m N V THE smoxes
First Impressions of Earth
(Rough Trade) 0000
The Strokes’ new album not being a disappointment is the first great surprise of 2006. The most refreshing thing is that they’ve changed. Not that much, of course. That would just be crazy, but in an attempt to make up for the mild deflation inspired by their anaemic second serving Room on Fire, they’ve brought together a bunch of songs that stand up in their own right as opposed to just self-consciously aping earlier triumphs.
Their early promise was not unfounded: they were both beautiful on the eye and ear and even if now our love affair with Julian Casablancas is a strained one - rolling about drunk like a limp dick on so many festival headlining occasions saw to that - but there remains an optimism that Is This It was not just a fluke. This, their third album, proves that lightning can
strike twice.
There is renewed energy about the band. It’s like these songs actually want to go somewhere. That odd, slightly static, robotic quality remains and, combined with Casablancas’ laconic grumble, it’s almost comforting, as are flashes of Blondie, the Only Ones, Thin Lizzy and, inevitably,
Television.
‘Vision of Division’ is immense, built around a lilting, almost Middle Eastern riff. Spinning out wildly, it is the closest they’ve come to pure,
undiluted rock since ‘New York City Cops’. ‘Ask Me Anything’ is something of a polar opposite, but still pretty amazing, all parpy organ samples with a meandering Casabalancas wheezing his love away. The whole thing is kind of summed up in their robbing of the chorus of Barry Manilow’s ‘Mandy’ for
‘Razor Blade’, which is a melancholic stroke of genius. Pun very much intended. The Strokes’ familiarity is what makes them great, but only when they add wit or charm does their music go beyond the ordinary. First Impressions of Earth is far from ordinary. (Mark Robertson)
BLUES
UNCLE JOHN AND WHITELOCK
There is Nothing Else (GFM) COO.
From the low rumble of the piano on the Opening track 'The
Fold'. you know that something wicked this way comes. Like a born-again Elvis with a blacker soul. lead vocalist Jacob Lovatt growls. barks and wails like a spiked hound-- dog on a short choke— chain. Uncle John's darkest blue chilled-out psychobilly throb references the Cramps and Nick Cave's Bad Seeds. their hick-talk lyrics invoke Aleister Crowley and Goth rape fantasies (‘2 -— Fidday').
and warn of psychos from Glasgow's council estates. This apocalyptic train may be bound for glory. but it pulls in at Maryhill en route.
(Alexander Kennedy)
JAZZ
PHAROAH SANDERS Anthology: You’ve Got to Have Freedom (Universal) 000
Sanders has always been an infuriatineg inconsistent artist. both
live and in the studio. The saxophonist sometimes comes across as a thrilling, energised torch-bearer for free jazz. but can just as easily be found wandering in self- regarding labyrinths of his own design.
This two-CD anthology reflects that unpredictability. but proVides a good introduction to his music. It draws on recordings spanning three decades from 1967 to 1996. with the main focus falling on the early 1970s The music is Culled from several labels. including his classic Impulse! albums (some longer tracks from these have been edited) and more difficult to find releases on Theresa and Arista. (Kenny Mathieson)
PSYCHEDELIA JIM NOIR Tower Of Love (My Dad) .00
if. .
The debut of wannabe Beach Boy Noir is a collection of gentle. psychedelic ditties a la Brian Wilson. turning for subject matter to Syrupy childhood memories of reclaiming balls from neighbours gardens and the threat of setting your Da on enemies. The simplistic lyrics shift to the frustrations of songwriting itself on cutesy tracks like ‘Computer Song‘ and 'In the Key Of (3' conjuring a growing sense of style over substance. However. the dreamy production. affecting melodies and lush harmonies are ultimately disarming and make for an album to return to on those stolen. daydream moments.
(Mark Edmundson)
SINGLES S: DOWNLOADS
The start of any new year is always a fascinating time for music, so let's crack on. Scottish mus:c continues to be as diverse as ever. as a handful of new releases demonstrate. Elgin foursome Fickle Public are a much more jaggedy affair. and win title of the fortnight With ‘Just Like I Got Used to Saying Courteney Cox Arquette' (One) 0000 . a juddering. stop-start post-hardcore shouty romp — part-Fugazi. part-Bitty and all excellent.
Homegrown hip hop seems in fine fettle too. Steg-G and the Freestyle Master’s ‘Temptation' (Powercut) 000 seeing quality wordsmithery gliding over smoothly $0ulful beats and quirky samples to cool effect. Next up are electro-pompers l-loboken, whose ‘Beauty Queen‘ (Royal Jelly) 00 is a typically nourish tale of retro jerk-pop darkness. like a Phil Oakey B-side perhaps. And then there‘s Denghis‘ ‘Bothy' (demo) 0. . an ominoust skifflous hoedown of alternative country not a million miles from the likes of the Beauty Shop.
Further afield now. to Scandinavian classical guitarist Jose Gonzales. whose 'Heartbeats' (Peacefrog) 000 is Currently soundtracking that millions-of-bouncy-balls Sony advert. and which is a mellifluous slice of dreamy indie folk like Elliot Smith or Jim O'R0urke. only with a flamenco twist thrown in. Equally chilled is 'Postcard from a Dark Star' (Gronland) O... by Merz. a song which phutters along in a squeezebox sea. with only a bobbing piano and a plaintive melody to keep it afloat. ‘When the Sun Goes Down‘ (Domino) 0.. by Arctic Monkeys is entertaining enough charismatic thrash-pop in the style of the Libertines. but a long way from their previous debut slice of number one genius.
And so to the swirly organ behemothic rock madness of ‘ Mind's Eye‘ (Modular) 0000 by Australian trio Wolfmother. Channelling the Spirits of Deep Purple. Cream and Black Sabbath never seemed like such a good idea. Equally epic are single-minded Texan trio Secret Machines. Their ‘Alone. Jealous and Stoned‘ (Reprise) 0000 is kicking on for seven minutes of drone-rock majesty. starting like Explosions in the Sky and going all Verve for a bit before finishing in a crescendo of Arcade Fiery furiosity.
Which is fantastic. but Holy Mother of Jesus. what is this? It's Plan B’s ‘Sick 2 Def/No Good' (Pet Cemetery) 00.... a one-man Tasmanian Devil of almost unbelievably foul-mouthed folk- grime anarchy and dissatisfaction called Ben Drew, and he's utterly, mind-bendineg brilliant. Imagine a guttered Eminem swapping anal felchings with Dizzy Rascal. Now turn that into an incredibly eloquent rap over acoustic folk guitar on ‘Sick 2 Def' or slacky lackadaisical R&B beats in the case of ‘No Good’. while also mashing the crap out of the Prodigy song of the same name. It's so insanely thrilling I need to go lie down. And it’s Single of the Fortnight. (Doug Johnstone)
13—19Ji'iii 130(k) THE LIST 61