This aint no Roxy music...

Looking back on the 80's i find it hard to see why any modern day outfit would even attempt to emulate such, what i think anyway, is a dire period for music. Duran Duran, Spandex, cathartic crew cuts and a whole host of unnecessarily vomit inducing outfits. I also find it a little obscure as to why so many people fail in these attempts and end up crafting a parody of their own self-satisfied reflection, with the exception of miss Ladyhawke, of course.

Yet here i am, faced with a whole host of seriously successful 80's mock-pop tunes that bring back that artificial groove and sparkle of the era past with a near perfect and disgustingly accurate attempt, and who you may ask is responsible for such ludic jives? well Portland's Hockey of course!

"Song Away" is a mirthful groove, squeezing together merry and blithesome guitars to form a chirpy and melodic pop song. It's decidedly contagious, which i find rather strange. I'm putting it's fetching and humble delivery down to the fact that it's a simple conception, produced with catchy pop in mind, and never, at any point, trying to escape simplicity.

For more on Hockey go to www.myspace.com/hockey

The Perils - "Good People do bad things"

It will come to no surprise that the dream punk music promised in the late 70s has died. Yep, I’m sorry, it’s a shocker. Frank Turner’s peeved about it, John Lydon’s off advertising salt free spreads and we’re all left swooning in a washed out pool of corporate, mass produced musical shit.

But that’s not to say we can’t have a little fun with it! Take The Perils for instance. A Brighton based gang of ruff-collared new aged beatniks. Tattered jeans, bushy barnets and a handful of gruff and gritty foot-stompers that opens your eyes to where the Paddington’s tripped up. They’re debut confounds all non-existent expectations with a guitar pile up of mish-mash, melodic bellows and squatty, two step seaside punk.

The ups and downs of this wee humble album include the melodically and distinctly British “Sleeping in Vegas” and the rather chirpy “Lipstick sister” which sounds like the Stereophonics if they grew up on a diet of Marlboro’s and The Buzzcocks instead of Tony Blackburn and well, boredom. The awkwardly slow album closer, “The Highway” is a good attempt at adding a little balance to a really DIY album, but unfortunately it just confirms that the Perils should stick to distortion and disruption rather than delicate and dainty.

7/10

THE VIEW - INTERVIEW (For my uni magazine)

Can nothing stop these Scottish indie superstars? Dan Jones catches up with Kieran Webster of The View for a little chat and a whole load of beers.

Slammed in police cells, banned from the States and notoriously reputed as a lawless bunch of teenage tearaways, Dundee’s finest export, The View, are on the cusp of full blown, Heat magazine style success. Their second musical installment, “Which Bitch?” shot straight into the British music charts at a healthy number two, beaten only by America’s working class, blue collar sensation, Bruce Springsteen. It’s been an eventful old journey for these mop-topped rockers, and one that has resulted in a rather unexpected, if slightly warped, drug induced happy ending.

After around 20 dates in the last 21 days Kieran Webster, bassist from The View, is looking a little shattered. His pale looking skin and his shadowed eyes tell a thousand tales of rock and roll four day benders, sleepless nights and maybe a little too much party powder but he assures me this is the happiest he’s been on the whole tour. “Aye I’m well up for it, this is the happiest I’ve been, I like it here, it’s out of the way and it’s sunny” he gabbles as we sit down to a table of beers.

Three years have passed since the release of their debut. The grubby acoustic ballads and escalating Libertines influenced anthems that appeared on “Hats off to the Buskers” set in stone the potential of the guitar wielding scallywags, and set a rather high bench mark for their second coming.

Having worked with legendary Oasis producer Owen Morris on their debut, The View decided to work with the button-fiddling producer one more time. “It wasn’t different on a personal level“, Kieran told me, “We were still having the same banter and the same drinking and the same shenanigans going on…As far as musically he was a lot more involved this time than he was on the last time, he had a lot more ideas and a bit more input.” And it showed.
“Which Bitch?” surprised the critics. With their pens ready for a good slandering they were stopped in their tracks because something a little experimental happened. The Dundonian teenage upstarts had taken a bit of a different direction. The rusty squeal of a harmonica echoed on opening tack “Typical Time 2” and the brass handy work of Paolo Nutini’s trumpeter on “Covers” demonstrates that this is a band developing in both mental and musical maturity.

“Well that song with Paolo wasn’t even planned.” Murmured Kieran, “We had the song written right, and it was just meant to be Kyle on the track and it turned out that while we were recording and demoing the album he was in the studio down from us. We know him from like festivals and shit, and Kyle just asked him if he wanted to sing on this track. We had to borrow his trumpet player for like three days though which I don’t know if he was too happy about…”

We also see an appearance from Katie Gwyther on the album. Miss Gwyther is the ex-girlfriend of singer and guitarist, Kyle. She appears in the closing track of the album, “Gem of a bird”. The lovable tale of this very Beatles-esque acoustic melody was oh-so 60’s in its creation. Two guitars, the band and Katie in a circle and just one take. The outcome, a tentatively harmonic love song, crafted around the simplest of instrumental construction, and almost slightly nostalgic in its graceful presence.

And it’s songs like these that define the second album. Where “Hats off to the buskers” sounds slightly like stoned students with acoustic guitars, this is an album that showcases the development of four tender bairns into a world that’s completely uncompromising. The songs are about harder hitting subjects – drug abuse and bar time brawls have become standard occurrences, and even more so, standard song subjects. A recent gig at Koko in Camden for the NME awards shows saw it kick off once again, and this time The View weren’t anywhere near a right hook! “Our mate got in a fight with a security guard. But it was happening and we were still playing! We didn’t know what was happening at first, there was just scuffling at the side of the stage and we were doing the last song. As per usual though, the press blew it out of proportion.”

But what hasn’t been blown of proportion was in fact the blow itself. Kyle is currently unable to tour the States due to previous drug charges that prohibit the front man from entering the land of opportunity. “Yeah, Kyle’s not allowed to go at the moment .We’re trying to sort that like because obviously we want to tour there again and we can’t do it without him.” And even more surprisingly I’m told that “people think Kyle’s like well loud and that but he’s probably the shyest out of us.”

And as we continue our chat and the empty glasses pile I can see a lot of hope in Kieran. He’s a clever guy, he’s bought me countless drinks and he’s inspirationally enthusiastic about the smallest of things. As we make our way backstage Pete is nowhere to be seen. Meanwhile, Kyle has risen from his slumber on the tour bus and is proceeding to hurl up copious amounts into a plant pot five minutes before stage time.
As my vision blurs slightly more I realise that Kieran has gone and got me drunk. Maybe it’s because he wants good feedback or maybe it’s because we got on so well, and if slightly naïve, I think it’s the latter. From the get-go I was a View fan. I enjoyed the first album and I’ve become quite attached to the second, but what it is, what really gets me is the spirit that lives in this band.

They are rock and roll to the highest degree, and it’s none of that cliché, Babyshambles, trilby-wearing bullshit that so monotonously treads the pages of myspace. They are a real rock and roll band because they simply don’t give a shit. And in a good way. They riot and rally about the lulls of society in their anthems, they criticise the establishment and all the capitalist trash that goes with it – And when this is all said and done, that is what rock and roll is about, four Dundee locals and a couple of guitars. A fairytale come true.

(ALL PHOTOS, FOTO_FANATIC_MUSIC)

THE DEATH LETTERS

Just going to drop a brief one here, that's until i can actually find the time to really write something that the Death Letters deserve.

Basically this Dutch two-piece have just released their debut at the tender and slightly childish age of 16 and 17, and let me lay this down for all you chaps and chirps's out there. These talented little fuckers are completely capable of blowing the grey matter from your soon to be smashed cranium. Their fast, never-over-the-top, scuzzy two-piece hard-rock has all the potency of a Black Keys anthem and shows Meg White what duet drumming is really about. Absolutely riddled with distortion are their scum clad amp smashing epics and i cannot wait to write more about their scorching hot riffs in the next few days...More to come.

NEW STREET ADVENTURE - Water Rats

Northern Soul is probably quite a way from the top of the average teenager’s record collection and I don’t expect it to be. With bands escaping from the womb of the music industry a dime a dozen kids don’t have time for schmaltzy soul.

Perhaps these two words may have crept into your line of vision at one time or another as you wipe the dust off your dads near ancient record collection, But for Nick Corbin of New Street Adventure it’s a lot more than a dusty discarded record – It’s a lifeline into a welcoming and utterly compromising music scene chacterised by uber cool dancing and speed fuelled weekenders – It’s also the influence behind his punch-drunk, witty pop monologues that encapsulate the aching aggression of an oppressed small town hero.

Growing up in Uckfield (Don’t ask) on a diet of abuse from rugby playing fuck-nuts, Kappa clad ASBO youths and of course the back catalogues of various Stax and Motown knee-benders he seems set on barking his opinions from the nearest rooftop.

“Be somebody” cracks open an ignorant fuelled hot topic in which Nick near-raps his way through a drama filled rant regarding the over privileged and the under worked. A medley of “Jones and Jimmy Jazz” and a Sam Cooke soul extravaganza, “Twisting the night away”, sees an amalgamation that breathes hopeful air into the lungs of the unsuspecting audience who sadly only came to see an attempted comeback by New York’s Five O’clock Heroes, poor show.

These various epilogues of teen angst are nothing new - Obviously. Countless acts have mumbled on in the past about the poor, deprived slums in which they reside, but with New Street it’s different – It’s fresh and it’s overwhelmingly inspirational. Y’see, Nick’s not from the wastelands of London, nor is he from the ghettos of Glasgow; He’s just a middle class boy from a middle class town with first class aspirations.

Like many he seems to find himself on the receiving end of a tirade of mindless yob abuse simply because he doesn’t sport a short back and sides. When people feel the need to criticise, in a witless manor, Nick sees the need to respond. And respond he does. An undeniable talent allows this new age mod to craft tales of booze filled nights, restaurant evictions and, of course, the hot potato topic of the female race.

“Walking Ad” is instrumentally simple. Short snappy guitars and an easily memorable melody make it musically sound, yet it’s the sing-a-long backbone of the song which makes it stand out. A story forms about an ex-colleague of Nick’s - obsessed with botox and addicted to fake tan it’s more like an extract from Jordan’s biography than a tale of a washed up hopeless case… But there’s truth behind this ballad! Honing in on this unnamed females school days Nick tells us how the previously cool teen-queen is now nothing but a future guest on the Jeremy Kyle show. As her ash tray fills up so does her bank balance from a recent benefit scam. And if “Did no body told you the cool kids go no where” isn’t a clear depiction of the playground hierarchy then i'm dumbfounded to what is.

“Class of our own” and “Small town heroes” continue along the road of escapism and social anarchy from the masses. They’re pop ballads with a dash of real soul, and not just the Motown sort. New Street’s front man has clearly poured his personal experiences and heartfelt discontent into the nine or so songs that fill up their forty minute set. As of now they’re unsigned, but who give two shits about that. The Water Rats just witnessed something of a mod revival, and it’s far from a style over substance case in which image prevails all, it’s more of a musical epiphany with a pair of checked trousers and a telecaster. Nearly no one in that room had heard of the Birmingham trio before they entered, yet all leave content that a beacon of hope is on the horizon – A spokes person for the youth generation? Maybe not, but a bloody witty young man whose whimsical tales quite nearly portray the struggle of today’s young’uns perfectly.

Tommy Reilly - Gimme a Call (I was sent this tripe...)

So this little soft-voiced fellow is the best thing that the Orange Unsigned Act had to offer? Well then that’s proof, isn’t it? These supposed “alternative” talent shows are no better at churning out the same mindless trollop as x-factor and pop idol. Do they take pride in glorifying the talent-absent hopeless cases who appear on their show? Who knows and who cares. It appears evident that it’s just another way to highlight how television puts these creative lacking morons on a pedestal of advertising and company exposure.

We can completely disregard Tommy Reilly after this simpleton folk tripe has graced our air waves. His dully penned debut lacks any graspable substance and I think its agreeable that it would sound more at home in a school hall where his acne-covered cohorts can cheer him on before his third period science class. What is clear however, is that these mind-numbing programs are just another way to boost the already gargantuan egos of the celebrity-come-clueless judges who pander around act after act as if they’re fucking John Peel!

So what needs to happen? Well to start lets take these chart derby dullards off the air with their helpless criticism and their shameless self promotion - It‘s sickening and your no better than Sharon Osborne! Secondly there’s already too many thoughtless teenagers documenting their aching aggression with acoustic guitars. It’s cliché and its tired out, but probably more importantly, there’s people doing it better than Reilly, it’s just they didn’t lower themselves to appear on such a documented hopeless case of a program. On your bike Reilly, your time is over, and it’s a shame that it ever came at all.

Tommy Sparks - I'm a rope

Mr Sparks, my my what big beats you have! Kilburn’s Tommy Sparks new single, “I’m a rope”, wastes no time in blasting into an uncompromising two minute run of grubby electro-filth, and I think it’s something that could be somewhat of a hit. Indie disco’s across the country are getting all aroused with this dirty new rave meets electro pop wonderment. Clear the dance floors, lube up your turn tables and flick that strobe light on, Sparks has delivered a grainy anthem for you to really get down to, not to mention those little trouble making b-side remixes! Oh tasty.

Ida Maria - Oh My God

The Scandinavian scarlet that is Ida Maria, has recently proved herself to be a bit of a dysfunctional sort. Defying all preconceptions of the stereotypical Nordic female, she growls her way through this punky epilogue with a spunky foot stomp of sctatty rocky riffs.

There’s little in the way of anything that can be considered completely “original”, but who gives two flying drum beats about that? Where her debut allowed her to explore the ups and downs of her promiscuous self-behaviour, “Oh My God” proves itself as just a little flutter of gritty pop-punk fun. A little turbulent at times and a little unsteady at others, it’s a simple instrumental construction with little in the way of lyrical dexterity. If we were going to rate this frenzied guitar attack I would be inclined to give it something like a six out of ten, but as it turns out, ratings mean shit all for this review, so lets just put it down as an album taster that doesn’t actually convey the brilliance of the album in such a complementary manor.

Them:Youth - Camden Barfly

It’s obvious that Them:Youth have quite epic ambitions. Still in their honeymoon period of band birth, the West London outfit already boast a song catalogue of anthemic, New Order meets Spiritualized electro induced wonderments. The tenderly brash fierceness of “Halo” swirls and orbit’s the stage like a flock of circling pterodactyls waiting to pounce - or in this case, attack every single ear drum with a tornado of face melting guitar domination that will leave you thinking, “Why the fuck are Them:Youth so untouched?…” Beats me.

Back on track! Back on top! Back in the Game!...back

I've had a little inspiration come my way so this blogging lark is going to be almost too regular. I will begin by offering up a free download.

Listed below is a cover of M.I.A's already classic disco grime tune, "Paper Planes." This acoustic cover by Pale Young Gentlemen transfers this achingly aggro beat down song to an acoustic medley of brass insturments and rusty string plucking. It's approached in a humble manor so at no point does it appear pretentious in its stripped down delivery.

Enjoy. x

http://www.savefile.com/files/2039303