Everyone sang along, slammed their bodies about with reckless abandon, and repeatedly spilled forward onto the stage. From the first chords of opener “Here’s Your Future,” the floor shook under the impact of the feet that repeatedly crashed upon them. Bodies toppled forward, back, and to the sides, feeble attempts were made to steady themselves on walls, speaker cabinets, and other people.
Amanda Farah reviews The Thermals‘ recent London gig.
‘Comeback album’ is a phrase few bands like to hear. It’s positive, of course, but the entailment is anything but: it speaks of wilderness years, creative bankruptcy, even – whisper it – irrelevance. In short – something to come back from. As Cymru’s most outspoken politicos, Manic Street Preachers must be especially terrified by the last of those things.
Richard O’Brien applauds the Manics‘ rediscovery of their radical edge on their latest LP.
Of the shoegazing era, which the author firmly places it but also seeks to mount a rival argument for its consideration as a classic album, it’s probably the only candidate that could make such a list… Loveless is significant for a number of reasons. By legend alone it almost bankrupted Creation Records through frontman Kevin Shields’ erratic perfectionism and among shoegazers it’s the one record that has, cliché notwithstanding, truly stood the test of time.
Andrew Stevens gives his verdict on the 33 1/3 edition of My Bloody Valentine’s Loveless.
There is a danger when looking at mainstream music, even pop as skewed and awkward as Radiohead’s, that people can start to look for things that simply aren’t there. Footman cites the post-structuralist theory that the author is dead in order to pin some slightly questionable sociological tails on his alt-rock donkey, and in some instances a direct chat or two with Thom Yorke might have kept a couple of the wilder guesses in check. However, I don’t presume to guess at the author’s resources or intents; unlike Footman – but again, the majority of his analysis does stand on its own feet, and the logic behind it is relatively difficult to fault.
Richard O’Brien reviews
The awed reverence of the crowd, mindful of the Spaceman’s recent brush with death but looking somewhat healthier for it, added to the religiosity of the occasion, embellished by the rock n’ soul gospel chorus on numbers from down the years – ‘Walking With Jesus’, ‘Feel So Sad’, ‘All of My Tears’, ‘Broken Heart’, ‘Think I’m In Love’ and a sadly truncated ‘Funeral Home’. Beyond the gospel, Pierce’s voice shone as brightly as luminescence through a cathedral window during an epiphany. Before blowing the fucking roof off, like the blast of horn at an early Sam Cook gig.
Matt Thomas reviews a recent Spiritualized accoustic set.
You produce The Gem from the Past, for your mates’ musical edification, knowing they will thank you for enlightening them (actually they will soon forget who was first and become all snotty about how they were among the early admirers.) Such is the feeling I got when I first heard some of these tracks on The Transmitters’ Myspace page. The real thing, cutting through all the heavily hair-styled cohorts of contemporary imitators, talented and less so, from Franz Ferdinand to more recent acts like The Blood Arm, the Fratellis and whatnot.
Vim Cortez reviews The Transmitters‘ album.
If this album was a bald eagle wrapped in the Stars’n’Stripes and bombing a non-threatening Middle Eastern country, it could not be more American. If rock’n’roll can still be used as a euphemism for sex, then Jesse Malin is rock’n’roll syphilis: time-old, persistent and dangerously catchy.
Richard O’Brien reviews Jesse Malin’s new album.
Neon Bible is unashamedly epic and therein lies the real appeal of Arcade Fire. It’s not just the beauty of their music rather it’s the intensity, the fearless passions of the band, pointing a way out of the numbness, cowardice and post-modern gimmickry all too prevalent in modern music. Cause we’re tired mama, tired and full of dust and the time has come for sincerity. When the power’s out in the heart of man, someone must have the nerve to start it up again.
Darran Anderson reviews Arcade Fire’s Neon Bible.
If music can be about seeing the conjuring of memories, images, in “Toy Boat” I see Yoko in a vast empty landscape (Eternity?) sitting, singing, at a toy piano. Her songs for me are like psychic bulletins from the future, or freak outs from the past. Yoko has always been ahead of her time; either at the epicenter of things or else right at the very edge of the ledge. And what this record does, is make her work, new, now, and utterly contemporary.
Bertie Marshall says “Oh, yes, Ono.”
Just because Rosemary fit quite neatly into the popular post-punk revival genre doesn’t mean they’re not worth a second glance. Third single ‘If I Had My Way’ is a kinetic rush of assault-pop, where floaty guitars get chased down a dark alley by relentless drums looking to beat a solo out of them.
Richard O’Brien reviews Rosemary’s new single.
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