dad's brothers from holland

gig review >> dutch uncles >> old blue last, shoreditch >> 27.10.10

for the last few months the name 'dutch uncles' has been everywhere - i say everywhere, i mean my twitter account, which can seem like everywhere when you while away your working day tweeting about the weather and hunting down the next must-see gig. a lot of 'musos' i follow have repeatedly sung their praises, so to find they were playing the old blue last in shoreditch last night was a pre-halloween treat...

dutch uncles didn't disappoint and didn't miss a trick (how long can i abuse this halloween theme?). they begun awkwardly and having not seen them before i thought this might have been to the lack of stage space, or the the need to shake off some pre-gig jitters. three songs into their set, the awkwardness remained and it was apparent that this was indeed their stage style and essential to their indie-maths pop personality. frontman duncan wallis showed an often spooky likeness to the mannerisms of the late ian curtis, switching from timid and shy between songs, to cutting angular shapes with his flaying arms and square shoulders once the beat of the song had been fully embraced. bouncing 80s bass lines and creative entwining guitars backed up what wallis' punchy often feminine vocals confessed to the crowd.

it seemed a long set for a relatively low-key band, which evidences their wealth of material. the songs, often rousing became stronger towards the end of the night, a brooding intelligence which came to the forefront with songs such as 'fragrant' setting the busying crowd's knees jerking....

don't miss a trick, treat yourself to something from dutch uncles (boom boom ch...)

7.5/10

bye bye bus wankers

tv >> the inbetweeners

last monday brought down the curtain on a tv series that has really tickled me in the last couple of years; the inbetweeners. it's going to be an arduous toil filling the void left by the close-to-the-bone tales of four suburban teenagers who don't (despite their best efforts) fit in. neither too geeky to endure daily wedgies from the college bullies, nor cool enough to survive a night on the persians without crying for their mummy, they sit uncomfortably somewhere inbetween.

in the last few weeks i've plugged the show to my girlfriend, assuming the shenanigans of four heart-in-the-right-place lads will bring hilarity and enjoyment to her. sure, there's been a few 'lol' moments uttered from her lips but nothing to the levels of cracked-ribbed roars of merriment that i've been experiencing. surely smashing the hell out of some tulips with a golf club is hilarious? i believe the difference in our laughter meters is because as i watch the stupidity unfold, i relate it to my own inbetween years; such as the time we were arrested for stealing plant pots from someone's front garden (my mum fainted in the middle of lakeside when my sister phoned bragging the news), when we used to bunk off school one day each summer to go sailing but all we'd do is purposely and repeatedly capsize the boat much to our amusement and the annoyance of our fellow sea dogs, the camping trips where we'd drive for seven hours, face mass seagull poo attacks and have a baby puke on our laps in wimpy all for the sake of some teenage male bonding, the five mile drunken walks after nights out to stay at our mate's house just to have a perv on his mum in her silky nightie in the morning (despite only living half a mile from town ourselves) etc, etc - you get the picture. silly, yet not really hurting anyone - typically boyish behaviour that i can't fathom doing now, but at the time, seemed so right and so funny.

recalling our ever distancing youth is one of the main reasons behind the pleasure in the inbetweeners, i'm sure most of my male friends can see themselves and our previous disobedience in the characters - personally a scary mix of simon (terrible haircut/obsessing over unatainable girls) and jay (constant swearing and lying). ah, our naive and gone but not forgotten youth, how I miss thee. it's good to have these brief flashbacks remembering our fruition and coming of age, full of seemingly pointless happenings, but they were anything but pointless, they needed to happen to shape where we all are today. all teenage boys should experience the same playful mischief - just make sure your mum's sitting down (and not in lakeside) when she learns of your latest naughty adventure.

oh, and bring on the film - a lads holiday, it'll be like tenerife '97 all over again! sun, sea and absolutely no sex.

nothing's free in this world... except for this!

music >> free download

after much hype, a few weeks ago i caught the band i dream in colour live in east london. i was impressed with richard judge’s born for the stage vocals guiding us through the imaginatively progressive songs, often beginning with the most timid of introductions catapulting to a mature and ear pleasing musical culmination.

i've teamed up with i dream in colour to offer a free download of recently recorded single ‘if you’ produced by phil tyremen (doves, belle & sebastian) that you can download here:

i dream in colour. if you (mp3)

before the band hit the studio early next year to record their debut album they have taken to the road, relentlessly gigging to sell out venues and attracting a wave of new fans. stand out forthcoming gigs include november 11th hoxton underbelly and november 26th camden barfly. get along, and by that time you’ll have no excuse to not know all the words!

happy xmas mum, have a cd/coaster

music >> album review >> kings of leon >> come around sundown

to establish an unbiased view of kings of leon's new album 'come around sundown’ an open mind, ignoring the tiresome 'old kol / new kol' debate was required. 'only by the night', their fourth album brought a fresh wave of fans completely unaware of these tennessee boys before 'sex on fire', westlife cover 'use somebody' and sexy videos more akin to something beyonce would do. kol lost as many fans as they gained with their last album, but having reminded myself of their brilliance on their third record 'because of the times', i was hoping for great things from 'come around sundown'; either a return to their messy, frenzied bluesy rock, or a completely new direction - with whispers of a 'beachy' sounding album, i had high hopes that the polished stadium rock sound they'd uncomfortably slipped into was a one album blip.

sadly the divide between old and new kol remains, i can confirm they're still playing it safe and keeping their new fans (those playing 'sex on fire' off their phones and our take that-loving older sisters) happy with this over produced, stuck in second gear, middle of the road tosh that neither enlightens nor offends. even after three or four listens i couldn't help thinking the cd would make a nice christmas present for my mum, more suitable for afternoon coffee than brixton academy mosh pits. kol now have a signature commercial sound that is instantly recognisable, yet instantly forgettable. longing for the good times of 'spiral staircase' and 'california waiting' these new songs make clear those days are well and truly behind us.

it's not all bad, there are a couple of okay songs, 'no money' hints at their pre-2007 excellence with some choppy guitars and fuzzy production -(at last, i thought) but sadly the next song "pony up" immediately reminded me of the steering wheel-tapping beats they now embrace. 'beach side' has an interesting intro and bouncy bass, a song that flirts with a new direction, but just as my ears were readying themselves for the song to launch the new 2010 kol sound, it ends abruptly as if for fear of offending their new fans. 'pyro' and 'mary' are other songs that slightly stood out but still sat on the fence, not daring enough to tip toe next door where all the naughty, fun stuff is…

this album was kol's chance to slow the monster they've become but instead they've released a 'the only way is essex' friendly album that just doesn't do anything. the commercial road which they've taken is a very different road to the one we thought we were heading down when we jumped onboard during the blurry moustache and flared denim 'youth and young manhood' beginnings. those happy days are assigned to history, i miss them a lot but it seems kol don't, if they did we wouldn't be subjected to yet another soundtrack to bono's wet dreams.

4/10

relocation, relocation, relocation

life >> style

we've all had a laugh at the 'being a dickhead's cool' video that spread around the internet faster than a hoxton hero can roll their rizla. most of the people i know, myself included can tick off a few of the piss-takes highlighted - the current blog YOU ARE ENJOYING being the perfect example, but having recently returned from a week back in my hometown, i can confidently confirm that the life of these so called dickheads has to be an improvement on what is suffered by those diseased by small-town-syndrome now laughing at these supposed trendies. i agree with a of a lot of the video; take a stroll through east london and you'll see waves of pretentious young 'uns cat-walking their way down brick lane or broadway market, perfecting their look to whatever the leader of their whacky art student gang has decided is acceptably diverse enough from their gran's piss stained wardrobe that week, or which vintage camera (that probably doesn't work) looks coolest slung around their buttons-in collar.

the cloned "wow, i'm so diverse, look at my clothes and moustache, i'm the ultimate artist/musician/writer in hackney" falseness obviously riles a lot, but in their favour, at least these young upstarts aren't stuck in the small, narrow minded town they grew up in, desperate to try new things but constrained because of the fear of abuse or failure to fit in. they've moved to london, one of the most magnificent cities in the world, and yep they're wearing silly clothes, growing ridiculous facial hair, sitting over london fields, blogging about their cool day out looking all hip and happening for their 800+ facebook friends and they'll carry on doing it. finally these kids have found a place that tolerates this behaviour whereas before they would have been branded gay or a c*nt at the very thought of wearing a dead man's cardigan or going out without socks on! now all they have to put up with is funny internet videos. like all social groupings, sort through the crap, the fakeness and pretence and you'll find some lovely people who have lived and breathed what is their natural lifestyle for years. for every fifty sheep, there will be a few genuine shepherds; the effortlessly fashionable, artistic, creative types, but unfortunately their genuinity is lost amongst the hoards of hackney.

i diverge, a lot. so i was back in my hometown, the place i'd spent my conformed life surviving through not being too 'out there' or rebelling against what river island had decided was fashionable that season; back to the reptitiveness of the same conversations, same faces, same pubs, same shops and the same dress sense - you'd think the residents of my hometown would have the fitness levels of an olympian for the amount of tracksuits on parade. feeling out of place, i craved the comforts of london with it's endless supply of cosy pubs, amazing parks full of bbqs and guitars, no boy racers circuiting the town centre scouting for 14 year old girls to fill their mum's ford ka, but mostly for the 'anything goes' mentality. despite their obvious faults, these so called dickheads have a liberal and openess that should be applauded. embracing their new surroundings, there's an agreed and underlying acceptance of non-high street conformative fashion, varied music, ranging hair styles (although a morrissey quiff will help you find your feet) but most importantly an acceptance of any colour, any sex, any religion, any race. these people might not tick everyone's like box, sure they're lost in their little fashion student world (despite being 36 and working in a data entry office), but at least they're friendly and won't even shudder at the recent criticisms, just laugh, admit to nearly everything on there, and carry on doing it to the obvious annoyance of such film makers and shoreditch twat abusers.

as stated, most people i know can be loosely catergorised with these once vulnerable beings, but they're a friendly bunch and not out for trouble or to annoy. the younger crowd are enjoying the escapism of their new home, and older generation are out to retain an ever loosening grip on their youthfulness and have a good time while they cling. so with all that in mind, i proclaim "long live the dickheads, just tone it down a little yeah? i can't use up valuable blog space sticking up for you, i've got to promote my art, fashion, warehouse parties and all the other hip and trendy shit i've got on the go!"

i'm off to london fields to type this up on my macbook pro yah...

colchester, colchester or wolves (but definitely not spurs)

football >> my dad

when my old man talks about football i take note, he knows his stuff. this is the man who left his brother's wedding mid-ceremony to race to molineux to stand on the north bank (in his lilac flared suit) to catch the second half of his beloved wolverhampton wanderers versus everton in september 1971*. such dedication has led to a wealth of football knowledge filling his cigar and whisky stained brain; ask him who was rotherham's manager in 1983 and he'll tell you. test him with who won the world cup in 1972 and he'll immediately inform you there wasn't a world cup that year. so when my dad guided me into the wonderful world of football when i was five years old, he wisely advised me that people should only support a team that abides to these rules:

- the team of where you were born
- the team of where you grew up
- the team your dad supports

that left me with colchester, colchester or wolves. rebelling, i supported arsenal for a season or two - something to do with lee dixon's tanned thighs, a very peculiar time for a young boy. but over time my yoda-like father's wisdom took effect, that and the sorry realisation i'd never get a new nylon kit if i carried on cheering dixon et al. so as easy as kerry katona swaps bodily fluids, i switched my allegiances to the pride of the black country. for over two decades i've followed wolves through thick (steve bull's two million goals in the turner years, winning the 2003 play-offs, thrashing man utd 1-0, winning the 2009 championship, staying in the premier league last season), and thin (near closure, sir jack's millions wasted on crippled has-beens, seeing bolton or west brom repeatedly beat us in the play-off semi finals and relegation from the premier league despite the amazing free signing of steffen iversen in 2004!) and through these highs and lows i've been to a lot of games and taken in many an old rusty ground.

the money spent, the wet and cold tuesday evenings in january, the hours stuck in traffic jams evidence loyalty and have left a hopeful yet grounded football opinion. but it's all worth it in the end. the good times (premier league stability) might finally be returning to molineux, so in this sky sports led age when so few follow my father's model and now seek quick fix glories randomly supporting chelsea, man utd or spurs despite living hundreds of miles away, maybe it's time to take stock and think about who you should really be following. back my dad's methods and you'll find the success tastes sweeter, you might find yourself actually going to a game (who'd have thunk it?!) and your spurs winning the champions league theory won't be laughed out of your local boozer faster than kerry katona spreads her legs...

*my dad informs me it finished 1-1 if you were wondering

out of office

life >> holiday

i am currently out of the office being all cultured and that in italy until monday 16th august.


i shall respond to your query upon my return.



ciao!
jamie

i dream in colour

gig review >> i dream in colour >> london >> 28.07.10

in the midst of the great british festival season it's easy to forget that we, the new-music-chasing public should be out there on these fine summer's evenings discovering bands trying to climb the musical ladder. with festivals showcasing what feels like seven million bands every weekend, we'd be forgiven during these warmer months for failing to get out to the dark and dingy gigs that turn these bands from underdogs to summer festival regulars. wanting to move away from the "festivals have everyone i want to see" mindset, last night i headed to london's brick lane to see 'i dream in colour', a young london outfit playing songs from their recently released ep 'the boiler room' (available on itunes, produced by iain gore - mystery jets, glasvegas, libertines). i'd heard a lot about them through a guitar tech mate of mine (tech is short for technician but i'm not sure what guitar is short for*). this techie geek has worked with some big names like maximo park, the maccabees and morcheeba (he prefers bands beginning with 'm'), so when a few months ago he described richard judge (idic's frontman/guitarist) as the best songwriter he'd ever come across, i was intrigued and keen to catch them live.

i dream in colour are a classic indie band, a lazy summation i know, but they are and it's not a bad thing, with all the usual suspects as influences - the beatles et al. they began with 'ready to go', a strong opener with a moody intro and memorable riff. second up was the one song that i and most of the crowd already knew, 'get along'. it had all the elements of a well crafted indie pop song, evidencing the songwriting prowess i'd heard all about. a couple of tracks came and went in the middle, perhaps not quite up to the high standards on show earlier in the gig, but things picked up again towards the end of the set. 'fourteen' is a great song, well structured, well layered, good chorus and propelled to another level by richard's mature and key changing vocals - think matt bellamy minus the opera rubbish. such strong vocals highlight that this is his band and these are his songs. the last song 'finding the courage' was my favourite. when it got going i was hoping the outro would last for ages, the kind of song that could have had a six minute ego stroking ending (the fact that it didn't again shows there's thought behind the writing), but with an abrupt finish their set was over and it was time to head into the night...

all in all it was good to get back to the midweek grass roots of music with a band i knew little about. during the set i felt slightly disappointed with the rest of the band - happy to just provide the backdrop for richard to shine, but on reflection that's all they needed to do. shine richard does. extremely impressive vocals, catchy songs and the ability to veer nicely between languid and energetic. for i dream in colour to progress and climb that musical ladder where the big shot guitar techs jump onboard, they know what they need; a name change to something beginning with 'm'... so while they consider new band names, i'll try and work out what 'guitar' is short for.

i dream in colour played:

ready to go

get along

if you

alibi

on my mind

fourteen

finding the courage

7.5

*copyright of mat horne & alexander oakley. jokers.

"hi pod, please shut up and go listen to these real beauties"

with the hardest working day of the week now consigned to water cooler history, and only four office days left until field day festival i thought i'd get home, relax and put my weary feet up with some terrible television. i wanted terrible but watchable tv. you know, shit, but still leaves you feeling warm inside (surprise surprise, howard's way, that kind of thing). to my annoyance i've painfully just watched the first 41 seconds of 'snog marry avoid?' and i'm left questioning our existence. but instead of writing a tear and blood stained final message directed at jenny frost, 'pod' and overweight orange girls giving them the satisfaction they crave, i've instead gone through my itunes to make a rather more life embracing note of my favourite five albums of 2010 so far. so for all those looking for something other to do than start gang warfare against glowing perma-tan girls, go listen to the following...

foals, 'total life forever'

raising the bar not just for bands from studious oxford, but for all british bands right now. amazing. 9

favourite song... 'spanish sahara'

arcade fire, 'the suburbs'

not out for a few days yet, but thankfully for us (but not their bank manager) it's leaked and is currently set on repeat on my iphone. quite brilliant. 9

favourite song... 'ready to start'

mystery jets, 'serotonin'

the strongest middle of an album i've heard in a long time, irresistibly catchy. 8

favourite song... 'show me the light'

avi buffalo, 'avi buffalo'

sounds like the album mgmt tried (but failed) to make with their second offering. poppy and summery, lovely stuff. 7

favourite song... 'truth sets in'

yeasayer, 'odd blood'

in places sounds like the perfect pilled up, loved up, but very weird summer party. odd blood, odd sounds and oddly scattered bits of genius. 7

favourite song... 'love me girl'

so there you have it, my top five. a special mention should also go to sleigh bells, ariel pink's haunted graffiti, the coral and two door cinema club who just failed to make the grade, i'm sure they're crying into their supper right now. with that written, i'm off to watch 'lee nelson's well good show'. someone pass me a gun.

i love your box

festival review >> lovebox >> london >> 16.07.10

i loved lovebox. not that i can remember much, but on that basis i can pretty much assume i had a jolly good time.

the day started with sunshine and a fear of our drinks being confiscated upon our arrival. with this in mind we necked some of our homemade cocktails in a hastily organised drinkathon outside the festival gates, resembling two naughty teenagers about to enter their first school disco for a bit of a fingering. with drinks drunk and legs a little loose, we passed the burly security guards without even a cheeky grope to check for our remaining arsenal of vodka. what was already a blur of a day, was about to get a whole lot blurrier...

my ever fading memories of friday include bombay bicycle club, the mystery jets and the maccabees, three of my favourite bands of today. they could have played boyzone covers for all i remember, so don't expect reports of set-lists or highlights from me. i can assume though from all our smiley photographs now cluttering the world of social networking, we were having a whale of a time. there's photographic evidence of backstage action, some heavy drinking, fairground rides, some wrestling with my now bruised little sister but sadly no evidence of my lost gay man-bag. said misplaced bag resulted in a night on the tiles for us. actually when i say tiles, i mean pebbles. yep, no bag meant no key, no key meant no entrance to my house and no entrance meant no bed. any remotely sober festival goer would have quickly realised that in such circumstances the one mile journey to my girlfriend's house would have been the quick fix solution. not for us. our joyous drunken mood obviously led us to mistakenly believe the pebbles in the front garden would be inviting and cosy. they weren't, but thank you lovebox, thank you for the drunken good times that have led to my now four day old aching back.

as is obvious from the above, with arsenal of vodka quickly consumed, i have minimal evidence in my aching head to back up my claims that lovebox was a lot of fun, however i can reflect from my few lasting visions and photographs that the sun helped, the lack of mud was a massive boost and the 'we're here for a day so let's fucking have it' mindset amongst everyone contributed to what made this day so forgetful - in a good way! what i'm trying to say, is that because lovebox was such a laugh the fact that we can't remember seeing anyone doesn't matter, the lost bag doesn't matter, the night spent asleep in my cold front garden and the now unshakeable aching bones do not matter... i wouldn't have had it any other way. see you next year for more of the same vicky park, pebbles 'n all...

9.5

kev and eleanore (could) go large!

gig review >> the hundred in the hands >> the old blue last, shoreditch >> 15.07.10

last thursday evening i attended a vice magazine party at the old blue last in shoreditch. the people at vice promised us "beautiful people and bands", but after a brief scout there was only one person that caught my eye - the only person in the room who seemed natural, not over dressed in her dead granny's clothes, and not competing for queen of quirky amongst her fellow hoxton heroes. step forward eleanore everdell, singer, synths and all things electric and exciting in the two piece band the hundred in the hands.

eleanore, the female half of the hundred in the hands first caught my eye last year when i saw them warm up for the maccabees at the brighton great escape festival. they were pretty good back then, so i had high expectations of them a year of growth on. they're from new yooik, and play an easy on the ear minimal avant poppy dubby electro, think the basics of crystal castles minus the screams and urge to take a load of pills and rave. more tap your foot stuff, or casually shake your hair about (as eleanore does so well). despite a few technical hitches, their set was laden with catchy pop songs from their new lp out in september such as 'ghosts', 'tom tom' and a heavier than usual version of their most popular song 'dressed in dresden'. everdell seductively propels the songs with an ease that seems effortless and natural. in complete contrast to her minimal yet perfect effort is guitarist jason friedman who crashes around his million or so effects pedals like a moody emo teenager creating a sound that bares little resemblance to what would naturally amplify from his collection of guitars. some might say the contrast compliments their on stage sound, but i found the actions of jason a bit much. for some reason mid-set he adorned one of those silly caps that a lot of the early 20-somethings tilt on the back of their boy-in-a-band-hair these days. memories of harry enfield and kevin the teenager came flashing back. occasionally the sound created by jason was too wall-of-noise for everdell's soft tones and any hooks or melodies seemed lost in his blaze of effects.

i liked the delivery from eleanore, i also enjoyed the knee jerking beats of their songs, but found myself increasingly aggravated by jason's on stage, back to the crowd performance. but with a little tweak in their live sound and stage presence here, a removal of a cap there, the hundred in the hands will soon find themselves propelled to the bigger gigs and due to the law of averages, should ensure an increase in the beautiful people as wrongfully promised tonight...

6.5

the hundred in the hands played:

tom tom

young aren't young

pigeons

ghosts

building in l.o.v.e

commotion

dressed in dresden

hello, this is bombay bicycle club, may i take your orderings please? folk, yes we do folk. would you like pilau rice with that?

album review >> bombay bicycle club >> flaws

if you're going to listen to an acoustic album, you need to be in exactly the right mood. my mood today is sleepy, hungover, and ridiculously hot. bombay bicycle club are about to release 'flaws' (out on monday 12th july), possibly the perfect album for my current state of mind.

this is a massive (presumably temporary) step away from the sound of bbc's first album 'i had the blues but i shook them loose', and there's not much on 'flaws' that will get your heart racing or your arms aloft as their first album did with such indie hits as 'evening/morning', but that's obviously not the angle of this record. what the new songs lack in effects and electronic zest, they make up for in haunted acoustic folk, heavily doused in nick drake and neil young. also on show is a maturing voice delivering more endearing lyrics; lead man jack steadman's vocals sound particularly impressive fronting this new found folk sound. highlights include the cover of john martyn's 'fairytale lullaby', the song from which the album takes its name 'flaws' and the stripped back version of 'dust on the ground', which is possibly better than the version found on their debut album. unfortunately i found some songs to be a little repetitive and forgettable as is regularly the issue with an acoustic album, but that's not to say i didn't appreciate the crouch end boys new sound, indeed praise is due for displaying such a brave and creative alter-ego. the band now embark on a nationwide church and chapel tour, but have promised to revisit their more varied classical indie sounds for their festival dates.

as my saturday night draws closer, i realise this isn't going to be the soundtrack to get spruced and bruced to, but for now, as i sit resembling a lobster, struggling in the hot english sunshine, it's perfect.

7

sarah told him to listen to the mystery jets...

album review >> the mystery jets >> serotonin

riding my bike through london in a mad dash to work, slowed by summer’s whirling winds, the light spitting rain and HGVs is a tough and dangerous task at the best of times. add to that my ipod beating my ear drums with the latest mystery jets album 'serotonin' and the dangers suddenly reach new levels. a lack of attention towards the heaving traffic is the obvious risk but the other problem with hearing a new album in such congested conditions is the threat of missing the best parts. turns out though, after one albeit rushed and background noise-filled listen, i've heard enough to want to race home and give it the time it deserves (minus the hazards of london roads).

'serotonin' is a good album. not great as some are suggesting but a good, upbeat, indie pop album. these chaps are obviously very comfortable with the music they're making right now and so they should be. heavily relying on the '80s for the basics of their sound, nearly every song takes interesting and unexpected twists and is backed with beach boys-inspired '60s harmonies. with my hands gripping my handle bars, i had no digital display to check the track names, so simply had to remember the basics and the things that struck me straight away: track one is a good intro to the album, track four is catchy, track seven is the stand out and it seems, most of the songs are about the loss of a girl or dizziness of drugs. off my bike and settled at my desk with said digital display in front of me (my ipod of course) i made some brief notes of the songs that really stood out, here’s what i discovered...

the first track 'alice springs' is a favourite, but also 'flash a hungry smile', 'show me the light' and the obvious yet excellent (and substance inspired) 'dreaming of another world'. title track 'serotonin' is another i could clearly recall (i initially put this down to the repeated cries of "sarah told him" - sarah told him what lads? get to the point - but it soon became clear they were indeed singing "serotonin"), but it's simply because it's a good electronically led song.

various influences include aforementioned synth based '80s pop, but also indie oldies the super furry animals and even a slight touch of more recent chord progression-based top 40 friendly acts. some lyrics are a little immature and obvious, especially in 'it's too late to talk' and 'the girl is gone', but perhaps this is the charm of this album. they're not trying to do a radiohead or take a new direction - this is pop, it's simple, it's memorable and it's an easy listen. the fact that there’s nothing too inventive or explorative here is something to appreciate at a time when so many bands panic in an attempt to challenge their fans two or three albums in. i'm hoping the simple and ear-pleasing basics of 'serotonin' keep me alert enough on my bike tonight so i can appreciate this masterful pop perfection in the comfort of my own home... go take a listen, but not on a bike.

8

better late than never, total life forever

album review >> foals >> total life forever

every year there are one or two albums that completely blow me away. the kind of album that if i was listening to it on a cassette during my pubescent days, would have died in a pile of thin black tape after only a few listens. last year it was the brilliant 'primary colours' by the horrors, played to a point where i knew the songs so well, i felt like i wrote them.

this year it has to be 'total life forever' the second album from foals. every song is just the right length, even 'spanish sahara' at almost seven minutes leaves the listener begging for more. it's quiet and timid to begin with but then brilliantly, leaves you just when it finally arrives. after the first listen 'after glow' was the one track i struggled with out of all of the oxford lads' offerings, but on reflection and after countless plays it's now up there, knocking about with my other favourites on the 2010 musical pedestal (alongside previously mentioned 'spanish sahara', 'this orient', 'total life forever' and 'black gold'). best part of the track? skip to roughly three minutes in and it transforms from a melancholic growl into an explosion of funky beats that get my head a-nodding and feet a-tap tap tapping.

the vocals on this album push yannis to a level he didn't even attempt on 'antidotes' and the lyrics seem personal. the music is catchier than ever and the songs have that "i need to see these live" effect (foolishly i turned down the chance to see them in camden a few weeks ago, what a twat i am).

i should have reviewed 'total life forever' when it leaked in the weeks leading up to it's official release, but sometimes it's best not to rush an opinion. i'm now convinced it belongs in the list of the elite albums i've heard in recent years. i don't declare to know everything about music and i'm not hip enough to know every trendy band that's filling the shoreditch gutters, but i do know that this is an album that will last. well, at least until next year...

9

dawson didn't even get a look in...

world cup review >> england

cheer up people, stop crying about the goal that never was. it's under seven weeks until the premier league kicks off again! less boo hoo and more woo hoo please! i for one can't wait to see:

- wayne rooney control a football.

- fat frank score 20+ belters from the edge of the area.

- glen johnson willing to chop down a rampaging opposition baring down on goal at the expense of a yellow card.

- steven gerrard orchestrate an entire game from CENTRAL midfield.

- matthew upson able to judge the flight of a pub league style 70 yard punt, and also not repeatedly sand wedge the ball out of play when in possession and under absolutely no pressure.

- john terry not believing he's playing a zidane type free-role and staying in his own half.

- five midfielders stretched across a midfield preventing their slick opposition passing the ball through them.

- and emile heskey remaining where he has spent most of his recent playing days, on the substitute's bench.

pretty much what we've just seen from our £100k per week players in south africa right? oh. maybe not.

and to top off all the embarrassment that has just passed, i've had to use up four of my transfers for my fantasy team. bloody cheers capello! cheers england!

warning! can cause permanent hearing damage and world cup heartache

world cup review >> england

while watching the make or break world cup nail biter between england and slovenia yesterday i experienced something for the first time during this tournament that i hadn't previously felt, joy. this was in part because of the win and the emergence of my favourite non-wolves player joe cole finally coming off the bench, but it was more down to the surprisingly clear head i was experiencing. this was not down to a lack of alcopops, no, this was because i heard something i hadn't heard for weeks in a football match... singing! ok, singing is not the right word to describe the vocal talents of a gang of fat naked bald men, let’s call it chanting! oh my god, i could actually hear the cries of our drunken brits abroad above those BLOODY VUVUZELAS! i could make out the drums and trumpets of our touring barmy army and i could hear our LOYAL support (fuck off rooney) passionately belting out our (just the right length) national anthem! amazing! my tv for the first time wasn’t on mute (it also helped that the game was on bbc rather than itv) because finally the headache-inducing swarm of a wasp hum was swatted by our lion's roar.

the england fans literally sang us into the next round. they are the twelfth man so many other countries crave, but we shouldn't need them. on paper we have some of the best players in the world (shame they have to play on grass then), but there are nations out there who really do need a 'twelfth man' - none more so than the host nation south africa. when south africa were effectively knocked out of the world cup in only their second game losing 3-0 to the fantastic forlan and his uruguain chums, i'm sure the south african players would have been boosted after going behind, by some patriotic chanting and encouragement rather than the ear drum-aching hooting and tooting from a plastic tube. maybe i'm missing the point that these are a symbol of south african history and culture, but this is modern day football and the encouraging swear word-filled songs give the players the confidence and kick up the backside that is sometimes lacking on a football pitch.

so come sunday when those of our boys who can't take their premier league form onto an international stage (fat frank) face those bloody kuntz, we'll once again need to be that twelfth man. let’s sing and swear our hearts out, and for gaaawd’s sake (and my ears’ health) leave the vuvuzella at home.

"fucking come on england!"

time flies when you're having fun

music >>

while waiting at bethnal green tube station the other morning i noticed a poster advertising oasis' latest money grabbing rehash of 90's classics. i'm sure there was something very similar to this last year called 'stop the clocks'? anyway, 'time flies' is a singles collection, all 5627 of them. some are outstanding ('supersonic', 'cigarettes & alcohol'), some are truly awful ('sunday morning call', 'i'm outta time') but it got me thinking about 'the old days'. the days of blur vs oasis, the days of jarvis at the brits, the days when bands had personalities, the days when i had album release dates etched in my gsce revision drained memory and marked on my jet from gladiators calendar. what happened to those days?

why don't we queue up at virgin megastore at midnight anymore to buy a new album? ok, that's a bad example because virgin no longer exists, but those were the days when bands were exciting, albums were events, and music was front page news. maybe i'm showing my years and my ever receding hair line here, but the kids of today (did i really just say that?) don't know what they're missing.

i don't blame the internet, i fucking love the internet, great for arty pictures of the female of the species, or so my friends tell me, but leaking albums is the norm now and we're never going to get back to the excitement of going 'daan taan' to buy that shiny new cd, and racing home to listen to the eleven or so songs on repeat. now we know all nine or so songs well before the official release date and tend to be bored of the offering before it hits the grey metallic shelves. this has it's advantages. our pockets are lined with extra sterling to spend down the local boozer, but we're now faced with a lack of excitement in purchasing new music, and also awol is the camaraderie and personality.

previously mentioned bethnal green tube poster reminded me of what had passed, and what we lack now. our folks had lennon, jagger, pressley and rotten, we had gallagher, albarn, cocker and mike flowers pops, but who have the youth of today got? turner? maybe if he gets back to his sheffield tracksuit routes. doherty? he can barely open his eyes long enough to voice an opinion. that bloke from kasabian who wants to be russell brand? not exactly news of the world stuff is it? we had weeks of excitement, saving of paper round pennies, and midnight queues, today it's torrents and bit rates. so come on today's bands, step up, lets hear about your tv throwing, mistress madness and narcotic naughties, that after all is the romance and charm of rock n roll that can never be taken from us, virgin megastore or no virgin megastore...