Best album I've heard all year (which is saying something, 'cos it's been pretty much unadulterated shit since January). Half swirling soundscapes that conjure up images of digital sand and binary projections on the side of Cheop's Pyramid, half as if some German dub techno tourist had left his drum machine at Dusseldorf airport and decided to make Low-era instrumentals using a Tenori-on and a set of Tefal saucepans. Stream it here. _________________ 'Reggae' & t'ing Folk 'n Stuff SHAMELESS RECORD DEALER PLUG
Jimmy DreadOld skool like Happy ShopperModeratorProfile 555 Dub Street
I've just discovered the best new band in ages. And I'm so excited about their album (due out in August) I might just have to book the release date off work to get it.
Naturally I'm not going to tell you who they are. They're far too precious for your average pleb. If you wanna know I'll tell you (if I like you). But on current form it'll be the third year in a row teenagers have topped my End of Year poll.
I've just discovered the best new band in ages. And I'm so excited about their album (due out in August) I might just have to book the release date off work to get it.
Naturally I'm not going to tell you who they are. They're far too precious for your average pleb. If you wanna know I'll tell you (if I like you). But on current form it'll be the third year in a row teenagers have topped my End of Year poll.
Don't. Stop. Indie. Pop
... why no tell _________________ follow me on the bandcamp.
Jimmy DreadOld skool like Happy ShopperModeratorProfile 555 Dub Street
In which the kooky offspring of Stina Nordenstram and Grimes hijacks the latter's iPad preloaded with all the Garageband samples you could possibly imagine, nicks a Moog and crafts a dream-pop/ambient/quasi-drone tour de force which for the life of me I can't pigeonhole into a specific style. And you know, for me that's a good thing, because I reckon a load of people who might ordinarily baulk at one of the above genre tags would love this record. It's got the pop sensibilities of a Visions but also the ethereal qualities of a bunch of dream-pop/shoegaze albums. Her voice also reminds me a of an elfin Emily Jane White buried inamongst a wave of multi-tracked loveliness (there's a pinch of Bjork and Fever Ray in there too). I'd love to be able to describe it, but I can't - there's ambient electronic soundscapes reminsicent of Eno, a drone or two here and there, the closer "Stories" (vocals aside) wouldn't be that out of place on a Boards Of Canada album. There's looping synths all over the shop, faux Eastern synth tinkering ("See Through"), an unsettling Suicide-meets-a-ghost ode to sitting your DVLA theory test ("You're Trying To Drive") and a moment of uncomfortable double-tracked tranquility that if it were a maze you could get lost in for days ("I Can't Sleep"). It's a real mixed bag, but through it all comes not only Natalie Chami's talent and penchant to experiment, but a voice you could get lost in for hours. There's been a couple of great albums from female singer-songwriters so far this year (my faves being from Julie Byrne and Julia Lucille, the latter I haven't shared with you all until now - look her up), but I reckon this tops the lot and has got enough weird and wonderful bedroom-produced kookiness inamongst its many layers to not grate after half a dozen listens.
Hayden, Gowi, Suede, Brandon (if you're out there) - this'll be right up your street. Other like-minded souls who know who they are will likely dig it too. Seriously, I've listened to it twice on repeat now and apart from 'Crossing Lines' (which grates a bit) the rest is ace. Float away and radiate.
Having just had that 22erik22 character (surely Sweden's worst export since that Billy bookcase I bought with 2 shelves missing) rate my overall chart a glorious 5/100 just 'cos I pointed out he was a plagiarising cunt, I've found some solace to quell the pain (!) with one of the best things I've heard all year:
Until about a hour ago I'd never heard of Mark Wynn - in fact if I hadn't found my favourite blog which gives me a ton of recs that seem to have slipped under whatever twattish bollocks Pitchfork's bandwagon is set to jump on (by the way, that Brockhampton album is total gash for soft lads) I still wouldn't have and more than likely would have flopped in front of the telly watching Bridget Jones with 'er indoors. Anyway, I didn't, 'cos I found Yorkshire's answer to the bastard lovechild of Mark E.Smith and Dan Treacy. In fact take the lyrical content out of the equation and you might as well be listening to Alex Turner if he and his band of monkeys hadn't hit the big time and he'd gone back to playing solo gigs for his friends. Or an Ed Sheeran from a different dimension where he's not an annoying little prick and writes vignettes that don't make him look like some middle-class-rebellion-wannabe 'cos he once had a joint and drunk some Diamond White in the park when he was 14. Fucking hate him.
Anyway, this is brillo pads. There's a little Patrik Fitzgerald in here too, or a Dylan if he'd been born in Bingley. Lots of references to the North East (Batley, Whitley Bay and (day trip to) Heckmondwike all get a namecheck), spoken word commentaries which sound a bit like Half Man Half Biscuit relocated from the Wirral to a cellar across the Pennines, 40 second long tracks about the perils of returning unwanted DVDs (Kes), days out, dentists, the Beatles and the lead singer of Shed Seven. Picks? The whole bloomin' lot, but especially both "Billy, Billy I Love You" tracks - the first waxing lyrical about staying in watching Pingu rather than making friends, the other a quasi-ripoff of Subterranean Homesick Blues about a 'wanker on a bike'.
Anglophiles will love it. As will Midlanders, Mancs and Cumbrians. It's reet Gradley...
Having just had that 22erik22 character (surely Sweden's worst export since that Billy bookcase I bought with 2 shelves missing) rate my overall chart a glorious 5/100 just 'cos I pointed out he was a plagiarising cunt, I've found some solace to quell the pain (!) with one of the best things I've heard all year:
Until about a hour ago I'd never heard of Mark Wynn - in fact if I hadn't found my favourite blog which gives me a ton of recs that seem to have slipped under whatever twattish bollocks Pitchfork's bandwagon is set to jump on (by the way, that Brockhampton album is total gash for soft lads) I still wouldn't have and more than likely would have flopped in front of the telly watching Bridget Jones with 'er indoors. Anyway, I didn't, 'cos I found Yorkshire's answer to the bastard lovechild of Mark E.Smith and Dan Treacy. In fact take the lyrical content out of the equation and you might as well be listening to Alex Turner if he and his band of monkeys hadn't hit the big time and he'd gone back to playing solo gigs for his friends. Or an Ed Sheeran from a different dimension where he's not an annoying little prick and writes vignettes that don't make him look like some middle-class-rebellion-wannabe 'cos he once had a joint and drunk some Diamond White in the park when he was 14. Fucking hate him.
Anyway, this is brillo pads. There's a little Patrik Fitzgerald in here too, or a Dylan if he'd been born in Bingley. Lots of references to the North East (Batley, Whitley Bay and (day trip to) Heckmondwike all get a namecheck), spoken word commentaries which sound a bit like Half Man Half Biscuit relocated from the Wirral to a cellar across the Pennines, 40 second long tracks about the perils of returning unwanted DVDs (Kes), days out, dentists, the Beatles and the lead singer of Shed Seven. Picks? The whole bloomin' lot, but especially both "Billy, Billy I Love You" tracks - the first waxing lyrical about staying in watching Pingu rather than making friends, the other a quasi-ripoff of Subterranean Homesick Blues about a 'wanker on a bike'.
Anglophiles will love it. As will Midlanders, Mancs and Cumbrians. It's reet Gradley...
"James Carr is probably one of the most passionate artists to ever live. Every song on his great debut is shot through with with an aching intensity, a storm of emotion, an unspeakably large inner pain (Carr suffered from depression, and it ended up costing him his career) mixed with a great deal of love. This shines through in his incredibly expressive voice, especially when he lets loose as on the title track, screaming his doomed love for the angelic figure which has so tortured him. This title track, a passionate lament, and the eternal "Dark End of the Street", a beautiful, almost holy depiction of forbidden love, are among the crowning achievements of Soul, but every song on here is a classic really. The deepest of deep soul. "
text shamelessly ripped from my listening log, give it a shot my man _________________
Romanelli wrote:
We're all fucked, lads.
Jimmy DreadOld skool like Happy ShopperModeratorProfile 555 Dub Street
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