Listen: To Care (Like You), I Never Learnt To Share
28.11.11
James Blake - James Blake (Mancunion #7 Album of the Year)
Marcus Foster @ Deaf Institute (25th November) - Mancunion
★★★★
“I guess I became a hunter quite young, I just for some reason became obsessed with it,” explains Marcus Foster of his love for discovering music. A lifelong fan of Tom Waits and John Martyn, Foster’s music belongs to a different time, and his on-stage presence borrows from an age of vocal theatricality and brutally honest performance.
When I caught up with Foster before the show, he described how his sound came about. “A few years ago I thought I wanted to make a kind of folky record, then Mumford came out and this whole folk thing started happening and I guess I naturally kind of found the electric guitar again.”
“I guess the kind of music I like listening to is primarily about the voice. The voice kind of carries everything, whether or not you play different characters... like the sense of someone just feeling it, the ability to tell a story.”
“I like honesty, people that just go for it. Music that just smacks you in the face, I like that.”
And go for it he does. Undeterred by an unfortunately sparse Deaf Institute crowd, and accompanied only by his own guitar, Marcus Foster holds no punches. His confidence is admirable, and certainly refreshing, but his insistence in pushing every song to its emotional limit makes for a slightly confusing experience.
Of his wide-ranging influences, Foster says “It’s dangerous to be so wide sometimes, it can be like you’re just trying to bring too many ingredients to a recipe, I mean ‘we’re just going to make beans on toast, put the pineapple away...’”, but he’s got nothing to worry about. His weather-beaten voice convincingly lends itself to the old Folk, Rock and Blues he channels, and for those of you still rifling through Oxfam for Alan Lomax compilations; Marcus Foster is well worth a visit.
http://www.student-direct.co.uk/2011/12/05/feature-marcus-foster-deaf-institute/
http://www.student-direct.co.uk/2011/12/05/feature-marcus-foster-deaf-institute/
23.10.11
Sonic Boom Six @ Moho Live (15th October)
★★
Teenage ska-punk gets a bad rap. Unfortunately, through all their pseudo-political rallying, and 'give yourselves a massive cheer' hyping, Sonic Boom Six didn't do much to dispel its reputation. The night was kicked off with an unexpectedly anarchic and brilliant support set from local hardcore ska-punk hooligans Stand Out Riot, who made good Moho Live's reputation for intense and intimate local gigs. The contagious enthusiasm and brutal confidence of lead singer and trombonist Francis Hunt translated to sheer hedonism in the crowd. In terms of a live experience, especially for a support band, it doesn't get much better.After such an intense warm-up act, it felt strange to be apparently the only one let down by SB6, who played an enthusiastic but unconvincing hour of angsty, forced and pretty unremarkable tunes in uniform 'I Heart MCR' t-shirts and trucker caps. As a quick look at the crowd makes clear, it is music made for teenagers, designed to be frustrated over at home, then cathartically screamed and fist-bumped to live.
Between distinctly average songs, their on-stage presence consisted of repeated and shameless self-promotion, lazy crowd-pleasing soundbites (there's only so many times you can chant "sound of da police" without wanting to set fire to someone), and the odd manageably political outcry to get everyone all good and angry.
Despite all this, there is something to be said for the show. The introduction of each song sparked huge cheers of recognition, and letting the crowd choose from their back-catalogue was pretty well received. They're not changing the world, but anything that gets a crowd as enthusiastic and damn-near reverent as this Moho Live crowd seemed to be must be doing something right.
In their final song 'Back 2 Skool', lead singer Laila K preaches "...soon I know you never leave the playground", which was pretty unfortunately appropriate to a disappointing set.
http://www.student-direct.co.uk/2011/11/15/live-sonic-boom-six-moho-live/
13.10.11
Clock Opera @ Sound Control (10th October)
★★★★
Playing an inexplicable second fiddle to Chapel Club’s flat-out uninteresting headline set, those who managed to arrive early enough were rewarded with a fierce and genuinely exciting half hour from experimental synth-rock titans Clock Opera.
Apart from a quick introduction, the band didn’t seem to be too interested in crowd interaction, but the all-too-short set contained enough diversity and raw power to draw their admittedly sparse audience in.
Frontman and songwriter Guy Connelly’s delicate voice bears a definite resemblance to Elbow’s Guy Garvey, but the thunder behind him points at something a hell of a lot more elemental. At times the painstaking sound manipulation on the pre-made samples brought to mind the wavy psychedelia of Feels-era Animal Collective, which only serves as a testament to their songcraft. Their over-reliance on these samples may have put some purists off, but the pot-bashing, crazy-dancing stage presence was more than enough to keep the audience hooked.
Samples aside, Clock Opera can also boast a pretty impressive musical proficiency. The drums were sprawling but thoroughly grounded, and Connelly’s voice was haunting and powerful in equal measure, expertly backed by precise and deep harmonies.
Closer and most recent single ‘Lesson No.7’ started off a with a spooky, chiming manipulated guitar loop and gradually built to a furious bass-heavy hurricane that drew the set to a pretty colossal conclusion.
http://www.student-direct.co.uk/2011/11/11/live-clock-opera-sound-control/
http://www.student-direct.co.uk/2011/11/11/live-clock-opera-sound-control/
5.10.11
Bert Jansch, 1943-2011
Up there with the most respected guitarists of his generation, Bert Jansch will be sorely missed. Influencing everyone from Jimmy Page to Johnny Marr to Devendra Banhart, his virtuosic style and intricate songwriting helped him lead the 60s folk revival, both as a solo artist and as part of folk-rock troubadours Pentagle. After fighting a two-year battle with cancer, Jansch died earlier this week at a hospice in north London, aged 67. In an interview with the Guardian last year, he said, "I'm not one for showing off. But I guess my guitar-playing sticks out", and as his legacy will testify, that’s more than an understatement.
4.10.11
Girls - Father, Son, Holy Ghost
On Father, Son, Holy Ghost, Owens continues to channel the 60's sunshine pop of Roy Orbison and the Beach Boys, but in an altogether more ambitious, rounded and ultimately satisfying piece of work. Just like on the first album, there's a fresh batch of bouncy anthems about love that immediately sound like songs you've loved all your life, but they're tossed in with the Deep-Purple inspired, riff-heavy 'Die', the heartbreaking 'Vomit', and the world-weary despair of 'Myma' (a contraction of the last lines of the refrain 'so far away from home, and you my Ma'). It's an emotionality that borders on cliché, but lines that could appear over-sentimental and tacky elsewhere are so earnestly and desperately delivered that you can’t help but lend it the same sympathy and understanding that you would a close friend.
As is clear from the offset, the album borrows heavily from the past, but it's hard to imagine Owens' songs delivered in any other way. These are pop songs as they used to be, with all the raw emotion and attention to musical detail intact. Of course, it's got its weaker moments, but all in all Father, Son is anthemic, joyous, genuinely affecting and impossibly endearing in equal measure.
http://www.student-direct.co.uk/2011/10/28/album-girls-father-son-holy-ghost/
28.9.11
Arctic Monkeys - Suck It And See
It was then that the curse hit. When you’ve made an album that expresses everything you’ve learnt up to that point, what, then, do you have left to write about? 2007’s Favourite Worst Nightmare came and went, with a couple of expectedly great melodies, and flashes of lyrical brilliance, but little in the way of innovation. Similarly, with a new record collection (Hendrix, Sabbath etc.) and production credits from Josh Homme, Humbugpromised to showcase a brand new, badass incarnation of the Arctic Monkeys, which turned out to be surprisingly convincing. Their guitars sounded thick and impending, and a world-weary Alex Turner was more in his element as a Nick Cave-style balladeer.
Now, a full six years after their debut, Arctic Monkeys’ third shot at relevance is still just wide of the mark. That said, they do sound far more confident in their sound, and the newer influences finally sit comfortably with Turner’s morbid crooning. Matt Helder’s drums are as brutal and fresh sounding as ever, understatedly thrashing through each bouncing melody. At first listen, the tracks hold up. There are enough riffs and hooks to keep you interested, and each line is sung with an underlying melancholy that hints at something much darker underneath the surface.
Problem is though, there’s not.
Lead single ‘Don’t Sit Down ‘Cause I’ve Moved Your Chair’ starts off with a promisingly seedy guitar line and grows into a thundering foot-stomper (special mention again to Matt Helders’ drumkit shitstorm), but save for an oo-oo-oo-yeah-yeah-yeah chorus, even by the end of its three-minute duration it seems tired and unimaginative. There’s plenty of workable stuff here, but every spark of ingenuity is stretched out and exploited, a far cry from the frequent splashes of colour jumping out of the first record.
While the performances are musically spot-on (Matt Helders isthe man), the lyrics and songcraft seem forced and lazy, which regrettably exposes a band firmly resting on their laurels. The greatest shame of all, perhaps, is that the album isn’t bad. Once it gets going, the vision’s there. All My Own Stunts is firmly up there with their best songs, and opener She’s Thunderstorms is a charming jangly anthem, both showing just what this album could have been. They’ve a solid new direction and as a band have an incredible potential to create another classic album, but for whatever reason, it’s yet to arrive.
At the start of the video to 2005’s I Bet That You Look Good On The Dancefloor, a fresh-faced Alex Turner gave us a warning through his awkward teenage diffidence: ‘don’t believe the hype’. Maybe we should have believed him.
67%
Kanye West - My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy
In a 2010 interview with MTV, Kanye West admitted in a rare moment of pseudo-modesty that “I do have a goal in this lifetime to be the greatest artist of all time, [but] that’s very difficult being that I can’t dance or sing”, and in his more vocally ambitious moments on MBDTF, the latter is made abundantly clear. How, then, do you go about proposing your place as the greatest indie-leaning rap megastar in the world? West’s own particular brand of superstar is miles away from the secret-freakshow stadium pop of his hero Michael Jackson. This new proposed superstar marries porn stars in Hell Of A Life, runs his mouth off about douchebags and scumbags in Runaway, and tells just about everyone to kiss his asshole. In fact, as he repeatedly proclaims in his wildly cathartic centre-piece, he’s a motherfuckin’ monster.
The list of guest stars is enough to sell this album alone, with the inclusion of mainstream big-hitters Rihanna, Jay-Z and Rick Ross, as well as a couple of inspired choices from across the board, including Nicki Minaj (Trinidadian no-bullshit brat rapper), Justin Vernon (Wisconsin cabin-folk staple) and John Legend (super-smooth sex-pest crooner). Each disparate guest star brings a fresh take to the Kanye West brand, never once sounding forced or out of place.The ensemble casts on Monster andSo Appalled show each artist off individually, but the message and ambition of the tracks are never lost.
Almost every track stands alone, but in All Of The Lights, West finally has his anthem. It sounds gigantic, and encapsulates his vision and purpose up to this point. The semi-dub-like chorus pops give way to a winding, off-beat groove for the verses, and the feeling of grandeur never lets up. As a single, it’s certainly catchy, with Rihanna’s club sing along chorus, but shows enough intelligence and dexterity to demonstrate just how good pop music can be.
The genius of this album is not in the performances (despite the all-star cast), nor is it in some great, sign-of-the-times lyrical statement. West’s saving grace, and his brilliance as a performer, is his unflinching dedication to his music.
West relies on a deep knowledge of sound and attitude, together with his own tortured musings on 21st century stardom, to deliver a statement so grand and decadent, yet ultimately insular and personal, that you can’t help but think this is the greatest record he could make. The attitude is not one of ego and self-promotion (much as he’d like you to think), rather it shows a tenacious self-belief, and a rejection of any suggestion of modesty, self-consciousness and self-sacrifice. Kanye West isn’t the messiah, but he is sure as hell trying his best.
“Have you lost your mind/Tell me when you think we’ve crossed the line/No more drugs for me/Pussy and religion is all I need/Grab my hand and baby we’ll live a hell of a life”
82%
