MOG - John Madden's Posts

Don’t Call It A Comeback

John Madden — Tue, 30 Sep 2008 23:03:00 GMT

When I agreed to review James’ ‘Hey Ma’, I was excited to do it. James were one of those bands that was compulsively likeable when I was growing up and, despite not having paid much attention since their ‘Best of...’ compilation came out a few years back, I couldn’t wait to hear it. And then, I could. The minutiae of life piled up between overtime, home improvements and requests to pitch for other projects. My iPod stayed firmly, resolutely on the recently reacquired ‘Throwing Copper’ and ‘Vs.’ (a couple of all-time favourites) and ‘Hey Ma’ got pushed back a little, despite a promise not to dilly-dally. Then last week, during a brief quiet period in work, I pressed play on track one. And I smiled.

James for a while looked like being the also-ran of the Manchester music scene in the 80s and 90s. Formed in 1981, the band were part of a scene that exploded in the wake of Ian Curtis’ suicide. The Stone Roses, The Happy Mondays, New Order and later Oasis became household names; James almost didn’t until 1990’s ‘Sit Down’ became über popular in student and indie rock clubs, and one of the first chart hits for the band (a stint on a Heineken commercial didn’t hurt either). Despite a relative lack (and it really was just relative to their peers) of commercial success, they remained critical favourites; a lynchpin of Factory Records and a fixture at the legendary Haçienda club. Oh, and Nirvana (yes, that Nirvana) once supported them. This is not bad going for a band whose frontman would turn out to be a little off his rocker.

Tim Booth was the platonic ideal of a frontman at the time. Floppy haired, boyish and energetic he was initially hired for the band as a dancer before being promoted to singer. Booth always had ideas of the band being something bigger than the sum of their parts and as this ideology increasingly failed to take root, he started to explore side projects, most notably Booth and the Bad Angel, a musical experiment with composer Angelo Badalamenti. Acting stints later followed, notably in ‘Batman Begins’ (Booth also played Judas Iscariot in a version of the Passion set in contemporary Manchester for the BBC), but observers were remarking well before this on Booth’s and the band’s waning commitment to each other.

The band’s last previous studio album was seven years ago, and despite numerous interviews in which various members claimed that they were ‘all but’, there was never an official breakup. Rumours swirled about bad blood and creative differences, but when the band began (tentatively and sporadically at first) touring, and new material started popping up, there seemed to be some hope for reconciliation.

Present and immediately apparent on ‘Hey Ma’ are the jangly melodies and late 80s / Early 90s alterna-rock guitar sound – If you’ve heard James before it’s instantly recognizable as one of their albums; although rather than it being the sound of a band that hasn’t moved on, it’s a band that has taken everything they have learned over the years and applying it to what they do best. Lyrically, it’s clever, knowing and as naughty as ever (although if you want to know just how naughty they can get, track down the song ‘Laid’). Most of the songs are pared down, alliterative and it has to be said, more simple than before but there are still some gems ("I may as well try semaphore, As words no longer work" and about all of ‘Of Monsters and Heroes and Men’). I don’t know if you can ask more of a pop album than for it to stick in your head and make you wish you came up with the lines yourself.

2008 is when when I’ve been introduced to the sound of one of the few critical darlings I’ve felt has lived up to the hype (The National), three of my favourite bands have released new material (REM, Death Cab and The Hold Steady) and I’ve heard at least a dozen by bands and artists I’d never heard previously but now love dearly and staunchly advocate (The Pack AD and yes, Sam Phillips.) Even so ‘Hey Ma’ is now all but a certainty to stay in the top two or three albums I’ve heard this year.

As always, here’s the Track Listing:
Bubbles
Hey Ma
Waterfall
Oh My Heart
Boom Boom
Semaphore
Upside Down
White Boy
72
Of Monsters and Heroes and Men
I Want To Go Home

And Michael Goldberg is streaming ‘Bubbles’ here.

Dennis Sings The "Blues" - Again.

John Madden — Wed, 20 Aug 2008 21:19:55 GMT

One of the most jarring experiences I’ve ever had while listening to music was the first time I heard ‘Pet Sounds’. I was a relatively old 20, and my previous experience with the Beach Boys was a vinyl ‘Greatest Hits’ in my dad’s collection, which was pretty much completely devoted to the ‘Fun, Fun, Fun’, ‘Surfin’ USA’ type stuff. But a guy in college, during an extended and meandering conversation told me I needed to hear ‘Pet Sounds’ and read ‘Bury My Heart At Wounded Knee’, so I went out and bought both.

Both completely and utterly blew my mind. ‘Wounded Knee’ is a story for another time and maybe another blog, but ‘Pet Sounds’ stunned me. I’d never, ever heard an album so different from what I expected. These were the Beach Boys as I had never heard them – I loved it, but it was unexpected to me (although the most surreal and unexpected moment I’ve had involving a Beach Boy was seeing Brian Wilson perform the Barenaked Ladies song ‘Brian Wilson’.) I don’t know – maybe I’m the only one who felt this.

Having been through that, I thought I knew what to expect from ‘Pacific Ocean Blue’, the recently reissued solo album by Beach Boy Dennis Wilson. Originally released in 1977, it was the first solo project by any of the band. Dennis had been attempting to record a solo album since 1970, and whereas the bulk of the album was recorded between autumn 1976 and spring 1977, several tracks (including album opener ‘River Song’ and the title track) have their origins in the earlier sessions, as well as in sessions for Beach Boys albums during the period. The problem with the latter works is that the songs don’t really sound like the Beach Boys.

But this isn’t a Beach Boys album. It’s absolutely of its time and has aged dramatically in parts. The piano on ‘River Song’ is ‘Tiny Dancer’ era Elton John; there’s disco-funk bass on songs like ‘Dreamer’ and Pacific Ocean Blue’; Eagles and Gram Parsons type desert rock on ‘Moonshine’, ‘Rainbows’ and Only With You’ and even a toe dipped in Bonzo Dog Doo Dah territory on ‘What’s Wrong’. It could easily be the soundtrack to an ‘Almost Famous’ sequel (Cameron Crowe, if you’re reading this, call me. I got ideas.) But at the same time as departing from a trademark Beach Boys sound, there’s also a distinct sense that this is a surf album – not in the same vein as the ‘Surfin’ Safari’ Beach Boys or even the nice guy surf folk of Jack Johnson. It’s a bleaker, solitary surf rock evoking a lone longboard on a dark beach.

Lyrically, the album floats between the quasi-religious ("I know a carpenter who had a dream / Killed the man but you couldn't kill the dream") and the out-and-out hippie-ish (Earth opens up its arms for me / When you get the feelin'/ The feelin' everything's all right alright / And I want you to know / I love you I love you so") but for the most part it’s simple and straightforward songwriting, and whereas a few tracks are credited to Dennis Wilson alone, much of it was written with producer Greg Jakobson; as well as with Beach Boys Carl Wilson and Mike Love and then-wife Karen Lamm, among others. Dennis’ voice is the key to the songs; rougher and scratchier than it had been on work with the Beach Boys, but far more suited to the introspective, mature sound that ‘Pacific Ocean Blue’ is going for.

This being a 30th anniversary reissue of ‘Pacific Ocean Blue’, it includes a disc of songs intended for ‘Bambu’, the never-released follow-up album. I don’t know that it’s as accessible as ‘Pacific Ocean Blue’, for a lot of the songs the only thing you can really say is that they’re interesting. It’s a harder album to get your head around. The vocals aren’t always coherent and in many places there’s a heavier reliance on booming piano notes than there is on ‘Pacific Ocean Blue’. At the very end of the disc, though, there’s a surprisingly (or not surprisingly, depending on your point of view) good revision of ‘Pacific Ocean Blue’ track ‘Holy Man’ featuring vocals by Foo Fighters drummer Taylor Hawkins (the original track is instrumental.) Hawkins voice and lyrics are a distinct and enjoyable finish to a flawed but still classic album. But bear in mind, ‘Pacific Ocean Blue’ is remembered as a lost classic – ‘Bambu’ is not.

Track Listing:

As always, here’s the track listing for the two disc set. For your hard earned cash you also get liner notes written by Beach Boys scholars such as David Leaf, Jon Stebbins, Ben Edmonds and David Beard, photographs by Wilson's close friend, Jan & Dean's Dean Torrence. There’s also an option to purchase a multi-LP, 180 gram blue vinyl version, available on the Sundazed label.

Disc One - Pacific Ocean Blue
1. "River Song"
2. "What's Wrong"
3. "Moonshine"
4. "Friday Night"
5. "Dreamer"
6. "Thoughts of You"
7. "Time"
8. "You and I"
9. "Pacific Ocean Blue"
10. "Farewell My Friend"
11. "Rainbows"
12. "End of The Show"
13. "Tug Of Love"
14. "Only With You"
15. "Holy Man" [instrumental]
16. "Mexico"

Disc Two: Bambu (The Caribou Sessions)
1. "Under The Moonlight"
2. "It's Not Too Late"
3. "School Girl"
4. "Love Remember Me"
5. "Love Surrounds Me"
6. "Wild Situation"
7. "Common"
8. "Are You Real"
9. "He's A Bum"
10. "Cocktails"
11. "I Love You"
12. "Constant Companion"
13. "Time For Bed"
14. "Album Tag Song"
15. "All Alone"
16. "Piano Variation on Thoughts Of You"
17. "Holy Man (Taylor Hawkins Version)"

Conor Oberst is Still Bright Eyed and a Tortured Soul

John Madden — Mon, 04 Aug 2008 23:21:26 GMT

‘Conor Oberst’ is not, as some would have you believe (I’m looking at you, Metro newspaper) the debut solo album from, well, Conor Oberst. It’s the fourth one, and that’s not even counting the work he’s done with Bright Eyes, Commander Venus, Desaparacidos and Park Avenue (of which I count a combined fourteen albums, but feel free to correct me in the comments). It seems, in fact, that the number one thing that ‘Conor Oberst’ wants you to know about Conor Oberst (see the difference?) is that he’s prolific. Conor Oberst has been around the block, and knows what’s going on. Or does he?

‘Conor Oberst’ was recorded over January and February 2008 in Tepozltán, Mexico by Conor Oberst and The Mystic Valley Band (which was initially reported to include Oberst’s old friend M. Ward). At first listen, it’s almost a straight up sequel to last year’s Bright Eyes album, ‘Cassadaga’ – though in this case rather than a straightforward embrace of the spiritualism and mysticism embodied by ‘Cassadaga’s eponymous community, Oberst is torn. The songs are speckled with Springsteenian travel imagery of old muscle cars in small seaside towns ("Hey, hey, hey mother interstate/Can you deliver me from evil?" on opener ‘Cape Canaveral; "smell the leather of your new car/ drive through the desert after night fall" on ‘Sausalito’ and "Now they drive the cars up and down the beach/It's ridiculous and everybody knows/Hear the Mustangs rev at the four way stop/You get ghosted when the light says go" on ‘Get Well Cards’) are sung with warring affection and bitterness in Oberst’s voice.

Fittingly, for a solo album, ‘Conor Oberst’ is more personal than previous Bright Eyes albums. There’s less of the biting social commentary or political motivations that Bright Eyes became known for in the wake of ‘I’m Wide Awake, It’s Morning’ – although during the recording, Oberst played shows in support of Barack Obama – and the album becomes, like ‘Cassadaga’, more about individual journeys than popular ones. He doesn’t want to save your soul, just his own.

In some cases, like with the Bruce-style lyrics above, the journeys are literal. ‘Moab’ proclaims that "there’s nothing that the road cannot heal"; ‘Eagle on a Pole’, ‘Sausalito’ and ‘Valle Místico’ seem to imply that Conor and Co. went to Mexico to get away from it all be healed – like it was as much a pilgrimage as a recording excursion. (The latter song, by the way, is 49 seconds of insects and what sounds like a shepherd’s horn.)

The distinctive adolescent crack of Oberst’s voice that once again make this album (like with Bright Eyes before this) stand out from the rest of the folky, alt-country crowd. "Stop reading the weather charts/Stop counting the playing cards/There's no system, there's no guarantee/ That the love you feel and carry inside can be passed" he tells (or is told by?) a terminally ill child on ‘Danny Callahan’, and he genuinely sounds like he’s going to cry. This isn’t always a good thing – Oberst’s voice, for it’s emotive weight and distinctive breaks can come across as petulant and whiny after a while. But get past that and it’s where the album shines – it’s not about seeing the big picture or saving the world – it’s just a guy, who wants to redeem himself and doesn’t know how.

*

Conor Oberst and the Mystic Valley Band will be playing a bunch of festivals over the next three months, including Reading and Leeds in England, Electric Picnic here in Ireland, Connect in Scotland, Austin City Limits in the US and Great Escape in Sydney Australia. You can stream ‘Danny Callahan’ by going to Michael Goldberg’s MOG page, here.

As always, here's the track listing:

1. "Cape Canaveral"
2. "Sausalito"
3. "Get-Well-Cards"
4. "Lenders in the Temple"
5. "Danny Callahan"
6. "I Don’t Want to Die (In the Hospital)"
7. "Eagle on a Pole"
8. "NYC - Gone, Gone"
9. "Moab"
10. "Valle Místico (Ruben’s Song)"
11. "Souled Out!!!"
12. "Milk Thistle"

Don't Do Anything

John Madden — Thu, 24 Jul 2008 23:19:50 GMT

Every line of influence passes straight through Sam Phillips. In her own music there’s shades of Patti Smith and Cyndi Lauper and Billie Holliday, Bobbie Gentry and Emmylou Harris and Martha Reeves. In turn you can hear Sam in Neko Case and Leslie Feist and Nicole Atkins; even Sarah McLachlan and yes, Scarlett Johannson owe something of their sounds to Ms. Phillips.

With so much influence before and after, it’s easy to find something to love about ‘Don’t Do Anything’, Sam Phillips’ eighth solo album under that name – she has another five under her given name Leslie Phillips (these figures include a best-of compilation under each name). It’s also her first without her longtime producer and now ex-husband, T-Bone Burnett – the two divorced during the making of 2004’s ‘A Boot And A Shoe’. It’s raw, emotional and resigned. ‘Don’t Do Anything’ is what recently divorced probably sounds like (Sam produced this one herself.)

The sad part about it is that Sam’s extensive influence may be her own downfall. There’s so much out there now that’s so similar to ‘Don’t Do Anything’ that it’s hard to seperate it out. It’s a grown up pop sound that frankly everyone is attempting to some degree or another, and with varying degrees of success. Admittedly there are some nice, distinct touches – I don’t think anyone does lo-fi as well as it’s done on this album; it feels like it was recorded in a packed out attic where just about everything Sam could lay her hands on. The result is a smart, decade spanning pop sound; it’s ‘adult’ and ‘contemporary’ writ large.

The album is a packed out attic of the heart, too, managing to be bitter and hopeful and resigned and joyful all at once. The emotional displays are guarded, tempered by a kind of sardonic wit that says Sam’s seen it before, been let down by it before and isn’t going to let it get her down again.

This album was nothing like I expected. When I write these reviews I tend to, after a quick listen, try to get some background before I listen again and to be honest I jumped to the sort of conclusions that I’d argue any male would – an album by a recent divorcee with longstanding ties to the TV show ‘The Gilmore Girls’? Yeah, I’ll be over here with my copy of ‘Stay Positive’. But it’s not like that. It’s sad in parts, to be sure, but there’s nothing whiny, nothing down-in-the-dumps, nothing ‘Pint-of-Ben-and-Jerry’s-Half-Baked-and-Harry-Nillson’s-‘Without-You’-on-repeat’ about it at all.

Sam goes to great pains to remind the listener that T-Bone isn’t around anymore. The album’s filled with jabs (lines like "I’d rather be alone than with someone who doesn’t know) and parries ("I thought if he understood he wouldn’t treat me this way"); admittedly not necessarily fightin’ words, but I can’t imagine her wanting to remain friends either. You have to wonder if the inclusion of "Sister Rosetta Goes Before Us", which appeared on the Burnett produced ‘Raising Sand’ album by Robert Plant and Alison Krauss, is an act of defiance.

I said it before, I’ll say it again – there’s so many Sam Phillips soundalikes from either before or after her time that it’s hard to differentiate this at first listen. But it would be a real shame if this one got lost. It may, through no fault of it’s own, be indistinct from its peers and admirers – but I’ll be damned if it’s not one of the better ones.

As always, here’s the track listing:

1. "No Explanations"
2. "Can't Come Down"
3. "Another Song"
4. "Don't Do Anything"
5. "Little Plastic Life"
6. "My Career in Chemistry"
7. "Flowers Up"
8. "Sister Rosetta Goes Before Us"
9. "Shake It Down"
10. "Under the Night"
11. "Signal"
12. "Watching Out of This World"

All Apologies

John Madden — Thu, 24 Jul 2008 23:15:55 GMT

Sooo... nice one, John. Right after you write this gushing post about how you're not taking time off from MOG, despite the fact that work is piling up around you, your house is a mess and you have an increasingly pregnant wife to look after, you disappear for a month. Great. Madden, you suck.

I know. But I'm back! Again. I genuinely miss this place when I'm gone and I get a tingly sensation in my fingers when I've left it too long between posting my bizarre and often disjointed rants.

And speaking of disjointed, please stand by for a less than brilliantly written review of Sam Phillips' recent 'Don't Do Anything', which I'll be posting in a few minutes. I'll do better next time. And I won't leave it so damn long, either.

N-n-n-n-nineteen

John Madden — Tue, 24 Jun 2008 21:54:14 GMT

It can’t be easy when you’re hailed as the new someone-who’s-still-around. It bugs me as a listener - The View were the new Kooks who were the new Arctic Monkeys, all before the Monkeys had a second album out. And is ‘the new Winehouse’ really a compliment?

Adele doesn’t seem to mind, though presumably because the comparison is more to do with musical styles than an accusation of being volatile, unreliable and on drugs. The London born 20 year old, whose debut album, ‘19’ hit US shelves on June 10th (though it’s been out in the UK since January) is one of a number of so-called ‘Blue Eyed Soul’ singers, particularly female ones, who have been emerging from the UK in recent years, including Duffy, Katie Melua and the proverbial 500 lb. gorilla, Amy Winehouse.

"The whole album is about being between 18 and 19, about love," she told the [London] Times. "It’s quite a sad album, with songs about being cheated on and not getting what you want." This is something of an understatement when you consider that the album kicks off with ‘Daydreamer’, a song about her bisexual ex-boyfriend who left for another man. The lyrics are, as the name suggests, dreamy – "But I will find him sittin’ on my doorstep/Waiting for the surprise" – it’s not an ‘I Will Survive’ good-riddance type song; it’s an ‘I miss you’ song – she’s dreaming of the day he comes home.

Okay – we have to get it out of the way, seeing as every other article about Adele mentions it – she’s not what you’d call waif-like. I’d read this before ever seeing a picture of her and was expecting someone resembling a cartoon opera singer. She wavers, apparently between a size 14 and 16 (16, in fact, is the UK average). So she’s not Keira Knightley, but she’s not that guy from Bowling For Soup, either.

Lyrically, yes, it’s not the happiest album out there. First single ‘Chasing Pavements’ is about not running away from problems; ‘Best For Last’ is almost a love-song to futility ("Why is it everytime I think I've tried my hardest/It turns out it ain't enough cause you're still not mentioning love"). The album also includes a cover of Bob Dylan’s ‘Make You Feel My Love'.

Adele (Adkins, by the way) has made a name for apparently being influenced by the likes of Dusty Springfield and Etta James, although she’s quick to qualify that with her own preferences. "The difference between me and all the other girls out there at the moment is that I’m just writing pure love songs. I’m a pop girl," she told ‘The Sun’ in England. "Apart from a short stint of being into rock bands I was always into pure pop music. I love Destiny’s Child and The Spice Girls." Poppy as ‘19’ is, though, it’s a far, far cry from the girl bands she cites.

The album is a fine arrangement of jazz and soul influences with a distinctly 21st century spin. Drum and string and horn arrangements are expertly distilled into sharp and concise loops. Jim Abbiss and reigning production wünderkind Mark Ronson man the desks, and provide just the right polish to an already strong album.

The bluesy, jazzy tone of ‘19’ is different enough to grab your attention and hold it. There’s a quality to it that makes it sound like it should be heard through three cigarettes worth of smoke and a two martini buzz, ideally being sung from on top of a spot-lit piano. It won’t cheer you up. But it’s perfect for the times when you don’t want to be cheered up.

Tracklist:
1.   Daydreamer
2.   Best For Last
3.   Chasing Pavements
4.   Cold Shoulder
5.   Crazy For You
6.   Melt My Heart To Stone
7.   First Love
8.   Right As Rain
9.   Make You Feel My Love
10.   My Same
11.   Tired
12.   Hometown Glory

There’s also a version with a ‘Live At The Hotel Café’ Bonus Disc. Here’s what’s on it:
1.   Right As Rain
2.   Melt My Heart To Stone
3.   My Same
4.   That’s It, I Quit, I’m Moving On (Sam Cooke cover)
5.   Chasing Pavements

Finally, there's a set recorded for ‘Billboard’ Magazine, which you can see here.

Parental Advisory, or I ain't going nowhere.

John Madden — Tue, 24 Jun 2008 13:08:36 GMT

Hi Boys and Girls,

A brief interlude into the not quite music related, but I've been, to quote the Sounds, dying to say this to you.

with the recent spate of disappearances and hiatuses (Hiati? Do we have a stylebook ruling for this?), including one of my personal faves, Bartleby, I wanted to clear the air and answer a question i've been asked by a few non-Moggers lately.

Yes, I'm sticking around. Yes, I'm going to try and still have time for this.

Out of context, this is a pretty random statement. Let me explain.

Whereas ordinarily I'd be spending this summer bitching and moaning about how both Death Cab For Cutie and the Foo Fighters have opted to skip Dublin (or Ireland at all) on their recent tours; I've been a little preoccupied, and have been keeping (mostly) quiet. I've still been bitching and moaning, but it's been tempered by one little thing.

Come November, I'm going to be a daddy.

I fully intend for it to be business as usual here at mog.com/john_madden, although once the kid (we're not finding out in advance if it's a he or a she) is born, more and more posts may be written in a severely sleep deprived state. This may mean an improvement in my writing. Right now apart from the bizarre combination of optimism and paranoia that fills every waking minute, I'm working hard on getting my priorities in order. Finding some way of getting a shorter commute (I currently spend around four hours a day travelling to and from work) is high up there, but rest assured (or be warned - your choice), I'll still be here.

Admittedly, this was at least partially an excuse to shout it from the rooftops, but it's nice to clear things up.

Watch this space for another review later today...

Peace, Love and Understanding,

REM do CCR

John Madden — Wed, 18 Jun 2008 13:03:21 GMT

Stereogum (who I just noticed refer to our own Michael Goldberg as 'One of the cool kids') have posted video of R.E.M. performing 'Hollow Man' on 'The Colbert Report'. It's a pretty solid performance, but the highlight on the page is some Youtube footage from Jones Beach, where the band preceded 'So Central Rain' with a cover of Creedence Clearwater Revival's 'Have You Ever Seen The Rain?'

Seeing as these are two of my favourite songs ever, I feel the need to post the video here:

Chris and All His Friends

John Madden — Tue, 17 Jun 2008 19:50:27 GMT

The biggest problem with Coldplay is that nobody seems able to accurately judge how good or bad they are. Put ‘Coldplay+boring’ or ‘Coldplay+brilliant’ into Google and you get almost the same (at least on the scale of the internet) number of results. For every review proclaiming them as ‘the next U2’ (and there are many- do a Google search for this, too - I’m trying to convince myself Gwyneth Paltrow didn’t write any of them), there’s a Chuck Klosterman piece calling them "a mediocre photocopy of Travis (who sound like a mediocre photocopy of Radiohead)."

I’m guilty of this myself – I’ve had conversations with people in which I’ve decried the London four-piece as ‘boring’ and complained that they’re taking up the airplay time for better piano-and-guitar led rock bands. Generally, immediately after one of these rants I’ll feel compelled to listen to ‘A Rush of Blood To The Head’. Now, however, I’m likely to put on ‘Viva La Vida.'

The album opens with ‘Life In Technicolor’, a short instrumental straight from the Explosions In The Sky playbook, and then it’s business as usual for Coldplay. Musically, they never really stray far from the tried and tested formula that’s worked on the previous three albums. There’s a handful of moments where it gets more experimental – ‘Yes’ shows shades of prog-rock; ‘Strawberry Swing’ is punctuated with African drums. The lyrics, especially on the title track, veer towards the religious at times – "For some reason I can't explain/I know Saint Peter won't call my name" is lightweight stuff by comparison to some of the other lines.

A lot has been made of Coldplay’s attempts to reinvent themselves on ‘Viva La Vida.’ Chris Martin’s recent hip-hop collaborations with Jay-Z and Kanye West, along with his statement that ‘Viva La Vida would make it "OK for a 16-year-old to say they like Coldplay in the playground" were self-conscious and self-promoting signals of intent for a new, different album. The sound is just different enough from ‘Parachutes’, ‘A Rush of Blood to the Head’ and ‘X&Y’ to let you know that this is different; that they’re trying something new – and it almost works.

At it’s best, ‘Viva La Vida’ is a perfect example of what a decent band and a great producer can do –for this outing, Coldplay have recruited Brian Eno (who should save music writers the trouble and change his name to ‘The Legendary Brian Eno’) for production duty – on the sleeve notes this is called ‘sonic landscapes’ – and it shows. Almost every track has a dreamy, synth-infused sound of the sort that Eno does perfectly.

It’s melodic pop done right; just enough electronica and just enough old school charm to make a smart, accessible and easily enjoyable album. But it’s a difficult balance to achieve and sometimes it backfires -‘42’ for example, sounds like a four minute reduction of ‘X&Y’. With that said, the title track – from the Apple commercial (although arguably it’s more of a Coldplay commercial with an Apple logo in it), doesn’t exactly break new ground either, and that will be going through my head for weeks.

I’m really enjoying this album. I think it’s very, very good. But it’s not going to settle any arguments. It’s already one of the fastest selling albums of all time, it’s gone platinum in the UK after just three days on release, and it’s already resulted in a plagiarism claim. But when all is said and done the exact same number of people are going to think Coldplay are awesome, and the exact same number are going to be put to sleep by them.

If you’re approaching this from the point of view of an existing Coldplay fan – however strongly you feel about them – it’s a strong, entertaining and fantastically done album. If, like my sister, you feel that previous Coldplay albums should have come with a ‘may induce coma’ warning label, well… try and land on something soft.

The Where and When of The Who

John Madden — Wed, 21 May 2008 23:40:52 GMT

I love The Who. I love them like I’m far too young to, like a man twice my age. I don’t even remember them properly – Keith Moon died when I was six months old (almost to the day) and prior to the release of 2006’s ‘Endless Wire’, they’d only released three studio albums in my lifetime. In fact – and this is kind of my point here– ‘Endless Wire’ arguably wasn’t even The Who. It was The Who Minus Two, Roger Daltrey and Pete Townshend trotting out the name for another hurrah.

But what The Who, at least in the Entwistle and Moon heyday, have always done is Rock and Roll, the way it’s supposed to be. The way it influenced Iron Maiden and Pearl Jam, Blur, Oasis and Green Day. The way it inspired covers by WASP and the Breeders, Limp Bizkit, the Scorpions and um... Hilary Duff. The way it all but invented the Rock Opera as we know it.

And that’s the version of the Who that we get on ‘View From A Backstage Pass’. If you’ve been following Michael Goldberg’s posts over the past couple of weeks, you’ve probably gotten to hear some of the songs. At the risk of sounding like an infomercial, you get all the hits, and more. It’s the Who at the height of their powers: it’s all live recordings from 1969 to 1976, at a variety of venues from The Grande Ballroom in Detroit and The Civic Auditorium in San Francisco to Charlton Athletic Football Club in London.

The Who’s live energy is legendary – even if you’ve never seen them, a listen to ‘Live At Leeds’ (arguably the all time great live album) hints at the sheer power of rock. Townsend’s guitar windmills, Daltrey’s voice, the seemingly unstoppable forces of Moon and Entwistle; these discs capture the Swinging London swagger, the bad boy attitude, the pre-punk snarl of dissent.

The only real weak point to ‘View From A Backstage Pass’ is coherence: this is not a concert album as such, it’s a live ‘Best of’. There’s little to tie the tracks together and get a feel for a Who show of the era. Whereas you might – and in all likelihood, do – get two songs from the same show, it’s difficult to tell if you’re getting an end and a beginning, or two from the middle. Maybe that’s a compliment to the relentless nature of the shows at the time.

On a song-by-song basis, though, it’s flawless. The versions are just different enough to bring something new to the table for all but the most hardcore Wholigans; and yet familiar enough as not to be off-putting to the casual fan – Daltrey and Co. never really subscribed to the Adam Duritz school of random lyric/pitch/tempo/song changes, so you can sing along in the car and not get caught out wondering what happened to the song you know and love. With that said, there’s a tremendous slowed-down bluesy rendition of ‘My Generation’ as part of a three song medley on Disc 2.

I don’t begrudge Daltrey and Townshend their continued use of ‘The Who’ as a trademark. They’ve earned the right to use it; from the little I’ve seen of their more recent performances they’re still putting heart and soul into their concept of Maximum R&B. But for the ‘real’ Who; the band that allegedly trashed hotel pools and Rolls Royces (though the book ‘The Who In Their Own Words’ reports it as a Lincoln Continental) at the same time: accept no Subsitutes.

‘View From A Backstage Pass’ is a fan-club only release, so at present it will set you back $50 (31 Euro, or £25, plus change if you’re this side of the Atlantic). Although for that you’ll get membership of the Who Fan Club, including a t-shirt and full access to all the videos and music on the official site for a year. It’s steep, but for a lot of you, it’s well worth it.

26 Tracks on 2 Discs ¬– here’s what you get: 1. Fortune Teller 2. Happy Jack 3. I’m A Boy 4. A Quick One... 5. Magic Bus 6. I Can’t Explain 7. Substitute 8. My Wife 9. Behind Blue Eyes 10. Bargain 11. Baby Don’t You Do It 12. The Punk and The Godfather 13. 5.15 14. Won’t Get Fooled Again 15. Young Man Blues 16. Tattoo 17. Boris The Spider 18. Naked Eyes/Let's See Action/My Generation Blues 19. Squeeze Box 20. Dreaming From The Waist 21. Fiddle About 22. Pinball Wizard 23. I’m Free 24. Tommy’s Holiday Camp 25. We’re Not Gonna Take It 26. See Me Feel Me/Listening to You

It's Always Sunny in Minneapolis

John Madden — Thu, 15 May 2008 23:34:21 GMT

A quick note: I’ve been doing just album reviews lately, and I really wanted to do something on a live show. So what follows is a short, spontaneous and disjointed bit on The Hold Steady at The Academy, Dublin on May 13th. Sorry if it’s repetitive and/or incoherent…

Craig Finn is clearly delighted to be here. As he and the rest of the Hold Steady plug in their instruments he welcomes The Academy crowd to the first night of the tour and introduces his parents, somewhere down the back and over from Minneapolis, Minnesota to celebrate their fortieth wedding anniversary. In the thirty or so seconds it takes for him to get through this and into the opening bars of ‘Stuck Between Stations’, he’s practically giddy. It’s going to be a good night. I’ve seen the Hold Steady before. I saw them support the Rolling Stones last summer, outdoors at Slane Castle with a freezing rain soaking everyone while they played on, oblivious as to whether anyone was listening and playing as if to a small but rapt audience instead of fifty thousand people killing time before Mick and Keith come out. I wondered back then what the hell it would be like to see them in a venue they can completely take over.

The Academy, an erstwhile nightclub/theatre/venue on Dublin’s Abbey Street is, all told, a pretty decent place to see a band like the Hold Steady. The room we’re in is tiny – it’s maybe a third the size of the open plan office I work in (population – about 80) and looks for all the world like fictional nightspot The Bronze from ‘Buffy The Vampire Slayer.’ If there’s anywhere in this city to see what has been described as ‘America’s Bar Band’, it’s here. Dinosaur Jr. played here the previous night. Black Rebel Motorcycle Club will play the next. Its rock credentials are in order.

Which is why The Hold Steady are so easily able to raise the roof here. The show has an almost religious fervor to it; bolstered by the sleeve-worn Springsteen influences (Springsteen shows have been referred to as ‘The Church of Bruce’) and the heavy Christian imagery in many of the songs. The crowd is not only screaming back the “whoa-oh-oh-oh” refrains on ‘Massive Nights’ but lines like “Damn right, He’ll rise again” from ‘Your Little Hoodrat Friend’. Finn clearly relishes the Frontman-as-Preacher role, injecting drama into the songs by acting out the conversations imagined therein with hand gestures, shrugs and exaggerated facial expressions. This is a spotlight and a pulpit.

The band plays songs from the first three albums – ‘Almost Killed Me’, ‘Seperation Sunday’ and ‘Boys and Girls in America’, as well as previewing a couple of tracks from the forthcoming ‘Stay Positive’. The overriding themes of debauchery, redemption, Catholicism, sex, drugs and rock and roll are all there. Or as my sister Caroline put it after the show, “They sure have a lot of songs about getting high.” The new songs sound pretty solid – at least a darker vision of what has come before. Regular characters Gideon, Charlemagne and Holly aka Hallelujah are at least referred to, and there are some lyrical and musical nods to previous albums.

Finn’s enthusiasm is as unshakeable as the crowd’s, and as the energy level rises so does the volume. By the end of it all he’s practically screaming lyrics in the microphone, and they’re being screamed back zealously. After an hour and a half, Finn says his goodbyes and the band play traditional closer, ‘Killer Parties’, pausing between verses to give thanks to family, friends and the audience. “Minneapolis, Minnesota,” says Finn. “Brooklyn, New York. Dublin, Ireland. We’re all… The Hold Steady.”

Sunny Disposition

John Madden — Wed, 14 May 2008 20:26:42 GMT

Just a brief interlude between reviews to introduce you to The Kanyu Tree.

The Kanyu Tree are brothers Daniel, Shane and Oisin McCluskey, a boyband-handsome trio from Galway, Ireland who do jangly, melodic summery rock - imagine 'Surfin' USA' era Beach Boys covering 'Out Of Time' era R.E.M. and you're probably not too far off the mark.

If you were at The Hold Steady in The Academy last night, you'll probably have seen these dudes supporting. They well and truly rocked the joint and deserve a wider audience. So, for your listening pleasure, here's their song 'Tanglewood'.

They're on MySpace and will be playing the Village in Dublin on May 28th, as well as a few other dates around the country.

Taking The 'Stairs' Is Hard Work - But Rewarding.

John Madden — Thu, 08 May 2008 22:57:07 GMT

‘Narrow Stairs’ is not an easy album to love. In fact, as soon as it was over, I had to listen to it again. And then again. Because I was afraid something had happened. I was afraid I was right. Quotes like this were floating around: ”Thus far it’s pretty weird, and pretty spectacular; lots of blood. It’s creepy and heavy… We’ve got a ten minute long Can [German experimental band – JM] jam.”

- Chris Walla on hallofjusticerecording.com

and:

“It's really weird. It's really, really good, I think, but it's totally a curve ball, and I think it's gonna be a really polarizing record.” - Chris Walla to Billboard Magazine

and:

"I just don't feel like we really have anything to prove of it other than to ourselves and to making a record we really enjoy."

- Ben Gibbard on deathcabforcutie.com

This sort of thing scared the bejesus out of me. I didn’t want weird, or polarizing or creepy. I love Death Cab – I travelled to London during a period of unemployment (no easy feat) just to see them and am hoping beyond hope for a Dublin headline show this year. I wanted that special, easygoing pop-rock sound, the stuff that I’d heard on ‘Plans’ and ‘Transatlanticism’ (which is in my all-time Top 5) and ‘The Photo Album’ (which is actually better than ‘Transatlanticism’, all told, but I don’t love it as much.) To me, “I just don't feel like we really have anything to prove” sounded suspiciously like an excuse for some self-indulgence and navel-gazing. I’d heard the first single ‘I Will Possess Your Heart’ and the two new songs (‘Cath…’ and ‘Talking Bird’) that had appeared on ‘The Daytrotter Sessions’ and they’d only allayed my fears a little. But I don’t like to judge an album by it’s first single; or by a couple of alternate versions – who knows if they’re really representative of the whole thing? So I listened. And I listened again. And then I listened again. And by then, I was starting to like it.

That’s not to say that this isn’t a self-indulgent album on the part of Death Cab for Cutie. MOGgers have had the privilege of being able to keep up with Ben Gibbard’s listening habits over the past twenty months or so; and as such we can kind of see the influences. We’ve already mentioned the experimental Kraut-rock (in Chris Walla’s “10 minute Can jam) There’s evidence of Harry Nilsson – if we’re going to pick an overriding for the album it’s probably what the Beach Boys or the Dave Clarke Five would sound like covering ‘Without You’, such are the jingly melodies covering the bleak subject matter. Death Cab have for a long time been the Roe vs. Wade of Indie vs. Emo music, the former camp claiming them musically while the latter lyrically. ‘Narrow Stairs’ does nothing to quell the debate.

‘Bixby Canyon Bridge’ kicks right off with appropriately Kerouacian imagery (Gibbard took a well publicised sabbatical to Big Sur, and has frequently mentioned Jack Kerouac as a favourite author and influence), stream of consciousness lyrics emphasised with words that run between lines (‘Until I eventu/ally arrived’) and pronunciations are beaten and reformed (‘San Francisco’ becomes three syllables, but somehow all are pronounced) to fit the meter of the song. The California influence, the love-hate relationship with the state that seemed to begin on ‘The Photo Album’s’ ‘Why You’d Want To Live Here’ continues with ‘Grapevine Fires’, which appear to reference the wildfires of 2007 – there’s no love lost between Gibbard and the Golden State, but then again you can’t seem to tear him away from it. “I couldn't think of anywhere I would of rather been to watch it all burn away” he sings. ‘You Can Do Better Than Me’ and ‘Your New Twin Sized Bed’ are exercises in ducking and coping with perceived inevitable rejection – in both songs Gibbard seems to be singing to someone who he is terrified is just about to leave him – like he’s about ten minutes away from Gilbert O’Sullivan’s ‘Alone Again, Naturally.’

The standouts on the album are easy to spot. The opening riff to ‘Cath...’ is awesome, and the song itself, an ode to getting what you settle for, is as striking a song as they’ve ever written. Tribal drums keep ‘Pity And Fear’ away from the ordinary and you will be days trying to get ‘Long Division’ out of your head. Bassist Nick Harmer is given more emphasis and freedom to roam, and Gibbard’s voice is, at times isolated from the instrumental track; and the sound is richer for both of these.

Gibbard sums it up for me on the first single, ‘I Will Possess Your Heart’:

You gotta spend some time, love you gotta spend some time with me. And I know that you’ll find, love I will possess your heart.

You gotta spend time with ‘Narrow Stairs’. But it’s worth it.

As always, here’s the Track Listing:

1. "Bixby Canyon Bridge" 2. "I Will Possess Your Heart" 3. "No Sunlight" 4. "Cath..." 5. "Talking Bird" 6. "You Can Do Better Than Me" 7. "Grapevine Fires" 8. "Your New Twin Sized Bed" 9. "Long Division" 10. "Pity and Fear" 11. "The Ice Is Getting Thinner"

Viva Los Años Vegas!

John Madden — Mon, 05 May 2008 22:35:28 GMT

When it comes to cover versions, I don’t know that there are hard and fast rules for a good one, necessarily. Staying completely faithful to the original is, well, pointless: if you’re not going to bring something new, why bother? Stray too far and you alienate fans of the song. The important thing, as with life, is to have fun – and in doing so, show enough love of a song to, for the four minutes or so that it lasts, make it your own. Everclear have a ball on ‘The Vegas Years’.

It’s no secret that I love cover versions. I’ve said it bunches of times how great it is when a band does a great song, that isn’t theirs well. I like to hear a new spin on things, I like knowing what a band likes. Occasionally I’ll do a web trawl for MP3s, only specifying ‘cover version’ to see what hits. I keep a playlist on my iPod – other than ‘New Stuff’ it’s the only one I update regularly – of my favourite covers at any given time.

So it was a real treat to wrap my Sennheisers around Everclear’s ‘The Vegas Years’, a compilation of cover versions recorded by the Portland, Oregon rock band over the past fourteen years.

While we’re here, it occured to me while researching this piece how freaking awesome Portland is as a musical city. With the possible exceptions of Seattle and Minneapolis-St. Paul, is there any other city with more great bands per head of population? I know I’m going to be corrected on some point here, but still: Everclear, The Shins, Elliot Smith, Weinland, Gossip, The Kingsmen, The Dandy Warhols, Sleater-Kinney, The Decemberists, M. Ward, The Stolen Sweets – and the list goes on. It’s a murderers’ row.

Anyway. Everclear completists – and from what I understand, there are plenty out there – will have a lot of these tracks already, as at least half of the album has previously appeared across a number of b-sides; as well as the soundtrack to ‘Detroit Rock City’ (‘The Boys Are Back In Town’). ‘Rich Girl’, ‘Kicks’ and ‘Land Of The Lost’ are new; as are the versions of ‘Our Lips Are Sealed’ and ‘Southern Girls’. ‘This Land is Your Land’ contains new guitars and keyboards, because the original mix got lost.

The album is sort of an alternate retrospective of Everclear – the majority of songs being b-sides and contributions to compilations, they all fit with where the band was at a given time – though with that said, it doesn’t give you any real insight into, say, Art Alexakis’ much publicised history with drugs, or any of the personal and professional problems that the band endured. In a way it’s almost a purer retrospective than a regular best of – in performing cover versions it becomes all about the music; there’s no trying to interpret lyrics (because they’re not theirs); it’s not a revelation of the band’s dark secrets – it’s a collection of songs that they think rock.

‘The Vegas Years’ is fun and summery – it’s best served with blue skies, burgers and beer. The performances are enthusiastic, interesting and a refreshing spin on some alt-rock and classic rock greats. Be warned – should you listen in the car, I can’t imagine it’s even remotely possible to drive slowly to the ‘Speed Racer’ theme – probably best to keep that one for public transport or video game driving only (and if the Wachowski Brothers don’t use it for the movie, they’re missing out). The versions of ‘Brown Eyed Girl’ and ‘867-5309 (Jenny)’ are solid live tracks too – they make you feel like you’d want to go to an Everclear show. The rest of the songs will make you want to drive fast, sing along and dance like a fool – and probably even two at the same time. This one will be in my rotation until the clouds come by again.

Track Listing 1. Rich Girl (Originally by Hall & Oates) 2. Our Lips Are Sealed (Originally by The Go-Go's and Fun Boy Three) 3. The Boys Are Back in Town (Originally by Thin Lizzy) 4. Bad Connection (Originally by Yazoo) 5. Kicks (Originally by Paul Revere & the Raiders) 6. Pocahontas (Originally by Neil Young) 7. Night Train to Memphis (Originally by Roy Acuff) 8. This Land Is Your Land (Guthrie) 9. American Girl (Originally by Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers) 10. Brown Eyed Girl [Live] (Originally by Van Morrison) 11. Southern Girls (Originally by Cheap Trick) 12. ‘Land of the Lost’ Theme 13. ‘Speed Racer’ Theme 14. Live Intro 15. 867-5309 (Jenny) [Live] (Originally by Tommy Tutone)

It's A Shame About The Delay...

John Madden — Sun, 27 Apr 2008 20:03:55 GMT

Well, thanks to a frankly improbable convergence of personal, professional and financial crises, this is a full two weeks later than I’d promised. Sorry about that. Without further ado, it’s time to talk about ‘It’s A Shame About Ray’.

Rhino Records have reissued the Lemonheads 1992 fifth album. I liked the Lemonheads back when this first came out, I remember them as a likeable, relatively inoffensive rock band with some catchy tunes. The video for ‘Mrs. Robinson’ was on TV a lot, if I remember right - in fact, along with A-House’s ‘Endless Art’, I probably saw the video at least twice a week – both were favourites of Irish youth culture show, ‘Jo Maxi’.

In fact, if you’re a fourteen year old trying to segue your way from pop to alternative rock, you could do a lot worse than ‘Ray’. It’s lighter in tone and sound than most of the rock albums we now associate with the first half of the nineties. ‘Ray’ is one of those albums that never seems to be get mentioned in a ‘Greatest Of The 90s’ list, but is completely defining of the era, maybe more so than ‘Nevermind’ or ‘Ten’. ‘Ray’ spoke to a more realistic outlook, a better example of what we were really like, or at least as teenagers aspired to be like in college. We might not have all known a ‘Jeremy’ who shot himself because he was bullied, but we all knew a girl (or guy) like the one in ‘My Drug Buddy’.

Dando was the perfectly representative nineties frontman for this – he had the Richard LInklater/Kevin Smith slacker look and outlook; there’s no sense of deprivation or abuse, just a goofy, likable guy who wants to hang out with cute girls and listen to punk and get high with them. There’s no call to arms, no demands for retribution – just an emotional outpouring from a guy whose life isn’t perfect, but hey! Who gives a f**k?

I can’t tell if the argument over whether the album has aged well is moot or not. The songs do stand up surprisingly well after sixteen years – better than some of the stuff on ‘Nevermind’ or ‘Ten’ or ‘Rage Against The Machine’. But that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s a better or worse album – “Ray’, like the others, is completely of its time. It’s completely representative of 1992, and that’s probably all it was ever intended to be. If you’ve no interest in the music of the nineties, this is probably not the album for you. It’s not a timeless album – it’s a very, very good, even a great album but it is from 1992, and that shows. The references, lyrically and musically, fit it in completely with the pre-‘Friends’ generation, and are absolutely in keeping with that. It’s not difficult to see how ‘Ray’, while not always considered a ‘grunge’ album, heralded a softening of the grunge sound and the Lemonheads, particularly on this album, paved the way for the successes of more pop oriented rock acts like Counting Crows, Live and Matchbox 20.

The upside though, is that you’re getting one of the albums that inadvertently defined the early nineties with a brighter outlook than you ever got from Cobain, Vedder, De La Rocha or Cornell ever showed us.

This special edition comes with nine demo versions of album tracks, the b-side ‘Shaky Ground’ and DVD of the previous VHS release ‘Two Weeks In Australia’. I’m only reviewing the CD part here, and to be honest the demo tracks are far from essential. But HMV (at least here) have it for only slightly more than the regular version, so it’s well worth the money.

Tracklist: Rockin’ Stroll Confetti It’s A Shame About Ray Rudderless My Drug Buddy The Turnpike Down Bit Part Alison’s Starting To Happen Hannah & Gabi Kitchen Ceiling Fan In My Spoon Frank Mills Mrs. Robinson Shaky Ground It’s A Shame About Ray (Demo) Rockin’ Stroll (Demo) My Drug Buddy (Demo) Hannah & Gabi (Demo) Kitchen (Demo) Bit Part (Demo) Rudderless (Demo) Ceiling Fan In My Spoon (Demo) Confetti (Demo)

It Doesn't Matter Who's Wrong Or Right... Or Does it?

John Madden — Tue, 08 Apr 2008 15:13:40 GMT

This is the second song I promised earlier, and I suppose a little more dumb than the first one. This is Fall Out Boy, who for the past three years have been my 'guilty pleasure' band. True to that title, they're covering Michael Jackson's 'Beat It', with John Mayer taking over axe-wielding duties from Eddie Van Halen on this version (a fact which may or may not cause Chuck Klosterman to burst into flames.)

At first, second and third listens - I like it. I've never been a fan of MJ, with only a handful of exceptions, including this song. Although it's so similar to the original, I can't decide if this is faithful and fun, or just pointless. The truth, I suspect, is somewhere in between, but for the moment I'm just enjoying this.

Oh, Canada! Oh, Bijou!

John Madden — Tue, 08 Apr 2008 12:54:29 GMT

This is the first of (hopefully) two posts today, both including songs. This is Toronto band Ohbijou (or Oh Bijou, I've seen it spelled both ways.) They're pretty frakkin' good, and are holed up in a residency at at Banff Center for The Arts in Banff, Canada, where they're writing and recording some new stuff. I heard a demo called 'Memoriam' the other day and it's really good stuff.

Ohbijou are: Casey Mecija, Jenn Mecija, Heather Kirby, James Bunton, Anissa Hart, Ryan Carley and Andrew Kinoshita. In their own words:

"Soft and loud. Sweet and sour. Boys and girls. Together and broken... Sometimes violins, sometimes organs. ohbijou plays music to swell your heart."

This song is called 'St. Francis', and it's from their album 'Swift Feet for Troubling times.

Ohbijou official site...

Lollapalooza Lineup Officially Announced

John Madden — Mon, 07 Apr 2008 14:34:59 GMT

My e-mail today was graced with an official announcement of the Lollapalooza Lineup - ever optimistic that I'll get to go some year (it's a bit of an epic trip for a guy with a mortgage from Ireland), I signed up for the news alerts a couple of years ago.

Charley Roguelewski leaked the lineup last week but now it's official.

There's a PDF of the lineup here - it's one of the best I've seen and (in my humble, junior designer self's opinion) a really nicely done poster too.

Lollapalooza Lineup Officially Announced

John Madden — Mon, 07 Apr 2008 14:32:19 GMT

Charley Roguelewski leaked the lineup last week but now it's official.

There's a PDF of the lineup here - it's one of the best I've seen and (in my humble, junior designer self's opinion) a really nicely done poster too.

Fraser River Delta Blues

John Madden — Mon, 24 Mar 2008 17:01:14 GMT

When Becky Black sings, it sounds like strong beer and spicy gumbo. It sounds like the black coffee and beignets that are the only things in the world that can wash away your headache, and the feeling of dread as you wonder what you did to earn all these Mardi Gras beads. It’s a prickly, defiant, down-on-the-delta voice that summons the ghosts of Robert Johnson and Skip James – the kind Jack White can only dream of. The honky-tonk woman Mick sang about.

Except Becky Black, and Maya Miller, collectively known as The Pack AD, aren’t from down on the delta. They’re from Vancouver. British Columbia. Canada. And the contradictions don’t end there.

‘Tintype’, their debut album, has been floating around for a couple of months now, and has apparently been described by almost everyone who has heard it (including me, now) as hard drinking music. Which is fine, except for the fact that almost nowhere does the band mention liquor, bars, beer or hangovers as being any sort of influence or inspiration. Coffee is mentioned twice on their MySpace (which appears to be as close as they come to an official site right now), but at no point during the the seventeen songs on ‘Tintype’ do you think “hey, these girls spend a lot of time in Starbucks (or, since they’re Canadian, Tim Hortons).” The entire album says “put down the latte, you sissy, and let’s go get trashed.” But it’s less about the booze, and more about the nights in the bar when you get kicked in the crotch by love. Which could probably happen in Starbucks or Tim Hortons, too. I’m just saying.

If your favourite dive bar or brew pub was to put this album on, though, that and a couple of pale ales would be a night to remember (or paradoxically, try to forget) in and of itself. It’s a good time to be sure, but it’s not a party album – in fact it’s dark as hell. This is the music that happens after party boys like the Hold Steady have packed up and gone home. If the album is condensed into a story, it’s either a single night talking to a stranger with too much eyeliner who you never see after the slow set; or it’s six months spent between lying in bed with that person and screaming blue murder at them.

There’s a feminist streak running through the whole album, but it’s not an ‘all men are bastards/rapists/idiots’ militancy; nor is it a Sarah McLachlan-esque ‘they make me sad, but I love them’ stance. “You said it was over, but nothing’s over ‘til I say it is,” sings Black on ‘Cabin’ – it’s a declaration of exactly who wears the pants. But she softens – ever so slightly two lines later: “you said we should just be friends, but I can’t do that, I wanna be your lover again.” It’s Daniel Clowes’ (or Russ Meyer’s) velvet glove cast in iron. Pop singer Rihanna talks about being a good girl gone bad; Becky Black sounds like a bad girl who wants to be good – except bad’s more fun.

This is a band that lists as it’s influences “Blind Willie Johnson, Junior Kimbrough, Robert Johnson, Son House, Muddy Waters, John Lee Hooker, Leadbelly, RL Burnside, Billie Holiday, Scott Joplin, The American Civil War, snow, the north, cowboys, bandits, coffee, the years 1860-1920, Koko Taylor, Janis Joplin, Aretha Franklin, Buddy Rich, John Bonham, MC5, The Sonics, The Groundhogs, Gordon Downie, Jonathon Richman, Sam Raimi, Harrison Ford, Guy Pearce, Jeremiah Johnson, Clint Eastwood, Howlin' Wolf, Mississipi John Hurt, Manhunt, Cold Mountain, Andersonville, The Thing, Highlander, Snake Pliskin, OZ, Chris Keller, George Romero and all of his Dead movies, Patrick Swayze (in Road House).” And they all show. It’s southern roots with northern origins; a hard as nails attitude to the album that occasionally just needs a hug. If this album is a person, it’s Lee Marvin.

At it’s worst parts – which are few and far between – ‘Tintype’ sounds like the singer from Four Non-Blondes singing over the last minute of the Who’s ‘Magic Bus’. At it’s best it’s the blues done right; assuming you believe the Stones and Zeppelin got it right too. Most of all it’s a great album to put on, pour a cold one, and wonder what you ever saw in her. Or him. Or them. Hell, just listen - or Becky will kick your ass.

Accelerate - R.E.M. are A.O.K. Again

John Madden — Sat, 22 Mar 2008 00:29:14 GMT

After I heard REM’s ‘Accelerate for the first time, I did three things.

1. I looked over my notes and research from the rehearsal shows to see which songs I’d heard before. (About half of them.) 2. I listened to some old REM to see where it fit in a big picture of the band. 3. I listened to it again.

The first is important because the story of this album kind of begins there. The five night residency in the Olympia Theatre was, for all intents and purposes, to preview the then-untitled new album. It wasn’t a completely unprecedented move – ‘New Adventures In Hi-Fi’ was recorded on the ‘Monster’ tour, and a good portion of the songs from those sessions were tried out along the way.

The second is important because that’s always the question with REM – where does this fit? Everyone has ideas of the ‘eras’ of Michael, Mike, Peter and the Bills (Berry and on ‘Accelerate’, Rieflin), be it IRS and Warners, Mumbly Michael or Enunciating Michael, Rock, Pop and Electronic REM or album-by-album, or any one of dozen of not necessarily consecutive album groupings.

The third is important because of a very simple rule – if you don’t want to listen to it again it’s not a great album. It can still be a good album – I’ve heard plenty of records over the years that I need never hear again, but my life is enriched for having heard them. Those were good albums. To be great, you need to want to hear it again. And ‘Accelerate’ is a great album.

Last July I wrote this: The new songs performed were exceptionally raw, and to my ears sound all the better for it. There’s none of the electronica or effects that permeated ‘Up’ or ‘Reveal’ or ‘Around The Sun’ Lyrically the songs are reminiscent of ‘Fables of the Reconstruction’ while the simple, stripped-down guitar/bass/drums/vocals sound is everything that was right about side 2 of ‘Monster’. There are two slightly acoustic sounding songs, one of which could easily have been on ‘Out of Time’. It’s not easy to tell which song is which from the above list, as a) some titles are most definitely temporary and b) the lyrics don’t necessarily match the titles. I can deduce that ‘Peter’s Open E’ was most likely one of the more acoustic ones, as it was credited as being Peter’s favourite, and as having a title from scripture that was considered for use for a different song. ‘Staring Down The Barrel…’ is one of the heavier ones, as is ‘Horse to Water’. Most people I talked to afterwards said that, based on what they’ve heard so far their expectations are for the new album to sound like ‘New Adventures in Hi-Fi’, though at the very least it seems that a more ‘rock’ sound than the last two albums is expected.

For the most part, I stand by it. I don’t think it sounds like ‘New Adventures In Hi-Fi’ anymore, nor is there the raw sound of side two of ‘Monster’, although this is no great loss. I still think there’s a hint of ‘Fables of The Reconstruction’ off it – it’s hard not to when ‘Sing For The Submarine’ sounds very like ‘Old Man Kensey’ and lyrically references ‘Feeling Gravity’s Pull’. Really though, the album fits nowhere. And everywhere.

There are better guitarists than Peter Buck, better singers and songwriters than Michael Stipe and better bassists than Mike Mills, but it’s the sum of the parts that make REM a great band, and ‘Accelerate’ a great album. Buck has found his guitar again and storms through the songs with vengeance and purpose. Mills’ bass threatens to steal the show at times – never as good as he was on ‘Ignoreland’ (but then I think that’s one of the all time great bass pieces), but a perfect timepiece and companion to Bill Rieflin’s precision drumming, and Stipe... well, Michael Stipe has one of the most distinctive voices in rock. It’s used to full effect here – when he sings about love, like on first single ‘Supernatural Superserious’ or the excellently angsty ‘Hollow Man’ ("Believe in me, believe in nothing/Corner me and make me something/I've become the hollow man,/Have I become the hollow man I see?"), he’s singing about it like a 48 year old man who seems to believe he knows as much about the subject as a teenager. More political songs like ‘Man Sized Wreath’ ("Turning on the TV and what do I see?/A pageantry of empty gestures all lined up for me - wow!") are full of the righteous indignation of a man who “is tired of politicians telling me what to be afraid of.”

It’s probably an overstatement to say that this album is unlike anything that REM have ever done – in fact it’s an out-and-out lie, because every song is distinctly and instantly recognizable as REM. Everyone seems to be using the phrase ‘return to form’ – I must have read those words about a hundred times in relation to this album – and really, it is. ‘Accelerate’ is so much better than the last three albums that it’s difficult to describe it any other way. I don’t think it’s a classic album in the way that I feel ‘Automatic For The People’ is – but it’s a departure from ‘Up’, ‘Reveal’ or ‘Around The Sun’ (which Stipe describes as ‘sub-REM’ in the interview with Mogger indiepixie). What REM have created is a rock album – their first, and best, in twelve years.

Post Script: The album's out on April 1st, but if you have iLike on Facebook or iTunes, you can hear it from Monday March 24th. For further listening, first single ‘Supernatural Superserious’ is streaming on Michael Goldberg’s MOG here, and I can’t emphasise enough how much you should watch indiepixie’s interview with Michael Stipe here. REM also play the Apple Store in London next Wednesday (March 26th) but tickets are apparently like gold dust. I’ll be in town, so look for me lurking outside trying to catch an earful.

A Little Amusement

John Madden — Tue, 11 Mar 2008 14:10:19 GMT

Pretty melancholy today - It's probably an equal mix of the craptacular weather, the fact that my computer isn't reading the bonus disc from the new Nada Surf album, the fact that an upcoming long post isn't working out the way I want it to, and a smattering of too much work to do and wishing I was at SXSW instead of an industrial park south of Dublin. Oh well.

Still, I wanted to post something, so I've opted to introduce you to a Dublin band called New Amusement. By all accounts these dudes stole the show from French band Nelson at Whelan's last week. They'll be (I'm told) supporting Nada Surf in May, and from March 27th will have a semi-residency in Anseo on Dublin's Camden Street.

This song is called 'Gone To Sea' and it's from the forthcoming mini-album, 'Any Port In A Storm.' (out 25th April) Enjoy.

Rock of Ages - Feelin' Old at Jimmy Eat World

John Madden — Fri, 29 Feb 2008 23:51:18 GMT

“This is the strangest bathroom I’ve ever been in.” I’m not one for urinal conversation, as a rule, but I have to be polite, too. “I’m sure I’ve been in stranger,” I reply. “But I can’t remember when.” He laughs. “You like Jimmy?” “Yep.” I say. “You better. Been my favourite band since I was ten years old. That’s... that’s almost ten years.” Aw, hell. Now I really feel old.

There’s a few things that, if you’re feeling your age, you probably shouldn’t do. Don’t have a conversation with the new, fresh from college girl in work about what she did last summer. Don’t check to see if your hockey sweater from 1993 still fits. And don’t go in the pit at a Jimmy Eat World concert, a week before your thirtieth birthday (although my profile age is, from the looks of things, dragging me into that decade a little early).

By all means, follow the example set by the rest of my Wednesday evening. Work a little late so your boss is impressed with you, and you get the added benefit of not feeling bad about staying in town a while afterwards, instead of rushing to get the early train. Take a seat in a pub under a caricature of Hemingway, read the paper the last guy left there and eat a steak sandwich with parmesan dressing washed down with a microbrew IPA. That’s a sensible, adult thing to do.

Adult sensibilities wandered out of the building and into traffic, however, when the nice girl with the guest list suggested that, in the absence of my plus-One, I might not want to take up an entire booth. Maybe I’d be more comfortable taking a pit pass? Of course not, I thought. I’m a grown man! I’m supposed to be writing about this for a respected website! But that’s when it occured to me that a) it’s hard to convey the authentic show experience from a sealed off booth and b) every single book, or magazine article, or drunken conversation about the essential things to do before you hit the big three-oh involve the words ‘mosh-pit.’

I think you see where this is going.

After another pint in the Olympia’s bar, I push my way through to the ‘pit’ (actually just about two seat rows worth of fenced off standing room), showed my paper wristband to the security guard and took my place among what appeared to be all teenagers – all the girls looked like the younger sister of Rilo Kiley’s Jenny Lewis, all the guys looked like Seth Cohen from ‘The OC’. As usual, I’d no idea who was supporting, so I was pleasantly surprised to hear the words ‘Hello, we’re Styrofoam, we’re from Antwerp in Belgium’ – met with blank stares, for the most part, though a few (very few, sadly) nods of recognition when they play ‘Couches In Alleys’, their 2004 song on which Ben Gibbard sang. Jim Adkins reveals later that Styrofoam had remixed a song on one of their earlier EP’s (‘Drugs Or Me’ on 2005’s ‘Stay On My Side Tonight’) and that he sings a song (‘My Next Mistake’) on the upcoming Styrofoam album, ‘A Thousand Words’. Styrofoam (fellow Moggers, by the way) play a pleasant, chilled-out set, smile away the heckles, and move on.

Twenty minutes pass, and Jimmy Eat World come out swinging. By the end of the first two songs – ‘Big Casino’, the opener of last year’s ‘Chase This Light’ album and the hugely popular ‘Sweetness’ from 2001’s ‘Bleed American’ – singer/guitarist Jim Adkins is already soaked with sweat and I’m hoarse from singing along. We are both, however, in love with the situations in which we’ve found ourselves. Objectively, Adkins’ staccato dancing is completely at odds with the big poppy harmonies of the songs he and his band are playing, but goddamnit, it works. Jimmy Eat World – who by the way are not named after Adkins, but after the younger brother of guitarist Tom Linton – formed in Mesa, Arizona in 1993. Evolving from the hardcore punk scene, they embraced, or were embraced by, the alternately beloved and derided emocore genre; although they sound considerably more straight-laced and simply rock and roll than many of their emo contemporaries. The satirical online games at Emogame.com occasionally refer to them as being embraced by the mainstream for having made the decision to keep their balls (part of the games mythology is that male members of emo bands have ovaries.) Whereas their collars are not exactly as blue as those of say, Bruce Springsteen or The Hold Steady, they are definitely cubicle-wall grey – it’s no stretch to imagine that they’re the favourite band of the main character in ‘Office Space’. The arrangement through the show is two guitars, bass, drums and thousands of voices. No pianos, no ocarinas, no theremins (big thanks to fairportfan for his post teaching me about the latter two, by the way.) Lead guitar is even discarded, briefly, during a sweet alternate version of ‘Your House’ – Adkins surrenders the acoustic guitar he’s been using during the off-speed verses when a cabling fault causes him to go mostly a cappella.

The set is almost like it was constructed for a ‘Best Of...’ album tour – it’s a trip through the fifteen years of Jimmy Eat World, right from the beginning up to the present day. Not surprisingly, there’s a heavy focus on material from ‘Bleed American’ (the most succesful album) and ‘Chase This Light’ (the most recent). ‘Blister’ and ‘Just Watch The Fireworks’ (from third album ‘Clarity’) both from get an enormous reaction – the former being one of the biggest people movers in the pit that night. Maybe moreso than the screams and shoving for ‘Authority Song’ when the set is briefly made audience/drummer’s choice – and to be fair, who can fail to love a song about a John Cougar Mellencamp song that also references the Jesus and Mary Chain?

As the show winds down, and Jimmy Eat World finish off with a raucous ‘The Middle’ (maybe their signature song at this point) I wonder if I’ve time to meet my sister (who’s also at the show) to say hi afterwards. As I’m taking out my phone to check the time (my watch needs a new battery) I realise I’ve three extra shirt buttons undone, I’m covered in sweat and someone elses beer, and I feel... I feel great.

Like I said, there are some things you shouldn’t do when you’re starting to feel your age. But then again – maybe you should.

Bob Mould's 'District Line'

John Madden — Fri, 29 Feb 2008 00:32:38 GMT

Note from JM: I've added, by request, a brief paragraph on some of the lyrics on this album, and my impressions thereof. I'm still not happy with this piece – but it'll do. Once again, the amendments are about two days later than planned. There's a lesson here, but I don't know what it is.

This review is about two days later than I’d planned because, for the most part, I haven’t the slightest clue what’s left to say about Bob Mould.

It’s not just that he’s intimidatingly influential – although I think you can probably count the people who’ve fronted two hugely significant bands without running out of fingers, and other than Nirvana, Pearl Jam and Pavement, Hüsker Dü (Mould’s first major band) were probably featured on MTV’s '120 Minutes' more that any other two bands combined when I was a teenager. His second major band, Sugar, wrote the song ‘If I Can’t Change Your Mind’ which, thanks to its appearance on an album advocating same-sex marriage (Mould himself is openly gay) became an anthem for the topic and arguably paved the way for the Gossip’s ‘Standing In The Way of Control.’

It’s not that he’s different, either; although ‘District Line’ comes across as about one hundred times more mature than most of the alt-rock albums on release at the moment. The only comparison I could think of for it from recent times is David Gilmour’s ‘On An Island’ – not necessarily in terms of tone, but in terms of the fact that it’s just so adult in it’s themes. Love songs are for long-term partners, friendships are life-long, grudges are fiercely held onto. Mould’s voice is different too – there’s no Chris Carrabba falsetto or Dave Grohl gravel; it’s a masculine growl but it’s smooth enough to skate on.

And it’s not just that he’s prolific – although his songs have appeared on ‘The OC’, ‘Buffy The Vampire Slayer’ and ‘The Daily Show’; he’s released twenty albums (between Hüsker Dü, Sugar and his solo work), he’s appeared in movies and TV, produced such bands as Soul Asylum and Low; and may or may not have had a character in ‘Jerry Maguire’ named for him. He works like a madman – when he’s not touring or recording he’s DJing or blogging; sometimes doing two or three or four of these things.

So what is it about Bob Mould? ‘District Line’ displays a stubborn determination to be all things to all men. For the most part it’s a very stripped down rock and roll album full of catchy melodic songs on universal themes. It ventures into Postal Service-ish electronica at times, though this is not unfamiliar territory to Mould – much of 2002’s ‘Modulate’ had a heavily electronic sound, but whereas that album was criticized for falling between two stools, the electronics on ‘District Line’ feel more natural; they belong on the record and for the most part make it even easier to listen to.

‘District Line’ is so good, and so catchy, and so easy to listen to, in fact, that you can’t help but feel a little frustrated that it’s not on every radio station. Songs like ‘The Silence Between Us’ (which you can hear on Michael Goldberg's MOG ) and ‘Who Needs To Dream’ are just the type to inspire you to hand over your headphones and demand that your friends listen.

The songs speak, as you’d expect, of a lifetime of experience, of mistakes made and of too many regrets, but question where that experience comes from. He’s realized on songs like ‘The Silence Between Us’ that he’s older and wiser, and is more comfortable in himself – “Beyond the panic and worry that seem to consume almost every thought,” he sings, “there lies a calm and steady hand that someday you might see.” But the growth is hard won, and not without its frustrations. “Haven't I been enough of a fool for you?” he asks on ‘Stupid Now’. “We’ve wasted our time on another black hole” on ‘Walls In Time’. With lines like “All the triggers pulled at once, So begins my ugly fall from grace” Mould seems to be coming face to face with his maturity – almost suddenly - and in many ways seems to be wondering aloud if he should be weighed down by his lamentations, or just move on and grow up – even singing (on ‘Return to Dust’) that “growing old, it’s hard to be an angry young man.”

It’s not the greatest album in the world. It starts to get old sooner rather than later and some of the songs are a little too similar to the others. But it’s a small complaint. It might affect the longevity of the album on the whole, but you’ll still be adding individual songs to playlists and not skipping when they come up in shuffle for a long time after you’ve moved on from hearing it all the way through.

So where does that leave us? I still don’t know what to say about Bob that hasn’t been said before. But for ‘District Line’, I can offer one single word of advice.

Enjoy.

Oscar, Glen. Glen, Oscar.

John Madden — Mon, 25 Feb 2008 09:32:49 GMT

I realise I'm about to become the seven-thousandth person to write about this. I'm okay with that.

So it seems to me that awards and competitions don't matter unless you win or are even nominated (See for example the disparaging comments made by non-Brit nominee indie bands about the not as crappy as everyone thinks Leona Lewis, and the relative silence of nominated acts.) Ironically this doesn't apply to sports - the Penguins lost twice over the weekend and I think I managed to convince myself that it was only because the Sharks and Senators were going to seven games in the Stanley Cup Finals. Sigh.

Of course, sometimes the right person wins, and all of a sudden the awards, however briefly, make sense. Last night a bohemian Dubliner and his Czech partner defeated the Disney juggernaut with a perfect and sweet little pop song.

(Here it is, live in Chicago.)

If you don't have one already, buy a Frames album. I think 'Burn the Maps' was released on a relatively large scale in the US, but what you really want is one of the first three - 'Fitzcarraldo', 'Dance The Devil...' or 'For The Birds'. Better still, see them live.

I wonder if this will make up for us sending a turkey puppet to the Eurovision Song Contest?

Why I Love Music, Parts 1-10

John Madden — Wed, 20 Feb 2008 21:30:44 GMT

Okay, first off, a confession. The bare bones of this column is, if I’m being honest, lovingly ripped off from ESPN’s Bill Simmons, who has occasionally run a ‘Why I Love Sports’ column, with numbered short pieces about the tiny aspects of being a sports fan that, win or lose, make it all worthwhile. For ages I’ve wanted to talk about the little things about music other than bands and albums and songs (well, mostly) that make it all so great for me. This is completely subjective – I’m not even going to pretend that I believe these are universal experiences, but nor am I going to pretend I’m the first person ever to think of these things. It’s just a list of the first ten things I could think of – with more to follow one day, maybe – that make my iPod a happier place to hide from the real world. Just a warning – this may be my longest post ever – and it’s completely self-indulgent.

Incidentally, I had planned on posting this last week, but I ended up getting far less done than I’d planned during a week with friends in France – ostensibly for the baptism of my goddaughter, and previous guest music recommender in this space, Imaya but also for a well earned break from the rigors of putting pictures of cars in the right order in QuarkXpress.

Either way, it did result in an Honorable Mention category, right at the end of this.

1. Nobody’s Perfect You know those split seconds in songs, where they hit ‘record’ a little early and you can hear the singer take a breath before he starts, or they stop it late so you can hear the instruments being put down again? What about when you can hear fingers scratch along the strings during a chord change, or even – and this is a rare one – an elbow hit off a microphone stand (which my grandfather, God rest him, could pick out with alarming accuracy)? I love that. I’m not a huge fan of lo-fi recordings – there’s a certain level of production quality below which I get bored and annoyed – but the tiny imperfections, deliberate or not, are a little bit of added soul that make a record feel like it was made by humans.

2. There’s So Damn Much Of It I check MOG a couple of times a day. I visit some MP3 blogs with less regularity, but still I’d say at least every week. I get ‘Rolling Stone’ and ‘Paste’ from time to time, I download the ‘Pop Candy’ and ‘CBC Radio 3 New Music’ podcasts, I drop into record stores every few days and I’m not even a little bashful about asking in Starbucks, or Borders or any other store, “Hey, any idea what song’s playing right now?” Rob, another designer in the office will often start conversations with “Have you heard...?” I’m exposed to artists I’d never heard off at least daily, and I still don’t have all the ‘essentials’ I missed buying growing up. I’ve only recently come to terms with the fact that I will, never, ever own all the music I’ve ever wanted. I know people who’d be upset by this, or intimidated by the sheer range. I’m just ecstatic that there will always be something to listen to, and more often than not it’ll be something new.

3. Ever changing and Expanding Genres Okay, so we all, at this point, accept ‘Emo’ as a valid musical genre – we’ll save the debates about it’s artistic merit or what bands are/aren’t ‘Emo’ for another time, but for now, let’s just call it a genre and that’s that. What fascinates me is that there are bands – Joy Division, The Smiths and The Cure , to name three – that fit into the broad definition (at least according to Wikipedia; but please note I'm not trying to reclassify these bands) of Emo but completely predate it. Even bands like Weezer and Jimmy Eat World who are now (apparently) ‘Emo’ were ‘Nerdcore’ when I first heard them. Now ‘Nerdcore’ is a type of Rap and Weezer and Jimmy are ‘Emo’. I can’t even get my head around Screamo. The biggest one for me is when bands go from Heavy Metal or Alternative to Classic Rock, or in the case of Led Zepellin, in the opposite direction. Driving through New Jersey in November 2005 and listening to a classic rock station I was stunned to hear Elton John’s ‘Rocket Man’ followed by ‘Jeremy’ by Pearl Jam! Seriously, I know I’m less than a month away from 30, but my teens aren’t that far away, musically, are they?

4. Memories In related news, how about a round of applause for the songs that are completely and inextricably linked to events in your life? Good or bad, I love that – hearing a song just takes you back to an entirely different time and place. Death Cab’s ‘Soul Meets Body’ is the Gershwin Hotel in Manhattan, the entire Snow Patrol album ‘Final Straw’ is a drive to Belfast to see a hockey game, ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’ is an extremely awkward attempt to talk to a pretty girl, ‘You’re Making Me High’ is the night I met my wife, and I’m not even going to tell you about Shaggy’s ‘Boombastic’, although I guarantee my best friend JB is laughing his ass off about it right now. I’ve heard that it’s smells that do it most vividly but it’s songs for me. Fountains of Wayne’s ‘Welcome Interstate Managers’ isn’t the best album in the world but I listened to it first the day I got the keys to my own house. ‘Automatic For The People’ is in my all time top five, but part of that is because of its associations with the summer I left school, and ‘New Adventures in Hi-Fi’ is an overnight train through France for me. I can’t seperate music from my life or my life from music, and that, for me, makes both of them better.

5. The internet So apart from MOG, the altar at which we all worship, I think it’s a fair bet that we’ve all poked around for MP3s, reviews, recommendations what-have-you on the internet. As I’ve said, I spend a ridiculous amount of time (especially when I should be working) on MOG, on MP3 blogs, listening to Podcasts – I would say that in the past year, I’ve discovered 85% per cent of the ‘new’ music (new is in quotes because it’s probably only new to me – I am nothing if not under-informed) I listen to online as opposed to from other sources. Two years ago it would have been mostly radio and magazines. I’m still not nuts about downloading as a way of purchasing – unless it’s for individual songs I’d still rather buy a CD and rip it to my iPod than download it directly.

6. That line in Gym Class Heroes’ ‘Cupid’s Chokehold’ “I know I’m young but if I had to choose her or the sun, I’d be one nocturnal son-of-a-gun.” Genius.

7. Ronan Collins/Dad/CBC Radio In no particular order, these are probably my biggest musical influences. Ronan Collins was (for all I know, still is) a DJ/Light Entertainment Host on RTÉ Radio 1. My mum always had him on – his show would generally start soon before or soon after I got in from school so I heard a lot of him. Whereas he’d generally play a lot of traditional Irish stuff (which I’m still not a big fan of), there’d be a wide range of country and country oriented rock – Eagles, Gram Parsons, America and what-have-you that I now love.

Dad on the other hand was, and still is a huge proponent of the Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Led Zepellin, Jimi Hendrix, Pink Floyd, The Dave Clarke Five, Manfredd Mann, The Kinks, French Pop, Psychedelica, Seventies New York Punk, and especially Bruce Springsteen. If it’s because of Ronan Collins that I’m a little bit country, then it’s because of Dad that I’m a little bit rock and roll. You know what? Dad deserves his own MOG post to himself, so look for that, probably closer to Father’s Day.

CBC Radio gets a mention because I’m a huge Canada-phile. Up until a year or so ago I thought Canadian there were four acts in Canada that I liked – Barenaked Ladies, Sarah McLachlan (which these days was mostly for sentimental reasons), Great Big Sea and Arcade Fire. Now I’ve turned on CBC Radio 1’s Vinyl Café and CBC Radio 3’s podcasts I realise there’s hundreds of them! Aside from Stars and Broken Social Scene, there’s Danny Michel, Henri Fabergé and The Adorables, Hayden, Tegan and Sara, New Pornographers... I could go on.

8. Unexpected shows When I saw one of REM’s working rehearsals last summer, I only found out I was getting to go a couple of days before they happened. Same with Thurston Moore’s show and the Rolling Stones. I’ve been occasionally offered tickets the morning of the show – in one memorable case it was for an all day event – I had to decide and leave within five minutes of being offered in order to make it to see the support acts. I love the anticipation of getting tickets for something months down the line – especially when you finally get to turn the page on the calendar to where the date’s marked – but there’s something even better about thinking you’re going home to watch TV that night and then winding up at a show – still dressed as if for work and hoping you’ll make the last train.

9. Cover versions Boy, do I love cover versions - when a band you love and an unrelated song you also love come together and it works... does it get much better? I have a playlist on my iPod with my favourites – Radiohead’s version of ‘Nobody Does It Better’ is on there, as is Petra Haden’s ‘Don’t Stop Believing’, Nada Surf’s ‘Where Is My Mind?’, Lyle Lovett doing ‘Friend of The Devil’, Pearl Jam doing ‘Creep’ and dozens more, including three songs (‘Boys Don’t Cry’, ‘Hold On’ and ‘Staring At The Sun’) that are just marked ‘Unknown Artist – but are particularly – good’s not the word, interesting maybe, versions of the songs. I love them live – I remember a time when it was almost obligatory to do a cover live. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve heard bands (REM and Guns N’ Roses included) cover U2’s ‘One’.

10. The first album after you get to like a band I’m really looking forward to the May release of ‘Narrow Stairs’, primarily because I love Death Cab for Cutie, but also because it’s their first release since I got to know them. This is important, at least to me, because my entire perception of DCfC has been shaped by their back catalogue, from ‘You Can Play These Songs With Chords’ to ‘Plans’. Whereas they’ve plainly switched musical direction a couple of times over that period, it’s been in some ways invisible to me, because a) I bought the albums out of order and b) it’s all been in the past. The new album is the present. Liking the back catalogue, if I’m 100% honest, really says I like who this band was, the new album will determine if I like who the band is.

There’s also the question of ‘New’ songs. I saw the Hold Steady support the Rolling Stones last summer – the set finished with ‘Killer Parties’, which, to me was a new song (I’d only bought ‘Almost Killed Me’ that week) – despite it appearing on their first album and, so far as I can tell, being performed live well before that. When I see them in May (and I’ve got my tickets), and get their new album, the songs will be new – but they’ll be new to everyone else too. Getting the back catalogue is the initiation – but the first new album is a welcome to the club.

Honorable Mention: Guitar Hero 3 So – while I was living it up in France, my friend JB broke out his birthday present – Guitar Hero 3! For the uninitiated, this is a video game where the object is to push the buttons on a guitar shaped controller (five on the fret board, and a ‘strum’ lever) in time with notes on screen, to the tune of some classic and modern rock songs. Sounds easy. It’s not – at least not for me.

In the interest of transparency, I suck at Guitar Hero. I can get through about a third of the songs on ‘Easy’, and about halfway through ‘When You Were Young’ or ‘Even Flow’ on ‘Medium’. This was while my wife was rockin’ ‘Paint It Black’ with impressive finesse and JB was working his way through career mode. I still can’t get some of the songs out of my head. However bad I am at it, though, It’s addictive. Like Starbucks, season 2 of ‘24’ and crack cocaine addictive. So much so that I’m trying to figure out if I can weasel someone into getting me an Xbox 360 and the bundle pack for my birthday. Two weeks, if anyone’s feeling generous... :-D

Anyway, that’s it – I’m done. If you made it to here, congratulations – now go read something a little less self-indulgent.

'Like' Will Tear Us Apart - British Sea Power's 'Do You Like Rock Music?'

John Madden — Mon, 11 Feb 2008 00:08:41 GMT

British Sea Power’s third album Do You Like Rock Music? is an album I very nearly bought just for the title. I’d heard good things about it since its release, and whereas I’d also heard good things from a few friends, I have to admit I was only vaguely aware of BSP; I’d dismissed them as just one of dozens of moody provinicial British bands, the Franz-Arctic–Editor-Kooks set. The problem is, I’m not sure I was wrong to — I’ve listened to Do You Like Rock Music? a dozen or so times over the past week and I couldn’t tell you why you should buy it over, say, Favourite Worst Nightmare or An End Has A Start. I’m not even sure I could tell you it wasn’t by either of the same bands.

That’s not to say it’s not good. It’s absurdly intelligent, almost to the point of incomprehension; it’s melodic, it’s raucous and it’s a wholly enjoyable album. But I can’t help but feel they were striving for something more. Occasionally you can even tell what — a lot of Arcade Fire and Flaming Lips influences are crammed in with the lost-love and lost-lunch laments, but it almost feels like a marketing exercise. They’re already known for slightly bizarre, even eccentric live shows in small, unusual, working class venues; a brown ale Cirque Du Soleil. The addition of these influences seem designed solely to make people wonder what will happen when they inevitably show up on the summer’s rock festival circuit.

Google or Wikipedia — and if the first can be a verb, why not the second? — the band and two words become prominent above all others: Joy Division. The Brighton band are compared to them almost constantly. And therein lies the problem — it’s no longer about what a band or an album or song sounds like; it’s about who they sound like. Comparing British Sea Power to Joy Division is, to many, going to mean they’re either moody as hell or they’re genre-defining geniuses. I don’t know that they’re either.

In fact, on Do You Like Rock Music? they’ve made such an effort to inject soaring melodies and shouty, singalong choruses that it’s much, much easier to make the case for their being geniuses, especially given the hyper-literate lyrics and subversive nods to their peers. And you could argue for "genre-defining" in the sense that they slot in to the same category as all the other UK rock bands that NME have said are cool so perfectly that you can’t help but hold them up as a paradigm of modern rock. But they fit so perfectly that you’re in danger of thinking you’ve heard it all before.

British Sea Power, on their own merits, are an excellent rock band. They know exactly where their roots are, they don’t underestimate their audience and they’re not afraid to explore their options. But it’s almost impossible to describe them without referencing other bands – predecessors or contemporaries. I can’t understand how a band that is original and unique in so many ways can be put into a box so easily – "That song sounds like the Smiths, that one like the Cure, that one like Joy Division” or “If you like Editors, you’ll like BSP;" all of which are probably true. Do You Like Rock Music? is, on its own merits, an excellent rock album and deserves to be heard by lots of people, as it surely will. Buy it, download it, put the CD on and for fifty-four minutes forget you’ve heard of Editors, or Joy Division or anyone else you’ve heard they sound like. It sounds like British Sea Power — and that’s exactly what it’s supposed to do.

Revealed - REM's artwork for 'Accelerate'

John Madden — Mon, 28 Jan 2008 10:20:27 GMT

I just this second got an e-mail from Warner Music's press office, and thought I'd share. This is the artwork for REM's forthcoming album, 'Accelerate'. I know it's been leaked before - I saw it on Wikipedia last week- but this is 100% official.

What do we all think? I like it - I'm seeing 'Automatic' meets 'Revolver'.

Different Names For The Same Thing - Chris Walla's 'Field Manual'

John Madden — Fri, 25 Jan 2008 23:56:05 GMT

In the interest of transparency, I really, really wanted to like Chris Walla’s ‘Field Manual’. I’m a big fan of Death Cab for Cutie (albeit only since ‘Plans’ was released; I had been one of those people who dismissed them for having a weird name) and I was really hoping that this would be good. The desire for a good and likeable album (and there’s a difference) was tempered, however with fear. What if this was just an album of DCfC cast-offs? Word was already out that two of the songs were left off ‘Plans’. Could this be too much like a Death Cab album?

This is the biggest problem with an album like this. Either Walla releases an album that sounds like a Death Cab album, thereby keeping – let’s be honest - most of his potential fanbase happy; or he brings out something that comes completely from left-field. It’s hard to tell before hearing his work what direction he’s going to come from. If you’re not inclined to track down his solo recordings, it might be that his only solo work you know is his tendency to idly play Bowie riffs between songs at Death Cab shows.

Walla’s songs have been on show before, having written the penultimate song on ‘Plans’, ‘Brothers On A Hotel Bed’ - He has also released cassettes and internet only, lo-fi solo work under the moniker Martin Youth Auxiliary (several of which are available on Walla’s website, hallofjusticerecording.com), and covered ‘Polyethelene’ for last year’s tribute to Radiohead’s ‘OK Computer’ release on Stereogum.com. His vocal talents also appeared on DCfC debut ‘You Can Play These Songs With Chords’. Outside of Death Cab, Walla is best known for producing albums by The Decemberists, Nada Surf and Tegan and Sara, among others.

The album kicks off with the words “All hail an imminent collapse”, the opening line to ‘Two Fifty’. It’s a determined, State of The Union, Mission Statement song, like the rest of the album it’s constructed around a basic guitar-and-voice skeleton that make it sound, in fact specifically designed for a solo album by the guitarist with a successful rock band. It’s resolute and solid, and yes, it sounds like a Death Cab song. Walla, in fact, rarely strays too far from his comfort zone – his hoarse-sounding voice isn’t especially distinctive; though it does set the songs apart from his work with Death Cab. Perhaps unfortunately, it’s all that does.

Fairly or not, it’s entirely down to your perspective of Death Cab songs that will determine how you feel about this album. I like it – in the week and a half since I got my hands on the album, I’ve listened through maybe fifteen times, and several songs (most notably ‘Geometry Etc.’, ‘The Score’ and ‘A bird Is A Song’) have worked their way into my regular listening rotation – I’ve posted ‘Sing Again’ (which Barsuk are making available as a free download) for your consideration. The songs are terrifically catchy, they’re well written, well performed and well produced. It’s not that the album’s not good - in fact I feel comfortable saying it’s a great album. It’s everything I was hoping for – a good, catchy, straightforward rock album. But there’s very little is new about it. DCfC aficionados will most likely be able to place each song on the album it could have appeared on; and it’s no stretch to imagine Ben Gibbard’s vocals on each track.

As a quality pop-rock album, ‘Field Manual’ delivers in spades – it’s clever and catchy and fans of Walla will want to listen to it over and over. But if you’re expecting a departure of any kind from the familiar Death Cab sound – you might be better off with the Postal Service.

Track List for Field Manual: 1. "Two Fifty" 2. "The Score" 3. "Sing Again" 4. "A Bird is A Song" 5. "Geometry Etc." 6. "Everyone Needs a Home" 7. "Everybody On" 8. "Our Plans, Collapsing" 9. "Archer v. Light" 10. "St. Modesto" 11. "It's Unsustainable" 12. "Holes"

Field Manual is available on Barsuk Records from January 29th. Death Cab for Cutie’s next album, apparently called Narrow Stairs is due in May.