Napoleon IIIrd

The one discernible factor that separates the expansive soundscapes of Napoleon IIIrd is the raunchy, punk-husk of the vocals that dominate the electronica tweaks that paint this technicolour canvas in visual and audio oddities.

The Unknown Unknown by Napoleon IIIrd by fabagency

Only Sons - I'm out of touch...

The Only Sons fall somewhere in between Drive-By Truckers and Lucero singing Justin Townes Earle songs. There’s that rooted, country-husk of booze and smokes that needs to be invested in the telling of fruitful, Southern tales.

Having heard, ‘Lay Back Down’ some two or so years ago, I did ponder upon their existence recently and prodded myself to scour for their whereabouts. Sure enough they’re still writing songs and have just completed a new album. So while I am clearly out of touch with the world, I can take some comfort in the fact that the violin still struts around The Only Sons, achy country toots.

The Only Sons - 01 - Modern Men by user3563993

Doyle And The Fourfathers

From song titles alone you can conjure images of acute responsibility from Southampton’s Doyle And The Fourfathers. Clad in tweed and Prince of Wales check, their Brit-pop librarian chic sits somewhere between Jarvis Cocker and Ray Davis, but musically, they bellow social and political declarations of distinctly Southern notions that muster up racing Brit-folk with undertones of a well-nurtured diet of punk.

Of course the notion of young middle class gentlemen with side partings stomping through acoustic-driven folk-punk will deter some of you uppity, student-protest, fire-extinguisher-throwing, part-time anarchists, but don’t cast judgments so brashly. These undertones are simply comments of social awareness. New single, ‘The Governor of Growing Up’, is a case in point. Racing eagerly through double-time drums and deeply pouted vocals, its Pulp-ish hooks undulate from subdued, articulate verses to violin-aided bridges that quickly rise towards something anthemic. ‘It must be the rebel of his childhood, lonely, misunderstood,’ spouts William Doyle like some aching, pen-bound poet of the mid nineties, and as ‘Every Woman You’ve Ever Met’ would suggest, there’s as much Cure and Bowie in there as Cocker.

The Governor of Giving Up (Single Version) by Doyle & The Fourfathers

An air of utter Britishness swarms through Doyle’s music like a tea party at a cricket match, but more than that, the Britishness confirms their adoration for a past musical heritage and that, despite some particularly witty lyrics, they are proud to be a British band. If we weren’t faced with this constant woe and dole-queue mayhem, teenage mothers and all, some of today’s wise lyrics wouldn’t have been penned. No one likes to sit on public transport and have some drooling, knuckle-dragging chump churn distorted, fizzled out-grime from his mobile phone, but it makes for an amusing song topic.

As their songs become slightly varied in more swooning currents of wavy, acoustic pop, their tender side comes to the boil. ‘What Else Are We To Do?’ confirms yet more Pulp-influenced eccentricity – boredom and loneliness in tact – while ‘Please Send My Regards’ enters into the realm of big band drums, snares skipping like soldiers marching through the villages of left-behind teenage souls.

Tom Robinson of 6Music has praised the band on numerous occasions, playing various Fourfathers' demos on his radio show, and now they’re beginning to pick up a little pace, recognition is looming in great, glorious clouds

Wolf People @ Cargo

Expectations are either quashed or amplified when you see a band for the first time. It’s that make or break moment that rests on the shoulders of triumph or despair. Like a first date in many ways. Will she be as attractive as she is through a pair of binoculars from the tree in her back garden? Or was that just her sister? Judgment day has arrived…

As Wolf People enter the stage, smoke starts to fill the air in Cargo. I haven’t seen a smoke machine in a long darn time, and although some venues stand firmly against it, this is the sort of haunting alt-folk affair that benefits from such additions. Slowly escalating eerie coos start to trickle through the cracks in the feedback, at first dripping into mystified pools of electric folk until it builds in to mountainous solos that clamber up and up until lighting strikes and ravenous musical thunder screams.

Constantly building, with a riff that resembles Black Mountains' ‘Don’t Run Our Hearts Around’, ‘Silbury Sands’ burns, engulfs, and ascends into a rousing pound of trippy rock. But when ‘Morning Born’ drops, it becomes fundamentally clear that ‘Salbury Sands’ is the tip of the psych-burg. It commences as a near-Celtic folk squeeze of ambient vocals that ring through the ages of seemingly medieval notions, before its Fairport Convention credentials slowly disintegrate. From these dying embers come the monstrous rock and roll fires of '70s Zeppelin, as guitarists Jack Sharp and Joe Hollick let their fingers run over fret boards like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Wolf People’s debut record, ‘Steeple’, is clearly influenced by the 1970s. But what confirms its authenticity is the diverse range of influences – from the harmonies of Laurel Canyon with Zappa and his groupies running wild in scenes of hallucination, all the way to the Continental Hyatt House with over-indulged rock stars prancing around in women’s blouses, grooving to torrid guitars that sound so important they become like the roar of God himself.

Wolf People - Silbury Sands by All Tomorrows Parties

Jack Sharp’s voice contributes largely to Wolf People's significance. He could’ve easily slipped comfortably into a harmony-based CSNY folk collective, crafting melodic Fleet Foxes / Low Anthem ditties. But instead he’s chosen to utilise his gift and lend it to rock and roll. 'One by One from Dorney Reach’ embodies this notion religiously. Its ‘Immigrant Song’ riff judders and undulates before the inevitable fret-play kicks in and guitars, once again, run rampant through the debauched hamlets of feedback and distortion.

Recorded in a 17th century barn in Wales, 'Steeple' has clearly benefited from such archaic surroundings. Tonight, however, shows something else. Wolf People clearly have one foot in the past and an adoration for their musical heritage, but every other part of their body, instruments included, is leaping forwards into the modern age as they commence their takeover of rock and roll.

Back Baby...

I’ve not been up to this recently. Very piss poor indeed, but alas! the spark has once again been ignited and I’m back on track. Despite a number of know-nothing punters who come to my club night on Saturday’s in Southampton, I am not in fact a post-Oasis, NME obsessed indie kid. Honestly, I’m not. But hey, there’s nothing wrong with that anyway, it just vexes me that these impendent-film watching, James Blake-adoring, no-wave, post-everything hipsters cast judgments so brashly.

With that in mind, I’m standing up for the little man and I’m not taking any crap from these fools any more. So here is my obviously contrived list of music I’ve never heard before and am simply posting to prove a point which I know nothing about. Honestly, I have never heard of these bands before…HA!

Hiss Golden Messenger – Bad Debt


North Carolina’s gloomy folk troubadour, Hiss Golden Messenger, creates rather solemn, dark country ditties with thrilling and haunting undertones that muse Townes Van Zant and Josh T. Pearson. ‘Bad Debt’ is one of his more melodiously rich compositions, lyrically layered with subtle hooks and a tentatively uplifting chorus. Achingly crooned, flutters of pain and optimism flutter like newspapers blowing in the desolated streets of forgotten America.

Bad Debt - Hiss Golden Messenger by blackmaps

The Tallest Man On Earth – The Dreamer


Obviously The Tallest Man On Earth drew Dylan comparisons at an early stage. Husky pouts and loneliness pump through the smoke-filled veins of this acoustic wordsmith, but it’s the rugged delivery of swamp-laden, bar room folk that adds to their flair of his small-time ballads. Following in the footsteps of Joe Pug, he falls onto six-strings like the Great Despression ensued and all there’s left to do is play because there’s a dustbowl coming and we’re all fucking doomed.

The Tallest Man On Earth - The Dreamer by everythingstartssomewhere

Grouplove – Colours


Landing somewhere between Born Ruffians and Avi Buffalo, Grouplove’s thumping, colourful indie-pop squeezes resonate lusciously upon sweet repetition and lyrics of an innocent complexion. But while lyrics may ponder the honest, there’s valleys of up-lifting rock and roll unison that lightly explode as the song develops. ‘Getaway Car’ is also worth a peep.

Grouplove - Colours by KROQ

Justin Townes Earle – Mamas Eyes


As a big fan of country music, from Gram Parson and Townes Van Zant to modern groups like The Felice Brothers and The Low Anthem, I have always had a thing from simplicity and despair over acoustic guitars, so Justin Townes Earle was a perfect choice for me.

When his father, country singer Steve Earle, was too out of it to look after Justin he used to go and live with Townes Van Zant, probably not the sharpest idea. Anyway, without delving into history too much, Justin’s struggle with drugs is something he’s come to accept, and individually, without doubt, he is the most important young country musician of today. Blues-doused, skipping ditties and morbid declarations balance over exciting tales of woe and lyrically rich stories of family et al. Three albums down and he’s still going strong. ‘Mamas Eyes’ was taken from his most recent album, ‘Midnight At The Movies’.

Justin Townes Earle - Mama's Eyes by mollyunravel

Tomorrow I discuss my favourite Gallagher haircuts...