Moderate Rock

The times they are a-changin'...

2011-11-03T08:20:00.002-11:00

www.moderaterock.com

THE DAMNED THINGS. Borderline, London. 10.06.10

2010-06-20T01:24:00.003-11:00

This really shouldn’t work. And not just live but, like, at all. Seriously, if someone had told you just a month ago that come today members of Anthrax, Fall Out Boy, and Every Time I Die would be taking to a tiny London stage to show off their new band’s new songs, you’d probably have asked them what they were smoking. But here The Damned Things are. And hell if they don’t sound superb. In fact, from feedback-powered start to big riffed finish tonight, they sound like they’ve been playing together for decades. And you can actually see people- it doesn’t matter which stars they’re here to see- working that out as this gig goes on.

Rob Caggiano stands strong and seems real rock of the band while Scott Ian betrays his elder statesman status and plays like a wild-eyed kid but third guitarist Joe Trohman is the biggest surprise. Dude might have been propping up pretty pop songs for the last few years but he can’t half shred too, adding both ripping solos and true grit to ‘Bad Blood’, ‘Grave Robber’, and the potentially world-beating ‘We’ve Got a Situation Here’. And Keith Buckley is a revelation too. Sure his voice has improved with every album and tour that Every Time I Die have done but it pays huge dividends here, the dude pretty much encapsulating rock god with every gravelly drawl, great hook or gigantic chorus.

There’s really no need for all three guitarists, you could probably make the exact same noises with just one, but that is perhaps The Damned Thing’s one nod to excess and the sort of pomp so regularly associated with any outfit dubbed a supergroup. Because this is no flabby vanity project or dull distraction, no part-time hobby for rich dudes from rich bands, but a group with a palpable fire and fury, a band making music that’s often more than the sum of its parts, and an outfit that feel like they could take over the goddamn world.

MINUS THE BEAR- Omni

2010-05-17T11:31:00.003-11:00

Summer is overrated. It's hot and sweaty and populated by bugs and smug shirtless gits. Minus the Bear know this and the Seattle band have mined a pretty marvelous seam of wintry, snow-capped indie pop over the last few years. Hell, even when writing songs about speed boats and bikinis they've sounded icicle cool. On album number four though, the white hot 'OMNI', they've only gone and embraced the hottest of seasons and produced some of their hottest songs too.

You can feel the burn from the off- opener ‘My Time’ shimmers like heat haze as bom-chicka-wah-wah hooks unfurl everywhere and Dave Knudson plays a lazy surf solo not on his guitar but the electronic omnichord- and it’s all pretty indicative of where this thing is going. We get throbbing basslines, guitars that glitter like bright white surf, airy clear-sky synths, even steel drums. We get lines about summer angels, hot nights and hotter sex (seriously, the band could probably get arrested for some of these lyrics), and music made for afternoons doing nothing, or maybe just doing something naughty, outside.

It’s not all top stuff. The verses of ‘The Thief’ push the sleazy vibe so far it sounds like a joke (although that chorus is just dreamy), ‘Animal Backwards’, which actually is highlight ‘Into the Mirror’ backwards, doesn’t work, and there’s no escaping the fact that something like epic finisher ‘Fooled By the Night’ would sound better flecked in frost not beaded in sweat. Jake Snider's vocals are still set to divide people too- if you've never heard passion in the dude's breathy drawl then you'll find none here either- and despite the talk of new methods and instruments Minus The Bear haven't reinvented a goddamn thing here either.

Really though, that’s fine. ‘Omni’ may be warm not wintry but it turns out Minus the Bear can be a band for all seasons. And in keeping almost everything but the temperature in a similar state as on their last few records they maintain a quality level and consistency increasingly rare in music let alone whatever genre folks are trying to squeeze them in this week. This is Minus the Bear pretty damn close to their best. Hot stuff.

NARROWS. Underworld, London. 05.05.10

2010-05-09T00:20:00.001-11:00

Botch were brilliant. Sure, they sold few records and fizzled away rather than went out with a bang but they will always be standard bearers of smart, independent heaviness and will inspire a new band every day forever whether they like it or not. So to say that it’s good to have Botch frontman Dave Verellen back is an understatement. In fact as the dude opens his mouth and screams the first words of his new band’s debut London show, it feels like the last five years never happened, t-shirts and hair never scored a record deal, and hardcore is just as vital as used to be.

Before Narrows set about saving a genre though, Throats (just one of those bands with Botch in their influences list) throw down hard. And despite being frustratingly young it feels like they’re just inches (or a debut album) away from making the vital transition from angry boys to a black-hearted hate-fuelled expert outfit set to kill. Their weapons are relentless heaviness, big riffs, inhuman barks and ferocious fuck-you songs and very soon they’ll come for you.

Narrows are already here though- amps hissing, feedback flying, and, despite claiming that he’s forgotten to do this kind of thing, frontman stalking the stage like the good ol’ days. And Narrows is much more than Verellen too- alumni of Some Girls, Unbroken, These Arms Are Snakes and Tropics on stage not just making up the numbers but tying together the likes of ‘Chambered’ and the superbly spiky ‘Newly Restored’ with style and skill. It’s not Botch- it’s less like their rows upon rows of razor sharp teeth and more like a grimy, bloodied-gum pitbull’s maw- but it doesn’t feel like a competition anyway. It feels like hardcore punk done exactly right.

It all could have finished completely toothless though as a closing ‘Life Vests Float, Kids Don’t’ is crippled by a power cut but instead of looking embarrassed and sloping off, Verellen (“we knew something was going to go wrong”) just keeps screaming and screaming and finishes the song in the most gloriously gruesome acapella. It turns out to be the best, most dangerous and alive, moment of the night.

Botch were brilliant but their days were numbered, Narrows may be old dogs but they employ old tricks with vicious vigour and sound like they’re never going to let go.

WHALE WATCHING TOUR. Concert Hall, Reading. 25.04.10

2010-04-26T13:01:00.004-11:00

This is special. Seriously special. Not like a great night out or brilliant gig kind of special, more than that, not bigger maybe, but better, definitely better. And that’s thanks to the members of the Bedroom Community, an international but decidedly down-to-earth recording collective that have somehow found their way to Reading, and the mystical magical sounds they’ve brought with them. Stressing the plurals is important too as the music really does belong to everyone tonight. From distant, chilling introduction to almost orchestral finish there are no distinct sets, no solid breaks between acts, just one rolling, weaving, stirring showcase of quality.

So Valgeir Sigurðsson’s desperately delicate combination of frozen-over electronics and early-sun acoustics meets Sam Amidon’s cracked and ragged but perfectly fitting voice, Amidon’s weary words and banjo blur into Ben Frost’s almost-alien art-noise and somehow that sits perfectly next to Nico Mulhy’s contemporary classical compositions. But really everybody works on everything all the time. And a supporting cast armed with trombone, violins, violas, double bass, handclaps, and crinkled plastic aren’t crowded out either, instead adding all-at-once intriguing, interesting, exciting, and vital varied elements to the mix.

Together they run threads through ambient atmospheres, animal sounds, searing strings, booming bass that you feel in the depth of your chest and the juice of your eyes, acoustic folk songs, murder ballads, and soundtracks to movies that haven’t been made yet, and indeed already have, and two hours after the collective first stirred to life (although it feels like just 15 minutes have passed) they finish up a show set to stay with everyone in attendance for quite some time. See, seriously special.

THE BLED- Heat Fetish

2010-04-21T10:22:00.002-11:00

There is an x-factor y'know. And it's not the hellish circus sideshow that is Simon Cowell's creation but a genuine unknown, immeasurable thing that can't be bought or sold but just is, or in the case of Tucson terrors The Bled and their fourth full-length, isn't there. Now it’s not that the band are no good- frontman James Muñoz still roars like a demon and the mostly new line-up behind him acquit themselves well- or that this a bad record- taken alone tunes like rabid opener ‘Devolver’, or the wall-of-sound wail of ‘Smoke Breaks’ work in all the right ways- but something is missing. Instead of highlight after highlight ‘Heat Fetish’ becomes a blind-rage mush, songs blending together instead of standing apart or adding up to more than the sum of their parts, and just four or five tracks in it sadly becomes a real chore to continue. Sure, single-song snapshots of ‘Heat Fetish’, taken from anywhere along the 40-minute journey, encourage all sorts of heady comparisons to Hopesfall, Every Time I Die, even Deftones, but where those bands have an innate ability to stick their songs to the inside of your brain, The Bled have no such glue, no x-factor, nothing. A shame.

RUSSIAN CIRCLES. Underworld, London. 13.04.10

2010-04-19T10:17:00.000-11:00

Things like this don’t go unnoticed. Thing like Richter-bothering earthquakes, black as death thunderstorms, and the voice of god- things that shake the planet- things like Russian Circles. And sure enough the Underworld is rammed tonight, and not just with beardy weirdy dudes but proper actual people and everything. And of course it is- over the past few years this Chicago trio have turned from post-rock also-rans into genre-busting behemoths with a mammoth live show to match. From slow-burning, sinister start to colossal finish they carve out gigantic, titanic riffs, hypnotising rhythms, and songs that sound like could run on and on and on, so blessed are they with a life of their own. But alongside these rolling apocalypse jams there are moments of magical tender beauty too. Almost ambient interludes arrive like whispers or swell and segue into the next track, never taking away from the flow and energy of the show but building on it, adding vital space and giving just enough breathing room for people to take in how amazing the last song was and prepare for the next one. And the next one is always something- a quiet/loud dark/light slow-motion rollercoaster, a galloping headbanger, or the greatest instrumental that Metallica never wrote- all propelled forward by gritty bass tones, guitar loops and roars, and Dave Turncrantz’s particularly precise and bloody brilliant drumming. Raw but never ragged, not revolutionary but quite capable of causing fear, awe, or religious fervour, and honestly, absolutely, genuinely awesome- seriously, you can quickly run out of words trying to describe how big and brilliant a sound these three small men can make...

MARCH OF THE RAPTORS- March of the Raptors

2010-04-19T09:44:00.000-11:00

Put together by members of *Shels, Fireapple Red and Devil Sold His Soul alongside alumni from across the British alternative music scene, March of the Raptors are about as close to a super group as the UK underground has ever got. And their self-titled debut, a dangerously fast and furious firecracker of a record, is pretty darn super too.

If you know what just one of the above bands sounds like then you may know what to expect here, and if you know what they all sound like then you’re pretty ready for it too. And if that’s confusing- considering the breadth of styles that could cover- then you’re actually on the right track. Sharp, scowling, schizophrenic, and sampling something from pretty much every alternative genre, this thing has got issues. Opener ‘Perish In Flames’ barrels along on punk percussion, quick riffs, and a mangle of roared verses and clean choruses, managing to be corrosive and catchy at the exact same time, ‘Grace Of God’ adds an air of doom and sludge to the mix despite continuing at breakneck speed, and final track ‘Unto Themselves’ is a proper epic that could be both Rise Against returning to their hardcore roots and some post-rock behemoths deciding to concentrate on the rock for once.

Despite the variety and skill on show though, it’s all over in the blink of an eye and while it might bite hard on first listen this is a record unlikely to go further than soundtracking a few ferocious parties and finishing mid-table on some end-of-year lists. But it is passionate and honest and heartfelt and, it is worth remembering, just the first snarls from an outfit that feel like they’ve plenty of room to expand and improve and eras left to run.

THE ALBUM LEAF. Bush Hall, London. 23.03.10

2010-03-29T12:02:00.007-11:00

People say post-rock is boring, and they might have a point. On record The Album Leaf make few sudden moves. They softly whisper, weave through ambient soundscapes and make gentle post rock shapes that even leave the rock out most of the time. Live though, the band (for while their ship is steered by genius Jimmy LaValle, with 10 people on stage at any one time a band is what they are) supply twists, turns, alarms and surprises. Ok, so there are no thrash riffs or Lady GaGa covers, nothing truly shocking, but there are thumping drum-driven dance beats, shards of static, fiery feedback, and bells and whistles which you may not expect. And it’s not all pre-programmed either- sure, there are enough machines milling away to make NASA jealous but there are three guitarists, a string quartet, and a choir of backing vocals here as well and everything coming through the big speakers in the fittingly beautiful Bush Hall feels real, organic, and vitally alive.

And that proves essential as the show begins not with any warm, familiar favourites but a brace of titles from new album ‘A Chorus of Storytellers’. These songs could have sounded cold or callous or distant but instead feel fully fleshed-out and finely realized- ‘Perro’ a barely-there alien-song of an introduction, ‘There Is a Wind’ expanded from its already rock song beginnings until there’s almost too much going on at once, and ‘Stand Still’ shimmering and essential. The full band treatment isn’t always perfect for the softest of the band’s back catalogue, for songs barely a step up from silence on record but oh-so-serene and special, but tonight’s set doesn’t stop long enough to let any negative thoughts linger. Before you can grimace long at the drums thundering newly through ‘The Outer Banks’, tape loops lope from nowhere, synching with the projections put giant on the venue walls, to steal your heart and instead of debating the introduction of anything but delicate icicle chimes into ‘Vermillion’ you can only hold your breath as its new walls of sound build and collapse and start to build again. Alarms, surprises, and everything and nothing that was expected then- and people say post-rock is boring.

THE DILLINGER ESCAPE PLAN- Option Paralysis

2010-03-22T10:15:00.002-11:00

The Dillinger Escape Plan are cutting ties. More than that, they’re breaking chains, burning bridges, and not looking back once. And if it wasn’t clear on their last album, the incredible ‘Ire Works’, that this band no longer care one bit for mathcore, core of any kind for that matter, or their much-heralded past, then album number five proves it permanently- this is a band of pioneers intent only on pushing forward.

‘Farewell Mona Lisa’ is the first sign of where The Dillinger Escape Plan have pushed to in 2010. The sort of squirrelly beast that this band have made their own since 04’s ‘Miss Machine’, but better, it shifts and swells from extreme noise terror to tender croons to angry beehive hum. It’s defiantly individual and singularly brilliant and in five quick minutes it bursts the bubbles of those still vainly holding out hope for a return to the firestorm fury of Dillinger’s very early days. Hell, frontman Greg Puciato sings it straight to them, “What did you expect, that we would never leave home… You should never put your trust in any of us”.

That’s not to say there is no intensity or venom here. Dillinger are still a band capable of sandblasting skin and in two-minute monsters like ‘Good Neighbour’ and ‘Crystal Morning’ they have no doubt added further fuel to their live fire. But the band are best when expanding, perverting and pulling apart these tantrums, turning them into post-everything experiments and (gasp) proper songs.

‘Widower’ goes a little clumsily from soft (love songs licks and Mike Patton-esque singing) to hard (rat-a-tat riffs and screaming about death) but handles both ends perfectly, ‘Room Full of Eyes’ is all bared teeth, electronic buzz and brilliantly rumbling bass, and closer ‘Parasitic Twins’ is dark, intimidating, and atmospheric but oh so beautiful. And despite the fact that this is the longest album Dillinger have released, as it rolls to a close you only want it to roll on and on and on.

Sure, there are other bands that do all these things but rarely at the same time and never this good. Hell, no other band on earth could put off-kilter riffs, robotic on-point percussion, inhuman barks, baroque croons, glockenspiel, strings and David Bowie’s pianist on the same record and produce something this creative, cohesive and coherent. In short, no one else is quite this good in quite this way and probably never will be.

BLUENECK- The Fallen Host

2010-03-22T10:02:00.001-11:00

If you’d been holding your breath for this one you’d be dead. Or breaking some kind of record. Not only has it been almost four years since Bristol pock-rock troupe Blueneck released their stunning debut but while the rest of the world got it back in November, the UK (or at least the last of the actual record buying public) has had to wait until now to hear follow-up, ‘The Fallen Host’. The wait though, has been oh so worth it.

From cinematic soundscapes and walls of moody sound to creepy-crawling atmospherics and piles of classic crescendos, this is bleak, brilliant, and powerful stuff. It’s the darker end of post-rock done just right. And while it is a mostly instrumental record (it’s two tracks and ten minutes before anyone parts their lips), when Duncan Attwood does employ a ghostly whisper or distant wail, it’s as vital and valuable as everything else here. Of course comparisons can be made- no Sigur Ros or Godspeed, no Blueneck- but instead of relying on cliché or copycat sounds, this is a smart and individual record that sets its own tone from start to finish. In fact, few albums of the last decade have conjured up the same quality of darkness.

Made for fans of Godspeed, Eno and Explosions In The Sky, and those people who possess the ability to lose themselves in music, this is an equally terrific, terrifying and turbulently emotional record. Go ahead, you can breathe out now...

MATHS- Descent

2010-03-22T09:49:00.003-11:00

Stop thinking about single riffs and separate songs and album tracks- think like that and this is never going to work- instead start thinking about bursts of naked rage, nuclear reactor noise, music as raw emotion, and about records that work best as a whole, that need to be consumed in one go. Only then will ‘Descent’, the debut full-length from British boys Maths make perfect sense. Not that this is perfect, mind- it’s obviously early days for a band that currently owes a big debt to outfits like Envy, Orchid, and Saetia- but for all its flaws, ‘Descent’ does regularly rasp, thrill, kill, and feel brilliantly, brutally honest too. It’s a rolling storm of palpably sincere screamo that goes from slow-build atmospherics, across volatile mood shifts, to heavy, heaving-chest, heartfelt intensity that slows, swerves and speeds up without warning but never stops until its done. And then you’ll only want to start all over again. Here’s hoping Maths don’t follow every move of their obvious idols and disband without getting more than album on tape, because this feels like just the beginning of something great

TASTE OF CHAOS. Hammersmith Apollo, London. 03.12.09

2009-12-07T11:14:00.004-11:00

Tonight, it turns out, is all about the line between solid and outstanding, competent and bloody colossal, standard fare and all-out classic performance.

Sure, Maylene And The Sons Of Disaster can play- their three-guitar onslaught sounds muscular and mighty powerful and while they kick things off without a single original member onstage (even singer Dallas stays home tonight, replaced by erstwhile He Is Legend frontman Schulyar Croom) they don’t drop a note of their southern-fried countrycore. But, the furious howl of ‘Caution, Dangerous Curves Ahead’ and some sleazy dance moves aside, there’s no vital spark in their show and the crowd remain mostly unmoved.

Every Time I Die on the other hand are goddamn electric. They bristle and bellow and roar and force folks to wake up and pay attention. ‘The New Black’ and ‘Floater’ are vital, sonic nailbombs of songs that sound all-at-once deadly explosive, dramatic and huge, and while new cuts like ‘The Marvelous Slut’ and ‘Wanderlust’ may take them into sleeker, slightly more straightforward territory, tonight this is a band showing just how vital their party-starting, party-spoiling hardcore has always been. Brilliant.

After that In Flames suffer. Yes, they are greeted with rapturous applause, horns aloft and banging heads but they’re clipped, clinical metal sounds a little too clean, a little too slick, and a little too safe compared to what’s come before. And then when Killswitch Engage arrive a little later, claiming their crown to an intro tape of comedy theme tunes and a lightshow of cheap fireworks but claiming it all the same, the Swedes are completely forgotten.

Ok, so the set is clunky, the pace is off (perhaps anything over an hour is too long for KsE), and Adam D still constantly plays the fool, but song after song the headliners excel. An opening ‘My Curse’ is massive, with twin guitars crystal clear, drums punchy, and frontman Howard Jones struck silent by just how loud the crowd return his words, ‘Bid Farewell’ is pretty much the distillation of everything great that melodic metal has to offer, and while ‘Fixation On the Darkness’ goes out to all the old fans, newie ‘Take Me Away’ slots in like an old classic. And as the final strains of their last song (‘Holy Diver’, dedicated to a sickly Dio) ring out, it’s so good to know that no fluke, cheap hooks or fashion brought this band here but outstanding songs, superb attitude, hard work and night after night of similar all-out classic performances.

This was supposed to everybody’s tour- the sponsors, the fans and all the bands, the Taste of Chaos- but tonight belongs only to Killswitch Engage. Perfect.

PORT-ROYAL- Dying In Time

2009-11-30T11:41:00.001-11:00

Evolution in action, this. ‘Dying In Time’, the third record from Italian troupe Port-Royal, continues their steady transition from promising but pretty formulaic post-rockers to electric-powered, genre-jumping god-knows-what. Hell, with 8-minute opener ‘Hva’- all breathy, ambient swells rising to crashing-surf static and fidgety glitches before succumbing to total meltdown- the band have pretty much captured the shifting sands of their sound. It’s more missing movie soundtrack chapter than proper song and while at times it’s docile and dreamy and at others a bracing wake-up call, it’s ever-so-exciting as it goes and always disarmingly beautiful.

Growth isn’t always so graceful though and while the closing three-part epic here is post-everything, Radiohead-ian (‘Ok Computer’ and Kid A’) bliss, other tracks skip and pop and clash and struggle to gel their separate elements. So instead of accomplished, complete conclusion, the impression is that this is a sound that needs work, needs time and love and attention. And it’s a sound which we’ve caught only part way to its best. Like Port-Royal have released demos of a dramatic, awkward but rewarding growth spurt rather than their third album proper.

Sure, there is balance to be found- on ‘Exhausted Muse’ and among the ethereal whispers and icicle cracks of ‘Anna Ustinova’ especially- and something like ‘Nights In Kiev’ is a signpost to a future even further away from pure post-rock, but really this is the sound of a band in flux, a band perhaps on the edge of discovering something great, and it’s where Port-Royal go next that’ll really be worth watching.

OWL CITY- Ocean Eyes

2009-11-11T09:09:00.002-11:00

Not every album can really mean it, man. ‘Ocean Eyes’, the major-label debut for one-man band Adam Young, is simple, fun, and generally skips across the surface of things. But while that might irk a few grumps and curmudgeons, it doesn’t stop this from working like a charm. All skittering electronics, gentle sighs, and flossy pop sounds, fans of The Secret Handshake and The Postal Service will find much to enjoy here. Opener ‘Cave In’ is bright and breezy, ‘Hello Seattle’ will hum around your head for days, probably working even better if you know the city and can follow Young on his alternative tour, and if ‘Umbrella Beach’- featuring gentle surf sounds and slick boyband-pop- were any sunnier it’d burn holes in your headphones. ‘Fireflies’ though, is the sleeper hit (or not so sleepy, as it’s currently number one in the US charts), glossy and clean but shot through with emotion and just a hint that Owl City does have more than one road to travel down. ‘Ocean Eyes’ rarely dares to be deep and meaningful then but it does find Young having major fun, inspiring smiles with serious aplomb, and pretty much mastering his pop art. Take that, haters.

THE FALL OF TROY- In The Unlikely Event

2009-11-02T12:18:00.003-11:00

Sometimes you get what you wish for. And all you pesky kids that thought The Fall Of Troy’s last record, the thoroughly excellent ‘Manipulator’, wasn’t fast, hard, or (sigh) extreme enough, better be happy with ‘In The Unlikely Event’. Everything you complained about being missing is back- there are schizophrenic extremes, off-kilter structures, thrash riffs, blinding technicality and dozens of strangled screams. Unfortunately though, that means almost everything else the Washington outfit were doing that was quietly pushing them into a league of their own has been abandoned to make room.

Opener ‘Panic Attack!’ starts strong but just brushes the surface of what the band have done before, ‘Straight-Jacket Keelhauled’ sounds like the band actually were having panic attacks at their instruments, intense but forgettable and even a little silly in the long run, and although Protest The Hero’s Rody Walker adds some powerful vocals to ‘Dirty Pillow Talk’, the song struggles to go in so many directions at once it ends up getting nowhere.

Thankfully, some things never change. It’s still impossible to believe that it’s just three skinny dudes making all the noise here, they’re still dudes with some serious skill, and, underneath the silly schizophrenia and forced fury, this is a band that still have an uncanny knack for a hook. ‘Single’ feels like a collection of cool parts rather than a complete song but pivots around a killer chorus, and ‘A Classic Case Of Transference’- somewhere between a lost Muse classic and the next Tim Burton movie soundtrack, packed with genuinely experimental licks, big riffs and shimmering, pristine pop hooks- is truly brilliant.

It’s not enough to save this record though and perhaps the worst news of all here is that these highlights won’t have you sticking with this record but digging out your copies of ‘Doppelganger’ and ‘Manipulator’ instead. ‘In The Unlikely Event’ is what so many people asked for but in the end there’s little traction, depth, drive or character here. This is a backwards step and then some.

FUCK BUTTONS- Tarot Sport

2009-11-02T12:14:00.003-11:00

Sure, there’s always going to be a nagging feeling that this is all one big joke. A silly, giggling, desperately arty, music hack’s wet dream of a joke that’s about as subtle as a lead pipe to the brain. With a stupid name. But there’s just no discounting the industrial soundtrack chug of ‘Rough Steez’, sidestepping the seismic yet sparkling shifts of ‘The Lisbon Maru, or stifling your subconscious from painting images along to the wails, walls and waves of noise of ‘Olympians’. And if you can ignore the euphoric, cinematic scope of opener ‘Surf Solar’, you’re probably deaf. Or very very dull. That a few of these tracks go past the ten-minute mark but never feel fat or tired is a feat all of its own too, but when all you want is for them to go on longer, reach further, and push harder, you’re on very rare territory indeed. This isn’t just a great record then, one that renders the Fuck Buttons debut pretty much redundant, but a grand one- a post-everything dance epic meant to make your mouth water and your mind wander and your heart soar. And if you still don’t get that as ‘Flight Of The Feathered Serpent’ crashes to a close then you never will. Wonderful.

VOLCANO CHOIR- Unmap

2009-11-02T12:07:00.003-11:00

Surely no one was expecting this. By now Bon Iver (just Justin Vernon to his mum) was supposed to be busy writing a debut full-length, an album to capitalize on the success of ‘For Emma, Forever Ago’. If not that then at least crumbling under the pressure of following up one of the most warmly (if not quite widely) received records of recent times. He’s certainly not supposed to be releasing an experimental electronic side-project with some friends from back home. But thank god Vernon doesn’t care much for how things are supposed to go, because this is beautiful.

'Husks And Shells’ starts simply enough, with a slight, sombre acoustic guitar strum, but it soon stutters and loops and layers alongside vocal swells, picked strings and an insistent soft beep, finishing not a billion miles from where it started but surprising all the same. ‘Seeplymouth’ too revels in the unexpected, a six-minute cut-and-paste experiment of drum loops, soft drones and Vernon’s pitched and altered clicks and harmonies, ‘Cool Knowledge’ is a collage of humming and sparse but dancey beats, and ‘Youlogy’ is like the soundtrack to some great adventure going horribly wrong.

‘Still’ sounds warm and familiar as it cribs lyrics from Bon Iver’s ‘Woods’ and ‘Island, IS’ is about as close as this choir get to a conventional song but the best, most beautiful bits here are the odd, hypnotic and alien moments. And while none of these are breakneck twists and turns, they’re more than enough to have your head reeling and your ears finely pricked for whatever else might come next. Totally unexpected but utterly exceptional.

THIS TOWN NEEDS GUNS+ Tubelord. Oakford Social Club, Reading. 18.10.09

2009-10-21T11:20:00.002-11:00

The start of a tour featuring a terrific tag-team of totally tuneful but arty and inventive, tousle-haired, twiddly-guitared outfits, tonight has the potential to be great. And Tubelord don’t disappoint. Sure, the Kingston trio (now with new bassist in tow) owe a lot to acts like The Fall Of Troy and Biffy Clyro but they sound more like their own band with every show. Tunes from new album ‘Our First American Friends’ are tight, dynamic, and, vitally, original too. And if getting everyone to sit down while they recite Ginsberg is hokey, a schizophrenic but captivating ‘Night Of The Pencils’ starts superb and explodes into what our merry ears might call one of the best songs ever written.

Not that This Town Needs Guns lack killer tunes. ‘Lemur’ pops in all the right places, ‘Baboon’ is all-at-once off-kilter and even a little out of tune but trap-tight and beautiful too, and ’26 Is Dancier Than 4’ is perfect, the sort of no-hit wonder that deserves to be dug up and discovered in years to come and declared the classic it’s always been. The Gunners air new material too, showcasing an unnamed song that’s a real revelation for them- magnetic and complex but slick, fast and danceable, all without once sounding cheap and dirty. It points towards the bigger things that this band have deserved for some time and rounds up a night that delivered all it promised, terrific from start to finish.

SLEEPING AT LAST- Storyboards

2009-10-19T11:56:00.003-11:00

This is so easy to fall in love with. There’s the raw talent, it takes just two minutes to work out that the three members of Chicago’s Sleeping At Last have got some serious chops. There’s the lyric sheet, with lines like “when we awake, we are left with the eggshells inside of the nest and the promise that one day soon, it will come back to us” that could have come from a poetry book. There’s some real pedigree here as well, contributors have also worked with Paul McCartney and Death Cab For Cutie, Van Dyke Parks (whose resume includes time with U2, The Beach Boys and Walt Disney) arranged the strings, and the whole shebang was recorded at Steve Albini’s Electrical Audio Studio. And then there’s the music all those skills combine to create- ‘Side By Side’, which sounds like Coldplay but modest and captivating too, the sombre but sunny layers of ‘Unmade’, and the fragile, tender ‘Naïve’, one of the most delicately beautiful tunes of the year. Of ever, really. Listen to this album immediately then, fall in love, but don’t blame us if it leads to an affair that lasts the rest of your life.

ON HISTORIES OF ROSENBERG- On Histories of Rosenberg

2009-10-19T11:48:00.002-11:00

What’s in a name? Obviously not enough for promising Winchester outfit Caesura who, in the light of the 50 or so other Caesura’s in the world, have become On Histories Of Rosenberg. But while some things change, others stay the same and the music on the History boys’ debut EP picks up right where their old band’s final efforts ended. Opener ‘Am I Awake?’ is a slowly-swelling 5-minute mini-epic with real emotional power at its core, ‘Danger Danger’ gets all starry-eyed before becoming a proper belter mid-way through, and ‘Leave Us Here’ combines a love of Minus The Bear and Jimmy Eat World with handclaps and a post-rock climax to make for a powerful conclusion. Admittedly how hard you fall for this will depend on how much musical melancholy, heartfelt musing and twinkling guitars you can handle but only the harshest souls will deny the presence of massive promise and potential.

IMOGEN HEAP- Ellipse

2009-10-19T11:03:00.003-11:00

Lovely this. But never quite the masterpiece it was supposed to be. After all, from the springboard that was 05’s ‘Speak For Yourself’, Imogen Heap could have gone anywhere, taking her breathy and experimental pop to pastures entirely new. She could have spent the last few years working on music to blow minds. Instead of fresh and challenging though, this is beautifully familiar, perfectly charming, and utterly comfortable stuff. If that sounds like a slating, it’s not. Not at all. Hell, Heap could hum a shopping list and make it sound as handsome as the most heartfelt poem, and ‘Ellipse’ does sound better than ‘Speak…’, supported by a sweet but not sickly production job that really suits. It’s just that for a girl that had the potential to reach for outer space and soundtrack the stars (instead of just Hollywood blockbusters), the clean, pristine pop songs here don’t feel quite enough.

GIRLS- Album

2009-09-28T10:24:00.001-11:00

All the rage at the minute this lot. Not that ‘Album’ explains why mind. Kinda like The Strokes or Weezer’s green album, this is indie pop that leans towards lo-fi and purports to be warm and genuine but actually comes across as cold and distant. Ok so one-man band Christopher Owens slurs his words like he’s spent too long in the sun and there’s a laid-back, hazy production quality that actually works pretty well with the more shoegazey material here but there’s no real contact, no spark, nothing truly special. Yes, at times Owens sounds a little like Elvis Costello mumbling over what could be an old Beach Boys cast away but he’s certainly not alone there and if that’s all it takes to be the next big thing then we’re getting on the next bus out of here.

KEELHAUL- Keelhaul's Triumphant Return to Obscurity

2009-09-28T10:15:00.003-11:00

Like fellow hardcore veterans Coalesce recently, Keelhaul return here after years of radio silence. And just like those other comeback kids… ahem… men, the Ohio bruisers are back with a vengeance. From jagged start to apocalyptic finish see, ‘Triumphant Return…’ feels mathy and technical yet bloodthirsty and brutish at the same time, the sound of a band who really know how to play their instruments but choose to smash them to splinters instead. And yes this is pretty typical for Keelhaul but there are new flavours of rage here, more grit, more curmudgeonly hate, and a layer of grimy sludge that’s inches thicker than what they’ve conjured up previously.

‘High Seas Viking Eulogy’ sounds like Steve Albini got hold of Mastodon, ‘The Subtle Sound…’ is anything but, making like Will Haven forgetting to write songs and instead recording their musical bad moods, and as well as having a great title ‘Everything’s A Napkin’ is a fine example of tense-and-release rock, what the edge of your seat was made for. And if this all sounds too much then it probably is, it probably won’t sell many copies or get Keelhaul any new fans, but they definitely couldn’t care less. Another great return from another band back from the dead. Now if somebody can just pass the memo on to Botch.

LULLABYE ARKESTRA- Threats/Worship

2009-09-28T10:09:00.004-11:00

Introducing a husband (Justin Small, also part of Do Make Say Think) and wife (Kat Small), bottling thunder on their second record and intent on making an impression on you and your eardrums. Lullabye Arkestra have abandoned any softer edges that fluffed up their ‘Ampgrave’ debut and given in completely to their collective Black Sabbath and Motorhead obsession. And holy fuck is their loss of control everybody else’s almighty gain. They’ve written guaran-damn-teed indie rock hits only to smother them in black Canadian sludge (‘Get Nervous’), punk rock steamrollers (‘Icy Hands’), and the sort of post-everything ragers that Death From Above would be writing if they could have held it together (‘We Fuck The Night’, ‘Euroshima’). For fans of Big Black, Liars, and late nights that leave you with a ringing in your ears.

EMMURE- Felony

2009-09-17T08:37:00.004-11:00

Some of this is so stupid. From the lyric sheet to the guitar tabs see, Emmure have broken down their already simple formula to the very basics. Seriously, it might have cooler tattoos and tighter t-shirts but some of ‘Felony’ is “I did it all for the nookie” silly. Despite all that though, it’s bloody brilliant.

It’s the landslide-heavy chug that Emmure, alongside names like Recon and (best of friends) The Acacia Strain, have spent their careers perfecting that is pivotal to this. Oh sure, if you concentrate on frontman Frankie Palmeri screaming “Oh shit, what the fuck did I just do” over and over or the gunshots introducing the big breakdown in the title track you’ll only get frustrated that Emmure aren’t trying harder on their third full-length. But the big, brutish power and massive, moshable grooves elsewhere here are simply irresistible. ‘Sunday Bacon’ is two minutes of terror and ridiculously low growls, ‘I Thought You Met Telly…’ gets as many points for referencing Kids as it does its dark and dirty riffs, and if the midsection of ‘You Sunk My Battleship’ doesn’t make you want to throw down just a little then you’re taking life far too seriously.

This isn’t a completely one-dimensional record either- ‘First Impressions’ features the usual feral vocals and thunderous drums but plenty of technical guitars and drive too, ‘The Philosophy Of Time Travel’ is the sort of interlude that Deftones regularly pen, and where ‘I <3 EC2’ introduces proper clean vocals to Emmure’s cannon for the first time, the croons through ‘Don't Be One’ work so well that it could be a new Glassjaw cut. And as ‘Immaculate Misconception’ hammers to a close, 12 tracks and 30 minutes after ‘Felony’ first exploded into life, it only leaves you wanting more (although if Emmure keep producing albums at this rate, the wait won’t be long). Young, dumb, and full of fun, but brilliant too.

FOTLED- Sun Water

2009-08-24T09:40:00.002-11:00

This is impressive. Most music this quiet needs you to calm down, loosen up, and listen through earphones to take effect see. But ‘Sun Water’, the second record from one-man outfit Fotled (Brian to his mum), is powerful enough to punch through the fuzz of the world, the noise of the 9 to 5, and properly move you. Ok, sure, it owes a lot to genre godfathers like Godspeed, Red Sparowes and another Brian, right down to the titanic song titles, but Fotled pushes his project much further than cheap imitation or mere tribute, this is beatless watercolour noise of genuine quality. Opener ‘Beams Of Light Fell From The Sky’ is a soft and slow synth workout, ‘Only Bones…’ sounds like an alien chorus of strings, and ‘Peacefully, Unafraid’ is a brilliant experiment in sighs and echoes that says more in two minutes than other bedroom projects do across their entire existence. And unlike even Jonsi Birgisson’s recent advance into the ambient world, the slow-motion moves here come with an emotional weight that doesn’t need art, film, or a rocky icescape to make complete sense. Hell, if you can listen to the last thirty seconds of ‘Like The Severed Spinal Cords Of Distant Rotting Stars’ alone without checking over your shoulder for creeps and ghouls then you’re braver than anyone round these parts. Powerful stuff from a name to remember.

MONOTONIX. South Street, Reading. 17.08.09

2009-08-20T11:31:00.005-11:00

Nowhere is safe. There are no hiding places. There’s no getting away with being a simple spectator tonight. Israeli six-legged, three-bearded, no-clothed monsters Monotonix are here see, and within seconds of their amps rumbling into life there’s beer, water and ice across the floor, bottles and cans flying through the air, a dustbin on the drummer’s head, and this stuffy little corner of Reading doesn’t know what’s hit it.

Before the headliners turn South Street inside out though, Empress, Throwing Knives, and The Black Heart Orchestra share band members, a love of Converge, and a desire to wreck all nearby eardrums. Of the three, Empress have got the best tunes, combining crusty hardcore with a dark metallic edge and aggression that comes out as an emotional punch rather than flying fists, but none are better than support band status yet.

Monotonix’s music isn’t actually that thrilling either- like Queens of the Stone Age with the peaks and troughs rounded down into one chugging, persistent riff- but the three dudes on stage (and off stage and behind the bar and in the toilet) could be playing their favourite TV theme tunes and it wouldn’t matter at all, attached as it is to one of the most mind-blowing live shows ever witnessed. A set that starts, surges past frontman Ami Shalev stripping to his underwear and dry-humping the bar, guitarist Yonatan Gat playing on his back, on his head, and upside down, drummer Haggai Fershtman handing parts of his kit out to the crowd, and Shalev surfing the bass drum across the room, and threatens to never stop.

And really you can’t just witness this, you have to join in, you’re forced to experience it. And sure, there’s an air of menace here, there’s just no other way to describe a show that rumbles relentlessly on past blood, bruises, and the owner of the venue screaming in the promoter’s face to make it all stop. But bigger than that is a shameless joy, a grin-inducing excitement that’s catchier than swine flu, twice as deadly, but a billion times more fun. A gig not to be missed from a band on the edge.

SIGHTS & SOUNDS- Monolith

2009-08-10T10:36:00.002-11:00

What would you expect a record featuring members of Comeback Kid, Figure Four and Sick City, and produced by Devin Townsend to sound like? Whatever you’re thinking we’re willing to bet our entire CD collection (you remember CDs right?) that it isn’t anything at all like Sights & Sounds and their debut full-lenght ‘Monolith’. Instead of any red-blooded hardcore or mental metal see, this is an album of post-hardcore, experimental emo and epic rock songs. Opener ‘Sorrows’ sets the scene perfectly- peppered with piano and acoustic stirrings but powering along on serpentine riffs and melodic rises and falls that are more like Thrice than Throwdown and more like Saosin than Strike Anywhere, it’s a revelation, the sort of stirring rock that doesn’t get made enough anymore. Basically it’s bloody massive. And things only get bigger and better from there. ‘The Clutter’ is a smoky 7-minute marathon that’s never less than compelling, ‘Neighbours’ sounds like it could crumble castle walls and soothe you to sleep at the same time, and ‘Pillars’ finishes things up with a climax that could have been written by an orchestra not a rock band. And while some parts of ‘Monolith’ do still rage, it’s these softer, more slow-burning moments that really make an impact. Seriously good stuff, from a seriously surprising place.

ARSONISTS GET ALL THE GIRLS- Portals

2009-07-27T10:41:00.004-11:00

Problem solved. Where Californian metal experimentalists Arsonists Get All The Girls used to produce a blinding blur of admittedly proficient but not terribly exciting noise, here they’ve nailed it. After accusations of not taking their music seriously, the death of a bassist and the departure of a vocalist, the band have got their heads down for album number three and come up with their best material by miles. Ok so no record with an 8-bit breakdown or titles like ‘Tea Time Tibbons’ is totally straight-faced but such is the hike in quality here that this could be a completely different band.

‘Interdimensionary’ is part space-opera, part deranged disco, part runaway train terror and all awesome, ‘Skiff For The Suits’ spies claims that the Arsonists just rip off Horse, The Band and cuts them to shreds, and ‘Violence In Fluid…’ has got the lot- arena rock pomp, pop nous, tech-metal noodling and heavy metal rumble all combined into a wild-eyed and sporadic but vitally coherent opus. Creative, smart, and oh so skilful, ‘Portals’ is the doorway to much bigger things for Arsonists Get All The Girls.

VIATROPHY- Viatrophy

2009-07-27T10:31:00.004-11:00

Something strange is going on in Reading. The commuter town, formerly only famous for… well, nothing really, is slowly building up a respectable roster of metal bands. Sure, there aren’t any shops, jobs or things to do there but any place that produces talent like Sylosis, Malefice, and Tesseract at the same time can’t be all bad. And with the release of their debut full-length, new additions to the list Viatrophy certainly haven’t let the side down either. Hell, they’ve even come up with the goods to compete on an international level.

Opener proper ‘Mistress of Misery’ is as technical as it is epic (a mix the band employ fantastically and frequently here), ‘Seas of Storms’ is made to please headbanging metallers, post-metal beard-strokers and hardcore chug-lovers alike but doesn’t ever get muddled or lost in metalcore tedium, and if ‘Futile Prayer’ is an almost black metal burst of rage then ‘Sufferance’ is the smart, melodic scene-stealer- a song blessed with strength, style, shiny hooks, and that irresistible x-factor that suggests it won’t be long before Viatrophy break through to bigger things. Oh, it’s not going to change the world- leave that for this lot’s next album- but turn this up loud enough and it is more than capable of shaking it damn hard. Superb.

VITAMINSFORYOU- He Closed His Eyes So He Could Dance With You

2009-07-27T10:29:00.001-11:00

The problem with most of the music lumped with ugly labels like emotronica, laptop rock and electro-emo is that it all tends to value emo stylings over emotional connection, genre clichés over genuine hooks, and melodrama over melody. Well Vitaminsforyou, the musical nom de plume for Toronto resident Bryce Kushnier, is here to reset the balance. Oh sure, there are some soppy lyrics and plenty of breathy vocals here, and there’s no getting away from just how Dashboard Confessional that album title is, but ‘He Closed His Eyes…’ is actually more likely to make you get up and dance than write in your diary. ‘One Nite Stand’ piles on bubbly beats, jazzy glitches, and washes of noise until it’s really cooking, ‘Leave My Head Around’ is like Hot Chip with proper tunes, and ‘War’ is capable of getting fans of emo, dance, IDM, and indie all on the same dancefloor all at the same time. Oh, and no record that starts with a song called ‘Flesh Python’ could ever, ever be accused of being too emo. Aces.

YOUR DEMISE- Ignorance Never Dies

2009-07-13T11:23:00.002-11:00

Full of surprises this. For a debut it’s an unbelievably confident and accomplished outing, for a group that claim not to practice often it’s a tight, professional beast, and for a small British band this isn’t half a big, brutish thing capable of appealing to heavy music fans worldwide too. But the most unexpected thing about Your Demise’s first full-length is just how much it feels like a hit record. Oh sure, ‘Ignorance Never Dies’ is packed with spiky metal-edged hardcore that spits and hisses and wants your blood but there’s more energy, attitude and shiny hooks here than on both Gallows albums put together. The title track is a buzzing, edgy two-minute taster of what’s to come, ‘Burnt Tongues’ unleashes a wall of rage that would be utterly inaccessible in lesser hands but is involving, exciting, and addictive here, and ‘TF’ is just begging to be ripped off this record and wrung out in front of a baying crowd. And it’s not all heads-down hardcore destruction here either. ‘Unknown Dub’ is a grimy slice of electronics that’s as dark as any downtuned doom, ‘Great Shape’ is a neat glitchy interlude and ‘Black Veins’ adds both punk spit and steamroller metallic grit to the mix too. Ok, so few records featuring lines like “Slit my fucking throat, your life’s a fucking joke” are destined to truly take the world by storm but ‘Ignorance Never Dies’ doesn’t just put Your Demise alongside the best of British but next to names like Hatebreed, First Blood, and Biohazard. Brilliant.

ALEXISONFIRE- Old Crows/Young Cardinals

2009-07-06T11:18:00.001-11:00

Alexisonfire have grown up. And if the whiff of maturity about 2006’s ‘Crisis’ didn’t confirm that then the strength and authority of ‘Old Crows/Young Cardinals’ or lines here like “we are not the kids we used to be” certainly will. That doesn’t mean they’re dull and done just yet though. Despite the title ‘Old Crows’ is punk rock, it is, just with less emphasis on the spit and smashed instruments and more on the addictive melodies and freedom to do whatever the damn hell you want, ‘Emerald Street’ is perhaps the best the three voices of Alexis have ever sounded together, and if ‘No Rest’ works brilliantly as a balls-out rager, the hymnal ‘The Northern’ and slow-burning closer ‘Burial’ mine a deep, earthy vibe that not only feels perfectly natural but opens up masses of new options for these boys in the future. It’ll all be too much for some- mostly those that lurk online still demanding Alexis repeat their first album- but for everyone else this is the sound of a band putting the scenesters to shame, putting their peers in the dust, and stepping off in a fully-formed but fresh direction that they can confidently wander for many years to come.

COALESCE + Taint. Underworld, London. 19.06.09

2009-06-29T12:19:00.008-11:00

This kinda feels like it should be bigger. It kinda feels like Coalesce, one of metallic hardcore’s pioneers arriving in the UK for the first time ever, should be selling out somewhere huge instead of just comfortably-filling the Underworld. But get inside, get up close, and when things get started, it really couldn’t be better. No one is here to see if the band mess up or miss a cue, too old to rock. Instead everyone is on the same side from the first note and it’s pretty much perfect.

Before all that though, Taint tear into unsuspecting eardrums like they hate the ability to hear. A little like tonight’s headliners in their own country, the Welshmen have remained relatively unsung heroes of Britain’s metal scene for some time. But based on tonight’s performance, the reason why is a mystery. Armed with huge richter scale-bothering riffs, primal sea beast power and enough beardy menace to put Mastodon to shame, they bash through a set like jackhammers through concrete, convert people by the bucketload, and are a bloody revelation. At least they would be if it wasn’t for Coalesce.

For the headliners see, this is the first trip outside the US and they’re clearly here to make the most of it. Within seconds of ‘Have Patience’ click-click-booming into life both guitarist and frontman are in the crowd, writhing like their fingers are jammed in the mains. And that crowd aren’t slouching either- some people here have waited over a decade to see Coalesce in the flesh and as tracks like ‘My Love For Extremes’, ‘A Disgust For Details’ and killer newies like ‘The Plot Against My Love’ spin heads and seriously bother the venue’s foundations, they go suitably apeshit.

There are no Led Zeppelin covers but 'Cowards.com' is a howling beast, 'You Can't Kill Us All' a raw-throated sing-along, and one new song, newer even than comeback record ‘Ox’ and due out on an EP soon, sounds like one of the best the band have ever written.

That doesn’t mean it’s a pretty set, not once, but it does snarl, roar, and push on relentlessly. And instead of old dudes going through the motions, Coalesce play together, feeding off a crowd that could listen to them play over and over and over again, and they play like goddamn champs. Stunning.

FOR THE FALLEN DREAMS- Relentless

2009-06-29T12:08:00.003-11:00

The world needs another metalcore album like it needs the ozone layer to fail, but there’s something about the way For The Fallen Dreams mix their heavy metal riffs, hardcore chugging, and rabid monster vocals that makes them impossible to hate. Possessing the same combination of headlong intensity and easy listenability as Bury Your Dead used to and bands like Impending Doom and Emmure still capture now helps. But things like the kitchen-sink clatter of 'The Call Out Perceptions', the face-scrunching thunderclap booms of 'December Everyday', guitar lines that are equally metallic and melodic, and a fine choice of repeated one-line fist-in-the-air phrases are really key. There are stumbling blocks though. And the biggest, not just here but across this whole sub-genre, is variety. Sure, Jeremy from A Day To Remember adds his distinctive clean vocals to ‘Nightmare’, ‘Defiance’ is close enough to the quality of Misery Signals to make you sit up and take notice, and there are electronic clicks and whirs scattered throughout but if you’re not paying attention all these songs could easily blend into one moshable, but not terribly moving, breakdown. And nobody wants to think the band wrote these songs just to make people throw down right? No, knuckle down with ‘Relentless’ and it will repay tenfold, and with more than just knuckles to the face when you hit the pit.

GALLOWS + Every Time I Die. O2 Academy, Oxford. 15.05.09

2009-05-18T11:06:00.005-11:00

Gallows have a lot to do tonight. They’ve got a setlist packed with brand new songs, a seriously road-weary frontman (although the skinny, wiry singer is convinced it’s swine flu), and, with a personalised tour bus outside, sponsorship from a certain unrelenting energy drink plastered all over the place, and two pages of very particular specifications taped to the sound desk, they’ve got to convince people that they’re still a proper punk band too. But none of these things actually come close to spoiling the show. Nope, instead the headliners came undone about four months ago when they booked Every Time I Die as support.

From start to finish the Buffalo brawlers are brilliant. ‘We’rewolf’ roars and claws out the speakers, a fiery ‘Floater’ proves the band having been writing amazing songs for years while ‘Cities And Years’ shows that they’re only getting better. Best of all though, even though they’re about to release their fifth record (of which we get a title, ‘New Junk Aesthetic’, and a song, the raging ‘Buffalo 666’), the quintet play with the same bristling energy and headlong intensity as a group just beginning. As well as being goddamn electric though, their is a sharp, tight, powerful and magnetic set that probably has Gallows backstage cursing the decision to ever bring them out.

And it’s not that the headliners are bad, not one bit. The Watford (or London now apparently) lot still tip the scales way towards pissing in the mainstream rather than following it, but after ETID they just can’t compete. For all the rave reviews there are no absolutely killer tunes on new album ‘Grey Britain’, in fact there are only two in the band’s entire back catalogue, and in this big, black, slick square of a venue, it’s just impossible to recreate the in-your-face rage that made that lack of material so easy to forgive, and this band so damn vital in the first place.

Gallows might have the press clippings, the sponsorship, and the label cash on their side then, but tonight in Oxford, it’s Every Time I Die’s night. And with a new album on the way and more UK tour plans in the pipeline, it doesn’t look like being their last either. Hot damn!

MASTODON- Crack The Skye

2009-04-13T10:53:00.003-11:00

This is some weird shit. Ok so Mastodon have never really done anything normal but the monstrous quartet’s fourth full-length is officially freakin strange. The concept (of course there’s a concept) is a collision of time travel, ghostly possession, spirit worlds, and Russian wizards, and the music is no simpler.

First single ‘Divinations’ mixes warped country twang with wrecking ball metal, ‘Quintessence’ could be a pop song if it wasn’t for the devil voices and Brann Dailor’s drumming, and four-part epic ‘The Czar’ sounds like 15 bands playing at once. Not one of those bands made Mastodon’s previous albums though. Here, the irrepressible roar of 2004’s ‘Leviathan’ and the ragged edges of 07’s ‘Blood Mountain’ have been smoothed over and replaced with a cleaner, more psychedelic but somehow more streamlined power, Troy Sanders’ vocals have gone from rawsome bark to grungy croon and the prog factor is way off the scale. It’s going to drive some people mad.

If you can get over the oddness and softness though, this record is capable of taking you on a real ride. A journey that doesn't stop for ages either as the serpentine riffs and layered hooks get into your head and refuse to leave. It's an album made to stay with you for... well, forever really. And from a band that don't need to work anywhere near this hard anymore (Mastodon have just about become the Radiohead of metal now, not quite above criticism but guaranteed to sell a certain amount of records regardless of what weird and wonderful directions they go in), that's mighty impressive whatever your opinion of prog rock.

36 CRAZYFISTS + Poison The Well. O2 Academy, Oxford. 06.03.09

2009-03-09T09:21:00.003-11:00

This isn’t a gig, it’s a party. A really loud and really sweaty party.
From the second he bounds on stage, 36 Crazyfists vocalist and talented grizzly bear impersonator Brock Lindow treats tonight like it’s a hometown shindig and his best friends are moshing below him. The man’s attitude is downright infectious too and though the first strains of ‘I’ll Go Until My Heart Stops’ are harrowed screams, it’s impossible not to have a great time tonight.

Of course it’s difficult to be down when you’ve just seen Poison The Well play. The pioneering hardcore band might not share as many jokes as the headliners but from the opening assault of ‘Letter Thing’ to the fantastic final flurry of ‘Nerdy’, they’re perfect. Fucking perfect. And a lengthy set (rather than the 20-minute outings PTW have endured on these shores recently) means they’re able to pick from a back catalogue that has amazed, astounded, and confused people over the last decade with greedy glee. ‘Artist’s Rendering Of Me’ is a the same firebomb of a song it was 10 years ago, ‘Botchla’ is achingly beautiful but raw and aggressive as well, and if the two new songs aired tonight are anything to by then the band’s forthcoming fifth album (Titled ‘Tropic Rot’ if we heard Jeff Moriera correctly) is going to fit in perfectly.

Which should probably be quite hard to follow. Except as 36 Crazyfists really get their set going it becomes very clear who the crowd have come to see. The whole room turns into a fantastically off-key choir for the big choruses of ‘At The End Of August’ and ‘Bloodwork’, spins into a huge circle pit powered by the barreling power of ‘Elysium’, and goes suitably apeshit for metallic ragers like ‘We Gave It Hell’. And it’s fun and all (even the wall of death is good-natured) but for a group that started in the wintry wastes of Alaska, survived the major-label wringer, and were supposed to have disappeared with nu-metal, it’s very impressive stuff. See these bands live as soon as possible.

ARCHITECTS + Misery Signals. O2 Academy, Oxford. 29.01.09

2009-02-11T11:00:00.004-11:00

OK, so a big part of tonight is about British boys making good, about a young band becoming a big deal, and about Architects going from energetic support-slot show-stealers to bona fide headliner status. And yeah, it’s been bloody brilliant watching them go from playing to just a few people a few years ago to a few hundred tonight. But something is not quite right.

The problem certainly isn’t Misery Signals. The Milwaukee outfit power through a stunning set- ‘In Response To Stars’, ‘The Failsafe’, and feral rager ‘Weight Of The World’ all highlights- and in just 30 minutes prove that they marry crushing intensity to emotional beauty better than anyone else in this scene. Superb.

Which was always going to leave a lot for the headliners to do. But it’s not energy that Architects lack, it’s not material (album number three ‘Hollow Crown’ dropped this week), and it’s certainly not confidence either- the band storm out like stars to an incredible reception. No, the one thing that truly taints proceedings is the attitude, and just how much it stinks.

Sure, songs like ‘To The Death’ and ‘Early Grave’ sound like the building might be caving in and frontman Sam Carter sounds plenty ferocious and passionate, but he also possesses an unstoppable potty mouth and desire to see the crowd punch and kick their way through the gig. At one point he demands more action on the floor only to berate the audience for not paying enough attention to the stage. Yes, his job is getting people going but Carter stirs this pit so hard it becomes tricky for anyone outside of it to enjoy themselves. And lines like “when this next song starts, punch your best friend in the face” are just stupid.

It’s good to see the band make it here, a UK group powering along under their own steam, but instead of grown men arriving in Oxford to claim their place by letting their admittedly ace music do the talking, Architects come across like bratty kids tonight, short of the real deal. Shame.

BURY YOUR DEAD. Islington Academy, London. 17.12.08

2008-12-20T13:34:00.001-11:00

Bury Your Dead are in a weird place right now. And that doesn’t just mean the Islington Academy- the venue inside a shopping centre- that they’re playing tonight. No, tonight marks the Massachusetts outfit’s first UK outing since their transition from hardcore heroes to heavy metal band really picked up steam.

That all started with the release of their self-titled album in March of course but tonight, with the band slowing songs down to add even more groove than usual, guitarist Slim throwing rock star moves, and frontman Myke Terry’s contant demands for people to put their hands in the air, jump up and down, and bang their heads (not at the same time, mind), it’s arrived live and in the flesh. As much as they throw their all behind it though, if the, ahem, limited attendance and odd atmosphere tonight are anything to go by then the changeover is not going entirely smoothly.

Ok sure, the songs, both old and new, are great- ‘Magnolia’ is still a brilliantly violent burst of noise, ‘House Of Straw’ is a moshable monster, and newie ‘Fever Dream’ might be the best thing BYD have ever written- but they don’t all sit well together. And occasionally, like when the wicked shimmy of ‘Top Gun’ tramples all over the smoother finish of ‘Hands To Hide The Shame’, or when Terry struggles to switch between low growls and clean singing quick enough, they downright sound like the work of different bands. And with the crowd unsure whether to throw down or headbang, windmill or play air guitar, the whole night ends up feeling a little… awkward.

Bury Your Dead are still in the middle of an evolution then, that much is clear, and while it does feel like they’ve got a decent shot at making it stick, tonight illustrates it clearly isn’t finished. Time, and whether another tour gets booked soon, will tell here.

THE GHOST OF A THOUSAND + Rolo Tomassi + The Casino Brawl. West End Centre, Aldershot. 13.12.08

2008-12-20T10:10:00.003-11:00

This shouldn’t work. Not just because of the weather (torrential rain is great at keeping gig-goers at home) or the location (far-from-rock’n’roll Aldershot), but because the bands collected here tonight sound so very different. And how- newcomers The Casino Brawl bash out distinctly American-sounding post-hardcore, Rolo Tomassi ram wonky pop into thrash weirdness, and The Ghost Of A Thousand put the punk rock fury on top. But it does work. All of it. And like a fucking charm.

Sure, The Casino Brawl might pander to US acts like Every Time I Die but they do it mighty well, throwing themselves about with addictive enthusiasm and cracking out one song that could almost make breakdowns worth doing again. Almost. A few more tours, a bit more confidence, and just a bit of luck and they could brilliant. Next up though, and Rolo Tomassi are already there.

Second on and the Sheffield noiseniks haven’t just advanced giant leaps over the past year; they’ve very quickly become a frighteningly competent and complete proposition. Hyper-intense older cuts like ‘Film Noir’ still swell with a glorious sense of danger but the release of debut album ‘Hysterics’ has given them a much fuller palette to work with and splat across the room. ‘I Love Turbulance’ combines streamlined rage with eerie serenity, ‘Fofteen’ is an explosion of spidery riffs and feral screams, and ‘Abraxas’ is a thrilling bleeping, screeching slice of fried gold. It’s all brilliant, and should make things very difficult for the headliners.

Except The Ghost Of A Thousand are flawless. Ok, so frontman Tom Lacey has to transmit it to the crowd directly, climbing off the stage and starting a circle pit himself, but there’s more energy coming off this band than a toddler with his wet fingers in a plug socket and armed only with direct punk rock songs (albeit every one better than anything Gallows have written) they make the West End Centre feel like the only place in the world for a rock fan to be tonight.

‘Bored Of Math’ is a raw but razor-sharp call-to-arms, ‘Black Art Number One’ is brutal but brilliantly catchy, and new song ‘Running On Empty’ bodes very well indeed for the Brighton outfit’s second album due early next year. They don’t hang around to plug that though, and like all the best bands of their genre they make their set a short, sharp, satisfying shock and leave Aldershot clearly wanting more. After that, even the refreshing rain outside makes perfect sense. The gods, geography, and genre divisions be damned then- this worked out wonderfully.

BLEEDING THROUGH- Declaration

2008-11-24T12:05:00.002-11:00

What a disappointment. After all the great press, industry praise, and baited anticipation, after everything Bleeding Through endured to wrestle this album from their label, hell, after naming the thing ‘Declaration’, you’d hope there’d be a sniff of greatness about this record. But instead it’s just more of the same. Oh sure, that means more ominous darkness (‘Finnis Fatalis Spei’), driving metallic intensity (‘Orange County…’), and crushing hardcore heaviness (‘Seller's Market’) but, instead of adding up to anything classic or career-defining, it just feels faceless and kind of limp. Riffs warm up but never explode, drums rattle hard and fast but go nowhere, and there are some incredibly clichéd lyrics here. And, despite getting studio loon Devin Townsend in to twiddle knobs, the production, something that Bleeding Through have always had problems with, lacks any depth and leaves Brandan Schiepatti’s vocals itchy and scratchy instead of booming and dominant. Still, it’s no failure, there are enough riffs and roars here to carry Bleeding Through on to album number six, but it is far from the essential statement of intent it was cracked up to be.

MISERY SIGNALS - Controller

2008-08-04T12:05:00.000-11:00

An odd thing this. ‘Controller’, the third full-length from Misery Signals, does as the band have done before, as many bands have done before in fact- combining hulking grooves and raw rage with metallic melody and atmospheric licks- but not for a second does it feel dull, recycled, or second-hand. Instead it sounds like a band on fire. Subtle touches help- Ryan Morgan and Stuart Ross adding sleek guitar tones to their juggernaut riff collection, frontman Karl Schubach finding a clean singing voice that’s both emotional and strong, and tracks like ‘Coma’ and ‘Homecoming’ giving real breathing room to the band’s more beautiful noises - but really it’s passion, precision, and a commanding power that sets this apart from the pack. It won’t work so well if you look at the separate pieces but Misery Signals have never ever been a singles act. Instead this is a mean, moody and emotional steamroller of a record that finds the band doing what they do best- playing metalcore but doing it with original strength, purpose and stunning skill. Excellent.

SHAI HULUD- Misanthropy Pure

2008-07-28T09:29:00.001-11:00

Shai Hulud are always worth the wait. Despite a chequered history of hectic tours, record label wrangling, name changes, and a constantly revolving line-up (guitarist and metal mastermind Matt Fox is now the only remaining original member) the band have consistently, if not quite regularly, delivered the goods. And album number four is no different. Their Metal Blade Records debut, as well as the first appearance of new vocalist Matt Mazzali, ‘Misanthropy Pure’ is 10 tracks of terrifically good and terrifying metallic hardcore. From the faux-slow then fractious fast of opener ‘Venomspreader’, past the meaty melodies of the title track and a blistering new version of ‘Set Your Body Ablaze’, to the complex attack of closer ‘Cold Lord Quietus…’, this is record overflowing with energy, enthusiasm, and raw, gimmick-free passion. Still ‘Misanthropy Pure’ won’t grant Shai Hulud the widespread respect and record-sales they’ve much deserved for ages now, but it does find them once again inspiring, exciting, revitalising, and rising to the top of a genre they helped spawn.

ANTILLES- Beholder/Destroyer

2008-07-14T01:14:00.002-11:00

Hardcore is ruined. In fact over the last few years the genre in all its forms has been ravaged, polluted, and perverted beyond repair- by now this much is absolutely clear. But just because the raw power, innovative aggression, and honest, naked emotions of the genre’s pioneers feel horribly absent, it doesn’t mean they’ve entirely disappeared. Ohio’s Antilles for one, joyously hark back to a scene established over a decade ago- loudly and lovingly tending to the sonic ghosts of screamo leaders like Saetia, City Of Caterpillar and Pg. 99- and their debut full-lenght sounds all the better for it.

Opener ‘Beholder’ is epic, almost ten minutes long and built layer upon layer upon layer, ‘Rumors Of An Apocalypse’ churns past rattled yelps, punk hooks and post-everything dirges like the band were actually pushed for time by the coming end of days, and the complex guitars, gunshot drums and bitter words of ‘Eulogy’ make for a fitting, fiery climax. For all the successes, superior moments, and thrilling suggestions that hardcore is alive and well here though, Antilles seem destined to burn brightly, burn brief, and fade away like their obvious influences. But then they probably wouldn’t want it any other way. Awesome.

TONIGHT IS GOODBYE- Castles

2008-07-14T01:05:00.000-11:00

Now this is disappointing. About a year back New-Noise was heaping all sorts of praise on Surrey five-piece Tonight Is Goodbye. Sure the band looked a little formulaic, all tight jeans and fancy hair, but on disc they were brilliant. And not just decent for such young dudes, or better than average if you like that kind of thing, but damn near essential. Here on new mini-album ‘Castles’ though, some vital ingredient has been lost...

...Read on here.

FILTER- Anthems For The Damned

2008-06-16T01:11:00.002-11:00

The last few years have not been kind to Filter. After becoming a global draw back in the 90s the band released continually more clunky records and suffered a commercial failure that sent frontman Richard Patrick into rehab. So it’s safe to say that no one was expecting them to return now, and especially not on any kind of form. ‘Anthems For The Damned’ though, leaves those problems far behind. Patrick and his voice (dude must have lungs like iron bellows) are still the central point for everything but he’s now teetotal and writing sharp, electric epics that soar down the same vein as big-hit ‘Take A Picture’ again. Sure these songs could have been written a decade ago but this is still a fine return from one of the turn of the century’s smartest rock bands. Now hands up who saw that coming.

THE POSTMARKS- The Postmarks

2008-06-16T01:08:00.002-11:00

Like watercolour paints, schoolboy football, or milk chocolate, Miami trio The Postmarks are pleasant and nice and all but never really make that all-important big impact. Sure it’s great to hear some polite pop (in the very best sense of the word) every now and then, and just occasionally this one-girl-two-boy outfit muster up the sort of beautiful bop and sway that Brian Wilson must write in his sleep, but they haven’t found a way to ram it all home yet. More is to come, better too, that's for sure, but for now only the most dedicated indie kids will get excited by the mature melancholy here; everybody else will be too busy to bother listening.

CRYSTAL CASTLES- Crystal Castles

2008-04-07T01:00:00.001-11:00

Crystal Castles are 100% bona fide Hot Shit right now. Not only have the Canadian boy-girl duo got online tastemakers and the indie world in a tizzy, they’ve also built up a loud enough buzz for the broadsheets, tabloids, and TV to tip them for the top in 2008 too. And hell, who are we to rock the boat. Debut ‘Crystal Castles’ is a glistening slab of techno-electro-core that glides, soars, crunches, punches, stabs and screams in equal measure. Like everyone’s been saying, it’s great.

Opener ‘Untrust Us’ is a hypnotic squish of gameboy bleeps, bass beats and alien vocals, ‘1991’ is a dreamy skit on nu-rave and if ‘Alice Practice’ shows what these two are capable of without even trying, their synthed-up cover of HEALTH’s ‘Crimewave’ illustrates the singular, spacey heights they can reach when they force all four feet down on the accelerator. Deeper in and ‘Love And Caring’ is a glam-rock pulse-rifle on overload, ‘Courtship Dating’ is so good that Timbaland stole it and sold it to 50 Cent (karma perhaps?), and ‘Black Panther’ is solid gold electro-pop- bound to make your mouth water whether you party hard, dance late, or stay home in front of a stereo. Seriously, this is much more than hip hoodies and trendy jeans. Believe the hype.

FUCK BUTTONS- Street Horrrsing

2008-04-07T00:56:00.001-11:00

Pop-punk, chart rock and indie schmindie fans turn and run now. London’s Fuck Buttons- Andrew Hung and Ben Power if you were introducing them to your mother- are here to mess with your head. In fact, when the boys came together at the tail end of 04, they wanted to blow your brains clean out- the duo’s mission statement simply reading ‘make as much noise as possible’- but now the manifesto has changed. And ‘Street Horrrsing’, the band’s debut album, doesn’t just push up the decibels; this thing pushes limits everywhere.

For starters the ‘Buttons don’t rely on any formula or fashion. Instead they mulch up all manner of sounds, styles, elements and even entire genres to spit them out as waves of sound and walls of noise. Just check opener ‘Sweet Love For Planet Earth’, a near ten-minute electronic epic that feigns twinkling tenderness before a single slowly-distorting riff and indecipherable feral vocals turn it into something much darker and more destructive, or closer ‘Colours Move’- oddly alien but raw and muddy and sounding like the perfect thing for David Lynch’s next end credits too.

Hell, this could all be film soundtrack stuff. Sure, where ‘Sweet Love…’ could soar over some ambitious drama or epic battle scene, ‘Bright Tomorrow’ sounds like something from the outback sections of Crocodile Dundee, but there’s a hyper-intense and addictive raw power to every drum thud, feedback roar and unfamiliar noise. By virtue of that name the duo are never going to be as big as other similarly experimental acts, but ‘Street Horrrsing’ remains a galloping beginning and more than proves the Buttons, given some careful editing, could be capable of future world-shaking brilliance.

PNEU + Silent Front + Shield Your Eyes + Cassette Cassee + Wow! Pigeon Eyes. West End Centre, Aldershot. 29.02.08

2008-03-10T12:01:00.003-11:00

From outside the West End Centre, tonight’s show must just sound like naked noise. And a quick glance at the clientele on their way in makes it easy to assume that all the mess is being made by weird beardy boys. But that would be a coward’s way out. Instead the brave and unbiased that enter find volume, sure, but there’s a friendly atmosphere, experimental charm, and truly beautiful sounds flying through the air too. Yeah, yeah, some of it might be weird, but it’s often wonderful too.

Looking and sounding like they’ve stayed up way too late drinking and listening to everything off of Steve Albini’s CV (yeah, even that Bush album) local trio Wow! Pigeon Eyes ruffle feathers first. And despite their more angular attacks the band make good on promises of pop music, combining their punk spit with some shining off-kilter melodies. Sure they’re sloppy and fuzzy and gloriously out-of-tune in places but they aren’t half satisfyingly loud and direct. And at least they ply their trade from an actual stage.

Next up see, Shield Your Eyes, Silent Front, and Cassette Cassee each stake a claim on a corner of the room and proceed to play a song in turn- kind of like Jools Holland without Jools Holland- and man does it work. Shield Your Eyes start, sounding raw and rusty even, but playing with a Kinsella-esque sense of abandon. Their more loose-limbed efforts suggest incredible things to come but their time is not now. Cassette Cassee are better, melding scything guitars, intensity, art, and drama to make the sort of noise At The Drive-In fans will start dribbling over. And of course it’s always good to have a frontman who spends more time yowling at an already disorientated audience than singing his lines.

Londoners Silent Front have a little more decorum. But just a little. Sounding like punk fans in a hardcore band playing Rage Against The Machine covers (also mixed with whatever else you need to make that feel really fucking good), the trio drive their tunes home with a goddamn hammer. ‘Misanthrope’ is a curling ball of rage, ‘One Off The List…’ prangs and roars like a jet engine and when the show finishes with frontman Phil bent double, screaming into his guitar, it’s clear that, if there has to be one, these three men take top prize from tonight’s tête a tête a tête.

The big win though, goes to Parisien two-man marauders, Pneu. Also forgoing a stage, the duo set up right in the middle of the room and tell absolutely no-one before launching into their grinding everything-core. They only know enough English to quickly thank the people crowding so tightly around them so spend the usual chat-time playing more songs that sound like exploding bombs, like Hella, back on the guided missile they hopped off before recording their last album, or like Death From Above 1979, only with more death. Hell, Mike Patton probably already has their phone numbers, Aldershot loves them too, and when Pneu screech to a halt tonight, everybody goes home happy. Beautiful after all then, but that thing about the beards was fairly accurate though.

I WAS A CUB SCOUT- I Want You To Know That There Is Always Hope

2008-02-18T11:54:00.003-11:00

Ah, sweet relief, ‘I Want You To Know That There Is Always Hope’ is wonderful. Despite the major label and the expensive production team (man at the controls Hugh Padgham was responsible for this song) see, there was always a chance that I Was A Cub Scout were going to rush to their first full-length and dash all their early promise. But the Nottinghamshire duo, still barely out of their teens, have done nothing of the sort and instead this is an album that embraces indie, epic-pop and even post-rock to create something truly beautiful. Opener ‘Save Your Wishes’ bubbles and then bursts into life, its buzzing synths, swirling effects, gentle verses, and huge chorus all pointers to what is to follow. To things like the dynamic volume of ‘Echoes’ and the ambitious swell and stomp of ‘P’s and Q’s’. And sure, some of ‘…Hope’ was always guaranteed to please (previous perfect singles ‘Pink Squares’ and ‘Our Smallest Adventures’ are included), but if anything it’s the newer material here that’s most impressive. ‘Lucean’ slots in dreamy keys and a horn section to luscious effect, ‘Recommendations’ relishes in mixing dark lyrics with light riffing and party pop, and highlight ‘The Hunter’s Daughter’ drives dance beats through an orchestra pit, sounding far bigger than two skinny boys ever should. A wonderful record from a young British band with now obvious global potential then. But you never had a doubt, right?

MATT POND PA- Last Light

2008-01-21T12:47:00.000-11:00

Matt Pond PA do pretty well by association. For almost ten years the band, behind the frontman from which they take their name of course, have toured alongside the likes of Ted Leo And The Pharmacists and Liz Phair, shared record labels with Braid and Hey Mercedes and online comparisons range from Owen to The Arcade Fire. ‘Last Light’ though, a full-band effort arriving almost ten years after Pond’s scaled-down debut, does nothing to deserve such rich connections. Instead the opening title track puffs up like Feeder or some shitty band from the soundtrack to the OC, ‘People Have A Way’ sounds like Mika and ‘Taught To Look Away’ is so languid it inspires no emotion at all. It’s not all awful, ‘Wild Girl’ messes around with some Beatles-eque melodies and when the band wake up they get a few neat ideas down, but nothing really comes from any of them. Hell, ‘Last Light’ doesn’t even go out with a bang, leaving charmless snooze-a-thon ‘Its Not So Bad At All’ to prove once and for all that Matt Pond PA are capable of none of the style or elegance of the groups named above. Still brilliant by association then, but absolutely ordinary otherwise.

LIVINGSTON- One Good Reason

2008-01-21T12:44:00.000-11:00

As something of a taster for London quintet Livingston’s forthcoming debut album, ‘One Good Reason’ doesn’t seem like it’ll be all that sweet. The band share a record label with a bunch of nasty electro acts, the track has been worked over by the same people responsible for recent drivel from Feeder and Stereophonics, and worse, this thing starts off sounding like something your local funk rock outfit would cough up. Give it just a minute though and '...Reason' becomes all at once catchy, cool, emotional and powerful, takes flight like My Vitriol or even ‘Showbiz’-era Muse, and climaxes with a glorious wall of guitar feedback. Expect it to start crawling all over rock radio and the inside of your brain sometime soon then.

DEATH IN PUBLIC- Biometrics

2008-01-09T09:43:00.000-11:00

Ok so they might not have buzzed loud enough to make this year’s hot lists but if Death In Public carry on like this we’ll all be cheering on tinnitus by next winter. Indie kids never fear, this isn’t blood-curdling thrash and the Lancaster band certainly aren’t any kind of volume over talent proposition, but- much like their previous efforts- this thing doesn’t half rumble and fuzz and overflow with energy. ‘Biometrics’ is like Editors if they embraced a little more raw power or maybe even The Smiths if Morrisey dug The Stooges just a little, and it’s got enough heart, substance and smoky melodies to impress anyone too- except maybe those who hang about in Topshop. B-side ‘Motion Sickness’ highlights even further why this band are so promising- combining post-rock guitars with a desperate urge to be catchy and concise. The coupling isn’t quite perfect but this is still dirty pop done right- lo-fi as fuck but brilliantly anthemic, memorable and imaginative too. Here’s to Death In Public then, and all the hearing loss they’ll bring.

SHIPWRECK AD- Abyss

2007-12-10T11:13:00.000-11:00

Shipwreck AD are brilliant. Well, at least they are while ‘Abyss’ is playing and pumping out your speakers and moving you to mosh your bedroom to bits. Things change as soon as the disc stops spinning though...

...Read on here.

ELECTRIC SIX- I Shall Exterminate Everything Around Me That Restricts Me From Being The Master

2007-12-10T11:07:00.000-11:00

From that bitter title you might assume Electric Six were fired up here, that they were back for their fourth album with murder and chart-conquering malice in mind. But you'd be wrong...

...read on here

SERJ TANKIAN- Elect The Dead

2007-11-05T09:29:00.000-11:00

How much you’ll dig ‘Elect The Dead’ pretty much depends on what you think of System Of A Down. Yeah yeah this is a Serj Tankian solo effort but the dude has spent the last ten years as the mouthpiece of SOAD and has incorporated plenty of the meaty riffs, quirky vocals and original oddness from his day job here. If you were expecting European techno or Bay Area thrash, you will be sorely disappointed. If you’re after rock, roll and some smart ideas though, Tankian has got you covered....

...Read on here

PAUL HAWKINS & THEE AWKWARD SILENCES- The Bigger Bone

2007-10-29T10:26:00.000-11:00

A not-so-pretty little ditty about wanting more, more, more in which Paul Hawkins sounds both pissed and pissed-off and the band behind him dredge punk riffs and grunge rock into shapes just ugly enough to match the sour words. This isn’t anywhere near as cute or catchy as Hawkins’ last single but it is ten times more infectious and deadly. If indie music is plagued with soulless rats then Paul Hawkins is the new pied piper. Except this guy doesn’t escort the vermin away but eat them up and spit them out. Acerbic aceness.

KIDS IN GLASS HOUSES + Tonight Is Goodbye + SaidMike. Zodiac, Oxford. 24.10.07

2007-10-29T09:21:00.000-11:00

Tonight Oxford is all about the future. Even from a distance the Zodiac’s line-up is glowing with good prospects, get closer and there’s a fluorescent pink flood of promise and potential washing down the street, and once inside the building it’s impossible to move for the glare of a band who are going to be absolutely huge.

First on and Welsh wonders SaidMike may not have progressed a whole lot since supporting The Blackout over the summer but continue to impress nonetheless. In frontman Tom they’ve got a singer who can actually sing, in their nifty keys and synth tricks they’ve got everything they need to keep things interesting and in tunes like ‘Mind Over Muscle’ and ‘Heads Down…’ they’ve got songs that could take them supernova. If they would just lift their heads a little, and maybe consider a name change, this lot could take over the world.

Planet-beating is something that Tonight Is Goodbye have promised for a while now. They may already have some slick moves and stylish poses down pat but this evening they expand their pop-rock arsenal brilliantly- boosted confidence, a bigger sound and brilliant-sounding new tunes helping them make the leap from local charmers to headline contenders with ease. They finish with a riotous version of ‘Black Dress’, girls scream, boys sing, everybody dances like a loon and the future, as they say, is most definitely bright.

Kids In Glass Houses sound close enough to that particular light to explode any day now. Truthfully the band are still a toilet-tour proposition and without a full-length to their name but, from the first twinkling notes of their set to the final ballsy bounce of ‘Me Me Me’, the Cardiff quintet handle the pressure of such a stellar supporting cast with ease. Frontman Aled is a super-self-assured dynamo and the band behind him sound like Funeral For A Friend with their passion fully restored, like Angels And Airwaves boiled to down to atmospheric pop perfection and, much like the other bands on tonight’s bill, are clearly ready for rock’n’roll superstardom.

Tonight Oxford was all about the future. And in these days of retro rock, vintage riffs and much British music looking desperately to past glories, it’s been a very reassuring evening indeed.

TORCHE- In Return

2007-10-08T11:28:00.000-11:00

People will feel this record before they hear it. The booming bass will shake the ground, the titanic riffs will channel up arms and legs and the hypnotic distortion will filter through brains from a thousand yards. But beardy Floridians Torche haven’t just created a mega-loud monster here though, ‘In Return’ is out for your dancing shoes too...

Read on here.

CUTTING PINK WITH KNIVES- Populuxxe

2007-09-03T11:26:00.000-11:00

Another runner from the ever-impressive Holy Roar stable, Anglo-American skinny kids Cutting Pink With Knives kick out the sort of demented sixty-second jams that most folks dismiss as dreadful noise. But this isn’t yet more dull grind and is a million miles from metal’s current brutal death obsession. This is like a cartoon soundtrack being fed through a backfiring amp. It’s what Spandau Ballet would have sounded like with extra garbled yelps and doom synths. It’s less The Locust and more Genghis Tron throwing a chart-pop party. And if you’re still not getting it then the fact that ‘Populuxxe’ is listed as ‘children’s music’ on iTunes explains a lot. Mad. But highly recommended.

THE PLIGHT- Black Summer

2007-09-03T11:23:00.000-11:00

Oh yes, now this thing rocks. Not in the way that Lynrd Skynrd or The Eagles actually rocked, or in the way every awful DJ would say Bon Jovi do, but in the sort of fashion that leaves you bloody, bruised and breathless but with a huge smile on your face.

The Plight are doing nothing wholly original- If you want fresh sounds and punk progress then there is nothing for you here- but from the off ‘Black Summer’ is a balls-out, huffing-and-puffing wonder. ‘Clarendon’ clatters in on some rollercoaster drums before exploding into some greasy dirt-rock riffs, ‘Ball And Chain’ is a howling, foul-mouthed anthem against the daily grind and ‘Lifestyle’ stomps the lines between Thin Lizzy, Motorhead and Every Time I Die into dust.

If the formula sounds familiar it’s probably because The Plight do things with much the same blistering intensity as their former tourmates in Gallows. Only one track here strays over the three-minute mark, none of them come within a million musical miles of a clean chorus and each and every one retains a fire and passion that hasn’t been present in hardcore for what seems like forever.

‘Black Summer’ even looks the real deal too- Dan Mumford’s amazing, eye-catching artwork making it feel like the output of a wealthy, seasoned act, not a Leeds rock’n’roll band with just two EPs under their collective belt. It’s the perfect topping to a disc that rocks like it can’t think of any other way to be and sounds like an absolute blast from start to finish.

PARAMORE- Riot!

2007-08-06T06:46:00.000-11:00

Paramore put in the perfect preparation for this. The Texan band’s 06 debut was a super sugar-rush of pop and rock and girly-voiced melodies. There wasn’t a lot else to it but for cheap, easy, musical thrills, ‘All We Know is Falling’ was just right. All they had to do here was find an extra edge and (frontgal Hayley Williams aside obviously) perhaps a pair of balls and they'd definitely be on to a winner. Disappointingly they haven’t done that, you could even put ‘Riot!’ on right after its predecessor and not notice the difference, but of course they haven’t entirely lost the plot either. The lack of anything new means opener ‘For A Pessimist…’ flies by without making a mark and ‘Hallelujah’ is nothing but the wettest of fish. In other places though (‘Misery Business’, ‘Born For This’) they still get sweet, solid gold pop just right. ‘Riot!’ then is pop music pic’n’mix- pink, fluffy and fully appetising from a distance but too much, for too long, and your teeth will rot right out of your head and your brain will only get bored. More substance next time.

DARKEST HOUR-Deliver Us

2007-07-02T06:43:00.000-11:00

For almost a decade Darkest Hour have been playing punk-powered hardcore metal; thrashing about when it wasn’t cool, then while it was, and still doing it now, as everybody else searches for the next big thing. But the Washington DC quintet have seldom received the recognition they deserve for such hard work. And, while ‘Deliver Us’, the band’s fourth album, is a monster, it highlights exactly why they’ve failed to boost beyond the circle pits of their ardent admirers and into the metallic stratosphere.

Read on... here

COPELAND- Eat, Sleep, Repeat

2007-06-20T06:39:00.000-11:00

It would be easy to assume what a new Copeland record would sound like. Most folks already have the Florida band firmly slotted into the emo genre and the energetic pop rocks they’ve previously produced will only make that easier. But ‘Eat, Sleep, Repeat’, rounded out by fragile, breathy melodies, diverse flourishes and solid, sincere songwriting, actually sounds more like a straight-up indie thing than any fashion-conscious troupe struggling with a difficult third album. The subtle gear change means this record has massive potential outside the usual ‘scene’ channels too, offering fans of Coldplay, Radiohead and poetic lyricism just as much as it offers those of Brand New and Mae. ‘Eat, Sleep, Repeat’ isn’t going to take the world by storm, but, listening to the gentle, sleepy sorrow of ‘I'm A Sucker For A Kind Word’ it barely sounds like it wants to. It is too well-articulated, too well-rounded and just too good to ever be tagged as mere emo though. And, regardless of whether you’ve never heard Copeland, or have been a fan of their previously louder output for years, this is arguably their best work to date.

STRAYLIGHT RUN- The Needles The Space

2007-06-20T06:37:00.000-11:00

Ahh, now this is great. And that’s true whichever side of the Taking Back Sunday divide you fell. If your heart went with John Nolan and Shaun Cooper when they left the New York quintet in a flurry of harsh words over four years ago, ‘The Needles The Space’ is exactly what you’ve been waiting for since. And if you always stuck with team TBS then you just don’t need to worry anymore. Straylight Run aren’t going to come out rocking, they aren’t even aiming for that rack in the CD store anymore, they’re never going to test your loyalties again.

Read on... here

BOSSK + Manatees. The Roundabout, High Wycombe. 09.06.07

2007-06-11T11:38:00.000-11:00

Fuck the ambience, fuck the emotion, tonight is about music you can feel in your gut. In fact, when Kent quintet Bossk truly find their groove, you can feel it in your limbs, lungs, heart, eyes and crawling all over your brain. There’s barely a part of the body that their Mastodon meets Isis post-metal doesn’t bruise. But it’s not like this show doesn’t have emotion or atmosphere covered either. While Carlisle trio Manatees have a similar disregard for eardrums (Paul hits his drums like falling bricks and Alex’s bass rumbles so violently it breaks mid-set), they excel at moments of hypnotic calm and swirling, smoky drama too. And, as ‘iii’ builds from tribal percussion to a roaring metallic burn, it fixes to put you in the sort of bug-eyed trance that wouldn’t break for weeks. Luckily the headliners are on hand to snap you back to life. Because, while the Bossk boys clearly enjoy a few quiet, mind-bending moments of their own, it is the weight, power and goddamn monolithic presence of their music that truly impresses. Every level on the soundboard is scraping the red but the band are trap tight and make every twist and crunching turn look easy. By the time a bespectacled frontman sidles through the crowd to scream the end of ‘ii’ the speakers are working so hard you can feel the hot air at the back of the room and glasses are vibrating on the bar. High Wycombe hasn’t heard anything as loud since World War Two. And that’s booming praise indeed.

HEAD AUTOMATICA-Mean Fiddler, London. 28.05.07

2007-06-04T02:37:00.000-11:00

Tonight has been a long time coming. This band have booked their tickets across the pond on three occasions now and every single time the anticipation here has been palpable but every single time Daryl Palumbo’s Crohn’s Disease has got the better of the man and his band. But finally tonight, London gets its beating heart (baby) kick-started by Head Automatica. And man does this thing begin like the greatest party ever.

The explosive riot-pop of ‘I Shot William H. Macy’, the hump and bump of ‘Laughing At You’ and the massive sing-a-long for ‘Solid Gold Telephone’ form an opening rally that could suck the sweat from this crowd’s pores were they not giving it up so freely. ‘Cannibal Girl’, ‘Lying Through Your Teeth’ and a storming ‘Graduation Day’ are given a particularly rabid reception but really every track is greeted like a long lost friend. It is however not all neon and glitter inside the Mean Fiddler.

Live, Head Automatica are a proper band; they spit and stomp and really put their instruments through it. And what comes out isn’t just candy-coated electronic tunes but genuinely bulging riffs and dirty beats. An amped-up version of ‘Please Please Please’ confirms that the boys onstage truly know how to rock, the blood-on-the-dancefloor shake-and scream of ‘Oxycotton’ wades with punk rock abandon through soul croons and hypnotic sludge and the people here for ‘Beating Heart Baby’ alone have already jammed their fingers in their ears by the time Daryl screeches through ‘K Horse’ like a demon.

No one really knows if the frontman is particularly on form, the capital hasn’t caught him onstage for years and years, but the stick thin singer is certainly ridiculously confident, a wildly animated, consummate showman and vocally deadly. And, while his giddy eyes and high-pitched giggles do suggest it’s something more than adrenaline powering him along, he is without a doubt the burning bright star of the show. If he does get better than this then the Glassjaw reunion tour can’t come soon enough.

With a closing cut of ‘The Razor’ Head Automatic are gone but London’s faith in them, England’s love for them is back. With a mighty vengeance.

SAOSIN. Fez Club, Reading. 24.05.07

2007-05-28T02:34:00.000-11:00

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Saosin extravaganza,” shouts Cove Reber. And it’s just one more sign that the straggly-haired, skinny singer is a changed man. Last time Saosin hit the UK, Reber was sick, sad, and cripplingly shy. He couldn’t look his audience in the face and he couldn’t hit the high notes without hitting the hospital too. But not anymore. For every second of the hour-long show tonight, Reber is in fantastic form. In fact this whole band have grown; from slick pretty-boys into stubbly men who talk about drinking cobra blood and rocking the fuck out. And the fact that they’re rocking out here, in Reading, to barely 300 people, only a day after playing their biggest ever gig (and downing the snake stuff) in Jakarta, shows just how mature these men are. You can hear it in the songs too. ‘Voices’ roars louder than any music video, ‘You’re Not Alone’ no longer feels like a token ballad but begs to be played to the back walls of arenas and there isn’t one song, no matter how sharp and stirring ‘Seven Years’ is, that dominates the set alone anymore. What holds sway now is Reber; who doesn’t just look people in the eye but hands them the microphone and shakes and shimmies and screams in their faces, the band breaking sweat tenfold beside him, and the thrilling and emotional set that they’ve dan-near perfected.

Tonight- Reading. This time next year- the world. The extravaganza just got extra-special.

VANNA- Curses

2007-04-23T05:21:00.000-11:00

Big breakdowns? Check. Shredding screams? Check. Awesome hair all-round? Quintuple check. You don’t even need me right now, you could review this with your eyes, and your ears closed, because there are thousands of stock words and phrases to throw at fourth-generation metalcore bands like Vanna. Except these five Boston dudes don’t care what you think, what i think, or what anybody thinks; they’re here to rock the fuck out.

Read on... here

CLUTCH- From Beale Street To Oblivion

2007-04-09T12:22:00.001-11:00

Clutch are like ready-salted crisps. From the outside they look plain, maybe even a little boring and maybe you’re just sick of seeing their name all the time. But get a taste of them, however brief, and you’ll instantly remember how fucking good they can be. And ‘From Beale Street To Oblivion’ might just smack your head clean off.

Continuing their progression from bearded backwoods punkers to shit-kicking, rock’n’roll blues brothers (still bearded) this album finds the hell-raising spirit of Lynyrd Skynyrd and Led Zeppelin and doesn’t stop pulling. Opener ‘You Can’t Stop Progress’ feels like the driving campfire boogie these boys have been working towards for the past 15 years, ‘Power Player’ could be ‘Immigrant Song’ reinvented for the noughties and on ‘Electric Worry’ Neil Fallon sounds more like a leering, crazy preacher than ever. Fans of Clutch’s very first experiments in fuzzy noise might find ‘From Beale Street To Oblivion’ a little too simple, virtually none of the band’s hardcore roots remain, but for everybody else there’s a party going on.

Some moments here, the Hendrixian jam-sound of ‘Black Umbrella’ for one, do simply drift by rather than stroll up your driveway and kick your door in. But Clutch have damn-near perfected their modern-day blues-metal here and such is the overriding rock groove, the powerful sense of fun and the sheer volume of bolshy swagger present that every single note on ‘From Beale Street To Oblivion’ could be one of those salty reminders of Clutch’s persistent quality. Superior stuff.

KRUGER- Redemption Through Looseness

2007-04-09T12:20:00.000-11:00

Swiss quartet, Kruger, have well and truly cut out the middle man here. By describing ‘Redemption Through Looseness’ as a mix between Breach, Neurosis and Tool they’ve perfectly condensed their third album, nailed their sound and made all the world’s music hacks redundant. Ok maybe they could have added Mastodon or Isis or screamo progenitors like Converge and Coalesce to the list but really, they’ve sewn this up.

‘Ammunition Matters’ is a dark and hypnotic bastard of an opener, ‘The Graveyard Party’ growls and snarls like some foam-mouthed caged animal and ‘The Cowboy Song’ is a potent brew of raw adrenaline, slurred distopian screams and intense post-everything ambience that draws more obscure comparisons to December Wolves, Daughters and Ed Gein.

So while it certainly isn’t pretty stuff (any hooks here are great ugly, rusted things rather than something sharp, shiny or precise), the concentrated and almost constant barrage does begin to warp into an addictive kind of chaos. This is the sort of noise that should could from the darkest corners of the deepest woods in the very best frightening fairytales of your imagination.

Perhaps arriving too late in the game, Kruger might never attain the cult celebrity or scene-starting respect of their acknowledged influences but they do make a damn fine rock and roll racket. And they definitely make a reviewer’s job easier. Ace.

DOPAMINE- Experiments With Truth

2007-04-09T12:19:00.000-11:00

This won’t make Dopamine millionaires. But it should, oh how it should. The refined quality of ‘Experiments With Truth’, only the Caerphilly band’s second album proper, should mean they take straight to the big leagues. The simple and gorgeous songs here should appeal to fans of Foo Fighters, Jimmy Eat World, and the band’s fellow countrymen in Lost Prophets while the variety on offer should oust any mention of emo. The grand scale and slow-burning superiority of stuff like ‘The Ghosts In The Machine’ should make it impossible for Dopamine to return to mere local band status but the fact that the boys in the band have put their money where their music is and self-released ‘Experiments…’ should endear them to even the staunchest of scenesters. These songs should be all over your radio, this album should be huge, and all this should make Dopamine millionaires. It won’t, there’s too little money and too much smart class here, but it is simply, magically, blissfully brilliant stuff nonetheless.

BOLT ACTION FIVE. Oakford Social, Reading. 04.03.07

2007-03-05T12:13:00.000-11:00

Soon you will know the name. Because if London youngsters Bolt Action Five keep playing shows like this everyone will be talking about them. There’s nothing amazing about the set up- guitars, drums, bass and synths and four skinny guys in skinny jeans. But when the band click into the ‘go’ position everything changes. Yeah they make a racket like Hadouken or The Klaxons or any other band keeping the corpse of Test Icicles warm do but there are blast beats here and half-second thrash riffs and songs so catchy people are whistling them outside in Reading’s shitty rain and they don’t even know why. Blessed with a frontman who dances and prances about the place like some bastard clone of Noel Fielding, Bolt Action Five play songs that shoot from the stage like lazers. Even when the power cuts out. Bolt Action Five are the band booked for the house party in heaven. Bolt Action Five do electronic power-pop without a hint of insecurity or trend-hopping (their blood surely runs in day-glo) and they should be massive. Go, spread the word. And soon everyone will know their name.

BLOC PARTY-A Weekend In The City

2007-02-19T07:33:00.000-11:00

It’s a brave move for Bloc Party, releasing an album like this after such a short, sharp, success of a debut. Because ‘A Weekend In The City’ is an altogether darker, deeper, denser and just plain much more difficult affair. Ok, first single ‘The Prayer’ has a block rockin’ beat, pop hooks stolen straight out the Gwen Stefani handbook and some fantastic call-and-response vocals that will make the next tour dates a joy. But then there’s ‘Uniform’ which takes an age to get to its fantastic, metallic beating heart and ‘I Still Remember’ which never fully blooms, content to sigh and heave with understated beauty. And the risks don’t always equal reward either. The skittery, slimy ‘On’ wants to be U2 in a dark bedroom but amounts to airy nothingness and numbers like ‘Song For Clay’ and ‘Sunday’ struggle to come to any sort of peak at all. And that’s all before you add in Kele Okereke’s often empty, clunky lyrics.

This is a brave move for Bloc Party but, while the band are certainly still capable of magic (‘Waiting For The 7.18’ is blessed with a europhic final flourish and ‘Hunting For Witches’ does every single thing right), it’s one that all too rarely captures the edgy excitement of that sensational debut.

KLAXONS- Myths of the Near Future

2007-02-19T07:29:00.000-11:00

New Rave is tosh. It just doesn’t mean anything. Especially when the band apparently spearheading the movement dismiss it as a big fat joke and sound like this. ‘Myths Of The Near Future’ is no rave revival; this is a pop record through and through. Ok so first big single ‘Atlantis To Interzone’ bumps and thumps with dance club power and the boys in the band dress like they’ve just tripped out of some 90s disco but there are far cleverer things than any disposable genre name here.

‘Forgotten Works’ is hypnotic lounge music, ‘Golden Skans’ is so full of hooks it will rest right in the front of your head for ages, the schizophrenic angry buzz of ‘Four Horsemen…’ will soothe the pain for anyone still mourning Test Icicles and ‘Magick’ pumps those pop sensibilities through psychedelic noodling with great effect. On top of that though, there are loads of vivid lyrical images of beautiful, odd and arty things like sequin-covered swans, mirrored statues and dying heroes to really trip you out.

This is a debut that tweaks the shouty, day-glo menace of the Klaxon’s first musical forays into a truly impressive form, pulling multi-layered, shape-shifting, dark and sultry songs from the colourful mess. It’s an album that constantly promises something special just around the corner and most of the time it pays off in style. It’s not new rave but it is really, really good.

THE SHINS- Wincing The Night Away

2007-01-29T07:38:00.000-11:00

Blame Zach Braff for this. When he slipped thirty seconds of The Shins’ ‘New Slang’ onto the soundtrack of his film Garden State, he exposed the band to a level of attention they had previously only dreamed of. And, while some of the folks who dug those dreamy thirty seconds might not even realise the same band have a new record out, way more of them will have been ready and waiting for ‘Wincing The Night Away’ for the last two years. And chances are, it won’t disappoint.

For a good start, this is a record brimming with all the solid songwriting, odd charm and catchy quirks that have typified The Shins’ music to date. ‘Sleeping Lessons’ bubbles into view, echoing like something Disney dragged up from the sea, before getting its head down, ‘Pam Berry’ is a sawing fuzzy, interlude and ‘Sea Legs’ clicks and whispers like a cut up copy of The Postal Service. Despite all these peculiarities though, this is no kooky indie crazy train, not at all. Underneath (and in fact, and as a first for The Shins, mostly on top of) those old appealing eccentricities lie sure-footed and sober songs. ‘Phantom Limb’ twinkles like its been sprinkled with Brian Wilson dust, ‘A Comet Appears’ is a lovely American lullaby rather than a psychedelic daydream and ‘Australia’ is the sort of thing Keane might able to come up with if they cared about happy pills rather than musical mediocrity, cash and cocaine.

Really though The Shins, with all their pop experiments and smart rock abandon, remain a band in their own genre. ‘Wincing…’ is that fizzy, bubbly background music to your favourite dreams or that perfect kiss in that perfect film, it’s all-at-once innocent and clever and dark and cheery, and it’s bound to ensnare thousands more listeners too, with Braff on board or not.

TENACIOUS D- The Pick Of Destiny

2006-12-12T07:38:00.000-11:00

Yeah it’s funny. Of course it is. If you’ve ever giggled at Jack Black’s rock-pomp and ridiculous slapstick before then there’s plenty here to laugh at here. But this is essentially a film soundtrack and, in ‘Break In-City’ and ‘Beelzeboss’ especially, it’s filled with tunes that work best alongside the boys pissing about on the big screen. For best results- See the film. Laugh. Listen to the album. Laugh more- Easy.

:(- First Blood

2006-11-27T04:07:00.000-11:00

Somewhere between the melodic flair of the Fuelled By Ramen roster, the chirpy appeal of The Postal Service and the background music to your favourite Nintendo game lie online Aberdeen quartet, :(. The band, pronounced Colonopenbracket for the messenger-impaired, began as a one-man thing but, by the power of MySpace, quickly blossomed into the four-piece behind debut disc ‘First Blood’.

If you have heard a :( song before it might have been the upbeat growls of ‘Syntax’ or the gentle buzzing promise of ‘Gone’, both early efforts from frontman Mart, both indicative of a fresh sound full of promise but, neither included here. The addition of a real live drummer and a thicker, louder production means the quaint appeal of those first tracks is long gone but in its place is a big-time-party vibe and a powerful confidence.

Opener ‘Fake Blood’ has all the same 8-bit bleeps as before but now the mix kicks and screams to take your hand instead of politely asking to dance. It’s like Panic! At The Disco with square eyes and joypads instead of all the silly style and circus pomp. The melodic pulse of ‘Codes’ is destined to be sung back to these boys and gals by thousands, ‘Pre-Emoticons’ is electric indie brilliance and yes, this is all about having fun but if the forlorn rise and rise of ‘Heartache…’ doesn’t do something to the hairs on the back of your neck then you might just be dead inside.

Computer noise and retro chic may be all the rage at the minute but you’d be wasting your time looking for this sort of thing done better elsewhere. Bleeptastic.

Also appears at New-Noise.

...AND YOU WILL KNOW US BY THE TRAIL OF DEAD- So Divided

2006-11-27T04:05:00.000-11:00

People used to be able to know this band was around by actually following the bloody trail of dead. They used to be hard-touring, hard-drinking, punk-rock renaissance men. They used to write records that felt as powerful as a kick to the brain and they could never play the songs live because they were too busy swapping instruments or breaking them over the edge of the stage. They used to sound like the next Sonic Youth. Now though, now they sound like Coldplay.

It’s not quite that bad. First song proper, ‘Stand In Silence’, marries the discord of old to the new-wave sass introduced on last year’s ‘Worlds Apart’ with some success and parts of the title track rock like an absolute bastard. For the most part though all the ear-splitting power has been replaced by folksy indie strum, all the raw vocal passion traded for mild-mannered melodies and in the place of that brain-pounding intensity is the stubbornly sedate pace of a band growing old. Ever so disappointingly gracefully.

Occasionally the softer touches work just as well as all the raggedy volume. ‘Naked Sun’ takes an age to get there but eventually turns into a swarming, orchestral highlight and a cover of Guided By Voices’ ‘Gold Heart Mountain Top Queen Directory’ is a gentle gem of a song. It’s flowery and nice but you can’t exactly smash a guitar to pieces with it. …Trail Of Dead probably behave like proper gentlemen when they play live now too. How dull.

Also appears at New-Noise.

VAUX- Beyond Vice, Beyond Virtue

2006-11-13T05:30:00.000-11:00

Major label wrangling nearly killed Vaux. Which would have been a real shame because the band’s second full-length, ‘Beyond Vice, Beyond Virtue’, is amazing. This is an album set to vault the band behind it out of any emo discussion and towards the sort of greatness that Thrice and Thursday now toy with. There are songs that echo artists as varied and interesting as Muse, Radiohead, Refused and Rival Schools but Vaux stamp their own feel on everything. There are acoustic lows, spacey electronic highs and the ghost of some shadowy Wild West bar-band that would make this as dark and disquieting a thing as heard all year if there wasn’t Quentin Smith’s vocal angst and three (!) guitars grinding away here too. The fact that this record has been gathering dust in the Atlantic Records vaults for over a year is a filthy crime but when it makes Vaux megastars, and it bloody well should do, the success will feel all the sweeter. Buy ‘Beyond Vice…’ today and show the fatcats who the boss really is.

FROM A SECOND STORY WINDOW- Delenda

2006-11-06T07:06:00.000-11:00

And you thought The Dillinger Escape Plan were noisy? Pennsylvania natives From A Second Story Window put those rowdy innovators to shame when it comes to volume of ideas, if not quite in the brilliant execution of them. Will Jackson’s vocals run the gamut from dinosaur roar to smooth croon to an inhaling noise akin to the devil clearing his throat. This is all spewing out over ten-ton-heavy riffs that stop and start at blinding speeds, spidery and frantic leads and warped post-hardcore melodies. Oh and there’s piano, marching drums and some unearthly bell chimes too. There’s no hope of taking over the world with these compositions, they’re too fucking venomous. There’s also not enough genuine quality here to have the Story boys taking on Dillinger for the spazzcore crown jewels just yet. What remains is a dizzying headache and a completely fresh metal experience.

SEEMLESS- What Have We Become

2006-11-06T07:03:00.000-11:00

When a band contains former members of Shadows Fall, Killswitch Engage and Overcast you’re going to be onto a metalcore winner right? Wrong. Seemless might have a shred heavy history but the Massachusetts regulars incorporate elements of classic rock, grunge, stoner rock and the sort of swampy sludge you’d get if Queens Of The Stone Age invited Pantera on a 24-hour smoke-out into their sound. Members of whiny bores like Creed, Nickelback and Seether should be strapped down and forced to listen to killer tracks like ‘Numb’ and ‘Parody’ so it can be pointed out exactly what their bands might have sounded like with some heart, soul and a decent-sized pair of balls. Taken as a whole this is even a better album than any disc Audioslave have ever put their name to. Vocalist and former KSE man Jesse Leach sounds overwrought at times and some of the material he is hollering over is a little dry but ‘What Have We Become’ remains a solid album destined to settle in the bottom half of many critics end-of-year top tens. If you own more than one Soundgarden album you owe it to yourself to listen to this band now.

CATARACT- Kingdom

2006-10-30T12:59:00.000-11:00

Well produced, snare tight and bulging with belligerence and hate, Cataract are crunching and razor sharp metal through and through. Although lacking some of the raw energy and fresh ideas that the likes of All Shall Perish and The Acacia Strain have recently injected into a somewhat creatively starved scene, these guys stick to what they know best and pile riff onto mosh-worthy riff. It’s a devastatingly perfect background for vocalist Fedi to kick and scream, vent his spleen and indulge in a little fantasy-metal warrior stuff over the top.
Bar that extra twist that would make these guys serious contenders there’s pretty much everything you could want from a heavy ass record here.

DEFTONES. Electric Ballroom, London. 12.10.06

2006-10-30T03:09:00.000-11:00

Ok so tonight didn’t start in the best of ways. While waiting to get into this very special ‘secret’ show at the Electric Ballroom, 600 Deftones fans were witness to the best of London’s nightlife. A fight between drunken thugs armed with combat knives and broken bottles spilled into the queue and minutes later a dog attack added to the fun. The atmosphere was… a little tense.

Inside the venue things are much better. There is no support act tonight so nothing to pass the time until Chino and Co. arrive except sweaty-browed trepidation and vein-filling excitement. If you’ve read any music magazine or website at all this year you’ll be familiar with the Deftones’ patchy live record. Sometimes they’re sloppy, looking stoned and bored they have a tendency to mull around with songs until they sound like awful impersonations of the band everyone knows they can be. But sometimes they’re glorious, carving their tunes out of rock and flaying through them like cannon fire. Tonight they lean towards the latter. Tonight, Deftones are flawless.

‘Knife Party’ is a horribly relevant opener but it sounds extraordinary. To see this band this close is marvellous but to hear the way they play is even better. Stef is attacking his guitar, Abe and Chi are rifling through the ‘Tones inventive rhythms and Chino is singing, like an angel, with proper words and everything. This, in industry terms, is known as playing an absolute blinder.

They play a rare ‘Boy’s Republic’, a version of ‘Around The Fur’ that puts goosebumps on goosebumps and, at what was rumoured to be a show booked to work out any kinks in the new material, they play only two newies. One in the rousing, raring shape of ‘Hole In The Earth’ and another with a magnetic run through ‘Beware’. They play ‘Elite’, ‘Lifter’ and then a stunning version of ‘Seven Words’ with the whole Ballroom singing along. And then you look at your watch and an hour has gone by but it only feels like fifteen minutes. And if a part of you isn’t moved by tonight’s titanic version of ‘Change’ then you’re dead inside. Yes even you shirtless macho boys in the pit.

The band finish with ‘RX Queen’, an oddly quiet choice for such an intense occasion but then it’s difficult to decide what they should have played. This group have got such a perfect back catalogue, now one album bigger, that they could have played three more sets and each would have been just as sweet as this one. Book your seats for next year's proper tour now.

The Deftones then, officially better than street crime, dog fights and nearly every other modern rock band on the face of the earth.

LES GEORGES LENINGRAD- Sangue Puro

2006-10-16T07:33:00.000-11:00

Les Georges Leningrad are Poney P, Mingo L’Indien and Bobo Boutin from Montreal. They all play synthesisers. But almost certainly not how you’re thinking they do. This is no all-night disco party. These guys (and one gal) tour with The Locust. This is what Hot Chip would sound like if they covered Slayer. This is a chaotic jumble called ‘petrochemical rock’

From tribal beats, monstrous chanting and alien whale noises to crashing computer sounds, wailing feedback and digital jigsawed beats, the Les Georges trio have been on a mission to mess with your ears for six years now. ‘Sangue Puro’ is their third album and it’ll take anyone who thinks they know about new-rave because they downloaded some Klaxons songs and turn them into a muddy puddle of piss and drool.

The slow-build darkness of the title track, the deformed accordion noise and potty-mouthed rap of ‘Sleek Answer’ and the stomping grind of ‘Lonely Lonely’ simultaneously excel as wild fun and wracked experiments in noise. Which is what makes it so disappointing when the trio stray anywhere close to normality. ‘Skulls In The Closet’ feigns accessibility before dissolving into distorted bass and wicked vocal yelps but ‘Mammal Beats’, even with its cacophony of lions, tigers and bears (oh my!), sounds positively Yeah Yeah Yeahs-ish.

Despite their newfound directness (don’t panic die-hards, it still sounds like a piano apocalypse) only the most warped minds and biggest masochists will get through ‘Sangue Puro’ in one sitting. But I bet it sounds like some sort of violent second coming when they repeat it live.

Also appear at New-Noise

POWERMAN 5000- Destroy What You Enjoy

2006-10-02T02:57:00.000-11:00

There must be some credit given to Powerman 5000, if only for soldiering on. At the dreggy end of nu-metal the band’s action punk was a welcome energizer but time has moved on and even more virulent strains of rock have arrived. Instead of trying to play catch up, Powerman (now containing only two original…er, powermen) have resorted to going vintage. It’s not what the band are playing that’s the problem, Wolfmother and The Hives have proven that good ol’ rock’n’roll is still big business; it’s the way they play it. Songs like ‘Murder’ and the title track show promise but elsewhere proceedings are dry, dull and lifeless. With ‘Destroy What You Enjoy’, frontman Spider and co., move further away from the glam rock space-fever that made their name and ever closer to the front of the dole queue. Disappointing.

SHAI HULUD+ Parkway Drive+ Remembering Never. Underworld, London. 02.09.06

2006-10-02T02:51:00.000-11:00

It's raining men. No, not like that. There's just a constant stream of bodies flying over the stage as Shai Hulud; hardcore vets returning after a lengthy absence, let rip with another twisted hate anthem. And it's fucking great to have them back doing what they do best.

Before the reformed greats shake off the rust though, another set of Floridians take the stage. Remembering Never have been around a while themselves but this is their first time to the UK and, with a set that relies heavily on new material, they were probably expecting the worst. Any doubts are immediately crushed. The band combine punk, hardcore and social commentary into a boiling mixture that spits out balls of rage like 'For Love Of Fiction' and 'Selma'. Inventive breakdowns and flashes of melody emerge from their wall-of-noise attack and the crowd respond to every note. They are the next heavy band you must hear.

Parkway Drive know a thing or two about heavy themselves. This is the Australians' third visit to the UK in a year and their solid metalcore has never been less than thrilling. So it's a surprise to hear the band misfire tonight. It might be down to a gruelling tour schedule, it might be the quality they're sandwiched between but from a breathless Winston McCall, huffing and puffing where his growl usually dominates, to an underwhelming finish, Parkway get a decent pit going but just aren't at top gear.

Shai Hulud know only one gear. And it's a fast one. While this constant velocity might be the reason the band has never captured a truly sizeable audience, they have clearly been missed. This sold out show, the last in a string of sold out British shows, is testament to their enduring importance. A crowd reaction that embarrasses that of most other hardcore gigs is testament to their unlimited kinetic energy and the electric heat coming off an opening run through 'A Profound Hatred Of Man' testament to the fact that this band can still slice a knife through the cool factor and deliver the goods.

Unlike Parkway Drive's insistent battering or Remembering Never's vitriolic punk, Shai Hulud's razor sharp time changes don't make for great mosh material. Where the headliners truly succeed isn't in providing music to fight to but endless fire, ire and passion. Something the people crowd-surfing and singing themselves hoarse in every corner of the venue knew all along. The shape of hardcore past, present and thankfully now, the future.

Also appears at RockMidgets.

ENSEMBLE- Ensemble

2006-09-25T12:18:00.000-11:00

This particular Ensemble, rather ironically, is just one man. French-born Canada-resident, Olivier Alary, started working under the title way back in 1998 with a view to mashing together melodic noise and disjointed pop. He wanted to run delicate musical movements into walls of sound. Eight years later, he might have just perfected his art.

To call this pop music could be stretching it. There's no sugary-sweetness or genre clichés. Sometimes there aren't even hooks, melodies or choruses. Still, this is infinitely listenable stuff. There are waves of rising, mutating radio hiss, there's chirping electronica, almost-folk arrangements and sharp string movements. It all adds to the rising clank of an odd orchestra that should sound cluttered and messy but knits together like some forgotten minimal Múm or Sigur Ros B-side.

There are plenty of guest vocalists here to make up the numbers too. Mileece makes Avary's skipping beats sound awfully close to the summery slop of Zero 7 but the ghostly intonations of Chan Marshall (of Cat Power fame) are fantastic and when Lou Barlow whispers and croons over 'One Kind, Two Minds' it's as good as any of the more alternative material Sufjan Stevens has put his name to.Elsewhere, track-long expanses of wind whistling and wave crashing add satisfyingly safe elements to this ethereal noise that might otherwise threaten to never let you back to Earth again.

Also appears at Rock Midgets.

Watch where you point your finger...

2006-09-18T04:01:00.000-11:00

...I Am Hollywood.

LISTEN TO HE IS LEGEND

Mad as a bag of spoons Americans on the verge of releasing 'Suck Out The Poison', their second long-player. They could be the band that put all this whatever-core to bed.
When they play live they steal shows with the cunning use of having fun- remember when shows used to be like that?
When they play in the studio they come out with all-at-once cute and crazy schizophrenic jams like 'The Seduction' or 'Dixie Wolf'. Hope and pray they tour the UK soon.

STATE RADIO- Us Against The Crown

2006-09-18T03:53:00.000-11:00

Politics. With a capital P. The stuff is all the rage these days. What with Green Day and Fat Mike riding the ‘fuck Bush’ bandwagon all the way to the bank it’s clear that dipping a toe or two into the way the world works is now worth more than a clear conscience. There’s money to made in them there polls.

‘Us Against The Crown’ is most definitely a political record. There are songs about the ongoing war in Iraq, the importance of voting and the rights of the poor, elderly and disabled. For State Radio though, this isn’t about shifting units, it’s about trying to create awareness and make some changes. This isn’t marketable pop or headline-stealing spleen-venting punk either. The main sound of ‘Us Against The Crown’ is laid-back rock and reggae. Like Matisyahu recently, this band condenses their woes into soft-groove radio-fodder. It’s the sort of smooth-on-the-outside, hard-on-the-inside mix that will have people flicking through the lyrics booklet to double check they just heard such vehement comment amongst such laid-back music.

The sunny sound means this can’t possibly be all doom and gloom. And in fact, if you search a little deeper, there are a few looks towards the promise and potential of the future (presumably a future where everybody listens to State Radio) and even a song about love. It’s in these moments though that the band display their worst qualities, sounding as dull as Audioslave, like Rancid at their least effective or worse, like happy-happy-joy-joy chart-monkey Jack Johnson. These are defiantly vintage licks though. Which, while very warm and pleasant sounding and valiantly in line with the music’s age-old inspiration, don’t exactly inspire feelings of revolution. More like feelings of falling asleep in a hammock somewhere in the nice part of Jamaica.

There is room for State Radio to really blow up. Hell, if Rage Against The Machine were around today they’d be the biggest band in the world. But it’s Rage’s vitriolic, impacting and immediate messages and not this band’s quiet mumbles that are really needed. There’s nothing terribly wrong with State Radio’s sound but rebellion has never sounded so redundantly nice.

Also appears at Rock Midgets

ROSES ARE RED- What Became Of Me

2006-09-11T01:11:00.000-11:00

Time was not on the side of Roses Are Red. Emerging in 2004 the New York five-piece had the much-lauded Trustkill Records stamp but garnered little acknowledgment. This was just another screamo band, never to be heard from again. At least that’s what most people thought. RAR frontman, Vince Minervino, had other ideas though. Back with a new line up the singer has helmed his band towards a new sound. Think Jimmy Eat World instead of Atreyu, Foo Fighters rather than From Autumn To Ashes. They still struggle to cement an identity of their own but with Minervino’s much improved voice and a penchant for emotional depth where hardcore hissyfits used to be, success is much closer for Roses Are Red. There’s no glaring errors here, no duff tracks, just a collection of solid rock songs. And, unbelievably, it’s easier to listen to than the latest Crash Romeo, Matchbook Romance or Eighteen Visions albums.

RAZORLIGHT- Razorlight

2006-08-21T03:23:00.000-11:00

Jesus Christ, Johnny Borrell is a gobshite. But wait, take a breath, don't base your opinion of Razorlight's music on the delusional, self-obsessed ramblings of their lanky, smug frontman. Oh, alright go on then.

There are ten tracks here sure to appeal to the obedient indie masses but for everybody else the appeal of Razorlight will remain a mystery. 'In The Morning' has a chorus hook that's as welcome as 'flu but unfortunately just as catchy, next single 'America' does a mediocre musical impression of U2 at their most musically mediocre and there might even be a flash of a decent melody in 'Los Angeles Waltz' but that's really stretching. Everywhere else it's half-arsed guitar strum, spineless drive-time drang and sixth-form-poetry style rhyming couplets ahoy. This is dreary middle-of-the-road pub-rock that panders to every evil vice the radio demands. Horrible.

SUCIOPERRO- Random Acts Of Intimacy

2006-08-14T10:11:00.000-11:00

Chemistry. One of those classes at school where the teachers always smelled funny but something essential to the making of a great band. Scottish quartet Sucioperro have chemistry. By the bucket load. After listening to 'Random Acts Of Intimacy' it wouldn't be a surprise to learn that they had regular group hugs or something like that. From first note to last here Sucioperro sound terribly together.

But don't get too comfortable. Impatience and audacity and talent butt serious heads throughout Random Acts.... It's not down to immaturity, but the knowledge that a little twist and a few turns make for a thrilling ride. All of which means while 'Wolf Carnival' and 'Dialog On The 2' twitch and fidget like Biffy Clyro or Minus The Bear, 'I Don't Hate...' and 'Tem V Com' are rock and roll belters. Then 'Grace And Out Of Me' does both, meandering down a gentle mathy road before exploding like prime Rage Against The Machine. It's the sort of songwriting skill that regularly leaves you wondering what the hell just happened, how the hell the band got away with and why the hell you so badly want to hear it again.

It might be too heavy for Franz fans, too fey for the hardcore fraternity, even too polite to turn top industry heads but that's their loss. Experimentation, drama, power, dexterity and that chemistry stuff abounds. On this evidence Sucioperro need just a touch more fire and maybe one more album to go over the edge into Muse-like realms of quality. That or medical help.

Also appears at RockMidgets.

KOUFAX- Hard Times Are In Fashion

2006-08-07T08:22:00.000-11:00

Hard times may be in fashion but quirky spiky indie isn’t doing too bad for itself either. On this, their fourth release, Koufax harness the sort of new-wave pop prowess that has driven Hot Hot Heat and The Killers to the big time. They have the American accents, the skinny-legged style and even some talent; they can do smirking balladry and dancefloor rock with equal aplomb. There’s a piano in there too, but this is no Keane type thing, the tinkling actually adds a different accent to the usual lip-pouting hip-shaking mixture.

The ivories aren’t the only thing marking Koufax out from the pack either. The way ‘Five Years Of Madness’ puts the pedal to the metal will turn heads, the haunting, queasy drama of ‘Stephen James’ will turn them back again and is that a country twang hidden under lead single ‘Isabelle’. That there’s some meaty social and political comment bubbling away (and occasionally boiling over on ‘Blind Faith’) under such charming dark pop only makes it better. However while there’s familiar comfort in the Bloc Party bop of ‘Her Laughter’ or the Strokes style slacker banter of ‘Get Us Sober’ the songs here rarely take on a life of their own. And so it goes that after all that good stuff, there’s nothing to seal the deal.

Koufax probably throw some killer parties and god knows ‘Hard Times…’ would make decent background music to the next shindig at yours, but, with a noticeable lack of hit single material, the band need still more time to crack superstardom. It will come though, it will.

Also appears at Rock Midgets.

REGINA SPEKTOR- Begin To Hope

2006-07-24T14:48:00.000-11:00

Regina Spektor used to actively repel any comparisons to chart-humping drama queens just by being Regina Spektor- her beautiful and clever yet naïve-sounding voice always running in different directions to the minimalistic music she made but fitting perfect all the same. Those days are gone. ‘Begin To Hope’ finds the Russian born New-Yorker caving in to whatever sort of pressure got to Alanis Morrisette years ago. ‘Better’ sounds like a Bon Jovi cast-off, there are Euro beats crashing into each other everywhere else and by ‘Edit’ it’s all starting to sound horribly similar. ‘Samson’ is the exception, sounding like a mainstream radio hit, a smoky backroom sing-a-long and a lonely confession all at the same time. And only ‘Fidelity’ retains the valuable majesty of before. You can mourn the quirks and out-of-this-world oddness that Spektor previously did so well but the biggest shame is the loss of her fantastic rainbow-coloured personality. Another one bites the dust.

BUILT TO SPILL- You In Reverse

2006-07-17T02:00:00.000-11:00

Built To Spill singer/guitarist/all-round main man Doug Martsch has kept the world waiting five years for another BTS record. There were fears that his band’s Neil Young and Sonic Youth inspired sound might have become too slow and too snug to still matter but apparently 15 years in the game means you know a little something about the rules.

Martsch doesn’t hold back on any count. This isn’t a rowdy record but it does move in fantastically mysterious ways. There are great expanses of looping, overlapping instrumentation that go for minutes without vocals. When the words do arrive they are tender and memorable. There is a myriad of guitar sounds and quick, challenging sets of mood swings. It all adds up to some great tunes. It might clock in at eight minutes but ‘Goin’ Against Your Mind’ sounds like the neatest of jam rock. Up against the more muscular and distorted indie riffery sits the melancholy wonder of ‘Gone’, ‘Just A Habit’ and ‘The Wait’. At times the record feels half-hearted, drifting too far into dreary dream-pop territory but the gorgeous moments of ‘Conventional Wisdom’ and ‘Liar’ reel the whole thing back in.

If you fancy finding out where Death Cab, The Shins and Arcade Fire stole all their secrets from, you could do worse than start investigating here.

RUSSIAN CIRCLES- Enter

2006-06-26T12:42:00.000-11:00

Officially nothing to do with Russia or its circles, the three Chicago natives behind ‘Enter’ deal in instrumental rock that fidgets and fits in the best of ways. That the six tracks here take more than fourty minutes to unwind points to the post-post-rock (where will it) end of things but there’s haste, speed and an amplified fire here that means the ‘Circles are much more than another Mogwai photocopy. These tunes go from the complex shimmy of early Tool to the gentle loveliness of Joan Of Arc to the sheer doom attack of Motorhead. Couple that with the straight up Will Haven-esque ‘Death Rides A Horse’ and you have the perfect example of instrumental music for people that don’t really like instrumental music. And a gem of a record for people that do.

Also appears at New-Noise