THE MOUTH - CAMDEN ENTERPRISE

It’s Halloween, the one time of the year when the unexplainable happens across the world. Juveniles’ dress up as all things freaky and wander the streets in search of sugary treats, while adults and students alike see it as an excuse to get battered and dress up as something only slightly amusing. Even weirder still! In the Camden Enterprise the drummer from the Darkness is stumbling around the crowded room with a half full glass of vino, just looking for his next autograph to sign, or better yet, his first. Mr Carl Barat has also made an appearance. Quietly drinking in amongst the eye liner clad scenesters, continuously checking their straightened mop-toped barnet’s as they converse about unknown bands and bohemian Camden boutiques.

Upstairs lies a small, dingy room where four irrelevant bands have already been and gone, the main even fast approaches. An undeservedly unknown band by the name of The Mouth clambers on stage. They are set apart from the rest of these myspace urchins. I cannot see a pretentious atom surrounding the euphoric five-piece, and although the cliché is rife, they really do let the music do the talking.



An eruption of enigmatic sound waves begins to bellow from the get-go. Their radio friendly, yet undiscovered anthems lie untouched by the cold grasp of corruption thus far. There is an urban odyssey that coats their big tunes in an aura of hope and longing, and in the case of “Get home safely” this cannot be disputed.

“Lost and Lonely” erects a wall of untouchable distinction. Their loud and full-on music is big, I mean, stadium big! “Bows and arrows” proves itself to be nothing short of a future classic. The ecstasy of such a profound piece of craftsmanship is above everything, Real.



Why this treasure has remained untouched baffles me. The chemistry on stage is reminiscent of an explosive Townsend -Daltrey partnership if only The Who were born in the age of over-crass incendiary guitars and acid fuelled technological advancements.

“Stardust” is in fact the musical equivalent of falling in love while “Halo” closes the show on a high. The chorus, the verses, the riffs and everything about this pure anthem is what good music stands for. The Mouth haven’t missed the boat to success just yet, they have simply not been given their break. One day in the near future a member of the public will watch the London five piece in action, and like me, they will fall in love with a band that resembles everything that is good about music.

Birmingham Barfly - "Best of the Festivals"

Ben Sherman’s “Best of the festivals” is mid-way through gracing the country with some of Britain’s top acts…apparently. And tonight in the Barfly there is a mixture. Veterans and rookies, new and old, and frankly, the brilliant and the down-right shit.

The social commentary of New Street Adventure opens up a proverbial can of worms with tales of muscle clad rugby-types and shallow minded fuck-nuts who waltz around, head held high, with nothing to be proud of, bar their over-sized guns and under worked genitalia.

Destroying the set with northern soul drenched riffs and the knee stomping beats its clear to see that Mr Corbin, of New Street, has a way with the pen and, even more importantly, knows his way around the stage.



But little prepared the grotty hole of Birmingham for the ramshackle mish-mash of Manchester’s Twisted Wheel. Groggy punch-drunk licks hold their own underneath the growl of Johnny Brown’s profound vocal domination. “She‘s a weapon“ bursts in like the drums of a thousand hyped up marching bands while “Let them have it all“ stomps carelessly around the room like a moody teenager..

Fresh from playing Wembley with local Manc heroes, Oasis, Twisted Wheel seem to have their heels firmly lodged into their progressive musical agenda. Columbia have hit jackpot here as even Liam Gallagher is praising Mr Brown and it’s clear to see why.

New single, “Lucy the castle”, is rinsed like a soggy towel of crass lyrical thrush while “You stole the sun” grates the walls with its rough-around-the-edges ramshackle echo. But after tonight the Wheel are hardly finished. It’s back down south for the three-piece to commence another support slot tour with Liam Fray and his Courteeners. A future rock star’s work is never done…

Headliner’s Little Man Tate, arguably not “best of the festivals”, give it their best with their mediocre mumblings and over the top hand movements. “Hey little Sweetie” and other distinctly drab tales from the second album appear and then quickly dissolve until “House Party at Boothy’s” sets the bar for yet another over-hyped LMT showcase.

It’s impossible to fault their enthusiasm. Jon Windle is all over the place like a hyper-active mutt in a kennel, but their tales of love, lost and the like lack any real hearty substance and when each song begins to blend into one another I think it’s time for a word with the organisers. Best of the festivals? I think someone’s cocked up.

The View - 5 Rebbeccas

Everyone has a crucial point in their lives which they dread. For boys it could be the tangled web of love, females and the fast approaching car crash of hormonally charged puberty. For girls, perhaps it’s whose heart to break next, who knows? But for bands it would have to be the monumentally important second album. A decider in their musical career. And in many cases, the approach of a second album will be accompanied by a music critic pointing a fully loaded gun or slander themed adjectives right at the head of the musical mind behind either the monstrosity or the masterpiece…

In this case I feel that I am going to lower my cynical weapon of words doused in negative connotations for it is the return of everyone’s favourite Dundee vagabonds, The View. Although we are only at the first single stage I feel confident in these boys. The double-dutch foursome have returned from their smoke filled odyssey with around four minutes of anthemic, riff fuelled junkie drama.

New single, 5 Rebbeccas, begins like the illegitimate love child of Wasted Little DJ’s. It scurries down the well trodden path of overdosed distortion that the carnage causing Scot’s have taken before. And as they dip into the first verse, the melodically organised ramshackle becomes chaotically poetic as the problem-posing dialect of Kyle Falconer begins to flow from his tongue.

The mixture of grubby rock and roll and beautifully melodic pop is an insight into the hard work that has gone into making this tune. After around three years of touring and making their debut album, “Hats off to the buskers”, the boys have had a wee break and are to release their second album in January 2009, with the intriguing title, “Which bitch?”

According to Falconer and guitarist Pete Reilly, the new album is “darker” and more “experimental”, a step away from their successful pop charged debut, which leaves me wondering…If “5 Rebbeccas” is a taster of things to come, well then we are in for quite a treat.

It’s a drug inspired snippet of rock angst, depicting the trials and tribulations of a young female, “Rebbecca”, apparently based on a real person. Nonetheless, “5 Rebbeccas” is not only caked in a new found musical maturity, but also a cluster of chant worthy lyrics, which like the debut, are sure to engrave themselves into the long list of View lyrics that already echo the towns past played. Dark and Experimental seems to have paid off, and believe me, The View are still very much “On Fire!”

The Courteeners - That Kiss, That first album, That it...?

Now let there be no doubt about it - Liam Fray is a fucking great song writer. I believe the majority enjoyed his yearning penned tales of love, loss, lust and the like. And here, the self-proclaimed musical saviour has taken a step away from St Jude to present that nation with a track not featured on the album, and good on the boy! St Jude has only been out a number of months and the fact that Fray and his lesser known band mates are producing songs not featured on their debut is a productive step forward.

“That Kiss” is a delicate indie ballad, once again, encapsulating Fray’s lovable topic, the hot potato of the broken soul - A man tortured by the unknowing female race who simply continue their business unaware of the catastrophic damage they are causing. And as women continue to break hearts like cheap toys in a problem child’s bedroom, Fray continues to pen his sensitive misdemeanours down…song after song.

There are certain song highlights. Once again Fray shows his capability as a true poet in the urban jungle of house parties, ASBO’s and under drinking and blasts in with lyrical hop-scotch which runs so smoothly of the tongue…”If he only knew what you thought/ The lust, the lack of trust and temptation you fought” entwined into the ever self-reassurance of his personal conversation, “It meant nothing/ It meant everything” proves itself to be a real relationship bust-up anthem.

But here is where the problem lies. Despite the clear lyrical wisdom it seems that this is hardly a step forwards for The Courteeners. Sure it’s not on the album, but “Please don’t” is. A lazy comparison maybe…But a comparison that makes utter sense in the circumstance. And as the brilliant Fray, and I do mean that, continues his soul aching ramblings of “He’s just a passing fashion/ And he’s on his way out” I cannot help but ponder the same thing. A great debut, but with a great debut must come more greatness…that is if Liam isn’t to fall victim to his own written work.

CHECK OUT THE NEW VIDEO HERE - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u8R6oSOidiI

Sergeant - Top notch guitar pop

Scotland’s latest export, pop prodigies Sergeant, have unleashed a three track E.P. The melody rammed, limited edition record is filled to the brim with youth-defining tales. “Our lives are all about living for the nights we can’t remember” yaps front man, Nick Mercer, in the most sincere and profound manor.

Chirpy indie guitars are strung along by the metaphoric daisy-chain of harmonic Scottish vocals, all of which is accredited by the prolific licks and riffs of a very La’s-esqe swagger. Now comparisons will fly, lazy comparisons which may mention their Dundee counterparts - The View - But let it be known! The Glenrothes four are floating high above the fields of the norm, as here they have created a tip-top pop E.P which dangles strangely close to perfection.

The Mouth - Lost and Lonely

After a small gap The Mouth have returned with a taster of things to come. And if this is just the taster then the world better make way for a new set of heroes.

Despite my bias, there is something special about The Mouth which i am unable to put my finger on. Every listen fills me with a sort of smokey-urban hope as the enigma of their sound radiates and drips into the atmosphere like the unexplainable feeling of happiness which fills your soul when you know something is so special, so real, so heartfelt and yet so untouched!

"Lost and Lonely" bleeds a sound that can only be hailed as spiritual and invulnerable, simply impervious to any attack as a chorus of chant-like perfection kicks in before the bridge of "the tender themes" and the washing of souls in the urban water of London's undiscovered rock stars.

(PICTURE - Dingy sorroudings are branded by The Mouth and light shines through)

Conor Oberst - The self titled master piece.

Conor Oberst, the troubled soul who gave us Bright Eyes, has once again returned from the bottom of his whiskey bottle with a new producer and an eclectic country branded group of friends - The Mystic Valley Band.

Followers of Bright Eyes will know that Mr Oberst is capable of churning out songs without even barely thinking. His current library boasts countless minimal country tales, duet ballads of lyrical perfection and depressive monologues depicting the mindset of a weary love seeking soul, and now, without fail, Oberst has produced yet another album of top-notch quality with high calibre song writing.

Throughout the record there are sprinklings of his pessimistic and unhealthily depressive ethos. “I don’t want to die (in the hospital)” is rife with such ill penned vocals of the cold grasp of death in an even colder and artificially crafted environment. But such songs can appear misleading. The upbeat tempo of this urban-country ballad is a smiley cover-up for the suicidal and seemingly cathartic ramblings of a tortured individual who is scared of death and even more scared of dying under the watchful eye of doctors and nurses.

“NYC -Gone, Gone” is a short, sharp shot of distortion with a foot stomping tempo, while “Milk Thistle” switches up the melody into a pool of chord plucking warmth which hugs you like a past Bright Eyes anthem. Graceful like an urban Townes Van Zandt and ruthless like the dispirited fables of Leonard Cohen, Oberst exasperates his range in music making to an untouchable potential that stretches from an ear to ear grin to the deleterious scriptures of a manic depressive.

NOAH AND THE wHALE - Brighton great escape festival

The Great Escape Festival in Brighton is home to a number of great bands, it is also home to a number of bands who should probably not only not be a part of the line but should quit all together, but thankfully the urban-folk tales of Noah and the Whale do not fall into the latter category.

If there is warmth in a voice then Noah and the Whale are the central heating of bands. A lovable romanticism which may seem a little old fashioned is present voice of Noah and his odd looking instrument wielding band members.

It appears that not all the hope in the world is lost. Songs like “Two bodies and one heart” and “Five years time” are rife with a longing to be loved, remembered and to feel belonged. And perhaps more importantly, amidst the tweak of the ukulele and five person harmonies that love is lurking, and it is real.

Glasvegas - Geraldine

The hype surrounding Scotland’s leather clad rockers has reached monumental peaks recently. They have been praised the next big thing by many publications and their new single, Geraldine, is nothing more than a solid confirmation of this hear-say.

The eruption of sound sculpts the curious tale of a social worker and their unstable patient. The lyrical perfection hides a dark story behind the wayfairers of front man James Allan, who almost seems emotionless and content in the shadows of an untold and illegitimate love.

Top to toe in black they seem featureless and sombre but a passion does lurk, and it is slowly beginning to emerge from the pockets of their t-bird reject jackets and from the soles of their neatly polished shoes. "I will be the angel on your shoulders, My name is Geraldine i'm your social worker" crafts a relationship of trust amongst the harmonic melodies to backing vocals from John's brother. A melodic ballad from the Scottish working class who have clearly been working very fucking hard.

Serious lack of anything!

Now is the time i pull my finger out.

There are a few things coming up on the site asap! Fleet Foxes review, The Music review and some New Street Adventure related things. But below are a few new mouth logos, who have been in the studio for a while now. I imagine that we are in for quite a spectical when they emmerge!

The Skin heads? well shall we let them have it!

Im buzzing right now.

I have just come back from seeing the courteeners at Southampton University.

I have to admit that i am a musical cynic and prior to the show i was greeted by a sea of "lads" clad in their newly purchased courteeners t-shirts. An image i was not best pleased about, being the ass hole that i am.

But how my opinion changed. I have not seen a wave of unity amongst band and crowd for a while...other than the music obviously...that moulded the masses together to one single profound body. It was quite special.

Liam Fray, despite the negative media, is infact a real romantic. His unshaven persona has produced negativity for far too long. The man is writing songs that will change peoples lives. He's a lover, he's a fighter and he's a fucking hero. He has the talent to pen incidents to paper in the most poetic and yet thuggish way. A spokesman for the masses perhaps? or it could be the drink talking....

Whatever the outcome...Tonight was a "moment" of real, revived rock music with Fray's very own whimsical angle on love, life and loss. Thankyou Courteeners for bringing pop music back to the front line.

Liam Fray's response to the ST Jude review in the Guardian

http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2008/apr/18/gender.musicnews

This is Liam Fray's response to the ignorant review in the Guarian regarding the release of the Courteeners debut album, St Jude.

Liam has displayed real dignity in thise response. The man has truly stood his ground and in a professional and intelligent way. Good on you Liam, I for one believe him to be a great song writer who captures the essence of British life and he does so in style.

The guardian can get back to giving five stars to James Blunt and Hard-fi with there seemingly musically "educated" writers who clearly did not open their eyes for this album which will soon prove to be a significant step forward in British music,

The Mouth announce secret gig!

The Mouth, a euphoric London fivesome, sent me a message yesterday regarding a small secret show which is to happen on Saturday the 26th in North London.

After returning from a few tour dates with The Music the London boys have gained a bit of a cult following, including Tim Lovejoy who was at the Jersey Budd gig at the borderline a month back.

The band have mentioned to me that the set they will be playing is going to be longer than usual, so it appears that some musical treats may be in store! and if it goes anything like the Leeds show the British public will be leaving the "shit hole" pub wide mouthed and very happy!

Benjamin Wetherill - A gift from the PR company

Now here’s a test for you. Who remembers or even knows the Incredible String Band? No one? Well Mr Wetherill could very well be the distant relative of one of those hemp clad fiddle jousters.
This medieval montage trudges along like the hop-scotch of a woodland romp through the weeping willows and galloping hooves of chain mail doused knights of the round table. This shire anthem may have been contemporary during the reign of a king who had more than three wives and could quite easily order the be-heading of the local village thief, but despite this, it is completely fresh!
There are very few bands these days producing music of this 1400’s calibre, and the tweaking of a mandolin on b-side, “I would love to” makes the continuation of the holy grail narrative all that more confirmed. Wetherill has hardly taken a step forward in music, more like three thousand years back, but in the long term, it is a giant leap into the direction of diversity, which some may feel is lacking amongst the moan of a simple guitar band.

The Mouth - Wearing the Halo high

West London bred The Mouth walk on stage prior to The Music, and far away from home the five lads are obviously not faded as they burst into a colossal wall of euphoric noise that melts the creases of your face and smashes the cobwebs from your crevices.
“Salvation” can cramp up your muscles with its incendiary blast of sheer crunching noise. It reeks with an audio flame that can set fire to towns and cities with an echo of burning that hails no blemishes. Centre stage dances a front man whose juttery movements jive their way into an Ian Curtis type movement marathon with a voice to match that of the legendary Robert Harvey’s.
Fingers corrode on fret boards throughout “Nobody is born a hero” as this profound tune builds into a momentous peak of an organised chaos that holds its own as a poetic masterpiece. “I said Rome wasn’t built in a day” tones Mark until he begins to bellow at the top of his vocal velocity beneath an undercurrent of a drum fuelled hurricane.
Something like this is special. It is actually what the mind can comprehend as incredibly amazing. So much spleen corrupting carnage that rings through the cranium right down to the curled up toes which helplessly attempt to grip to the floor before each and every individual is blown into oblivion. The Mouth. The Future.

Leeds, where i'm from is not who i am

The Music have finally returned. After a well earned break and some troubled times it is clear to see that the Leeds foursome have been working their socks off to produce yet more incendiary and euphorically charged anthems.
A wall of sound greeted the audience of the Brunell social club as Robert Harvey rallied the troops and kicked off the ceremony with new song, “The Spike”. His presence is once again unmistakeably so prevalent. His crushing voice melts into the new songs like a well oiled machine as “The Spike” begins in its mellow, minor beat stage as bassist Stuart Coleman keeps the tempo until the finger movements progress to erupt poetically into a sea of organised musical chaos.
“The Truth is no words” returns like a long lost relative and is welcomed with open armed by an eclectic gang of sweaty onlookers. Harvey grooves his way through the complexity of Adam Nutter’s spleen splitting riffs as his feet glide across the stage in front of the tower of drums that Phil Jordan is faced with.
In the natural sense of the word, The Music may not be considered to be “cool”, but as the show begins to progress and the band rattle through songs, old and new, it seems evident that this band hail no blemishes. Each note is carefully crafted to near perfection behind the back drop of the paint stripping volume of “Take the long road and walk it” and the profound unity of “Strength in numbers” which sees knuckles whiten under the fist clenching grasp of such a powerful future anthem.
The third album, to be released June time, appears ready to be released upon the world, but whether the world is ready for it is a different story. It sports yet more psychedelic effects and a whirlwind of content lyricism that displays The Music for the real eyes and ears of the world that they are.
Philosophical to say the least, such heart felt tension is true to Harvey’s heart and beds deep into the souls of those surrounding him. Between wiping the sweat from his brow, Harvey brandishes his guitar for a skin scraping rendition of “Getaway” which blows the audience from the ground and as toes try desperately to grip to the floor it is an inevitable fact that a performance of such intensity is rare in today’s music scene.
There is no image here, no gimmick and certainly no falseness. What The Music have done tonight is true in its purest form. It is music delivered straight from the soul via a wave of melting melodic masterpieces that hover tentatively above Jordan’s non-stop drum bashing antics and delicately crafted songs of experience and feeling.
New tours have recently been announced, and after speaking to Harvey he declared, “It feels good to be back”, and not just for the band let me make that clear.

If you walk away, I'll walk away

So i know that Bright Eyes have not produced anything new since "Cassadaga" but in this frail and alone state that washes through me at the moment i feel that they are the perfect side order to go with a broken heart.

"I'm wide awake and it's morning" is the country epilogue of angst, depression and a delicate aggression. The light strumming of an acoustic guitar wallowing amongst the wise and heart pouring lyrics of a depressed alcoholic who is too wise for his own personal safety.

Each lyric is carefully crafted by tools of pain and agony, yet beneath these seemingly attacking thoughts, there does lie irony and a berieved pleasure of experiencing such anger.

The Music - upcoming tour

I will be attending two stops on the music's new intimate tour next week. Leeds and London. The euphoric foursome a certainly back with a hurricane of noise and a fist full of fury. The reviews will be up asap.

The Kooks - Mr Maker

The new album, "konk", is due in April and expect a little more diversity from the Brighton pop troppers. This jumpy little number is "Mr Maker" from their performance at the infamous Trobadour in L.A, the birth place of 70's california folk music.

Vampire Weekend

This squealy foursome have produced quite the brilliant self-titled album which enfuses influences from a number of worldy traits. Quirky and jittery sounds marinate amongst the pointy edges of a distortion absent guitar to conquor a hill of simplicity.

Basic beats, vivid violins and homely lyrical handshakes make the stop-start structure of this musical narrative a comforting fire place of delicate indie.

Manchester Mayhem

So the Courteeners have been feeding my mind with whimsical wisdom recently. Their gritty and yet seemingly poppy tales of scensters and the shallow minded musical mugs who infect myspace among other corporate institutions are pleasing me no end.

At the moment i cannot remove the foot stamping banging of "Fallowfield Hillbilly" from my cranium and there is no denying that "Acrylic" is one of the best songs of 2008.

Liam Fray's elegant arrogance is actually quite charming and the man has reason to be perched up on his pedestal of pride. The swagger of Jagger and the ability of a concocted brit-rock future icon make this man a walking ad for straight up stella drenched rock an roll.

The Courteeners are playing Southampton univerity of April 25th which is a scheduled riot on the calender and despite the beer launching, fred perry clad skin heads who will be attending i am looking fucking forward to rucking it up.