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SINGLES & DOWNLOADS Biffy Clyro
Surely no one has really ever given a toss about Art Brut’s postmodern, self-referential, art-pop schtick? ‘DC Comics & Chocolate Milkshakes’ (Cooking Vinyl) ●●●●● won’t change that either, but at least Frank Black’s production gives bite to the backing for their irritating blether. And so to Sweden, where 20-year-old pop puppy Eric Hassle requests that we ‘Don’t Bring Flowers’ (Island) ●●●●● after he’s dead. It’s a strangely downbeat sentiment for what is a catchy slice of fizzily retro electro-pop, a debut which suggests a future as a one-man A-Ha awaits, if he plays his cards right.
Wasn’t Jack Penate originally shit? His second album seems to have turned things around, and ‘Pull My Heart Away’ (XL) ●●●●● furthers that renaissance, being a rather tasty slice of reverb-drenched soul-pop, which somehow manages to avoid the cheesiness that description implies.
All the tabloid attention tends to distract from
Lily Allen’s talent, which is a shame because while ‘22’ (Regal) ●●●●● isn’t her finest moment, it’s still an intelligent piece of social commentary dressed up as spangly, disco- friendly pop. More power to the lady.
But by a country mile Single of the Week goes to Biffy Clyro’s ‘That Golden Rule’ (14th Floor) ●●●●●. Lead single from their forthcoming fifth album, it’s everything you might expect from the country’s finest rock band — bursting with energy, ideas, intelligence, wit and no small amount of ambition. Building to a mind- fucking climax, it’s epic and wonderful — progressive rock in the very best sense of that phrase. (Doug Johnstone)
ALT.POP NURSES Apple’s Acre (Dead Oceans) ●●●●● Another outfit to emerge from the burgeoning Portland, Oregon scene, Nurses (aka songwriters Aaron Chapman and John Bowers) unravel album #2 – their debut was 2007’s Hangin’ Nothin’ But Our Hands Down. Lying somewhere in between Of Montreal, Arcade Fire and an off-kilter Beach Boys – at least in vocal
harmonies – Nurses inject their own cosmic concoction of one-part beauty/savoir faire, to five-parts anguish/regret. At times mind-blowingly complex and self-indulgent, one feels ‘Apple’s Acre’ suffers slightly in the proverbial mix; only ‘Bright Ideas’, ‘Technicolor’, ‘Man of Arms’ and ‘Caterpillar Playground’ let the listener read into their sonic emancipations. (Martin C Strong) HIP HOP MOS DEF The Ecstatic (Downtown) ●●●●●
His seeming impatience has always been Mos Def’s undoing. His debut 1999’s Black on Both
Record Reviews Music
INDIE ARCTIC MONKEYS Humbug (Domino) ●●●●●
Sides, remains a modern classic, but beyond that and his 1998 collaboration with Talib Kweli as Black Star, his frankly patchy musical career has been squeezed in between acting gigs. To be fair, he was always supposed to be an actor, but got famous for rapping first and now that imbalance is more vivid than ever. This, his fourth solo
album, is a jittering unsteady beast, teetering around under the weight of the ideas thrown into the mix, leaping from one continent to another, slamming politically charged invective against smitten sweet soul and juddering King Tubby dub shocks. The variety is no bad thing though, as it does show his continued ability to adapt his treacley flow to all terrain. Lyrically, he has his fiery moments, but throws out as many empty, uneven brickbats as he does lyrical livewires. The thing is, he still has his own unique rhythmic way with words, something that will never leave him. Momentarily magical. (Mark Robertson)
ELECTRONICA SIMIAN MOBILE DISCO Temporary Pleasure (Wichita) ●●●●●
Hanging out with Josh Homme in the Mojave Desert is bound to have strange effects on a band, but by golly it’s done the Arctic Monkeys good. When the four scamps first bounded into our lives with their gritty northern charm and infectious guitar anthems we were pretty impressed, but we never dreamed they would be capable of a record as devastatingly deranged as this. For the making of Humbug word has it that Turner and co. knocked on Homme’s door in search of ‘weird’, and just a few seconds in to opening track ‘My Propeller’ it’s clear they found it.
The frontman croons lustily over demonic riffs while ghostly harmonies unfurl and an unsettling atmosphere is duly set for ten tracks of dark sultry oddities. There are familiar moments, the occasional trademark fiery attack appears in parts of ‘Potion Approaching’ and ‘Pretty Visitors’ in particular, but for the most part the band have forged a brand new path that combines downbeat, dusty soundscapes with experimental instrumentation and their much celebrated tricksy wordplay.
During the recording process for this third offering, Arctic Monkeys were allegedly given rubber clogs by their ex-QOTSA co-producer and taken to the nearby Integratron (an acoustically perfect sound chamber built by a ufologist). And while all of that makes for interesting fan folklore, Homme has gifted the band so much more than just the odd piece of iffy shoe wear and quirky daytrip. Yes James Ford also had a hand in Humbug’s sound, but it’s Homme’s sonic shadow that really looms large over this latest incarnation of the Arctic Monkeys – and as a result they have never sounded so creepily compelling. What a revamp. (Camilla Pia)
What the world needs now is more Todd Rundgren. Let us give thanks, then, to Manchester’s SMD: an electronic party-pop deuce whose CV name- checks Björk, Muse, Peaches, Arctic Monkeys and CSS. Their second album
hosts a trove of cameos, including Edinburgh’s Young Fathers (on dramatic rap-aria ‘Turn up the
Dial’), the Gossip’s Beth Ditto (on sonorous rave throwback ‘Cruel Intentions’), and Hot Chip’s Alexis Taylor (on tropical cantata ‘Bad Blood’) – plus the aforesaid Rundgren sample, which illuminates the primitive techno of ‘Synthesise’.
Temporary Pleasure also features one of this year’s most ubiquitous singles: the dystopian consumerist love-song, ‘Audacity of Huge’. (Nicola Meighan)
GUITAR POP BRENDAN BENSON My Old, Familiar Friend (Echo) ●●●●● After a four-year sojourn as right-hand man to pal Jack White in The Raconteurs, Detroit
singer-songwriter Brendan Benson here returns to the day job, creating pristine and boisterous guitar pop influenced by The Cars and The Kinks. This fourth album is impeccably crafted, and Benson retains his ear for an eye-poppingly harmonious chorus, but there’s something slightly clinical about the arrangements and production which lacks the homely, Lemonheads-y charm of Benson’s finest album, 2002’s Lapalco. At his best, like on blistering opener ‘A Whole Lot Better’, Benson’s singalong bounce is unbeatable pop genius, but more ragged edges might suit his talents better. (Doug Johnstone) ELECTROPOP CALVIN HARRIS Ready for the Weekend (Columbia) ●●●●●
Remember that bit in George Orwell’s 1984 when he’s talking about a boot stamping on a human face forever, and the futility of it all? That’s the despair felt after just 30 minutes of Calvin Harris’ second long- playing offering. Not that he’s inherently evil or cruel . . . well, actually he might be, given his ability to infuriate with his incredible chirpiness. This high gloss, post- Jan Hammer, sub-Miami Sound Machine, first 20 seconds of ‘Jump’ by Van Halen electropop makes La Roux sound like King Crimson such is its gleeful, unashamed unsophistication. Nagging and one dimensional, Harris proves there’s more than one way to skin an 80s cat and he’s flogged this one to death. A star each for his ‘Dance Wiv Me’ collaboration with Dizzee Rascal and the one from the Coke ad (‘the deafeningly profound ‘Yeah Yeah Yeah La La La’) but the rest? Teeth rotting stuff. (Mark Robertson)
20–27 Aug 2009 THE LIST 35