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Stella Dawes - Contrasts Review
Published by Al Young | Filed under Music
I hate how the more prevalent local scenes develop. You have one band which does something semi-original, and then you get the emulating hoards who will follow objectivelessly: they just want the benefit of the peer validation of being part of this sprawling ‘community’ of the bands of said scene. Innovation dies off and you get a group bouncing ideas only off of one another. External influence becomes a taboo: and ‘us and them’ attitude is bred.
This is why I love the idea of Stella Dawes. It takes strength of character in a group of individuals to go off from our fair city’s current largest scene of the pseudo-indie/pseudo-pop ‘creatives’ following in the footsteps laid out by the likes of Editors and do something so distant from this prevailing mood. Thick distortion, chugging riffs and harmonics which should sound awful find their homes here in contrast to the almost expected treble-loaded tremolo that has become the order of the day: it’s for this reason that it is fitting that ‘Contrasts’ is the album title. I must say, before the true meat of the review is started, that the packaging of the album was top-notch and probably would have put me in a mood good enough to enjoy any music, but in the interests of journalistic professional conduct, I put it to one side and didn’t listen to the album for a couple of hours: just long enough for me to get over the excitement which, essentially, four pieces of cardboard had brought into my day.
Mouth starts the album with fifty-six seconds of noise: a simple but effective introduction of the mood of the music to come. Happy Ever Afternoon rises from the ashes of this noise introduction with an almost unrelenting ferocity: the immediacy of pageninetynine is meshed with the sheer brutality of Orchid to produce a post-apocalyptic soundscape. Even in its quiet parts, this song is incapable of subtlety: its production is raw, with vocal falterings left in and feedback adding to, rather than detracting from, the overall texture of the track. The refrain of ‘more beautiful for tomorrow’ is guttural and strained in its execution and it adds true character to the song: this isn’t art, it’s a true emotional outpouring. The lyrics in other places border upon the divinely socially conscious: ‘We polish shit but, like it or not, nobody here is perfection, but we’re coming close’ is a blatant nod towards the misled interpretation that perfection is achievable, if at all desirable.
With Dichotomy, I was expecting a simple half-half quiet-loud dynamic, but it would appear that I project song titles onto the content of songs a little too much. The song gradually builds up for a minute, and then ascends into chaos with sonic bombasticity of the most endearing kind, and unparalleled by all that I can think of with the possible exception of Russian Circles. Distorted vocals are experimented with here to great effect: it’s not about the words, per se, but more about the position and role of vocals in the song. This distorted sequence serves to fill the void left by the descent of the guitars into a relative quietness and cleanliness. Shifting dynamics and textures are used on Dichotomy to produce a very unique and identifiable sound.
Investment Intercourse: A Deposit is the most conventional track so far on the album, showing nods towards the likes of Norma Jean through its initial minimalist instrumentation and then full-band blowout. Cowboys Become Folk Heroes would be enamoured by the vocals on display here: screams fluctuating in and out of the ’screaming’ band of singing and into the standard bounds of conventional ’singing’: this just adds to the sincerity of the music. Nothing is forced: nothing has been completely and utterly bastardised in ProTools. This is honest music. Everything Happens to Eeyore starts off with a calm, almost freeform jazz aesthetic (reminiscent of a couple of tracks from I Would Set Myself on Fire for You’s Believes in Patterns), but soon reaches the climax of churning guitars with the almost overbearing cataclysmic drumming drilling the pictures of their artistic vision into your head.
Gut is another exercise in instrumental experimentation from Stella Dawes: the guitar tone is similar to that of an ’80s Metro struggling to turn over. This gradually fades out and becomes the noise of a solitary detuned guitar. It’s yet another wonderful foray into the realms of noise as an art form. Investment Intercourse: A Return follows on from the drum outro of Gut but soon finds its own place with the introduction of an infectious lead part over it, with bass joining in later. This is a change from the generally ‘hardcore’ music pursued thus far, and shows a leaning towards the realms of post-rock. It’s a nice break in the middle of the album to cool down a little: angry, angry music is prone to make one angry.
Track eight is Sleep is for the Week, a progressive post-rockesque romp starting with a simple plucked 2-note guitar line leading into a more complex multifaceted full-band performance. It climaxes in a manner which could well be considered both ‘epic’ and ‘brutal’, both in the ironic and non-ironic senses. Fifteen Hour Drive takes a different tack to everything on the album prior to this point: clean guitars leading into a crescendo of distortion and strained vocals. It’s almost like a laid-back Explosions in the Sky song.
When the Tiger Lost His Voice sees a plodding heaviness which somehow manages not to be dull through the latent yet apparent emotion of the vocals. Their mystical chainsaw tone is present here, replete with a background chanting which is reminiscent of Lion of the North. The Unspeakable is a straight-up hardcore song, with chants, octave chords and sequences which shouldn’t be bearable, but are through some divine musical magic. The cries of ‘Is love enough?’ can do nothing but endear the band to the listener: this is once again social commentary of the highest order.
The album ends on a raw, unprocessed high with Decay: it’s a completely unmastered track with a small spoken section at the beginning which explores their recording and musical technique quite nicely.
Overall, this album is superb: it’s intellectual hardcore. It’s brutal, yet subtle; artistic, yet emotional. It is the embodiment of the DIY ethic through its production method: all of the mastering was done internally. Buy it. Listen to it. See them live. You’ll love it.
Spotlight: The Arcane Parade
Published by Al Young | Filed under Music
Energy, dedication and artistry: all that matters in music, and all that the Arcane Parade embody. It’s wonderful (for me at least, it may be a perversion to others) to find a band so free of pretence, so free of a sole desire for success above music, so free of an adherence to mainstream musical formulae. The song Bang (from their album/EP Deferring Heartbreak/Changing Forever) puts it best: ‘there’ll be fire in our hearts, we’ll try to make you understand that we do what we do, ’cause it’s the only thing we know.‘
The music itself, across everything that they have recorded, is wonderfully energetic, and a little esoteric: vocal delivery is plain and honest and sometimes ascends to a raspy growl, something which could be considered a lost art in the age of the rape that is excessive post-production. Their music combines vivacious chord progressions with technical lead parts, and the two combine to form a whole greater than the sum of its parts. It’s danceably simple, yet complex enough to satisfy snobbish music theorists: who would probably be better off listening to the likes of the Dillinger Escape Plan, Shotmaker and The Jesus Lizard anyway. This concept of duality in their music is a pattern: in The English Way, vocal fragility is combined with a surprising strength in the chorus, with that growl showing its lovely self once again.
The drumming is easily on a par with the ability of the guitarists: the drummers serves as more than a timekeeper, and seems to actually lead the songs rather than merely keep the other instrumentalists going. A refreshing change from the standard rock beat, that’s for sure.
James Summerfield - Count to Ten and Start Again
Published by Al Young | Filed under Music
Birmingham seems to be at the forefront of a new wave of folk- and country-inspired music, with the likes of Sam Bentley, Friends of the Stars and Stuart Yeadon coming to the favour of ourselves and other local media. And here, in James Summerfield, we could have another sign that the next ‘Birmingham sound’ is going to be closer to Saddle Creek’s current definition of the ‘Omaha sound’ than the metal of the ’80s.
The album starts with an almost painfully cliché country-esque song title in Another Day With You’s Like Torture - it just screams of the likes of I Beat My Wife to Dull the Pain mid-Western America songwriting - but (luckily) it finds its salvation in the content of the song itself. It’s a delicate number of strings, acoustic guitar, slide guitar and drums accompanied by the sort of pained, spiderweb-thin vocal delivery paralleling that of the late Elliott Smith. The lyrics are full of sweet little references to the limitations of knowledge and the transience of relationships, throwing back memories to late-era ‘everything is a ballad’ Dr. Hook. And that is quite possibly the only time that that particular comparison has been made favourably.
Heads Down and Eyes Up is a song which I can immediately love, if only for the passing theme of ‘I can’t stand theists for whom God only exists in their hours of need.’ It’s just delightful commentary on a breed worthy of hate. Again, Elliott Smith comparisons seem necessary: the delay on the voice is reminiscent of Independence Day, and works to thicken out the texture of the song in the same way, alongside the far more minimal backing of slide guitar and strings.
The third song on the album, Stuck in the Mud, is probably the most indicative of the minimalism of his music: voice and guitar. It’s a simple combination which works, especially with the contrast between the harsher highs of his vocal chords and the clean sounding mids of his accompanying guitar. Count to Ten is, simply, wonderful: soothing vocals tell the story of a stalkerish distant desire, but in terms so pure. Chinese food, independent films, cashews and cheap wine are truly the more base components of a successful relationship. The sudden-onset swell of the instruments at the end of the song at the point of ‘I’m thinking of you even though we have not met’ seems so earnest that the song cannot be construed as anything but earnest by anything possessing a heart. The descent into a whisper from this just compounds the effect. The subsequent instrumental of Jelly Bones demonstrates the technical proficiency of James quite well.
Getting thoroughly hammered because of a loved one: it’s so passé, but so wonderfully adaptable to music. What’s on Your Mind shows a struggle between whiskey and wine brought on by the perceived distance of another, and its wonderfully executed with vocals which for the first time on the album seem strained, and it’s a strain of a most appealing nature. It’s an emotional strain. It’s genuine. Delusions of adequacy and grandeur are also great concepts for songs, and Films tackles this, again, with great aplomb. The vocals and guitar mesh to form a whole, rather than just being the sum of two parts.
A Little Time’s guitar part is wonderfully playful, and it’s an infectious riff. It could be considered danceable, as far as that term is usable in country. I’d be a Helpless Friend is a song, once again, of James Summerfield’s more minimalist side: guitar plucking accompanied by slide and the most gentle of percussion. At 1:59, it’s a nice break from the rest of the album.
Once is a sad song, simple as: the debate of love as a once in a lifetime experience versus a constant one just doesn’t lend itself to jolly music. His melancholy is an enjoyable one, though: the vibrato on the vocals becomes gradually more and more unrestrained as the song goes on, just giving the feeling that the performer is close to tears. It’s wonderful.
9 Lives and Paper Bags are a stylistic departure from what was the formula laid down up to now. 9 Lives sees the introduction of clean electric guitars and a far more staccato vocal style. Paper Bags, on the other hand, is the polar opposite to this. The song brings with it a delightfully fragile piano intro and a gentle climb to full instrumentation. The only lyrics in this song, which are sung towards the end, serve as a closing to this album wonderfully: it’s a synoptic account of the themes of the entire album.
I must say that this album is, in a little way, a little hackneyed, but only in a thematic sense; and I’m not quite sure as to how bad of a thing that is. Sure, the songs are about love, about life, about the day-to-day: and all of that has been done before ad inifitum. But who cares? These themes cut to the very core of the human condition.
It’s out in August. Buy it.
Commercially Inviable Records, the record label at the helm of what I see as the folk revolution in Birmingham, are really pressing the concept of ‘art for art’s sake’, and I can truly respect that. I hope that their lineup grows exponentially with a maintenance of quality.
The Exposition: Hardcore/Screamo/Emo/Whatever It’s Called This Week
Published by Al Young | Filed under Music
We have a new set of features here at Starve in Heaven, kids: a weekly (or more frequent) series with the subject of the best local bands in any given genre. The aim is simple: exposure for the little known (but greatly talented) bands, and a certain hipster kudos for me for my knowledge of the pseudo-obscure. We start with the oft used terms of screamo and hardcore: two terms often incorrectly used, as people who are already readers of SiH may have already noticed my dismay at. I’m going to spare you the rant and just get into the bands:
Gaza City Blues - MySpace
The downtempo instrumental leanings of the likes of I Would Set Myself on Fire for You and Circle takes the Square combined with the ferocity and immediacy of Neil Perry. Layered guitars mesh intricacy and vehemence in a style most wonderfully suited to the genre, and the vocals do not disappoint either: considering their origins of Wolverhampton, they are clean and emotive in a fashion so pure any human listener would feel the cathartic effect of their initial recording. The lyrics worth the paper which they are written on, which is becoming most rare: ‘but how is it possible to be the oppressor and the victim at the same time?’ screams of a desire to find a rational dichotomy, and by god it does scream.
Hips Unite - MySpace
God. The drumming. God.
It’s like giving crack to a child with a pair of dustbin lids, a snare and a bass drum. It’s heaven. The guitar parts are far more accessible than a lot of their contemporaries’: the on-off chord jerking serves to provide a little more dancability to the mix, in a turn away from the musical elitism the genre seems to breed. The screaming itself is a little eccentric as well: emphasis is not placed on technique at all, but rather the emotion behind the music. Yes, he will one day lose his voice but their music will be that little bit more awesome until that time. You have to suffer your art, right?
Stella Dawes - MySpace
Progression in music is a wonderful thing: my favourite songs (Envy’s A Warm Room and Circle Takes the Square’s A Crater to Cough In as but two examples) start soft, but end in an orgasmic sonic cataclysm. Stella Dawes have taken this another step further: the songs start hard and just carry on upping the ante. Vocals travel from a scream to a chant to delicate singing. Their journey is a wonderful one to listen to. They’re also one of the only bands which I have ever come across which make chainsaw guitars sound anywhere near pleasing. Seriously: they make me want to ask for just a little more muddiness to their tone. A bit more of that crunch. Anything for that more of that sound. That godawful sound. That wonderful sound.
I’m clearly a masochist.
Manrae - MySpace
More of the Indian Summer/City of Caterpillar bent, Manrae combine elegant indie-esque guitars with guitar noise over carefully orchestrated drumbeats. Distortion, meet your polar opposite of clean, treble-biased sounds. Despite its seemingly polar self-contradiction, the combination works to good effect. The vocals walk that oft-tread line between fragility and strength and always seem as if they could break at any moment. The songs aren’t just demonstrations of shifting dynamics: they’re the very up-and-down nature of life itself. It’s truly an endearing quality.
Now, if I’ve wet your appetite for the emo/screamo/kittencore/hardcore/whatevercore scene of Birmingham and the Midlands, I must disappoint you: Stella Dawes is the only band out of these still going, the rest burnt out before they had the chance to sell out. Obviously. Nonetheless, this is demonstrative of the diversity our fair region has to offer, and testament to the works of prior greats in their chosen specialities.
A new slew of bands would not go amiss though, if they were as good as the above mentioned bands. Hint. Right there.
Rock Martyrs?
Published by Sapheen | Filed under Debate, Music
Good god, if being a music journalist makes you this cynical and misanthropic I’m surprised we aren’t all disposed to jumping off the BT Tower like a bunch of Lemmings. Then again, SiH has never been this silly, unless a few of you out there wants to keep an eye out for the next ”Rock Martyr,” which to be honest is a phrase I haven’t actually heard until reading this:
Nice little spark for some debate I think, If any of you actually care.
On some level, I think the man has a point: without the death of Ian Curtis, Joy division probably wouldn’t have been as glamourised as it is today, We HAVE had just about 2 years of ”Joy Division mania.” Yep, there would probably be fewer 17 year olds wondering around at Bloc Party and Interpol gigs wearing Joy Division t-shirts/badges and what have you. Also, as brilliant as ‘Control’ was, it would probably never have come into existence… well there wouldn’t have been reason for it to do so.
At the same time, I fail to see the reason why Lester feels the need for bands to follow what he calls a more interesting ”Narrative arc.” Surely it’s enough for bands to continue to release albums until they truly stop making any decent music, and then be allowed to retire gracefully? I’d much rather artists such as Ian Curtis, Jeff Buckley, Elliott Smith or Nick Drake were still alive rather than dead, even if only out of respect for their families. Lester appears to associate too much glamour with the demise of young musicians who’s music is more an attempt to wring beauty out of somewhat tragic alienation. It is quite irresponsible for Lester to go picking out who he feels will be our next ”Rock Martyr.”
Needless to say, if I were Thom Yorke, I would have punched the living shit out of him. Feel free to comment/debate as necessary.
Astro Reality
Published by Al Young | Filed under Music
From their very inception, most bands walk that most treacherous tightrope: balancing, on the one hand, their ideas and preconceptions of what they want to sound like, and on the other, the vocabulary of how to define that sound. So it is, once again, with a heavy heart that I have to whine about the misuse of the label ’screamo’ amongst the populace at large. Astro Reality are to screamo what Hawthorne Heights are(/were, ha) to emo: a travesty of mislabelling and essentially a bastardisation of a genre most radically different to its diluted ‘followers’.
However, a history lesson isn’t what this article is about: even if their sins of woefully inadequate genre nomenclature are to be forgotten, the music itself exposes doubt as to the validity of their self-professed status as a band. They state that they ‘want to be known across the land for being unique and keeping it Astro’, but any prior illusions you may still have about their uniqueness in the sea of their ’screamo’ (inverted commas are important) peers are dispelled as soon as you hear the first chord in any of their songs. As for ‘keeping it Astro’, I’m not nearly well informed enough to know what that means: the cool kids are probably laughing at me right now for that.
Warranty, their most recent musical foray, shows the instantly recognisable chug-chug of a distorted electric guitar and the most dire screaming I have ever heard, even in a band of this perversion. The screams are not the light accentuated growl of the likes of Tim Kasher or Geoff Rickly, nor are they the visceral-yet-high-pitched wail of Billy Werner: they’re something all together more weak, a cross of the two styles as unwelcome as a 20 year old at a Conservative Club, and just about as out of place amidst the pop-punk riffs and hackneyed lead parts.
Listening through the rest of the tracks on their MySpace, one cannot help but get the feeling of deja entendu (and no, not the Brand New album. That work is holy and should not even be sullied with a mention here), and that is because, in all sincerity, the songs do sound the same. Guitars? Distorted, with crispy overtones. Bass? There. Drumming? Keeping time in the most dull ways imaginable. Think ditchwater, mixed with Jimmy Carr’s humour: shit, plain shit. Vocals: dual and completely out of harmony. It doesn’t work. It doesn’t work. It doesn’t work.
There’s a limited school of thought (only on certain sites on the Internet, granted) that Casey Calvert’s opiate, citalopram and clonazepam fuelled death was due to the realisation that he had, almost single-handedly, destroyed a once great genre and ruined its name for the good many years of copycat bands to come. I sincerely hope that this band follow his lead, and just give up on music or find an original niche: I have no doubt of their instrumental ability. I just abhor their shitty music.
Fusion, Sam Bentley, Cyanide Eyes, Dirty Mindz - The Way Inn 19/4/08
Published by Al Young | Filed under Music
A Church building. A Church building. A gig at a Church building. Me at a gig at a Church building. To be honest, I didn’t know what to expect: the bigot in me would have loved a sing-along around a fire, but the reason within me supposed that it would be no different than any other gig: music is music, after all, no matter what religious bent it may have. As soon as I entered the room, however, all of my worst fears came flooding back to me. Painted on the walls were instances of capitalised accusative third person pronouns, and memories of my days of indoctrination filled me once again. I actually started to panic at little. Luckily for the sake of my sanity, the music was soon to start. First up were Fusion.
Fusion -MySpace
Shoegaze, psychedelia and modern rock and post-rock: perhaps not the most immediately combinable elements, but Fusion really pulled it off with casual aplomb and a good sense of humour. Members of the band were holding small conversations with people at the front and consistently making jokes between the songs: audience participation perhaps at its finest. Energetic and enthusiastic instrumentalism perfused their performance, with guitar and drum solos of a great technicality being used to great effect. However, the vocal performance of Freddie Odong left a little to be desired: it was all around quite flat and without any real character.
Sam Bentley - MySpace
Following Fusion, it would be a reasonable assumption to make that the next act would not be an acoustic set with the instrumentation of two acoustic guitars, a keyboard and a violin. I guess that consistency wasn’t really a criterion of the selection of the bands for this event, but none of that matters. I’d been talking to Sam himself prior to his ascension to the stage, and (as well as selling me a copy of his EP for £1.74 instead of £2.50: doing this does have its perks - also: he’s a nice guy, obviously. Always good) he stated his worries of playing acoustically in a room such as the one he was in: small, and full of talking friends. Unfortunately, his fears were to be confirmed and further accentuated by issues with feedback and other sound malfunctions (not to mention a sore throat). However, he managed to play convincingly and fluently in spite of these disadvantages. Starting with Outside, from his Starve in Heaven-loved Colours EP, the Elliott Smith-esque nature of his vocal delivery become almost immediately apparent: the paradoxical strength yet exterior fragility of a whippet would be a good comparison to make. The slow vibrato of the violin came to accentuate this. Covers of Outkast’s Hey Ya! and Justin Timberlake’s LoveStoned brought his crowd (which, admittedly I was envious of) of mostly attractive girls to attention, and served as a testament to his vocal ability. His lovely set was about as close as we got to singing around the campfire.
Cyanide Eyes - MySpace
From the first chord played, I was expecting yet another oh-we’re-so-hardcore metal-esque band with no redeeming qualities. I am beyond proud to say that that is not what we got: we saw a band, whilst clearly showing influences such as Machine Head, Deftones and Alexisonfire’s earlier work, with several original bones in the collective corpus. They effused such a raw energy that even the likes of Neil Perry and Pg. 99 would have been in awe of their performance. The vocal delivery was teeming with emotion and ranged from a whisper to a yell to a guttural scream: and by god, were all three of these beautiful. Coupled with his movement, this was performance art: music beyond music, it told a tale. Riffs, fills and solos were played with an air of an almost throwaway attitude: it was as if this came oh-so easily to them. Also rare for a band of their age, the bassline actually played a role in their songs: it was audible and drove the rest of the song along, something which I found to be genuinely refreshing.
Dirty Mindz - MySpace
I suppose it could be said that I have a little history with Dirty Mindz, haha. I’m more than willing to admit that I was wrong, however, given the events of the evening: it started with me having a conversation of sorts with Izaak, Stuart, Jake/Skidz and their homosexual roadie/groupie whose name I never picked up. It was about the prior article and certain misinformation included therein. From there, however, it got more sociable: we discussed punk, politics, religion and certain other Birmingham-based bands. It went well, I’d say: certainly could have gone a lot worse. As far as their performance goes: it really was excellent. Izaak, as I remarked at the time, was ‘fucking insane’ on stage, using every punk performance pastiche yet adding his own little mannerisms to make it that bit more unique. Ostentatious though it was, Luke epitomised the band’s musical prowess by making a point to play his guitar behind his head. Again, the ‘wanker’ reflex was only held short by my realisation of jealousy of his ability. The drumming was more than just the usually expression of I’m-just-trying-to-keep-time, it had a soul to it: the drummer really got into what he was doing, and the music benefited immeasurably for it. They were really getting off on performing, and that is what performing should be about: hedonism.
See full entry for pictures.
Friends of the Stars - Lighting and Electrical
Published by Al Young | Filed under Music
Honesty and earnestness: two qualities missing from mainstream music in this current day and age with emphasis being put on what would sell well rather than that which matters: heart and motivation. What we have here is most definitely a return to these ideals of truth in art; coming from a band whose tagline is ‘commercially unviable since 2000.’ Perhaps a pedant would point out a possible irony and hypocrisy over them releasing an album for commercial consumption, as they have here with Lighting and Electrical, but it is their first, and they have yet to be tainted by the allure of the grandeur of life of rock stars. This is simple, honest folk music with no purpose other than artistic expression. It is pure.
The initial sole guitar chord strums of Old Souls are the first sign of the style to be demonstrated on the album: minimalist yet effective accompaniment to heavenly vocals. The harmonies of dual vocals over this simplistic chord strumming and pedal-steel plucking create a calm, almost serene, soundscape, with its termination into a sole female voice in the outro being a soul-wrenching way to go about things (of course, this could just be my predilection towards female vocals).
Dragonfly only has one thing in common with Old Souls, and that being in the use of an acoustic guitar. A new dynamic of male-female dual vocals is added, and comes close to sounding playful amidst the tales of indifference, accidents and modern communication. The introduction of electric guitar and percussion in this track also goes a certain way to showing them to be more than one-trick ponies. Sharpening a Blade is a wonderful song demonstrating willful separation from an ex-partner in a non-cliché manner, with the duality of acoustic and electric guitars being shown once again in its full glory.
Feelin’ Blue starts in the downtempo, quiet manner which has become expected of the music of Friends of the Stars by this point in the album, but slowly develops into a forceful (by their standards) song of devotion in the wake of pseudo-depression. It is really quite wonderful – the voices and instruments blend to form three minutes, eighteen seconds of perfection.
Nobody’s Out There serves to show the sheer range and skill on offer from the one female vocalist: her vibrato when sustaining notes is eccentric yet ever so endearing, and just furthers the lovesick message of the song. The (Out of) Jail Fire shows a marked departure from the tone of the album thus far: uptempo and bright, as opposed the previous downtempo subtlety, whilst still telling a tale of love lost. The male vocals and music here are somewhat reminiscent of Tim Kasher’s work with The Good Life – that, coming from me, is a very favourable comparison. Fork in the Road continues in this vein, and continues to draw possible conclusions most favourable. The next track, Been Down, returns to the male-female dual vocals and simplicity of the rest of the album: and it is a most welcome return to the previous beauty.
Monday Morning is another song with beautiful female vocals over simple, effective guitar strumming and plucking; and Why Are There Movies of Jane Seymour? ends the album on a high note: this one songs demonstrates everything wonderful about the band: honesty, earnestness, simplicity, paradoxical dichotomy – a certain complexity in simplicity. I hope that success finds them.
Sam Bentley - Colours EP
Published by Sapheen | Filed under Music
http://www.myspace.com/sambentley
I rarely come across local music that impresses me this much. Sam Bentley’s ”Colours” certainly did well to impress, as well as remove any assumption that Birmingham cannot give rise to decent music; an assumption which was only recently broken by ‘All the Pictures’, and now of course Sam Bentley. With this 4 Track EP, the hard work of a rising artist is certainly evident, with nods towards the likes of folk musicians and the regular alterns such as David Ford, Get Cape, Wear Cape, Fly and even hints of Jeff Buckley; clear enough to me that a lot of thought has gone into some very unique songwriting.
The Harsh vocal delivery is something else to look out for, it provides credibility to some of the emotive songs on display here, particularly with regards to ‘Falling’, as well as providing its own form of instrumentation; inspiration drawn from the likes of Dallas Green perhaps? The lyrics also show a further aspect of Sam’s future potential; yes, they could be improved, but they house a certain kind of poetry which at times can put a smile on the face of anyone listening to this, walking down a familiar road perhaps… for this is music I have no problem taking up a few megabytes on my rather cheap media player.
Tracks such as ‘Rose’ and ‘Outside’ quite effectively demonstrate Sam’s ability. Clean guitar/vox combos are evident here, as well as the inclusion of some light hearted drum patterns and sampled synth; without lacking decent vocals. I won’t go too far into detail: the tracks are best experienced personally. All in all, I’m quite glad I got my hands on this EP.
In this writers opinion, the standout track on here is the closer: ‘Dinosaur’. There is something extremely calming about the way the guitar mingles in with the electric piano, which later builds into heavily percussive acoustic led progression that certainly pleases; an effortless closer to ‘Colours’. This EP certainly went some way to change my opinion about the rising talent in music production that Birmingham ‘lacks’, and is certainly a good start for Sam Bentley. It certainly put a smile on my face, as I hope it does for many more.
Whispers From The Dancefloor #1 - Dubstep
Published by Dan Alani | Filed under Music
Right, so I decided a while ago to create a new series of posts around the world of dance music, and aptly named it “Whispers From The Dancefloor” (anyone into Shoot, Panda!? will find this obvious). Now I am finally freed up, I bring you the first post, about the world of Dubstep.
Dubstep is a genre thats been lurking in the darkest, grimiest clubs in London since 2005, and with the aid of Mary Anne Hobbs’ Radio 1 show “Dubstep Warz” has been gaining momentum on the dance scene since. Indeed, Radio 1 have been so supportive of the genre that they’ve added the “breakout” track for the genre, Benga & Coki’s “Night” to their daytime playlist.
With origins in garage and drum and bass, expect aggressive yet sparse beats, wobbly sub-bass, all drenched in reverb and in minor keys to make the atmosphere of the music dark and moody, yet bouncy enough to keep you skanking. Clearly, i’m struggling to describe this genre, but perhaps it is simply because Dubstep is something that really cannot be explained; as leading producer Kode9 said himself, Dubstep simply always evokes a physical reaction in the listener.
So, with that in mind, here is a little mini-mix I prepared to give you readers a flavour:
Tracklisting:
1. Benga & Coki - Night
2. Biome - State Of Emergency
3. Distance - Night Vision
4. Pinch - Punisher (Loefah’s SE25 Remix)
5. Digital Mystikz - Haunted
6. Thom Yorke - And It Rained All Night (Burial Mix)
7. Untold - Kingdom
8. Djunya - Along The Path
9. Bloc Party - Where Is Home? (Burial Mix)
And if this takes your fancy, now would be a good time to introduce WHAT! DUBSTEP?, Birmingham’s freshest and (arguably) first dubstep night. Hope to see you there, reppin’ your endz!
Stuart Yeadon
Published by Colin | Filed under Music
There comes a time, and believe you me it’s a rare occurrence, when a reviewer actually enjoys what they’re listening to so much, that they could quite happily let the songs become part of their regular audio assemblage.
Having worked with the man himself before on occasion, I can tell you for a fact that this guy oozes musical prowess, and it shows through in every single song on the obligatory myspace page, and, in an attempt to get you to listen to his work, I’m not going to describe it in too much detail, since it really has to be heard in order to truely appreciate its brilliance.
Suffice to say the clean guitar/vox combo on ‘Let’s Go Swimming’, ‘Stay With Me’ and ‘Apology’, and the eerily beautiful piano/drum flirtation that is ‘Crystal Rain’ (which even plucks up the courage to melt into an, albeit simple, but effective, jazzy solo) are enough to restore anyone’s faith in the Birmingham Music Scene - there’s more than enough promise here, its just a shame he’s tied up with Shoot, Panda!? at the moment.
Mr. Dialysis
Published by Al Young | Filed under Music
OK, the Birmingham music scene has become something close to my heart in recent months, and I hate to see the trie which we are capable of producing, in such stark contrast to our rich history. The white-man rap stylings of a certain Mr. Dialysis are my latest sufferances of our recent musical ineptitude. His MySpace doesn’t even attempt to hide his multitude of sins:
- BBC Interview? What the fuck. I suppose it makes a change from the cat-stuck-in-tree local headlines. He really comes over as an arsehole. ‘I’ve become a celebrity in Birmingham’ - what a twat.
- I also listened to some of the music (again, unfortunately) - ‘I can jump but I’m not a rope’ - there is no hope.
- He claims Regina Spektor as an influence. He’s trying too hard and doing it wrong.
- Ralph Waldo Emerson quotes. Wow, philosophy is fun when you’re doing it as a filler A-level with an empty head.
- ‘My ps3, 42″ tv, GHDs, iPhone and blowdryer are my favorite possesions.’ - that’s like £2000. I’m just jealous, OK?
- ‘I am a vegetarian’ - probably for fahsionable reasons. If you’re going to do it, do it right: become a vegan (I eat meat for fun, but I am becoming vegan for health reasons soon, so no hipocrisy)
- ‘I am a christian, which means I do believe in God.’ - no shit. It also means that you’re insecure in your existence.
- ‘I am a firm believer in the fact that HARBORNE, is the best place to live, ever.’ - he haz gud grammer.
- ‘I have 3 favorite smells, they are…. 1. Dettol. 2. Petrol. 3. Freshly tumbledried garms.’ - if I ever want to kill him, all I have to do is light a match. That is, if the dettol fumes don’t get to him first. Fashionista whore credentials are also ensured.
- ‘As I no longer eat meat, I have a new favorite food.
It used to be spagetti bolagniase but now, it is Tuna, Sweetcorn, Tomato and Basil pasta (with cheese).’ - PROOF THAT HE IS A SCENESTER TOOL! Other than his music, of course. The cheese also backs me up on the ‘do it properly’ veganism statement. Also, isn’t fish meat? - ‘Sounds Like: Nothing You Ever Heard Before.’ - again, his grammar is flawed; but more relevant is the fact that his music is painfully generic and overdone.
- ‘Lattés are officially the nicest hot drink. Diet coke is offically the nicest soft drink.
Water is officially the most healthy option drink. If you drink bleach you will die.’ - his little fame trip is even beginning to affect his perception of where his limits lie: he can ordain things officially? He has power? His actualisation about bleach is touching, however.
I know that I’m being pedantic, but that profile really got to me. He is no celebrity, local or otherwise.
Good rappers have intelligence: just look at Atmosphere.
Barfly Xmas Celebration (20/12/07)
Published by Al Young | Filed under Music
Ah, Digbeth at 7PM on the evening of many people’s Christmas work’s parties: never before had I seen such lewd behaviour from the supposedly reputable professionals; though I will not be so disgusted as not to admit that watching those who would otherwise be determined to prove their superiority to you publicly relieving themselves is one of the most gratifying visions possible. The main worry here is that their nights were only just starting; as was mine. The weather set the scene perfectly: it was the very sum total of every pre-gig cliché; with sub-zero temperatures and an ever ongoing threat of rain (which was, luckily, not to materialise) serving to consistently put an element of doubt into my mind as to whether being freezing and wet would be worth seeing four local bands, only one of whose music I had previously heard. As it transpired, the Shoot, Panda!?, Likely Lads, MAYDAY! and RiotNight Barfly Christmas party would indeed be worth this potential discomfort.
The night would start with a performance from Shoot, Panda!?, a fledgling
With a slight delay for the removal/addition of equipment from/to the stage, The Likely Lads were the next band to play. Sounding like a mixture of Oasis and Arctic Monkeys with a hint of The Clash and similar punk-era bands, an air of security in what their next song is going to sound like is never really available; not to say that their set was not consistent. It was: it really was. They mix the tried-and-tested elements of all of their influences, but add little flairs of their own to make their sound unquestionably their own. A mix of grit and brighter themes in their music also keeps you on edge throughout their set; these lads are definitely not ones for predictability. The relatively static performance of their vocalist with no attempt to hide his accent was a breath of fresh air: it was an earnest, honest and ‘real’ performance; and drew attention towards him amidst the rhythmical gesturings of his bandmates. This contrast enriched their act most wonderfully.
When MAYDAY! came to play, I could not get the image of The Mars Volta out of my mind. This may well have been partly to do with the fact that their guitarist did indeed look like Cedric Bixler of the aforementioned band, but their opening song Gorpse hinted towards a playful experimentation and vocal eccentricity which I would expect from such a band. The introduction of a keyboard also made an interesting diversion from the guitar-guitar-bass-drum dynamic that had been so solidly set up by the previous bands: variety is indeed the spice of life. There was such an electricity between the band members on stage it was almost frightening: they were by far the tightest band of the night, with not a single note or beat out of place to my ears at least. Musical nods towards the likes of We Are Scientists, whilst apparent, were not detrimental: it was clear that they had made a concerted effort to sound like themselves, but just taking advice from those which could be considered peers in their field: what they do is not emulation, but rather creation.
In a departure from the other musical styles of the night, RiotNight’s influences seemed to stem from more classic rock bands, such as Status Quo, The Beatles and Guns ‘n’ Roses (as strange as that combination may sound) as well as the likes of more modern bands such as Oasis and even Travis. A dirty, overdriven guitar tone on the likes of Alive points to this classic rock influence, but songs like Roll On point to this Oasis-era influence. It really is an interesting combination to see, but it is far from alien and does indeed work quite well. By far, RiotNight had the best stage show of the night; with their guitarists, vocalist and bassist moving in an almost choreographed manner, all in beautiful synchronicity with the music. It’s just a shame that the venue had almost emptied following the MAYDAY! set; some people missed some great music from an interesting live band.
In all honesty, dripping and freezing would have been payment I would have more than willingly handed over for this night: talent is usually such an abstract and rare quality; this night was luckily enough to have four bands reeking of mainstream promise and critical praise. I await the day that I read the names of these bands in the music press; that day will most definitely come.
Photos of Shoot Panda!? in the full version of the article. Read the rest of this entry »
Rainbow 444club - Destroy Cowboy, Grandscope and the Dogfight Revolution
Published by Al Young | Filed under Music
The West Midlands is probably best known in the rest of the UK for being the ultimate in urban personification of the colour grey. ‘Industry’, ‘dirt’ and ‘mundaneness’ are all nouns more likely to be associated with the region than with the far more desirable nouns of ‘creativity’, ‘originality’ and ‘vibrancy’. Even though in the past I may have myself prescribed to this theory, my discovery of the creative, vibrant and original local music scene of the area has made sure that I believe this preconception to be as much of a nonsense as saying that all Welshmen are inbred or that Southerners are immediately, by virtue of the area in which they live, affluent: pure fallacy.
How did this discovery come about? My first visit to the Kamikaze Promotions 444club at the Rainbow in Digbeth: the name being a result of the cost of entry being £4, there being 4 bands playing, and final end time being 4AM. Despite being a weekly event, this first visit was on the 7th December 2007, where The Dogfight Revolution, This Machine is Off, Grandscope and Destroy Cowboy were set to play. Unfortunately, it would transpire that, due to slight traffic problems on theit journey from Stoke, This Machine is Off wouldn’t play their set; no matter though: the night still delivered on its promise of up-and-coming, promising local talent.
The night opened spectacularly with the wall of noise which preceded and served as an intro to The Dogfight Revolution’s first song and demonstrated very well their blend of ’60’s psychedelic and modern electronic influences. Throughout the set, their instrumental variation shone through and made sure that no two songs sounded the same: the combination of sharp Telecaster treble from the one guitarist and the warm mids and treble of the Jaguar (and the change to acoustic guitar in one of the songs) was always a winner, and perfectly demonstrative of their ’60’s influence was the (very apt) use of of Theremin. Their charisma also shone through in the emotive voice of their lead singer and their dynamic stage presence.
After around 15 minutes of setting up, the stage of the Rainbow was packed with keyboards and other music-oriented electronic gadgetry: this could only mean that Grandscope were about to play. They were again about to impress me with their introduction; upon walking onto the stage, no pleasantries were to be exchanged: they got straight into business with a song called Uno Juno, an instrumental track reminiscent of a cross between Red Sparowes and Explosions in the Sky. I was frankly wowed by this, and my attention was kept all of the way though the performance by their mixture of atmospherics and outright aggression; great variances in dynamics and enchanting vocals. In a couple of the songs, a certain post-hardcore prog-esque influence was evidenced, á la At the Drive-In; especially with the amazing esoteric drumming.
Once again, in an almost planned consistency, 15 minutes passed between Grandscope leaving the stage and the headliners Destroy Cowboy taking to it. The Rainbow’s stage was once again awash with synthesisers, keyboards and guitars, all with a sole unifying purpose: packing out the Courtyard area of the Rainbow. Hand to god, it was like a microcosm of the population density of China in there once Destroy Cowboy had started playing, and with good reason. Like the bastard child of Bloc Party and Head Automatica, they mix what could be construed by snobs as ’stereotypical’ indie guitar riffs with a surprising blend of pop and electronic music. Their set started at 100MPH and never let down once. Songs such as 1000 Candles and Hey show just why they have been receiving such great press from smaller (local and national) music press – blending old and new to create something totally previously unheard of. As for stage presence; they made the stage of the Rainbow their own, with a performance from their keyboardist bordering on the possessed, and the performances from the other members of the band easily matched his enthusiasm for the music which they were making.Before the bands started playing, and in the 15 minutes of setting up between the bands, boredom was alleviated by some very talented DJing. Beats were matched and tempos altered to perfection. One of the highlights of the nights must have been a most pleasant remix of Bloc Party’s Banquet; a song not kind to the untalented amongst DJs. All around, an amazing set from CrazyP ensued later in the night.
I am often one to moan about the prices of things in this day and age, but this night out was amazing: the weekly 444club night at the Rainbow offers 4 bands and offers 8 hours of entertainment for only £4: depending upon how you look at it, that’s either £1 per band or £0.50 per hour; either way, it’s cheaper than many nights out and probably a better quality. Combine that with food and drinks promotions (£1.50 for mixers and Grolsch), and you have a night out with amazing local talent and a low cost. If you need any proof that the West Midlands has a creative side, come to the 444club: the event oozes that which you seek. In addition to this, if you are worried about the availability of taxis after your evening at the Rainbow; from my experience Silver Line Cars are a reasonably safe bet for having cars pulling up by the Rainbow frequently: it’s just a shame that I was waiting for a Speedline.
All the Pictures - I Have A Brother! Review
Published by Al Young | Filed under Music
People just have to try to bend the barriers of genres of music, don’t they? It makes the job of any would-be music critic infinitely more difficult: you immediately can’t pigeonhole bands to be a complete snob or to express your indie cred anymore. Here, with All the Pictures, a new monster is born: a blend of folk, electronica and pop unlike all such blends I’ve heard before. Nuances of the music of Patrick Wolf, Get Cape Wear Cape Fly, Four Tet and even the playful eccentricity of Kid Carpet can be seen in the delightful music on display.
Even so much as the opening bar first track on the album (Fingers) lets you know what you’re in for over the course of the I Have A Brother! album: guitar lines bordering on the twee of early Death Cab for Cutie songs lead you in to a song of the most quaint of vocal deliveries and varied instrumentation smacking of influences which I have already mentioned; however, the music has a certain quality all of its own – it’s both playful and serious; dark and light.
The next two songs on the album, The Deaf Boy’s Dad and Pretty Green Shoes tell more sombre tales, and the music reflects this whilst remaining generally uptempo. Twice more, a lack of inhibition with experimentation with varying timbres and textures is shown: perhaps so much so to demonstrate what could almost be a disdain for the now almost ‘standard guitar + bass + drums + whiney, accented vocals = music’ formula so many bands are seen to follow nowadays. All the Pictures break from this mould and aspire for better, more noble things. It is music for the love of music, and it shows.
Kings is a song of, once again, dramatic instrumentation, with a slight bias towards synthesiser parts reminiscent of the toy keyboards we’ve all had at some point: they provide a lovely hook to an already excellent song. For JFK, For You is a nice demonstration of All the Pictures’ sampling ability and love of simplistic yet catchy melodies. It also serves as an interlude and part introduction for the next track Fish.
Most definitely my ‘stand out’ track of the album, Fish starts with a hook which won’t let go and features such memorable and (as much as it pains me to use the adjective) ‘sweet’ lyrics such as ‘if I had the money, I would buy you the world; but I don’t, so I steal it instead’ in combination with tambourine percussion and keyboards sharp enough to cut through the drumbeat is enough to make this song become an instant favourite of anyone with a heart. Catherine of Aragon is much the same as far as poppy hooks are concerned: they latch into your brain in an almost viral manner and never let go. Never.
Fish Reprise is indeed little more than a repetition of the instrumental themes of Fish, but knowing my thoughts on the original, it’s an easy conclusion to make that that didn’t bother me in the slightest. The Man Who Saved the World is the most instrumentally thick of the album’s 11 songs, but it suits the almost vehement nature of the vocals most well. From its pleasant start, the song gradually builds up over the first two minutes to form an almighty crescendo, and then declines again to the end of the song. It’s as close as this album gets to ‘shock-and-awe’ tactics to maintain the audience’s interest, but it most definitely works.
Hymn for the Titanic is another small instrumental track most befitting of the type of music on display, and introduces Smile! Smile! Smile Today!, the final track of the album, with great splendour. The song itself is strong: very strong. It’s not one of those final tracks which will be forgotten due to its monotony and the listener’s decline in concentration: if yours had declined, it would be pulled back by the upbeat, engaging and (most importantly) danceable nature of this fine display of
Copyright is an archaic contruct. Starve in Heaven