ANDY NICE – THE SECRETS OF ME (FRONT AND FOLLOW)

ANDY NICE – THE SECRETS OF ME (FRONT AND FOLLOW)

Sometimes it takes the most traditional of instruments to make the most personal statement of music. The depth of one man not relying on the lazy method of speech to communicate is one that surprisingly speaks volumes in this case and example, echoing lost moments of pleasure and pain in a very non stifling or exclusive way.

In modern music history often the cello has appeared on the recordings of some of the greatest acts ever but only in a sneaky saboteur type role that fills out and lends weight and strength to the sound. Often it can appear to be something of a lazy gesture for an act to introduce a string section as it exploits the reality that it is an instrument that sits very uneasy in the centre stage, especially in more modern settings.

With this in mind seldom in modern composition, away from soundtracks and generic classical recordings, has the cello been given the breadth to lead in such a context and manner (indie/alternative). As a result Andy Nice stands out in this field inhabiting a similar sort of territory as the Dirty Three but in a more direct manner.

The comparatives that echo most in mind are a nod to the Penguin Café Orchestra at their most beautifully downbeat as well as the kind of score music that you will fortuitously often come across by accident in Asian movies such as In The Mood For Love and Sympathy For Lady Vengeance.

Spread over seven tracks Andy Nice is a true professional and dedicated veteran to his trade and has worked hard to earn his stripes as a master of his instruments. Currently part of the string section in The Tindersticks his musical resume includes Baader Meinhof, Cradle Of Filth and Sade.

The reflective nature and journey of the music on show serves as a perfect calming companion to the most contemplative of moments. Prozac on ice.

Thesaurus moment: meditative.

Andy Nice
Front And Follow

LA ROUX – BULLETPROOF (POLYDOR)

LA ROUX – BULLETPROOF (POLYDOR)

There is a weird kind of karaoke feel to this singles that finds itself horribly drenched in eighties synths and lame electronic pad drums that hardly serve to inspire or allow the listener to ever really be impressed with what is on offer.

The whole spiel about La Roux appears to be over he pointy her hair is today in a very “is she? Isn’t she?” kind of way.

I guess listened to from one angle aesthetically there is a kind of CSS or Ting Tings feel to the sound of the single but to compliment it there is just no edge or exoticness or absolutely anything in there to generate personal interest in La Roux in where she is from and what she is about. Instead the lyrical content is just some clichéd riddle about not being taken for a ride after being taken for a ride in the first place.

The single does however look impressive delivered as a seven inch square with no off cuts from the sides. This is not economic or ecologically friendly but crappy pop tat like this is never going to be. And then on the sleeve there is the squiggle that represents how La Roux has kindly autographed my copy to add the personal touch. What, they’re all autographed?

Lady Gaga this is not but there is a lot of money being pumped up her arsehole all the same.

Modern music hey, what you gonna do?

Thesaurus moment: synthetic.

La Roux
Polydor

CATS AGAINST THE BOMB – LONG DIVISION WITH REMAINDERS EP VERSION 4 (FRONT AND FOLLOW)

CATS AGAINST THE BOMB – LONG DIVISION WITH REMAINDERS EP VERSION 4 (FRONT AND FOLLOW)

Cats Against The Bomb is Adam Flood who originates from Ipswich and takes great joy in warping and distorting as many sounds as possible in as many directions as feasible.  In many ways he is trickster, taking true glee in mutating recognised motions and presenting them in corrupted form.

The offering here from CATB is the product of a collaboration with filmmaker Patio Sprintette and soundtracks his latest work, a short film entitled “A14: Massive Blowout”, which is very much an autobiographical work born of fear and a near death experience.

The EP begins with what appears to be the frenzied call of avian culprits, of birds in distress and what could well be a percolating rotator of despair awaiting them.  As such there is something almost cyber Hitchcock about what appears to be going on.  It’s a mystery for the listener to unravel.

Continuing the vibe of mystery track two begins with the feel of creeping footsteps before the sensation turns frenzied and in the background appears to be some kind of scream.  As the energy build bigger it also grows louder and the torment rises right upside the listeners grill.  By the mid point there is a sense of purgatory, of transition and a job being done.

The short sharp shock of the Cats Against The Bomb take on track 3 proves the shortest contribution to the project, the only to clock in at under a minute.  Within such economy comes tribulation and frustration, a gesture made at the expense of the listener.

Finally with track 4 comes one of the loudest takes of the project as the original string piece is lifting to the outer regions of the mix while as the cowbell rattles a frightening and foreign force encroaching on proceedings suggesting something very nasty about to happen at any moment.  Then suddenly it all calms, detaches like Roy Batty.

The EP ends.

Thesaurus moment: vicissitude.

Cats Against The Bomb

Cats Against The Bomb interview

Cats Against The Bomb live

Long Division With Remainders

Front And Follow

PETER DOHERTY – THE LAST OF THE ENGLISH ROSES (PARLOPHONE)

PETER DOHERTY – THE LAST OF THE ENGLISH ROSES (PARLOPHONE)

Endlessly entertaining it is always great to know that there is a new Pete Doherty record knocking around. Even if it doesn’t sound the greatest it is reassuring that you know some kind of occurrence is bound to happen soon. Here is a man who is both an officer and a gentleman.

I have to concede I never really liked Pete Doherty when he was popular. His music was shit and his fans idiots. The Libertines were never anything more than a bad UK version of The Stokes but it was Carl Barat evidently who was the deadwood in the pairing judging by the standard of subsequent bands and projects.

One of the best things that can be said about Pete Doherty’s solo material is basically that it doesn’t sound like The Libertines (or over Babyshambles for that matter). Here is a lounging and surprisingly lyrical run out that comes almost with a classical feel and more than a passing resemblance to The Auteurs although I cannot imagine Luke Haines would be too endeared by such a comparison as this lacks the darkness of his content. In comparison Pete seems happy to sing about gatherings and long for a sense of party and togetherness rather than anything too divisive.

Towards the end of the song as things become wonky it begins to sound like old Pete is beginning to speak in tongues, possibly due to some kind of skag withdrawal but as the mumbles clear slightly it appears he is just blabbering on in French. Bonjour!

He is not an English rose.

And at what point did Peter become Peter? At school my best friend was called Peter and ultimately I ended up turning on him like a true shit, treating him badly and bringing him down in order to keep me up (head above water). His mother used to pick on me. It just recently occurred to me that she might have been Asian but there is no one around to confirm this. Perhaps she is why I now desire Asian companionship, perhaps I always fancied Peter’s mum. She was a cook after all and here I am now working in a restaurant. In the long run it all comes together.

Thesaurus moment: indolently.

Peter Doherty
Parlophone

THE DOOMED BIRD OF PROVIDENCE – THE DOOMED BIRD OF PROVIDENCE (LAILY RECORDINGS)

THE DOOMED BIRD OF PROVIDENCE – THE DOOMED BIRD OF PROVIDENCE (LAILY RECORDINGS)

Despatched dark and dusty, a small part of the Australian outback has found itself transplanted and captured in London for this release.

Almost like a post-rock (spit!) take on Nick Cave And The Bad Seeds soliciting The Pogues with a little pinch of the Tiger Lillies this is a true soup of string drenched compositions being pierced by jarring Australian vocals sung in a near shanty style about topics such as murder and honour amongst thieves. The orchestration of the songs is such that you find yourself removed from your surroundings and driven to hell. If you have ever been to Australia and felt miniscule when faced by the darkness of nothing but hot stinking hateful territory then this is where this music is at. Flight Of The Conchords this most definitely is not (bloody Kiwis).

Of the four songs on offer the epic “Dorothy Handland” with its extended instrument section at dusk would not feel out of place sitting on a Dirty Three record.

As the release draws to a brooding conclusion it is with a sadness echoed by none and a future that feels uncertain depending on the conduct going forward of the band that judging by the lyrics may or may not scupper their fortunes. Personally I await their return/response with real anticipation.

It’s not only the bird that feels doomed at the outset of this record.

You call that a knife?

Thesaurus moment: guilty.

The Doomed Bird Of Providence
Laily Recordings