Its critics might argue that math rock is arty music for serious people, but Irish three-piece Adebisi shank make a pretty good case for brining instrumental rock back onto the dancefloor. This Is The Album.., the group’s first full-length effort, exudes a rigid, robotic quality, the sort that seemed to be in vogue among indie rock/dance crossover acts a couple years back and became law at James Murphy’s DFA Records, i.e. “robotic” in sense of the silly dance that everybody tries to do badly. As an album, it’s reassuringly retro: guitarist Lar Kaye is a virtuoso, pulling his tricks as liberally from the shred guitar cannon as the experimental hardcore playbook, while kitschy electronic bleeps come courtesy of bassist Vinny McCreith (a.k.a. The Vinny Club). It lasts just 23 minutes, but This Is The Album... might just be the party record of 2009, but it’s among the most thrilling 23 minutes in music this year.
Many white people might not be fully comfortable with the idea of unashamedly fun and upbeat rap music, but Irish rap duo Messiah J and the Expert step up the game on both the lyrical front and the dancefloor with their third album, From The Word Go. ‘Jean Is Planning An Escape’ examines the complexity of an abusive relationship above a furious four-to-the-floor beat, while pulsating opener ‘Year Of The Genie’ sheds light on the absurdity of election season, with all its slick hair and empty promises. On the flipside, ‘Turn The Magic On’ (featuring Leda Egri) touches on the telepathic relationship shared by old friends, while ‘Geography’ (featuring a chorus from indie band Delorentos) laments the hardship of long-distance friendship. Messiah J’s rhymes have been tightened significantly, to the extent that it’s advisable to hang on his every word, while the Expert’s musical base has expanded, making for a more diverse but no less distinctive album.
Blood On The Tracks. Jagged Little Pill. Sea Change. Iconic break-up records all, but they’re all just a little bit gloomy. Sycamore Meadows isn’t all about a break-up- in fact it’s not so clear there was a full-blown break-up at all- but it’s a record that hits on the full range of emotions that accompany a great loss. Highlight ‘Here Comes The...’ is Walker’s most moving and emotionally vulnerable composition to date, flawlessly evoking the fear and isolation of a relationship going wrong, while ‘Vessels’ takes a more whimsical approach, recalling the exciting “having sex on the hoods of cars” stage of a relationship. The glammy, horn-filled ‘Ponce De Leon Ave’ celebrates the letting loose period after the fact, ‘The Weight Of Her’ channels Elvis Costello in its righteous dismissal of petty post-relationship politics, while tracks like 'Going Back/Going Home' and closer 'ATL' explore the concept of “home” through the eyes of somebody who knows what it’s like to be unexpectedly homeless.
There was a fear- oh, about six or seven years ago now- that Chinese Democracy, were it ever to actually see the light of day, would turn out to be nothing but an album full of metaphors involving countries and proud ancient races: 'The Blues' (re-printed here as 'Street Of Dreams') the only respite from your Madagscars, your Chinese Democracies, yer Riads and, naturally, your Bedouins. Yet while Axl remains hopelessly self-absorbed, he has never been noted for his lyrical prowess, and Chinese Democracy was always going to be judged on one thing and one thing alone: the solos. Buckethead is Buckethead- though his best contribution is probably the acoustic ambience that underpins 'Sorry'- but the real star here is Robin Finck, whose impossibly wide bends on 'There Was A Time''s extended outro are easily the match of Slash's classic air raid siren on 'November Rain.' There are a couple of duds-'This I Love' could be a bizarre parody of the song from Forgetting Sarah Marshall, while 'Scraped' sounds like something Perry Farrell would scare his kids with- but even at 70 minutes it's easily more consistent than either of the Illusions. And, dare I say it, more focused as well?
It had to happen, didn't it? With FutureSex/LoveSounds, JT's reached a stage in his career few others have reached in recent year; neither of his solo albums have come close to realising his massive potential, yet he's getting love spanning the length of the culture divide nonetheless. The highly publicised Rick Rubin collaboration turned out to be a damp squib, the Jackson-esque '(Another Song) All Over Again' limping across the finishing line, but the majority, produced by Timbaland and prot? Danjahandz, is a triumph.
'SexyBack' is charming, despite being the sonic equivalent of being beaten in the face with a mallet, while follow-up singles 'My Love' and 'What Goes Around' demonstrate his keen fusion of Prince's natural falsetto with Jacko's ear for a honeysuckle melody. FutureSex/LoveSounds is either 100% derivative or just 99%, but he's ripping off his heroes better than anyone else right now, and that's all that really matters.
It all began with a diary that even its author had forgotten about. Written at the apex of his drug-addicted hell, Nikki Sixx's Heroin Diaries begins with its anti-hero at his lowest ebb, and charts his recovery-ish with brutal honesty and no little amount of dignity. Interspersed with surprisingly eloquent readings from the text, The Heroin Diaries soundtrack is a collection of thirteen radio-primed rock singles, a near-perfect cohesion of Sixx's perfect pop smarts and nose for a classic melody. He's helped by renowned producer/guitarists DJ Ashba and James Michael, the latter adding flawless and understated vocals to his extensive songwriting credits. If 'Dead Man's Ballet' and 'Van Nuys' recall the theatricality of Meat Loaf, singles 'Life Is Beautiful' and 'Accidents May Happen' soar with the weight and genuine intensity befitting the best effort in a decade by three of pop rock's underappreciated geniuses.
Raine Maida's The Hunters Lullaby (no apostrophe) expands upon the blueprint set by his debut EP Love Hope Hero late last year. Simplicity is the Our Lady Peace frontman's key aim here, removing many of the obstacles rock music traditionally puts between vocalist and listener and instead using sparse instrumentation (guitar, piano, hand drums) to subtly supplement his half-sung, half-slam poetry confessional. He broaches issues both political and personal (and often both wound together) directly and frankly, picking his words carefully and delivering them with just as much precision. For highlights, check pessimistic/optimistic closer 'One Second Chance' and the haunting 'Earthless,' or anything else from this unusually consistent first effort.
Critically exalted in his native Ireland, Damien Dempsey's notoriety has only recently spread beyond the far-flung Irish diaspora. To Hell Or Barbados, his most accomplished effort to date, blends his twin loves of gutsy Irish folk, descended from the likes of Christy Moore and Luke Kelly, and the reggae of Bob Marley, while forays into hip hop ('Serious') and electronic ('The City') are just as well executed. Built like a boxer, Dempsey's most impressive feature is his booming voice, a thick Dublin accent he can deliver with as much delicate grace as brute physical force. Highlights include opener 'Maasai,' paying homage to the proud African tribe of the same name, and the title track. Patriotism plays a strong role in all of Dempsey's songwriting, and 'To Hell Or Barbados' is a history lesson in itself, d0cumenting the forgotten slaves of the West Indies, the vanquished Irish during the brief reign of Oliver Cromwell.
Better known as the band Damien Rice left at the proverbial altar seven years ago, Bell X1 have finally hit their stride with their third and most accomplished full-length, Flocks. Shedding the moroseness and overt Radiohead-ness of their previous efforts, and the last of their links with Rice's compositions, the group have embraced some of the popular post-punk sound of Franz Ferdinand and Bloc Party as well as Coldplay to produce one of the more lively and well-crafted pop-rock releases of the year.
Lead single 'Flame' was a hit on the strength of its football-terrace chorus, while the more thoughtful 'Rocky Takes A Lover' became so popular on the basis of a single radio performance that the group decided to release it nationally. With a string of sold-out concerts across the UK this year, Bell X1 are ready to take on the world once again, this time without the need to ride on the coat-tails of their one-time bandmate.
Upon its release, Send Away The Tigers marked a turn for long-suffering Manics fans- finally a release that captured the spirit of the great early recordings without sounding forced or contrived. Six months down the line, it sounds as fresh as ever, from the chunky rockabilly shuffle of anti-war anthem 'Imperial Bodybags' and the suggestive, Slash-like licks of single 'Autumnsong.' Opener 'Send Away The Tigers' reignites the group's long-held infatuation with layering morbid literary references inside superficially benign pop songs, while 'Indian Summer' and 'Winterlovers' recall the best of the flawed post-Richey James hangover Everything Must Go. Freely-distributed before the album�s release, 'Underdogs' pays tribute to the proud misfits and outcasts who make up the group�s fanatically loyal fanbase, and lead single 'Your Love Alone Is Not Enough' sees frontman James Dean Bradfield bounce jubilant pop melodies off Cardigans frontman Nina Persson to no small effect. The most impressive aspect of Send Away The Tigers is that it feels as if it means something, and does so naturally, a stark contrast to the forced relevance of Know Your Enemy and electro-pop disaster Lifeblood.
Chuck Ragan's debut studio record is about as far removed from his work with melodic hardcore icons Hot Water Music as one could reasonably imagine yet, lined up alongside one another, the successive records make perfect sense. While not the most pleasant or technically proficient singer about, Ragan's gravelly vocals are well-suited to Feast Or Famine's evocative brand of folk-blues, while his keen sense of melody and clever arrangements (courtesy of Flogging Molly producer Ted Hutt) prevent it from becoming just another acoustic punk record. Expect to hear numerous references, musical and lyrical, to early Dylan ('California Burritos,' 'For Broken Ears') and post-war country ('Geraldine,' 'Do You Pray') and an unusually rounded effort for an artist's first shot outside his chosen genre.
Though produced by Scott Weiland (Velvet Revolver), In Stitches is a far cry from the grungy radio rock Weiland is known for, instead invoking punk and power pop from The Clash and Cheap Trick through Joy Division and Green Day. As a record, In Stitches gives the impression of a singles collection rather than a singular-vision album, from the Fat Wreck pop punk of 'Pride of the Echelon' to the more contemplative, synth-assisted 'To All The Plain Janes' and the Joy Divison-by-way-of-Brendan Benson cut 'Permanent Kitten.' Despite sounding utterly derivative, strong songwriting and clever production place In Stitches above many similar acts.
September Had A Trigger Finger
The Pride Of The Echelon
This Is The Worst Day Of My Life (Do You Want To Come Over)
Despite being advertised as "new rave," Klaxons have more in common with art rock revivalists like Bloc Party and Franz Ferdinand than they do the recent crop of American dance-punk outfits. Debut single 'Atlantis To Interzone' encapsulates the synthy euphoria of the acid dance era and dispenses with the shoegazing of the same, 'Totem In A Timeline' is an obtuse rocker that plays to the same dancefloor tendencies and newest single 'Gravity's Rainbow' is a short, high-energy number that sees the band dress a spontaneous post punk number with a calculated electronic arrangement. 'Golden Skans' and 'Magick' are built around haunting "oo-ee-oo" melodies, the latter explicitly channeling the occult, while the cover and re-arrangement of club classic 'Not Over Yet' effortlessly improves upon the original.
Viagra, seducing Ukrainians and the mystery of the sex shop are just three of the meaty societal issues broached on the Blizzards' debut album A Public Display of Affection. Never too serious, The Blizzards play an uptempo style of new wave pop that combines two-tone and '60s pop with contemporary post-punk sounds that recalls the likes of Blondie and Adam & The Ants as much as it does the Specials or Arctic Monkeys. Check out 'Superdrug' for show-stopping penis worship, 'Dangerous Bitches' for an ode to tough "urban" girls and 'Fantasy' for pure contrapuntal pop bliss.
Butch Walker's never been one to evoke a luke-warm reaction- his steadily evolving musical style is about as offensive as pop music can be, and that's not about to change with the release of this semi-concept album, an attempt to stylistically and thematically tread the same ground as David Bowie's Ziggy Stardust did over 30 years earlier- the perils of rock n' roll stardom and the non-redemption through indulgence.
Through T. Rex/Bowie aping numbers like 'Hot Girls in Good Moods' to countrified rockers like 'When Canyons Ruled the City', The Rise and Fall... is a record that flows smoothly, only occasionally dropping in quality on the flip side of the record. The choice takes from the album are lead single 'Bethamphetamine', a glammy Lou Reed-type number which reverses the classic riff from Sinead O'Connor's 'Mandinka,' the haunting Broadway-style ballad 'Dominoes' and the Bowie-esque 'Taste Of Red.'
