Month: February 2007

Circus ringmaster for the terminally avant-garde, John Cale, spreads his numerous talents across a double CD that comprises a basic chronology of Cale’s musical career to date; from the Velvet Underground and Patti Smith to his recent return to the mainstream with 2003’s Hobosapiens and 2005’s blackAcetate. Featuring artwork by long-time friend Dave McKean, the album was kicked into life when Cale backed by his new band (Dustin Boyer – guitar, Joseph Karnes – bass and Michael Jerome – drums) Continue Reading

The head girl of ragged pre-grunge/riot-grrrl sweet-tonsiled US indie, with her influential band Throwing Muses (also featuring the equally spell-binding Tanya Donnelly in their formative years), has spent much of her solo life toning things down a little, seeking a sunlit zen, a folk-brushed calm, learning to sing like an angel, or indeed a star. Perversely, now she’s named an album as such, that’s not exactly the case anymore. Obviously driven by her aggressive metal-plated head-shaking side project 50ft Wave Continue Reading

What exactly are we expecting here? Do Bloc Party owe us anything? Are they, or should they be, held responsible for whatever you think it is they are responsible? And what is that? How important are they and this album, to their own sense of being, to the more general musical landscape in 2007 and to the wider world? Does the theory match the practice? Do they matter, at all, in the end? All questions worth chewing on as you Continue Reading

An unavoidable truth will follow this sentence. “New” rave (© 2006/7) is, by and large, about as rave as my Nanna. Thus dispelling a great myth of the quite present. But at least Klaxons’ inclusion in the whole construct has some basis in logic – the whole thing, of course, largely sprung from the fact that their debut single ‘Atlantis To Interzone’ sounded like the KLF chewing on a rusted metal wasp under medically inadvisable strobe lighting. And for being Continue Reading

Nauseating, you could say. But then you could also say that about riding the Big One rollercoaster in dead seaside town Blackpool after a few jars and with a mild trepidation of heights, and that turned out to be an awful lot of fun in the end. The man’s voice is almost certain to leave you suffering from motion sickness at points, but it’s much less dental-drill-through-polystyrene than Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, and a little less psychotic-hick than Modest Continue Reading