19 November 2006
Adam Anonymous
The Flaming Lips, The Game, Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy, Depeche Mode, Cyann & Ben, The Maccabees, Alterkicks,(+44), Chichino, Centrifuge, Orson, Captain, The Hold Steady, Headland, Grand Volume, Koop, Little Man Tate, Snow Patrol, Robbie Williams & more
"Those even vaguely aware of Will Oldham’s once incomparably grim incarnation might surmise ‘Cold & Wet’ should equal expected levels of rain-sodden depression put to acoustic guitars. That, of course, would’ve been a good thing"
The Flaming Lips – It Overtakes MeSo, The Flaming Lips: great, great band; never gonna beat ‘The Soft Bulletin’. Fact. Their overblown live show has gone from entertaining anomaly to slightly forced cabaret – perhaps, say, akin to celebrating Christmas every day – and the helium-voiced splendour is spread a little thinner with each succeeding album. Joyous beat bop ‘It Overtakes Me’ halts the slide for the time being, however, overbearing cheesy vocal effects notwithstanding. Though it might’ve been helpful, oh record company promotional bods, to hear the three new tracks that complete this EP too.
The Game – Let’s Ride
They say there’s a fine line between love and hate. The Game can barely open his mouth nowadays without bagging 50 Cent over their G-Unit partnership gone wrong, yet ‘Let’s Ride’ does Fiddy’s trick combo of tough guy rap/slightly off-key harmonies. The real pity about all this is the raft of producers – Dr Dre included – stuck in the middle of the kind of beef that would’ve led to emcees on slabs a decade ago. And nobody needs infinite posthumous The Game releases. Note to The Game: please don’t kill us.
Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy – Cold & Wet
Those even vaguely aware of Will Oldham’s once incomparably grim incarnation might surmise ‘Cold & Wet’ should equal expected levels of rain-sodden depression put to acoustic guitars. That, of course, would’ve been a good thing; instead, we’re gifted a barroom ditty jaunty enough to check for correct CD player selection were it not for Oldham’s signature timbre. Stranger is the second b-side, a BBC session cover of The Bee Gees’ ‘Buried Treasure’ that hints bearded Bonnie could be hiding a few skeletons in his influences closet. Bad ones.
Depeche Mode – Martyr
Dave Gahan’s near death aside, Depeche Mode have aged with similar nature-defying talent to David Hasselhoff; still a bag of detached, emotion-bereft electro for those too scared to become Goths, then.
Cyann & Ben – Words
Shoegazing dream pop, anyone? It’s passable for three minutes, but repeated listens to Paris’ Cyann & Ben will eventually convince all listeners that My Bloody Valentine weren’t the most overrated band of all time.
The Maccabees – First Love
“The best new band in Britain,” croaked one pension-worthy weekly of The Maccabees. Only, fuckers, if The Libertines were glued to your stereo for four years then the entire experience erased Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind-stylee; terminally uninspired scratchy indie for the mentally retarded.
Alterkicks – On A Holiday
After mistaking Depeche Mode’s single for Alterkicks’, the conclusion was: congratulations you’re the one-millionth member of the I Want To Be Morrissey club. You win a kick in the fucking face. That erroneous summation would’ve far surpassed reality, as ‘On A Holiday’ is averagely anthemic indie with no penis.
(+44) – Lycanthrope
Props, we think, to ex-Blink-182 dudes Mark Hoppus and Travis ‘reality television’ Barker for naming their new band’s single after a word that’ll baffle half their kiddie fan-base. A lycanthrope is a werewolf, incidentally. The song itself continues the maturation curve followed by Blink, albeit with a smidge less character.
Chichino – Every Little Thing
Not, sadly, a project between two members of the Deftones, imagine instead if M People and Hot Chocolate formed a funk/soul band that made their original outfits come off, comparatively, like Cradle Of Filth. There we have Chichino. And no more reason to listen to another second of this banal ass-wash.
Centrifuge – Carnival/Carnivore
While trying to make a ‘sex sells’-type point, Stoke’s Centrifuge might want to dig out a dictionary and make a ‘carnal’ reference. Ah, never mind. Whatever, ‘Carnival/Carnivore’ does the rough-edged indie-rock palaver better than the majority of their toilet circuit contemporaries.
Orson – Already Over
“So go ahead and hate me now for breaking up on the phone,” whines Orson vocalist Twat McHat. Can we hate you for innumerable other reasons? Like, you look about 45, fucking loser, yet insist on bashing out primary school paedo-rock that’d make McFly blush. P.S. ‘No Tomorrow’ was okay.
Captain – Frontline
Surprisingly, given the usual suspects singing praises from rider-less high horses, Captain very nearly pull off a inconsequential mini-masterpiece in ‘Frontline’. The only thing holding them back where female backing vocals lift them high is bizarre pronunciation that borders on super irritating.
The Hold Steady – Chips Ahoy!
The Hold Steady’s Craig Finn intones his likable lyrics to ‘Chips Ahoy!’ as if the girl it details ran off with his father rather than won them enough cash on the horses to fund a week’s bender. But there’s darkness beneath the seemingly party-tastic subject matter of this interesting introduction.
Headland – Dogging Sisters
Dear Headland, writing numbers in pen on a CD-R doesn’t make your single limited edition. And quirk-rock trying far too hard for its own good barely makes you a band. Your single title, on the other hand, is the only thing sparing your compact disc meeting the wastepaper basket.
Grand Volume – History
Back in the day – well, 1997 – music fans knew where they were: indie meant Britpop, rock meant ROCK. On ‘History’, Manchester’s Grand Volume confuse the two and misappropriate a rock band. B-side ‘Fire Come Soon’ half saves the day, crunchy riffs arguing our point before vocals suggesting passing Muse admiration.
Koop – Come To Me
With an energetic double bass bass-line and weirdly antiquated stylings, Swedish retroists Koop could conceivably find a home in some as-yet-unmade Tarantino movie with tastefully inappropriate soundtrack. Whether that’s a good thing will depend entirely on your predilection for Nancy Sinatra or the forcedly kooky content of previous similar collections.
Little Man Tate – Man I Hate Your Band
Sometimes the work’s done for you. Nice one, Little Man Tate, you’re acting though the Arctic Monkeys never happened and you’ve also decided to pre-empt any sense-filled soul with ‘Man I Hate Your Band’. You goddamn said it.
Untitled Musical Project – Beards And Drugs/Facsimile/Why Isn’t Paul McCartney Dead Already?
Mclusky with an extra gob of Public Image Ltd, Midlands mentalists Untitled Musical Project might be real ones to watch without glaring similarities to the former sadly departed outfit. Oblique lyrical references – boy selling his heart to the Daily Mirror, Paul McCartney’s fictional future death – complete the package.
Snow Patrol feat. Martha Wainwright – Set The Fire To The Third Bar
Somehow overcoming a combined interest factor of around minus 150 (a scale that exists as of…NOW), this collaborative effort from the kings and queen of non-offensive bland strum-rock is enveloping like a warm jumper in December. About as rock ‘n’ roll, too.
Robbie Williams – Lovelight
‘Lovelight’. ‘Rudebox’. Is Robbie ‘massive wanker’ Williams going for an entire year’s worth of conjoined euphemisms? Mark Ronson produces; Robbie attempts to, ahem, become the rap-loving non-gay George Michael; nobody with functioning ears is able to suffer more than 30 seconds without switching off.
Less Than Jake – P.S. Shock The World
Listen, Less Than Jake, you’ve got the wrong week. You seem like decent gents, up for a good time, don’t take life too seriously. But ska-punk can suck on its own massively inflated cock until it chokes on shit-flavoured daddy juice, if you don’t mind.
To My Boy – theGrid
It starts promisingly for To My Boy, going all ’80s on some already realised future technology with brash synths and boisterous guitar stabs. Then a ridiculously over-thespian voice to make Adam Ant seem sane cuts in, coinciding with our interest exiting. Horrible.
Culprit 1 – The Hollow EP
Cardiff’s Culprit 1 is a lovely chap. Fact. Until now his lightweight house-kissed electronica productions have ensured the adage ‘Nice guys finish last’ could be applied musically without inaccuracies. ‘Hollow’, however, employs London rapper MC Incyte and suggests Culprit’s calling has been found helming chillout hip-hop dance. Strange.
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