Live Review: The Strange Boys, ICA, Wednesday 21st April

Live experiences for some bands should be subject to a best before date. With garage rock bands like The Strange Boys, catching them whilst they are still raw and fresh is the key; and intimate venues such as this 350-capacity Institute Of Contemporary Arts should have proven a glove-like fit for their riotous take on the early Stones sound.
Yet, as the band themselves were the first to note, something 'felt weird' here. What that something was, regrettably, was not that we were on the apex of anarchy; but rather the inexplicable tepidity of some of the crowd. Doubtless receivers of courtesy tickets as art gallery members, many seemed intent on being 'scene' and seen; and breathing in the rarefied air of their own airs instead of getting drenched in the sweat of dirty blues rock. It must have utterly bemused the back-to-basics Texans, who looked desperate to be set loose by their audience.

No fault can be squared at the band though. In fact, they were fantastic. Frontman Sambol's attempts to shake life into the pockets of posers included wailing like some higher pitched Howlin' Wolf, spunking the band's 'Be Brave' bullet refreshingly early, and letting yours truly take the mic for backing vocals on 'Should Have Shot Paul'. They played setlistless, threw themselves head on into every song, and even responded admirably to the increasingly asinine shouts of 'chickens' or 'ice cream sandwiches' from the crowd. There is no doubt the Strange Boys deserved a better and more understanding audience than they got here. Indeed, towards the end- amidst all the song suggestions and bizarre food references thrown at the band- it was the 'genocide to all art students' cry from someone that Sambol seemed most inclined to echo back. 7/10

Album Review: Laura Marling, 'I Speak Because I Can'

Laura Marling strikes you as someone not just from another era but from another world. Elfin faced and pixie framed; to place her in the ancient, woodland-covered England of her songs would probably be to see the 20 year old burnt at the stake as a witch, such is her uncanny talent. Here, like some 21st century Emily Dickinson, she transfigures herself variously from daughter, to lover, to wife or mother; yet, crucially, a sense that these songs are deeply personal to her prevails. Album opener 'Devil's Spoke' sounds like a delirious incantation after which you half expect the youngster to collapse in exhaustion; but instead she follows with nine (albeit slower) tracks that are at once enchanting and haunting. 'Rambling Man' is probably her finest contribution to music thus far- on first listening it sounds like Joan Baez covering a Dylan standard- though the brilliant lyrics- 'beaten, battered and cold/ my children will live just to grow old'- are all her own. The infectious 'Blackberry Stone' is brilliant too, whilst the Beirut-ish Balkan breakdown on 'Alpha Shallows' and the bluegrassy fast-pace of 'Darkness Descends' tick that all important versatility box for the snottier critics. And then, like that devil-spoked wheel, the album is bought full-circle with closer 'I Speak Because I Can'- a slower but still just as epic version of 'Devil's Spoke'. This is undeniably great, great music; and the strides she has made musically and lyrically from her already accomplished début offering are vast. Frighteningly too, this is probably not her magnum opus. Like they used to with witches; we would do very well to keep an eye on Laura Marling. 9/10

Album Review: Frightened Rabbit, 'The Winter Of Mixed Drinks'

Perhaps it's something in that thick Selkirk accent, but Scott Hutchinson certainly has a knack for sounding genuinely sincere. Whilst the Scotsman might be keen to point out he's 'Not Miserable' now, some two years after the release of the emotive and critically acclaimed 'Midnight Organ Fight' he's clearly just as willing to wear his heart on his song.
These tracks are, however, largely more upbeat than the previous album, as they needed to be- and the music is all the more accessible because of it. 'Nothing Like You' is destined for repeated radio-airplay, whilst 'Swim Until You Can't See Land' is an ear worm just waiting to burrow.
That is not to say Frightened Rabbit have sold out. The album shares so much with 'Midnight Organ Fight' that at times it serves simply as a cheerier resolution to the depression of its predecessor. The relationship between 'Man/Bag Of Sand' and 'Swim Until You Can't See Land'- the former a parred and slowed down version of the latter- is identical to the one between 'Extrasupervery' and 'The Twist' on the previous album. For 'Living In Colour' see 'Old Old Fashioned'. And whilst an apparent fixation with body parts that's carried from the last album leaves 'Living In Colour' feeling a bit like the 'Funny Bones' song, there's little to criticize here- Frightened Rabbit have, almost impossibly, gone one better than their last effort. 8/10

Album Review: Johnny Cash, 'American VI: Ain't No Grave'

Ain’t No Grave, it seems, that's gonna stop Johnny Cash from releasing music; and whilst for some the faint sound of a barrel being scraped might never be entirely muted here, this second posthumous release certainly does its job.
A fitting and emotional closure to the 'American Recordings', like most of the series this is essentially a covers album- but 'Ain't No Grave' is the soundtrack of a man of unshakable faith. The title track might recall 'God's Gonna Cut You Down' with its stomp-clap downbeat, but where the latter dealt with accepting death, 'Ain't No Grave' is the sound of someone who knows he's heaven-bound. Whist Cash's voice might have attenuated to that of a frail and dying man, these songs remain defiant and hopeful- 'hope springs eternal' on 'I Corninthians 15:55', time has 'opened the door' to freedom on 'I Don't Hurt Anymore', whilst on 'Satisfied Mind' Cash states that he'll 'leave this old world' content. The album's most poignant moment is a beautiful adaptation of ‘Aloha Oe’- almost tear inducing in its sincerity- and one would be hard pushed to think of a more fitting line to close the recording career of a man clearly of such staunch religious faith than 'until we meet again'. 8/10

Album Review: The Strange Boys, Be Brave

If the Basement Tapes had been recorded by a garage rock band from Texas, this might well have been the result. There's certainly more than a hint of Dylan here- from the jingle jangling guitars to Sambol's wailing Dallas-dry vocals, yet The Strange Boys somehow manage to come off contemporary, probably in part due to the fact that they owe as much of a debt to Black Lips or White Stripes as they do to the Stones or Dylan. At times too, Sambol's nasal voice is reminiscent of Caleb Followill's, perhaps most noticebly during the sparse beginning of 'A Walk On The Bleach.'
The album's finest moment comes early- title track 'Be Brave' with its 60s spy song refrain, saxophone solos and confident conversational 'delivery of 'don't sound like no choice to me'- is furiously catchy- but 'Night Might' with its Chuck Berry horn riffs, the 'Rainy Day Women' paced 'I See' and the piano-driven ballad 'The Unsent Letter' are also highlights. What's remarkable about this record is that it comes less than a year on from their debut. So whilst The Strange Boys already sound like a band comfortable with their sound- at one shambolic and melodic- it seems very likely this is only the beginning of better things. 7/10

Film Review: Nowhere Boy

Nowhere Boy might open with a chord ripped straight from 'A Hard Day's Night', but this is emphatically not a Beatles film. Whilst fab four aficionados will hoover up the references to the 'future' Lennon (the schoolboy John doodling a walrus in his exercise book, or cycling past 'Strawberry Fields' cemetery) they'll be left frustrated by the lack of big screentime devoted to the band themselves, even in their earlier guise as the Quarrymen. The film is light- perhaps too much so- on the music; McCartney is given only a couple of scenes, and Harrison a contrived-feeling cameo.
But given that the young band leader Lennon comes across, probably somewhat accurately, as an absolute dick- rude, selfish, arrogant, and mindlessly destructive- the decision to direct the film's attentions elsewhere is perhaps wise.
In it's place, and central to the film's success, is the relationship between Lennon's strict if caring aunt 'Mimi' (brilliantly portrayed by Kristen Scott Thomas) and that of his promiscuous, eccentric and at times uncomfortably flirtatious mother Julia (played here by the equally talented Anne Marie Duffy.) What ensues is a highly enjoyable and somewhat refreshing take on the oft-told Beatles story; and even if the Beatles are nowhere to be seen, Nowhere Boy certainly is to be. 8/10

Album Review: Vampire Weekend, Contra

Vampire Weekend have created quite a niche for themselves. In 2008, their debut album- styled by the band themselves as ‘Upper West Side Soweto’- showcased a unique combination of Afro Pop, classical music and Indie pop that had critics swooning. With the release of this, their intriguingly titled follow-up, they have added electro accents and M.I.A samples to that already considerable mix, whilst somehow managing not to spoil the broth. Opener ‘Horchata’- name-checking as it does a Mexican rice drink best enjoyed in the summer- may be ridiculous, but second track 'White Sky' might just be their best to date- Along with lead-single 'Cousins' it is ridiculously catchy, and although 'Cousins' features that chimpish ‘eh-ehing’ already heard on 'A-Punk', the song races along with such pace and seethes with such energy that this listener has no time to care. 'Run' is brilliant too- each verse building up into an infectious multi-layered musical chorus, whilst the bizarrely-in-vogue Auto-Tune makes, for once, a useful contribution to a song on the outrageously fast-paced 'California English'. 'Giving Up The Gun' is a welcome break from Ezra Konenig's occasionly irritating high-pitched boyish vocals, whilst 'I Think Ur A Contra' is almost a ballad- slow and oddly phrased it brings an interesting, varied and accomplished album to a close. And whilst Vampire Weekend may not be every one’s cup of Horchata, there's no disputing their unique sound will take some stopping. 7/10

Live Review: The Pogues, Brixton Academy, December 19th

To see the Pogues this close to Christmas is to expect two things. The first is that if Shane MacGowan shows up he’ll be very well out of it; and the second is that 'Fairytale Of New York' will be the best received song of the evening. On both counts, no one was left disappointed, but their was so much more to this marathon set than predicting the extent of MacGowan's inebriation and that song.
After support from King Blues- a band who's members were so enthusiastic and disparate in appearance that they looked like a product of Jack Black's School Of Rock- MacGowan ambled onto the stage to growl out 'Streams Of Whisky.' A cigarette in hand, and a table-cum-minibar just an arm's length away- he told us with some urgency that he was ‘going to where streams of whisky are flowing’, when in truth, both he and his audience were already there. He slurred his way through an epic set- 'Sickbed Of Cúchulainn', 'Sally MacLellane', 'Irish Rover'- each and every performance sending the punks and drunks in attendance into a frenzy- and the band wisely saved that song for a second encore. Ofcourse, it was sheer magic- Shane and Ella Finer waltzed together beneath a tumble of fake snow- a fitting and Fairytale ending to an excellent night. 9/10