It would take something fairly forceful, and a whole bucket of belief in whatever that may be, to promote a new band who have shared history with the Arctic Monkeys to not use that fact as said band’s launch pad into the wide public consciousness. But the Reverend (aka John McClure) is nothing if not forceful. Self belief has rarely seemed so boggle-eyed – if the band bombs (though don’t think for a moment that he’s actually prepared for that Continue Reading

There was some quasi-official vote recently, so we read, to find the modern day 7 wonders of the world. Incredibly, The Reason As To Why The Delgados Did Not Become Bigger Than ABBA (Or At Least Teenage Fanclub) In The 1990s did not make the list. They missed out, yet again. Their dissolution was a sobbing shame for UK indie, especially considering that they made such irresistibly powerful cotton-padded pop music up to their last ringing note. Though a band Continue Reading

There’s one thing that really pisses me off about Charles Michael Kittridge Thompson IV and that’s just how many ‘guises’ he’s engaged in over the years: Francis Black, Frank Black, Black Francis. I mean, why doesn’t he just have a t-shirt printed saying ‘I have a deep and complex personality and requires the scope of character that a series of aliases affords me’. Granted, that’s too many words to have printed on a t-shirt, but you get my point; why Continue Reading

You’ve likely lost count of the amount of times some straight-laced authority figure has reiterated the importance of having something to fall back on through your life, particularly when regaling them with your latest harebrained career-building (or career-avoidance) tactic. A waste of time, you must have thought, when plan A is all but guaranteed! Joining a hitherto-unmanageable rag-tag 20-strong happy-clappy psychedelic pop orchestra in regulation quasi religious clobber is one such decision unlikely to gain immediate parental blessing. St Vincent, Continue Reading

This is beginning to get faintly ridiculous now. Yes, so the internets may have made everyone everywhere virtual next door neighbours, we get that, but it’s all so bloody misleading. Joining the roll call of certified non-geographers Architecture In Helsinki, Alabama 3 and I’m From Barcelona (no you’re frigging not!) are Manchester Orchestra, from Atlanta, Georgia, USA. You know, where REM come from, where rain macs are – as far as we understand it – rarely worn proud. They do Continue Reading

‘Swayzak – some kind of bastardized Patrick Swayzee , men with hang ups’, and that’s what they say themselves. So where does that leave me to go? Well I could add that they contribute to house what Kate and Gerry contribute to child welfare but that would be a little wide of the mark, as they add something that is deep and unmistakably psychedelic to it, as tired and predictable as most house is. ‘Quiet Life’s swampy sub delirium, it’s Continue Reading

You don’t need this review. If you have any previous experience of Carl Newman’s gleaming Vancouver-based indie supergroup (and my, taking into account Broken Social Scene and Arcade Fire too, how Canada have the indie-tribe concept cornered) then you will be aware already of their impossibly tight melodic sensibilities, onward rolling momentum, Pollock-like dashes of colour and tax inspector attention to detail. Fresh air can’t fall between the cracks here. In effect there are no cracks. They’re on a very Continue Reading

Jamie started his career on cruise ships. Now don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with cruises should you be fortunate enough not to fall victim to any gastrointestinal misfortunes along the way, or, along similar lines, have Jamie Cullum cavorting mercilessly at the ivories whilst you bask in the warmth and beauty of the Mediterranean’s coastline – but that’s what you get with package deals, a little something of what you do like, and a little something of what Continue Reading

Jazz exists on a personal and spiritual plane for ex-Digable Planet, King Britt, telling us there’s something cosmic about the genre’s deeply African American heritage. Me, I just find it boring. It doesn’t go anywhere. It promises so much – but never quite delivers. Like a milkman with empty bottles, or the Postman without a stamp. Course it’s experimental, improvisional, the output of a creative dialogue between two or more individuals but then so too is a drunken conversation. And Continue Reading