follow. 2009’s album delivered their great tunes, but with two years’ growing up, their sound had developed a broodier edge.

No longer were the vocals fragile and wide-eyed; instead Jack Steadman’s voice, while still quivering in places, seems to have been hardened by the tales of the love and loss told in the lyrics. Stronger, too, were the guitars – clever parallel melodies between two leading guitars, heavier chords and the occasional standout riff. With the tracks all in a similar vein genre-wise, yet each with its own individual flourishes and hooks, IHTBBISTL was something of a coming of age accomplishment. It was by no means an eyebrow-raiser, with several years’ hype weighing down in expectation, but it was perhaps the freshest sounding indie debut in the last year of the Noughties.

8. Arctic Monkeys – Humbug
Those Beatles comparisons refuse to die. Alex Turner, often half-hidden by his unruly, Lennon-esque mane and now, like Lennon, a resident of New York, may have toned down the bullish aggro that seemed a by-product of the Monkeys’ astronomical fame a couple of years back, but the music keeps on getting better.

Unlike their instant classic Whatever People Say... and its equally brilliant follow up Favourite Worst Nightmare, Humbug – introspective, moody, darker and, well, just slower – took a long time to truly give up its treasures. But when it did, Humbug evidenced some of Turner and Co’s’ greatest songs yet: ‘Crying Lightning’ built into their most well-rounded single to date and included Alex Turner’s fabulous storytelling at full strength (“You never looked like yourself from the side/but your profile could not hide/the fact you knew I was approaching your throne”), ‘Cornerstone’ was a simple slice of guitar pop, miles from the sharp punky singles from their first album. But it was elsewhere – the mysterious album closer ‘The Jeweller’s Hands’, the classic indie chorus of ‘Secret Door’, and ‘Fire and the Thud’, the shuffling, elegant George Harrison-like love song – that, over a few listens, posited the theory that after all the hype, the singles, the million-sellers, the awards, Arctic Monkeys’ third album Humbug was somehow their most impressive.


9. Passion Pit – Manners
When all the cool kids discovered Black Kids following their Wizard of Ahhhs EP at the end of 2007, and everyone else caught up six months later, they were supposed to be the brightest young things going, about to release a landmark debut. Instead, they released the Bernard Butler-produced, fun but musically pretty stagnant Partie Traumatic.

Manners, from Passion Pit, is the album Black Kids could (perhaps should) have made, full of joyous, bounding vocal melodies and eclectic electro sounds and visions. Its quirky synth lines fizzed with energy, sparking huge life into the sort of danceable indie that in other hands can so easily sound flat and false. Passion Pit instead were fresh, reinvigorating belief into a sound that was just starting to become a bit of a chore. With glorious choruses pouring in from all sides, songs like ‘Moth’s Wings’, ‘Sleepyhead’, ‘To Kingdom Come’, ‘The Reeling’, ‘Make Light’ and more soundtracked the year with uplifting dance anthems, making Manners a polite reminder of how well this genre can be done.


...and Nine more for 2009:

The XX – XX
Chillingly stripped back, quietly heart-stopping soulful dub-indie. Possibly a one-off.

Phoenix – Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix
Jumpy, buoyant and brilliant French indie-pop oozing with class.

Wavves – Wavvves
Scruffy surfer pop to soundtrack unshaven, hungover and slightly-angry-for-no-reason Sundays.

Sky Larkin – The Golden Spike
Scratchy awkward riffs and shouty female vocals from the Leeds three-piece.

Mumford & Sons – Sigh No More
Heartfelt folk with huge crossover appeal and uplifting soundscapes.

The Bird and The Bee – Ray Guns are Not the Future
Twee jazz-pop with added electronics, one of the most underrated albums this year.

Telegraphs – I Don’t Navigate By You
Outstanding British melodic rock with better choruses than Paramore and acute musical awareness.

Bat For Lashes – Two Suns
Powerful and epic, mystical and sometimes psychedelic, really it’s just good female pop and balladry.

Dent May and his Magnificent Ukulele – The Good Feeling Of...
Chirpy ‘50s throwbacks by a Costello-aping crooner and his “like a guitar but not a guitar” instrument. Worked.


Cheers.

Strauss's men pass sternest test

From 4pm yesterday 'til 8.30am this morning, not many people would have given Andrew Strauss's men much hope of withstanding an entire day against a strong South African side, with their tails up, and with only seven wickets to last them. With less than an outside chance of England chasing down 466 - some 130 runs more than England's highest ever winning fourth innings chase - it was simply a case of how long England would last until the inevitable collapse.

And lesser sides - particularly some of England's, over the last 15 years or so - would have crumbled. At times, it had appeared that the collapse was just around the corner. When Trott and Anderson both went within 40 minutes of each in the morning session; when Paul Collingwood, after all his hard work had given England hope, was out quickly followed by Prior; and when Ian Bell, after 213 balls of intense pressure, left Graeme Swann and Graham Onions three overs to face against South Africa's pace attack, each time England looked doomed.

But Strauss's men have proven for the second time in South Africa what they are made of. Every man who batted for England on the final day of the test was heroic, from Anderson who faced 52 priceless balls to steady the ship at the start of the final day, to number 11 Graham Onions who might never be more proud to see his name next to a '0 Not Out'. Kudos go to Andrew Strauss and Alistair Cook too, for their 100 opening partnership on day four, without which the draw-clinching effort would not have stood a chance.

To Paul Collingwood and Ian Bell, though, go the biggest plaudits. Both spent over four hours at the crease each, guarding their wickets with their lives, not for personal glory - Collingwood made just 38 off 188 deliveries - but for the good of the team. Ian Bell, who despite having played over 50 test matches and scoring a stunning 142 in the previous match still gets the fiercest criticism, proved all his detractors wrong with a responsible and resilient 78 from 213 agonising deliveries, which alongside Collingwood's robust innings, proved to be a match-saving partnership.

Not that long ago, England's test cricketers would have been odds on to wilt in the intense heat of the South African sun, facing the intense pressure of saving a test match against a world class cricketing nation on their home patch. But this current England side is beginning to look nicely balanced, with world class players in every department and developing talents starting to flourish, and under the guidance of Andrew Strauss and Andy Flower, the winning mentality is beginning to grow brighter. England cannot lose the Test series in South Africa now, and a win in the final test next week for a 2-0 series victory would confirm England's as a re-emerging power in world Test cricket once again.