Some bands, it seems, don’t have to actually do very much to maintain a reputation. Granted, Massive Attack are coming from a strong position (and yes, we do call Blue Lines,
There’s an awful lot to love about Los Campesinos! even before they play a note. A staggeringly youthful seven piece from Cardiff, all boasting the surname Campesinos!, they have built their short career on doing things very much on their own terms.
There’s an awful lot to love about Los Campesinos! even before they play a note. A staggeringly youthful seven piece from Cardiff, all boasting the surname Campesinos!, they have built their short career on doing things very much on their own terms. Not that it’s done them any harm – finding a home on the über cool Arts & Crafts label and even getting the gig soundtracking a beer ad.
After a slightly odd detour with the We Are Beautiful, We Are Doomed album (limited release, no promotion), the follow up proper to debut Hold On Now, Youngster is upon us. Described as a set of songs about ‘death and football’, it sees the band once more teaming up with Fight Like Apes producer John Goodmanson. It’s a natural combination, although LC! Could learn a thing or two from the Dubliners when it comes to focussing an obviously hyper-active musical mind.
When it’s good, Romance Is Boring is fantastic. They’ve not changed much of their musical template, simply adding brass and the like to their already crowded sound, as well as introducing a more cynical outlook than in their early days. The spectre of doomed relationships dominates proceedings, seen from a youthful point of view that each one represents the end of the world. It’s a strange mixture of despair, anger and upbeat pop music that comes tearing out of the traps on the first few tracks – suggesting that this might be the release that sees them finally crystallise their often confused sound, demonstrated by uncharacteristically short song titles.
Having reached a peak with ‘Straight In At 101’, however, the old problems start to creep in. ‘I Warned You: Do Not Make an Enemy of Me’, ‘I Just Sighed. I Just Sighed, Just So You Know’ and ‘A Heat Rash in the Shape of the Show Me State; or, Letters from Me to Charlotte’ are as unwieldy as their titles suggest and the whole thing becomes hard going, the punk rock equivalent of a bunch of kids showing off on the top deck of a bus. Having seen what they are capable of when they are at their best it’s frustrating stuff, doubly so when they prove they can do subtle on the elegant closer ‘Coda: A Burn Scar in the Shape of the Sooner State’. Never boring it may be, but this is still another missed opportunity from Los Campesinos!
Release date: Jan 29th
Label: Witchita
Review by Phil Udell | OMG Entertainment | Leading Entertainment Website with Music, Fashion, Games, Films, Food, Drink, Reviews and Culture.
Album: Blacrok - Blacrok
It’s been said before (and it’ll do doubt be said again many, many times) but doesn’t hip-hop suck these days? Sure the genre has a come a long way from its roots but it’s those very roots that have been forgotten along the way. The chance of anything as mind blowing as the first Public Enemy or NWA records appearing from the world of overpaid, uninspired, creatively bankrupt artists that make up today’s rap elite is staggeringly unlikely. Even the movement’s current elder statesmen are past their prime by some distance.
Redemption in 2010 then was unlikely, and even more unlikely to come from a small, tatty studio in New York. It’s here, though, that the Blakroc project was born. It was here that blues rock duo The Black Keys came together with a succession of rappers over the course of eleven days. The result is one of the most astonishing hip-hop records to see the light of day in a while.
It’s not what you’d expect, given the Black Keys past dabbling in loud garage rock. The backing here is certainly guitar orientated but fused with a soulful sound and, as befits a band who worked with producer Danger Mouse, not short on the funk. Crucially though, it is a million miles away from manufactured beats that have come to dominate urban music in the US.
Not that this a small time project on the hip-hop side. Not all the vocalists may be household names but with Roc-A-Fella Records’ Damon Dash on board, the guest list is heavy on credibility – RZA, Ol’Dirty Bastard and Raekwon of the Wu-Tang Clan, Q Tip, Mos Def, Pharoahe Monch and Ludacris to name a few. If the accompanying videos are to be believed, all turned up on spec and wrote their tracks in the studio. The inspiration on the record is clear. If the lyrics offer little beyond a lot of ‘oh yeahs’ and shout outs to various people, the performances are of a higher standard.
Quite simply, this works. Rock and rap has had an uneasy relationship over the years (and yes, we’re looking at you Limp Bizkit) but Blakroc finds the two forms prepared to throw away the rule book and give something new a try. The hope that this might lead to a sea change is probably a forlorn one, yet for now this is the glimpse of what be.
With their second album, Vampire Weekend are on their own. When their self-titled debut came to us almost exactly two years ago, washed along by waves of blogging credibility and industry hype, it was perhaps hard to see the wood for the trees. The truth was that it was (and still is) a very good record indeed – drawing on unusual influences way outside of the normal indie guitar fare to produce a joyous, life affirming piece of work.
Now, however, we need to take Vampire Weekend and their new album at face value. They’ve still played the Internet game to some extent, leaking tracks here and there, but Contra catches us still in a post Christmas stupor, our attention more on new bands than anything as old hat as a second album. Such lethargy, though, is quickly dispelled by the opening ‘Horchata’. Gone are the African jit jive guitars, replaced instead by a subtle electronic feel that soon bursts into life in a manner not wholly dissimilar to a Dario G dance tune. Suddenly the ice and snow of the outside world melts into the background.
The track sets a tone. This is still Vampire Weekend, but not quite as we know them. ‘White Sky’ follows with the first sign of THAT guitar sound but, lest they turn into a 21st century Big Country, it doesn’t dominate. There’s more upbeat pop here, tied up in an off kilter time signature. Two songs in and Vampire Weekend 2.0 seems an awfully good idea. It’s then that they stumble. Any track titled ‘Holiday’ should be approached with caution (Madonna aside naturally) and indeed this is an unspectacular entry into the canon. ‘California English’ is similarly slight, the sound of a band on autopilot. Oh dear, perhaps we spoke too soon.
Thankfully, we didn’t. After this wobble, Contra simply soars. It does so, however, by concentrating on the low key. ‘Taxi Cab’ is quietly dramatic, with lyrics supposedly influenced by Joe Strummer. It’s lovely, based purely on an elegant piano line and synth backing. ‘Run’ ups the pace and returns them to familiar territory yet still with new elements musically. It seems that the band’s time spent on side projects such as Discovery and The Very Best album were well spent.
The messy ‘Cousins’ still jars a little with its odd rhythms but provides a welcome change of direction, as does ‘Giving Up The Gun’ – which gives it large on the hummablity factor. They close the record in stunning fashion with the M.I.A. tinged ‘Diplomat’s Son’ and the exquisite broken relationship ballad ‘I Think U R A Contra’. Like the Arctic Monkeys Humbug last year, Vampire Weekend’s return may prove tricky for some who took their debut to their hearts so readily and wished merely for more of the same. They should, however, take their time and give this record room to breathe, for once they get what Contra is about, they’ll really get it. Magical.
As befits a band of their long standing and status, Depeche Mode struck a balance between cross-generational crowd pleasing, artistic integrity and clever spatial awareness at the O2 on the Dublin date of their Tour of the Universe. Opening with 'In Chains' from the new album to the neon backdrop of Anton Corbijn’s digital screen art, the band engaged a very diverse crowd who seemed to know every word being sung. 'Walking In My Shoes', 'It’s No Good' and 'A Question of Time' followed soon after, from the band’s strong back catalogue, each shot through with subtle percussive adaptations to the big venue.
Through this and the mesmerising screen and lighting, the band really made use of the potential problem of all big gigs: the simple fact of the scale can feel impersonal and disconnected. The raw electronic throb of their live sound reinvigorated time-worn songs and could be felt intensely in the rib cages of thousands of fans from the pit to the back seats. The tone shifted somewhat when Martin Gore sang 'Home' accompanied by a respectful and impressive sing-along. Later came the energetic performances of 'I Feel You', 'Enjoy The Silence' and 'Never Let Me Down Again' before they went out on a raucous 'Personal Jesus' with a simple but fantastically sexually charged screen backdrop.
The crowd defied categorisation and the mix of competing and often inscrutable signals and aesthetic directions, although subtle, did often leave me wondering what exactly I was witnessing. It was as though the drunk gentleman behind me could read my thoughts when he shouted ‘Go on ya gayer!’ at the stage as Dave Gahan strutted across, hand on hip, in a small black leather waistcoat. This confused quality was no bad thing however, and it was, by turns, both an earnest and gloriously tacky performance of a peculiar and unique band who have dated well, remained relevant and still put on a great show.
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