What? This is their last song? Ever? Already? Surely they should have waited until slightly further into their career to put it out? I mean it's a good note to end on, it being a song, and a bit epic - although really, if it's an EPIC epic song you're after, particularly one which has named itself after how massively gargantuan it is, you're going to want . But still, you can overdo the false modesty of not wanting to outstay your welcome...
Every other SongSpoiler so far has been about how certain songs sound exactly like other songs by other artists, and isn't it funny where inspiration comes from. In the case of Spiritualized, things are a whole lot more complicated than that.
For starters, the band aren't really a band at all, every record being the brainbaby of Jason Pierce, and featuring a massive array of musicians, from full orchestras to gospel choirs to a man playing a saw (probably). So in theory, they should be pretty hard to pin down, sonically speaking.
This is their latest single, 'Soul On Fire', and the thing you need to know is that Jason Pierce nearly died in the period between writing the song and releasing it.
Once upon a time there was a band called REM. Named after the Rapid Eye Movement period of sleep, when you dream, they were an obtuse and obscure band liked by members of Nirvana. Then they decided to write some amazing pop songs and got very famous with interesting, emotionally stark material like 'Losing My Religion' and 'Everybody Hurts'. They were the cynical edge of relatively radio-friendly rock, which isn't to say they were some clever marketing ploy but that they were clearly rather bitter about everything, in a way that everyone can relate to at least some of the time. Then it all sort of went a bit wrong.
It's always a good idea to take some time away from the stresses and strains of your everyday life. And a lot of people say that there's nothing more relaxing than a spot of fishing, especially if you're not too far from a river (can't emphasise that last point strongly enough, as pet shops get VERY annoyed if you set your little canvas stool up in the aquarium aisle).
So I heartily applaud drummer Greg from the Rascals, who spent a happy morning before this interview was conducted having a good old fish, and a good old think about things. You can just tell he's ready for anything, and that's probably just as well, given the unexpected twists and turns of your average ChartBlog grilling...
Isn't innuendo brilliant? The art of using nice clean words and expressions to hint at total filth is much under-appreciated in this day and age, especially now there are more things that you can actually say without having to go around the houses. But somehow, all this has done is make people get REALLY creative with their slang terms and devious descriptions. There are now innuendos for certain acts which are so gross, you wouldn't like to believe that anyone ever does them ever, and yet they've been given a nickname, which suggests that they are not only performed quite regularly, but also by a variety of different people.
This is a blog, right? An online diary (with occasional pretentions to be a newspaper column if I'm in a mood). So I'm allowed to put some personal information in from time to time. Like now, when I'm writing this from a car on the way back from a family funeral. It was a lovely affair, really good to catch up with lost cousins and distant aunties and whatnot. And as is often the way, the music at the service was a mixture of the sacred and secular. Some hymns for the devotional bits, and some familiar songs to really get the tear-ducts doing their little dance.
And it really got me thinking...
I remain unconvinced by OneRepublic, generally. A well-produced drippy ballad is still a drippy ballad nonetheless, and if I start cutting them slack for releasing those then I'm going to have to start showing the same sort of charity to Westlife, and that will never do.
'Apologise' was good, admittedly, but unfortunately it's been rather tarnished by diminishing returns, since 'Stop And Stare' wasn't really different enough to be distinctive, and didn't have the advantage of originality to sing its praises, and just ended up getting annoying very quickly. I've nothing against songs being heartfelt, but the distinction between emotive and spineless is an important one, and if I feel compelled to yell "OH JUST GROW A PAIR ALREADY" at the stereo, then .
NOTE TO GIRLS ALOUD: If you are going to advertise chocolate, please try and look as if you have the faintest idea of what chocolate may be, and what it is for. Please try and hold the bars of chocolate you are being paid to enthuse about as if they are desirable objects and not, say, unexploded poo-bombs, or a sweaty cat. Please also attempt to look like you're dying for something to soothe the throb in your sweet tooth, and not as if some child has left you their sweets to hold while they go to the toilet.
Thank God some scientist somewhere has put the proper time and effort into finding out what would happen if you crossed Placebo with Editors, eh? You can't leave these things to the imagination, otherwise people will start picturing purple horns on the singer's girly face, and all of the band would have bat wings and stuff. This may not be as magical as that, but it's a hell of a lot more scientific.
Red Light Company - 'With Lights Out'
Psst! Would you like to hear the brand new McFly album? And would you like to ask the band some questions about what they've been up since their greatest hits came out?
Course you would. And that is why I'm tipping you the wink that the band will be appearing on this Sunday's Switch With Nick Grimshaw on Radio 1. They're going to be revealing their new material, and Grimmy is asking for interview questions from you, the McFly Street Team fans. We'll let you know how it all goes.
For more information, get yourselves over to ´óÏó´«Ã½ Switch, pronto...
Oh, and while I'm doing general notices, you may have noticed that the ´óÏó´«Ã½ homepage got something of a facelift a few months ago, and that you can now customise it so that all of your favourite ´óÏó´«Ã½ stuff is on there whenever you log in.
Well, if you take a look at the blog section over the next few days, you'll find that you can get the latest from ChartBlog added to your customised page. Just go to the 'blogs' section and click the ChartBlog tickbox (give it a day or so, it'll be up soon) .
That's right, we're messing with the big boys now! I hope they're friendly...
If there were any justice in the world, Lemar would be your man, and you would be his girl. Also, Elbow would be as massive as massive can be. They've got the songs, the singer, the arrangements, the ideas, the right attitude and a proper gang mentality. They have made four albums, each as good as the last, with barely a duff track to be heard, and should exist as a stark warning to a band like the Courteeners that having the swagger and the right hair is all very well and good, but it's being any good which will eventually win the day.*
Sadly, Elbow have yet to actually WIN the day, which probably says more about our collective obsession with things which are young and pretty and new and edgy, than it does about the band's musical output. If they looked like One Night Only or Elliott Minor, maybe things would be different. That said, maybe their looks would overshadow the tunes - hi McFly! - so perhaps things aren't so bad after all.
AND IN WORD FORM, HERE'S THIS WEEK'S TOP 5:
1: Rihanna - 'Take A Bow'
2: The Ting Tings - 'That's Not My Name
3: Madonna ft Justin Timberlake - '4 Minutes'
4: Will.I.Am ft Cheryl Tweedy - 'Heartbreaker'
5: Sam Sparro - 'Black And Gold'
Usual rules apply. High five the screen if you approve, slap the faces of the people you don't like if you don't. And then put either High Five! or Denied! in the comments box, depending on how you feel.
Personally I'm going for a Denied! this week, because some of these songs are getting really old. New ideas, please!
NOTE TO TIMBALAND: Dude, you're working too hard. This is the backing track to several of your other songs - specifically 'Give It To Me' - and you've totally done that "fricka-fricka" sound to death on the Madonna song. And let's be clear, the Madonna song was rubbish, and the "fricka-fricka" sound did not help improve matters. You're just lucky Justin Timberlake had an attack of the hiccups when he had to say Madonna's name, or your position as a super-producer could've been under threat.
Can you imagine for a second what would happen if the people who put the UK entries together for the Eurovision Song Contest put their weight behind a tune as singular and strange as this one? A song which abandons terrible third-rate pop, ditches the heart-curdling balladry, and leaves behind the over-explosive dynamics and super-ooper-duper sugary-sweet cheesiness (I know, even the metaphor sounds disgusting) in favour of a low-key, home-made electro Beach Boys vibe.
Listen to the beginning of this interview. Isn't Dev Hynes - the former Test Icicle who know goes by the nom du rock Lightspeed Champion - among the cutest of baby moley-type people ever? I mean clearly not the kind of person you would want to perform major surgery on someone you really care about, or even the kind of person you'd want investigating a gas leak in your cupboard, but as a pop star, he's perfect!
Never mind that Alphabeat are essentially Same Difference but without the faint tang of inbreeding, or that they make Belle & Sebastian sound like Motorhead. And let's ignore all those primary colours and the fact that their videos look a bit like they were made by CBeebies...I will forgive any band almost anything so long as their song has an opening line as good as "I was not looking for arty farty love".
There are some rites of passage that all up and coming showbiz people have to go through before they can truly say they have made it in this business we call show. Like your first Live Lounge session, or the first time you sell out Glasgow Barrowlands, or your first go on Later With Jools Holland.
Of course, the daddy of them all was always your first appearance on Top of the Pops, that was the one you could always tell your granny about. But seeing as this is no longer available, here's one which will do NOTHING to impress any members of your family. The ChartBlog Slightly Annoying Email Questionnaire.
Here's how it went for indie newbies Go:Audio, whose singer James could possibly be said not to have tried massively hard to enthrall us all with his amazing answers.*
And he is CLEARLY not using email either, the CHEATER...
Apparently the fact that the Zutons' new album will be rockier than previously is thrilling enough to merit a headline all of its own on , and with two bylines, no less. Judging by this opener from the third album 'You Can Do Anything', the tempo has been raised in accordance with the stakes, but I don't think there's a sufficiently severe change of musical direction here to alienate their existing fanbase.
NOTE: I bet you thought the term 'inverted nipples' meant something else, right? Actually, you would think someone with trick nipples, especially trick nipples that can turn the owner's head upside down, would keep them well covered, wouldn't you? Well, not mr Ush. No he's clearly a man who likes to live on the edge, flaunting his Achilles' heel and waving it in the faces of any hot young mama who happens to cross his path. What a guy!
You may also be tempted to conjecture as to what might happen should someone press on the area in question during a tender embrace. Well, apart from destroying Usher himself, the big risk would be twisting damage to the tongue of the person doing the pressing. So, if there's one important lesson I need you to take away from this, it's that it's a bad idea to stick your tongue in Usher's mouth and press his right nipple.
Feel free to write that down and tell your friends.
God it took me AGES to figure out what this song reminded me of. I had this massive long analogy about what would happen if Seal - the early '90s rave/soul singer - had ingested a tankful of helium. I even had a pun - and I do love a pun - which was laid out like a mathematical equation. Seal + helium = Sealium. Amazing, eh?
All of which would have been perfectly fine if this song did actually sound like Seal, but in the dying moments of one of many repeated listens, a synth noise which is part bubbles in water and part birdsong popped up, and that's when I finally got it. It's 'Pure Shores' by All Saints.
It's a vexatious problem for record companies, how best to make a video for a forthcoming single when you can't necessarily rely on the artist to make an appearance. This could be for a variety of reasons, touring commitments, family commitments, something good on the telly on the day of filming...but whatever the situation, you have to be able to think as creatively as the people who made just at the point at which the media was about to unleash the hell-hounds for her eternal soul (or something).
As creatively as THIS, for example...
KT Tunstall - 'Little Favours'*
If you were to try and piece together a history of the last 18 months of popular music history, with special regard to female vocalists, it would be tempting to draw the following conclusions:
Conclusion 1: It's all Amy Winehouse's fault. Before her, nobody was interested in '60s soul. Now they ALL are.
Conclusion 2: The explosion of interest in women who sing like they used to in the olden days is a reaction to years of X-Factor-related pop, where the singers and producers have mistakenly equated whispering and croaking with actual vocal ability. The general public have finally seen through this obvious money-grabbing ploy, and have chosen REAL TALENT over MANUFACTURED CACK.
Forgive the sudden lapse from light-hearted buffoonery to more serious matters, but something happened last week, and in all the fizz and frill of the Big Weekend, I couldn't really get around to having a good hard think about it until now. That's not because I'm particularly slow - although, like any grown-up, I can become addled by loud noise, bright light, or seeing young men in hooded tops off in the middle distance - but because it took a while for the whole story to really sink in, and a little longer to work out if there was any point in saying something about it.
The bare facts are these, the Daily Mail recently ran a story about a 13-year-old girl called . Their version of her story is that Hannah had become involved in a terrifying worldwide cult called 'emo', and that she had been brainwashed into joining by listening to nothing but My Chemical Romance, had cut herself as part of the initiation ceremony, and had dreamed of going to a place called the black parade, which is where - and I'm quoting - "all emos believe they will go when they die".
Most people have a municipal building from their childhood which reminds them of happier and more innocent times. The Scout Hut, for example, or the village hall with the sun-faded posters about rare birds of prey or how to tie a sheep-shank. They are places where you find yourself gathering because you have something to do which is too big, messy or noisy to do in someone's house, and even though you go there often, you never really feel like they are yours, because they belong to generations of older people, most of whom are no longer with us.
AND IN WORD FORM, HERE'S THIS WEEK'S TOP 5:
1: The Ting Tings - 'That's Not My Name
2: Rihanna - 'Take A Bow'
3: Madonna ft Justin Timberlake - '4 Minutes'
4: Will.I.Am ft Cheryl Tweedy - 'Heartbreaker'
5: Wiley - 'Wearing My Rolex'
So, is this week's Top 5 a High Five! or a Denied!?
Regular ChartBloggers will already have an inkling as to my feelings on the matter. But if you're still unsure, let's just say numbers 2-4 could literally be ANYTHING and I'd be high fiving.
Over to you...
Y'know, for a second there I thought someone had come in and replaced my taste glands in the night. I even had to go and check the bed to look for evidence, just to be sure that some gland fairy hadn't popped up by the alarm clock, got confused cos my head was under the pillow (don't ask - a nightmare about being eaten by a giant marshmallow), whipped out my critical faculties, stuck a pound coin up my nose and flew off into the darkness, giggling wetly.
I've checked though, and there's nothing amiss. And that coin has either fallen out or gone further in. Which means the problem lies not with me, but with the Fratellis.
The problem with reviewing a song called 'Party People' from the comfort of your computer chair is that this is not the environment for which it was created. There are a lot of songs that sound like total rubbish if you sit considering them in your room, where they'd sound brilliant if you were hearing them blared through a club's speakers. Club songs aren't meant to be especially clever, although they sometimes can be and they're not really meant to be dissected and analysed, just felt.
This could be said about a lot of music of course but when the operative line in a song is "WHERE MY PARTY PEOPLE AT?!" you can probably make a general assumption that you're not meant to be giving this a lot of careful thought and trying to work out the emotional implications of the stuff Nelly is shouting in your ears.
This reviewing lark is harder than it looks, y'know. It's not just a question of listening to a song, watching the video and then gathering your thoughts. You've got to think about the tone of what you're saying, maybe introduce a theme or two, try and be as fair-minded as possible, and generally weigh things up as if you have the wisdom of King Solomon himself, and the enthusiasm of a Eurovision hopeful.
Course, sometimes it's just better to get a pop star in to do the job. Especially when they're the very eloquent and thoughtful Ross from the Futureheads, and the song you're talking about is the startlingly good 'Outta My Head' by Ashlee Simpson.
Here's the song first...
Imagine, for a second, that you are Simon Cowell. Your job, the thing people actually pay you real money for, is to find entertaining ways to tell someone that something they have worked at, perspired over, dreamed about and desperately perfected is in fact not very good. They look at you with their pleading faces, eager to please, hopeful that you will have a kind word for them, and you have to kill that hope in a rather camp pantomime villain sort of a way. That's your job.
I mentioned this a little in passing at the beginning of the Big Weekend stuff, but it definitely bears repeating. Radio 1 have created this amazing online patchwork quilt of photos from the Big Weekend, and you kind of zoom in and out of it with ease, and discover things, and really focus in on other things, and generally play hide-and-seek with photos. Some of the pictures are amazing, including shots of all the performers, shots of the Radio 1 presenters, shots of the stages, shots of the site, shots of the people who went, shots BY the people who went, and if you look very closely, in exactly the right place, a shot of yours truly blogging on the floor next to someone else's used beer can. You can even see what badges I have on my bag.
Yes, it's THAT good!
They're calling their technological breakthrough The Big Zoomy Photo Thing, because that's exactly what it is, and I do recommend you check it out. And if you were there and you have photos you'd like to submit, that's the place to do it.
Dull Note: There's a Microsoft Silverlight plug-in that you may need to install in order to run The Big Zoomy Photo Thing. But it's entirely worth it, you can lose entire days in there, I'm telling you!
Blimey. So much for all that stuff about being protected by Rihanna's compassionate weatherproofing. She's gone EVIL on us! "You're so ugly when you cry", she cackles, standing over her defeated ex as he tries to make amends for doing the nasty behind her back, "Grab your clothes and get gone. You better hurry up before the sprinklers come on". And these won't be ordinary lawn sprinklers either, nu-uh. They'll be special acid sprinklers which contain a chemical compound designed to destroy the job prospects, attractiveness AND wither the groin of anyone it comes into contact with. You cross Rihanna at your PERIL, PEOPLE...
NOTE: This will perhaps teach young Will the value of being a bit nicer to the young ladies he likes to chat up, particularly where Cheryl Cole is involved. I mean, how insensitive is it to get a lady who has just been humiliated by her husband to join you on a song about how you're basically just a heartbreaker, and that's the way you'll always be? Talk about rubbing salt in the wound! What's your next project, a cover of 'D.I.V.O.R.C.E.' with Heather Mills? A remake of Amy Winehouse's 'Rehab' with you laughing in the background the whole way through?
In fact, even though this writing bit is normally the place to put strict warnings about not acting on anything you see in these How To Destroy cartoons, maybe I just won't bother writing one this time. Let's see how you like THAT, Mr Sensitive.
It does seem a little unfair, in this time of The Many Female Singers What Claim To Have Soul In Their Voices, that young Amy here doesn't get more support than she does. I mean her voice is as distinctive as Duffy's, as deep and dark as Adele's, she's got as perky a sense of melody as Madame Nash, and she writes and performs her own songs (that's performing as in SINGING, not, y'know, NOT SINGING, *cough*Madonna*cough*), just like the Tunst and the Melua do. And it can't be because Amy has had the support of Radio 2 and therefore is for grown-ups and not The Kids, because...well, hello? Duffy? Adele?
The story behind this interview lies in the lyrics to the Young Knives' last single 'Up All Night'. That sneering, sighing, tumbledown breakdown bit where sarcastic Henry sings "what's the point, what's the point, what's the point?" is a great eye-poking, mutinous stroppy pop moment. So I wanted to find out exactly how disobedient and grumpy the band are as people.
What I will say at this point is that Henry won the race before we'd even started, by wandering off just before we were due to start the interview and not coming back at any point. But Thomas (high-pitched voice, used to be called House Of Lords) and Oliver (deep voice, drummer) proved to be pretty blimming rebellious too, I can tell you.
I'm slightly disturbed by the band's insistence that they want a girl with a radio heart. It just all sounds like something out of some horrifying science-fiction movie set in a dystopian future. People made out of offcuts of old household equipment; the girl with the radio heart might sound quite sweet, but what about the man with the eyes made of eggcups? Or the boy with the liver made out of a dishcloth? What must it be like for them, eh? Hellish, probably.
Look! Talkypictures!
Once again, I'm sitting in a beautiful woody glade, at a picnic table, typing. It's gone 10 o'clock and the place is silent for the first time in three days. The big clear up has started, lots of people are on their way home - although by no means all - and there's a cool breeze in the air. It's a lovely way to end an exciting adventure.
And so is this. Here's my last roundup of things which have happened here. Teach these things to your childen, and we might make something of this crazy old world after all...
Final Thoughts On Radio 1's Big Weekend...
It has been a very family-oriented weekend. Celebrity children I have personally witnessed include those of Jo Whiley, Pete Tong, Comedy Dave, Vernon Kaye & Tess Daly, Sophie Ellis Bextor & him out of the Feeling, and there have been loads of others in the backstage area who don't belong to famous parents - but seem to be coping with his social handicap rather well.
It's time once again to bring in testimonies from other people at the Big Weekend, in the name of a more fully-rounded blog experience. There's a lot of Wombatty stuff, it seems.
For example, Fearne Cotton was very impressed to see that the Wombats had set up their own barbecue area in the car part, which they were calling - with the aid of a sign, no less - the Wombar. Personally I've have gone for Batbecue, but only because it sounds more superhero-y.
Fearne also told me she and Reggie had gone off to find the Black Kids, to tell them nice things about their performance, and found singer Reggie sat out in the sunshine reading the Sunday papers. How civilised!
The Wing Thing
If you haven't been listening to Scott Mills over the past few weeks, you might not understand what this next bit is about. And explaining it properly may be beyond the wit of mortal man. Course, that doesn't mean I won't give it a go...
Scott has adopted a singer from New Zealand called Wing. Her speciality is strangulated versions of classic songs, in a piercing, high-pitched voice. Because Wing has been such a large part of his show recently, Scott paid for her to be flown over, and arranged a special, intimate performance in the Introducing tent.
(I may be able to put some video of this up over the next couple of days, so bear with me.)
It's hard to believe, after all the fun and games from yesterday, that we're about to do it all again, but here I am, back in my office, covered in sun-cream, and ready to go.
I had a quick look around the site shortly after I arrived, marvelling at the amazing clean-up job which has taken a carpet of rubbish away. But some things have been left behind, and they tell a compelling, if confusing tale. For example, can anyone think of a good reason why, in the main stage area, there should be an orange cap from a Bic single-blade safety razor? No, me neither. And actually there are four or five of them. Does this mean that the Maidstone audience were afflicted with an emergency case of five o'clock shadow? Do Madonna's audience need to be so immaculately groomed that they shave and shape their hairs mere seconds before Her Madgesty takes to the stage?
The sun has finally gone down. Madonna has been, Madonna has gone.I have sunburned forearms from sitting and typing in the shade (it seems I should have put something called sun-cream on them. Who knew?) and someone, while trying to point out their very redness, has brilliantly referred to them as "arm-shins". That's very much the kind of day today has been. Weird stuff has happened, great stuff has happened, and people have turned all sorts of funny colours.
Things I Have Learned From Day One Of Radio 1's Big Weekend:
The door to one of the mobile studios - the one Fearne and Reg were using - is very hard to open. And can result in one of your celebrity DJs - naming no names - getting herself locked out for a disturbing long time.
So far, you've only heard my account of what's been going on here at the Big Weekend. But frankly, there's only so much interest anyone can wring out of me watching Dan Hipgrave - who used to be in Toploader, '90s fans - chat to Vernon Kaye, from a distance, and inventing dialogue between the two of them about their favourite haircare products. Actually, I think we may have already crossed that line.
So, here's some stories I have been told. Starting with a couple of famous faces.
Fearne and Reggie's time in the signing tent seems to have been eventful. First off it was 1pm, so it was baking in there. Then they were asked to sign two pairs of shoes, and THEN they were asked to sign something and address it to "Roger's toilet". This is apparently because a man called Roger has filled his downstairs bathroom with autographs, all addressed to his loo.
Sigh! I am now sitting at a picnic table in the backstage bar area, in the shade of a tree which is festooned with mirrorballs. I can hear Duffy performing an acoustic set from a nearby tent, and a few feet away, We Are Scientists and the Futureheads are congratulating each other on a tug of war well done (listen to Nick Grimshaw's show, if you don't know what I'm on about). It is very strange here, but also very charming.,
So far, I have seen only two bands performing music. Vampire Weekend and the Ting Tings. The rest of the time has been spent carting a little notepad around the site and making what Reggie Yates has described as "frighteningly neat little notes".
That's how ChartBlog rolls...
Welcome to my office!
OK, Here's how this is going to work. I'm at Radio 1's Big Weekend, sitting on the floor outside the Radio 1 online production office and watching people rush about, the place is ENORMOUS, there's simply far too much to take in, and the chances are very high that I will be a sole witness to something rather trivial and stupid on the wrong side of the site at the EXACT POINT that Usher trips Madonna up backstage, so, this is definitely going to have to be a fairly bitty, non-comprehensive, busked and personal account of the stuff I have seen or heard about.
That said, there's been a few interesting things which have already happened.
So, it's Friday afternoon, I'm in Maidstone, it's blazing hot, and I'm on my way to see what's going on at the One Big Weekend thing. I may be a while, so don't just sit and refresh the page endlessly, go and look at the One Big Weekend website, gawdsake..
I'll be putting stuff up on a fairly regular basis over the next couple of days, so be sure to come back and check, unless you'd rather not, or have a doctor's note. OK?
Lots of love
Fraser
We all have our quirky little habits, don't we? Things which we think are totally natural and understandable and normal, even though we're a little shy of describing what they are and what they entail in polite company, in case our nearest and dearest erect a hasty ducking stool and rush down to the village pond to start testing for signs of witchcraft.
Sam Duckworth - the very charming young man who is better known by his nomme du rock, Get Cape. Wear Cape. Fly - is no different from any of us in this regard. He might spend his evenings singing his heart out in front of adoring crowds, and generally living the pop star dream, but the rest of the time he's a garlic-smelling, unwashed lurgey monster, as a quick listen to this interview will confirm.
There are two things I feel I need to make absolutely clear at the start of this review. One is that I always try to review singles with an open mind, regardless of my opinions of the artist and their previous work, and I always try not to let whatever personal prejudices I might have interfere with the job at hand (whether I'm always successful in that area is quite another matter entirely). The other is that I was assigned this review, rather than requesting it, lest anyone thinks I deliberately sought this one out in order to trash it.
Look at this! Radio 1 seem to have perfected some kind of black magic, which can reduce a popular Scottish beat combo down to a tiny size, and then project them onto a folded sheet of paper. It is surely the work of fiendish hands, and can only be a bad thing for the eternal souls of anyone who falls under its pernicious spell.
On the other hand, OMG! MINI-FRATELLIS ON A MAGIC PAPER CARPET? THAT'S AMAZING!
And a very nice way to console anyone who can't come to One Big Weekend this, y'know, weekend.
This lot make being in a band look like the BEST FUN EVER and their songs are all riper than a massive, stinky vat of nine-year-old cider, most of which has been brewed in a shoe. That's a good thing.
Late Of The Pier - 'Focker'
Punishing synth-riffs, pop squeals, a selection of noises which change into other noises, a bit where the entire song stops, dissolves into feedback, then starts again, the same but different. What's not to love?
Some songs are very frustrating to review because you can't think of anything to say about them. This can be because there is nothing interesting in the song whatsoever, leaving you with feelings of resentment towards it, either for making you have to write something about it or just because you have no idea where to start writing about it.
Hey, you will NEVER GUESS what I'm doing this weekend. SRSLY!
Oh, it seems you will...what gave it away?
Anyway, yes, this weekend almost everyone from Radio 1 descends on Maidstone, armed with a massive array of equipment, presenters, stages, sandwiches, chairs...the lot. Oh and a bunch of pop stars so's we don't all get bored.
Not rubbish pop stars either. Really, really good ones. AND Madonna. It's going to be awesome!
In fact, the only way to improve things, to really take the even from being from 'Astonishingly Good' to 'We Need To Erect A Statue Here, To Remind Future Generations Of What Happened' would be some kind of live backstage (and frontstage) bloggery, where a man wanders the length and breadth of Mote Park, armed with little more than a laptop, a camera and a winning smile, recording the many bewildering sights, sounds, and smells he encounters.
I am that man, this is that blog. Keep your eyes on ChartBlog all weekend long...while listening to Radio 1, obv...
NOTE: Warning signs are very important, and you ignore them at your peril. People take these things very seriously indeed, especially the authorities. So if you're going to be all attitudinal and rebellious and write 'Riot!' on the wall, just so that you can pose in front of it, just be sure that you're not asking to be trampled flat by an army of men with perspex shields and night-sticks. That would be, like, SO uncool...
Oh so THAT'S where all the ideas for decent, upbeat, happy indie-type-rock-stuff have been all this time. Ida (pronounced Eeda) had them all along. Although she's clearly keen to get shot of them, as she's jammed them all into this one song...and whacked a bowler hat on, just for extra decoration. Your chances of ignoring her are therefore minimal, so you might as well relax and enjoy the ride.
OK, slightly over-dramatic headline there...but if you listen to the interview below, you'll understand.
The basic facts are these. Black Lips are a nicely scruffy band from the southern states of America, and they've got this great new song called 'Bad Kids'. It's a bit '50s doo-wop, a bit , and a bit scary street poetry about the state of teenagers in the modern world.
Due to its sweary nature, we had to ask for a clean version of the video, and we've got one. It's here...
...notice how the song's lyrics are mainly about pesky kids smashing things and doing grafitti and generally getting into trouble all the time for minor offences?
And notice also that the video-makers have chosen to illustrate this using news footage of angry gangs of youths facing off against riot police (that's RIOT POLICE! In TANKS!) with petrol bombs and bricks.
Not *quite* the charming depiction of teenage ne'er-do-wells which the band seem to have had in mind, is it?
"It was while working as a runner in a recording studio that Leon learnt his way round a mixing desk."
Good job too, you can really hurt yourself on those things if you hit them at full speed.
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Yes, yes, yes...so I've already written extensively about this song, twice. So what? Does that mean it doesn't deserve to get the full ChartBlog review treatment? No, it does not. Besides, it's Bank Holiday Monday today, and I was planning on having this on pretty much constant repeat all day long anyway, with maybe a little break here and there to play something by the Courteeners, as a sorbet to cleanse the palate. So, while it's on my mind and in my ears, here's some more thoughts about it...
AND IN WORD FORM, HERE'S THIS WEEK'S TOP 5:
1: Madonna ft Justin Timberlake - '4 Minutes'
2: Sam Sparro - 'Black And Gold'
3: Wiley - 'Wearing My Rolex'
4: Usher ft Young Jeezy - 'Love In This Club'
5: Estelle ft Kanye West - 'American Boy'
So, is this week's Top 5 a High Five! or a Denied!
I'm going to have to go with Denied! (again), because two of the songs really aren't getting any better with time.
Well, what a wild ride we've had out of this lot since their second album was released, eh? There was the whole "is emo misogynist?" ruckus - a point which Against Me! made in Kerrang! only the other week, by the way - then we had the situation which absolutely no-one was calling "Hayleylujah-gate". After that, there was the "what on Earth is 'CrushCrushCrush' all about?" conundrum, and then, right in the middle of the "hey, 'Misery Business' is out again, why?" situation, the band damn near split up. And then we did an interview with them.
And now they've got a new single out, from the SAME ALBUM!
Oh come on, Kelly, that's not fair! You know, Smokey Robinson once sang "a taste of honey is worse than none at all", and although he was singing about a one-night stand and not you, Kelly Rowland (or honey), his words have taken on an eerily prophetic air.
You went to all the effort to bring a massive '90s hip hop party jam beat, choir samples and all. Then laid on that Isley Brothers summery guitar, garnished with a guest rapper with something fun to say (about Paris Hilton) and a strong chorus that seems to really go somewhere...and then forgot to write a melody for the verses.
Look, it's the Delays, but what's that they're singing? Oh you guys!
Some music stirs something in you. A lot of music simply aspires to and ends up failing and making you hate it. Other times, though, a song or an album or a whole goddamn back catalogue grabs you and makes you feel a bit weak at the knees and wish it would maybe snog you.
Not totally like that, of course; sometimes that's just musical crushing, which is totally different. The thing I'm talking about is when songs are Romantic; like a truly stirring piece of philosophy or a piece of art, rather than like when your boyfriend brings you a cup of tea and some flowers. This is the sort of feeling you get when something suggests it's going to change everything. I can't help it, I'm a massive sucker for romanticised revolution and there's nothing more charismatic than the "come with me, it's us against the world" sentiment when expressed through exceptionally beautiful words or sounds.
Time for another wallow around the backwaters of your music collections, people, and this time we're going for a specific song to suit a very specific occasion.
I want you to imagine you're directing a film in which you've got a handsome hero-type man, and a beautiful lady and they've been through all sorts of crazy capers (these can either be funny capers or terrifically exciting and dramatic ones), only to come out the other side unscathed and very much in love.
The next scene in the film is the wedding scene, you know the kind of thing - white dress, dad, a slow walk up an aisle of some sort... It's a scene which has been played out in films many, many times, and frankly, by now, that 'Here Comes The Bride' thing is getting more than a little bit tired (for use within films, that is. In real weddings it's still lovely.).
"On the flip side of knocking on the big door of the mainstream, they're keeping their underground roots spreading with an astonishing Switch remix of album opener 'Hideaway' currently doing the rounds in the clubs."
Now, I know what this means. I can see that it means there's a remix and it's being played in indie venues. But am I alone in getting sleepy and confused about halfway through this sentence, and wanting a lie down and an aspirin by the end? Not exactly the reaction a press release is supposed to create, is it?
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I'll be honest. The idea of reviewing another of Kylie's comeback singles was not a major motivating factor in my getting out of bed today. 'Two Hearts' was alright, in a post-Outkast, post-Goldfrapp kind of way, but it seemed to cause a rift in Kylie's traditional fanbase. Then there was 'Wow'. A song which had the exact opposite effect. Hardcore fans were delighted, people who no longer take sugar in their tea found it a bit much. And now there's this.
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