Missive 91
17-03-2006
Singled Out

Missive 91

Dedicated to Kelly and Mark - missing you.

Noblesse Oblige ’Bitch / Quel Genre de Garcon / Remixes’ (Horseglue). Another release that we feel we owe many apologies for not reviewing sooner is this trio of releases that Sebastian and Valerie from Noblesse Oblige sent over a few months ago. Again another of those CD’s or in this case - three CD’s that somehow got stupidly mislaid. What we have here are the duo’s debut release (’Bitch’) the recent follow up (’Quel Genre de Garcon’) and a CD of mixes they’ve done for other kindred folk such as MIA and Mark Moore of S’ Express fame (or infamy depending on your viewpoint). Each release comes housed in sleeves of dubious pictorial matter (ha ha that’s pricked up your ears hasn’t it?) - with ‘Quel Genre de Garcon’ being framed in what can only be described as a spittle exchanging exercise while ‘Bitch’ looks like a candid photograph taken after what one can only assume has been a night out sampling virgin brides’ necks - that said they are still riding high in the taste chart if you compare to Crass and Throbbing Gristle. Fans of Leigh Bowery (the infamous Australian model, designer, trendsetter, performance artist, Taboo host and front man for Minty - front runners of the mid 90’s short lived Romo revival Noblesse Oblige aren’t afraid of wearing their influences pinned firmly on their nipples - it’s a curious mutation of varying elements from past and present that include strains of X-Mal Deutschland, Klaus Naomi, DAF, Front 242, SPK, Miss Kitten and Cobra Killer. But then you have to ask yourself - when exactly does the erotic become the idiotic - it’s a fine line as proven here and left to their own devices provide ample evidence of their high wire balancing skills. Their sound as you’d imagine is dirty and strangely sensual hinting at a shock factor appeal that runs to it’s very core, blistering with innuendo and desire these hip swerving cherries have a tendency to delight and make you ill at ease in the same breath, ‘Bitch’ with it’s sleazy ray gun gaze is built upon a throbbing grind happy Berlin-esque euro-disko underpin whose ensuing club floor carnage is cleverly over layered by what can only be described as a trademark ZZ Top on heat mid 80’s riff which once inside your head space claims squatters rights and refuses to budge. Contrast that with the frankly worrying and uncompromisingly ill like ’Daddy (don’t touch there)’ which is so skin crawlingly you’ll spend the rest of the day in the shower trying to rid yourself of its sickly aftertaste. Dealing principally with the behind closed doors subject of incest and you quickly begin to realise that behind that mask of bravado and performance make up that Sebastian and Valerie don’t beat about the bush in terms of making confrontational social commentary rather more preferring to meet it head on and drag it into the light kicking and screaming. The duo’s second single is a much lighter affair it has to be said - ‘Quel genre de Garcon’ (‘what kind of boy’) betrays a more softly toned pop dynamic that has you imagining a perky Kraftwerk constructing sweetly tasting candy coated slices of pastoral folktronics from the bones of Salon Boris and passing them off as cutely formed love notes - braided by the clumpish pairing of goofy sounding toy box clockworks and synthesisers it makes this teasingly jaunty lazy eyed boy / girl vocal affair craftily affecting. Flip over for the equally tasty ‘Lil Dirty’ which once the distorted feedback has dissipated into the ether shapes up to be a rather smart meeting of 60’s Francophile pop fluffiness and early 70’s krautrock nuances as though St Etienne had snuck into Tim Gane’s studio under the cover of darkness and started sprinkling a little magic dust on a few discarded Stereolab tapes. Rounding the set with a cover or should that be a re-drafting of Minty’s s&m classic ’Useless Man’ that retains the original vocal samples of Leigh Bowery - starkly edgy stuff that chills to the bone, grittily stripped to the core almost devoid of emotion and happy to report lost none of it’s wretchedness. And when they’re not causing havoc and controversy by the minute in the studio and away from their DJ club nights (‘Caligula’) this duo can be found causing untold commotion on other artists wares. I’m not exactly sure whether the remixes CD is readily available for public consumption - but then I suppose a well aimed begging letter and the offer of remuneration of some form or other might help. Features 7 remixes as worked by the Noblesse Oblige crew - these have all - bar one (Noblesse Oblige Vs. Minty - ’Useless Man’ - a slightly shorter mix than the aforementioned b-side to ‘Quel genre de garcon’) made it into most discerning outlets and to critical acclaim to some degree. Admittedly you struggle with remixes if, as is the case here, you haven’t had the pleasure of hearing the original - MIA’s ’Galang’ is given a suitably floor throbbing funkily mooching face lift all replete with ethnic accents, gunshots and the subtle strains of ’Shaft’ which for some reason had me recalling Depth Charge from ooh - eons ago. Mark Moore’s ’Trash the Can’ which is obviously ’Can the can’ by Suzi Quattro is put through it’s ‘house’ paces also included here are retakes on Xlover’s ’Love Sucker’, Thom Revolver and two re-brandings for Tempo Shark of which ‘Little White Lie’ is a sure fire killer that needs to be heard to be believed. All in all Noblesse Oblige provide for a positively lipsmackingdirtysleazyhornynaughtyhifibuggering spectacle - dare you enter the fray? www.noblesseoblige.co.uk

The Close Ups ‘Felt pen steel shutter’ (Northern Round Square). Another welcome return this time for the Close Ups who by our reckoning should be getting their collective cartoony backsides into a studio shortly to record a whole album given that this little gem marks the third release on the bounce that has had us drooling deliriously. Regular observers of these erratic doodling affairs should need no introduction to these cute as buttons pups for those of you asleep at the back or who’ve missed out a few pages then think of a kooky candy coated effervescent sunshine pop variant of the Gorillaz with the lighter shades of Girlinky happily cavorting in the mix. ’Felt pen steel shutter’ sees our heroes getting a little, shall we say, darker in tone as though Elastica had discovered the Banshees ’Playground Twist’ before the Fall or Wire’s ’three girl rhumba’, the sound of an ominous carnival-esque waltz whirls with macabre overtones insanely burrowing deep into the psyche yet still doesn’t detract from the fact that at its core there’s a seriously wicked albeit crooked pop intent at work here that craftily pays nods to the Altered Images ‘Dead popstars’. Flip side features the cutesy sounding ‘Saturday girl in Bedworld’. A colour coded take on the mundane humdrum world as portrayed in those classic 60’s brit flick affairs (‘Saturday Night, Sunday Morning’, ‘Alfie’, ‘Georgy Girl’ and the like) brought to life and bathed in all manner of spring hued rustic chords, nakedly seductive female vocals and woven in a delicately crisp nuzzling timeless sounding briskness that smoulders to the touch. Quite fetching and pressed on red vinyl as though you needed any further prods - spoiling us isn’t the word. www.theclose-ups.com

The Climb ‘Who shot Lana Clarkson’ EP (Self Released). And we do feel that we owe these young scamps an apology given that we originally received this cute four track demo way back in the Summer - accompanied by a handwritten note from lead singer Andrea bemoaning the fact that they’d change things if they had the chance and encouragement of a label. We say don’t talk tosh - this is pretty smart stuff indeed. Across four tracks that sizzle sexily the Climb neatly reveal a penchant for harrowing hooks spliced through with a cool as you care resonance that made these eyes water, undoubtedly pop fixated but harnessing a withering sting at the core these cuts pull and tussle the locks in equal measures. What makes the Climb so unique is that you can’t immediately hear who their heroes and reference points are - No Doubt okay yes especially on the opening ’Lana’ and ’Nobody Else’ but then the former owes more to the 60’s than the 90’s sounding like a rough at the edges early Pretenders skirting with the same fascination for cutely alluring shimmering pop as displayed on the Somatics Shifty Disco debut from a few years back. ‘Nobody else’ is similarly affected fizzing and burning with a shy desire that sadly never really unfurls into quite the epic you suspect it has the potential of achieving. That said favoured cuts for me personally are those to be found happily snuggled away at the end of the CD. ‘Days like these’ with it’s sapping slide accompaniment and softly simmering introspection may seem initially to appear merely nice but try playing it at 2 in the morning or after a particularly hectic and fraught day and that self same slow curling demeanour soon mainlines into your senses expressing a soothing eye watering colourful charm. However all said and done nothing quite touches the blistering cranking up the dials ‘Lose Control’ - knee jerking stop starting shard peeling riffs crafted straight from classic New Wave affairs long gone - file under frenetic crushing pop. A band to watch methinks www.myspace.com/theclimb

The Budda Cakes ‘The Buddha Cakes’ EP (Apple Core). I’ll start off by saying that this - the debut three track release (though strangely my copy has in fact 5 tracks) from London three piece the Buddha Cakes combines more creative artistry and freewheeling melodic depth than a fair few bands currently receiving accolades and plaudits by the truck load have so far been sadly lacking despite having several singles and the odd album to their name. Getting together less than a year ago it must be something to do with the evening ambience to which this band work within (i.e. by candlelight it would seem) but they appear to have an uncanny knack at shitting tunes at will, each of these five tunes (yes there are five - it’s not my imagination) reveal a different facet of the ensembles creativity and by doing so ensures the EP never dulls or indeed out stays it welcome on the hi-fi. By far the best cut and most immediate of the set is the fraught ‘n’ tight as a gnats arse opener ‘Unnecessary’ - think upon it as a lighter styled half cousin to the Playwrights, a beast of a cut borne out of an incessant splintered grinding underpin, not so much art rock but a riot in a paint factory frantically fused with an armoury of head drilling needle like laceration inducing riffs that cut and jerk with acute angularity all fleshed over by one of the meanest down and dirty grooves you’ll hear in a fair while. ’In my arms’ tones down the mood considerably to the faintest heart beat and strangely bringing with it a chorus hook that had us thinking long and hard in to the night from where we’d heard it before until we threw it to the two local cats for a vote (and when I say cats I mean cats - furry things that go miaow - of whom it must be said for the record appear to have adopted me of late - none of that hep cat jive talk shit around here - no siree) and then deciding on Ultravox’s ‘The Hymn’. That said a lulling love note of sorts braided by the gentle allure of rustic acoustics with skeletal Beatles-esque shades of a dulling romance as conjured by McCartney coming to the fore. ‘Erections’ is odd - and by odd I mean odd in a kind of early 80’s anything goes post punk austere themed odd, utilising only vocals, handclaps and a bass it has a curious of kilter funkiness and detached ethnicity about it reminiscent in mood of early ACR meets 23 Skidoo but powdered with the oblique shiver of those initial Marc and the Mambas outings and the nakedness of those early Creatures forays. ‘Always’ is your radio friendly slice of part winsome part candy coated pop delicately brushed with a subtle glaze of west coast vibe that tightened up and brought out of its self confined shade could prove to be something of a killer. Wrapping up the set - ‘Silence’ has an unnerving knack for constantly putting you on the back foot throughout it’s duration, from an assumed starting position of being merely tasty this darling little treat soon blossoms into a quite affectionate shade of lighter waving soft rock / pop that between the grooves reveals a neat time line that joins the best of the Canvey Island pub rock circuit to the less Barrett fixated and surreal moments of Robyn Hitchcock as though in conjunction with Messrs Difford and Millbrook - all in all you might want to put alongside that recent sweetie by Camera. www.thebuddacakes.co.uk

Heroes of Switzerland ‘Disposable Fiction’ (Music to Bleed to). Music to bleed to indeed - though at a given volume I assume from the ears - and profusely so if the jaw locking opener ‘Disposable Fiction‘ is anything to go by. Heroes of Switzerland are (if you pardon the flippancy) what the press would have filed under shoe gaze / dream pop in the long and dim past, a time when it was in fact an offence to openly admit the liking of shimmering celestially intoned starry eyed pop and an apparent crime punishable by the hanging of said patrons by their long floppy fringes - so be warned Artic kids I think there is a lesson to be heeded here what’s hip today may well be hung tomorrow just ask the Darkness. Anyway back to Heroes of Switzerland - three track debut - a mighty fine it is to just wait till you hear the ‘better than Ride’ ‘Waiting’. As you’ve probably gathered from the walk in pre-amble Heroes of Switzerland are a group of like minded guitar slinging messiahs incidentally from Nottingham and not chocolate clock country, their sound or rather more accurately their sonic canvas‘ are indeed a throw back to the late 80‘s early 90‘s Hut and Creation scenes of layered feedback harmonies that these days seems to be the domain of Club AC30 - which it is rumoured this lot will shortly feature as part of a split release. Those of you expecting some sublime almost ambient like galactic pop a la Kitchens of Distinction had better buckle up and hold on to your space helmets because opener ’Disposable Fiction’ dispels quickly any notion that HoS are prepared tread cautiously - a bulldozer of a track that literally blows you off your listening perch - think upon it as a rugged and wiry volatile My Bloody Valentine resulting from enforced sleep deprivation having Dinosaur Jr trashing their studio tapes to concoct a visceral wall of distortion that trades searing skull buckling slices of intensely fraught pavement shredding dream pop the type of which the much undervalued Skywave spit out for fun or so it would seem. ’Waiting’ richly deserves the so often over used descriptions such as ‘epic’, ‘elegiac’ and ‘anthemic’ - a perfect distillation of Ride’s first two acclaimed EP’s awash in a haze of shimmering sky rocketing fumes this effects laden slice of soft kaleidoscopic psychedelia with it’s cloud piercing riffs and sublimely crippling numbed cast is enough to bring to the knees the hardiest of souls. Rounding up the set is ‘Fall’ which craftily mainlines into the cavernous atmospheric artistry of prime time Chameleons and finds them toying upon a veritable pop axis marinating their spiralling structures with a 60’s bubblegum like Spector-esque glaze with JMC overtones. Quite perfect if you ask me. www.heroesofswitzerland.com

And moving from the Heroes of Switzerland to the Boys of Scandinavia - seamless these missives….

Boys of Scandinavia ’Why do you love me?’ (Mate). Last time found stealing the show in these very pages with their cutely catchy split with Roger (incidentally featured next - see it‘s that seamless thing at work again). ‘Why do you love me?’ is quick to work itself under your skin, not as chirpy as the aforementioned ’Worse than a Girl’ though that shouldn’t be seen as detracting from it’s irresistible charms. A more darker affair this time around, a curdling brew of early 80’s primal new romanticism and current in vogue electro clash treatments principally tightly wound around a seriously floor throbbing low slung head numbing repetitive ‘Blue Monday’ era New Order bass underpin. ’Why do you love me?’ provides the dark heart of the cool wave scene it’s alternating personality grittily angulated and pierced with an austere death disco sting that’s good enough to be considered classic late 70’s Factory fodder and yet curiously anchored with a delectable pop heartbeat as though all the composite parts - Kraftwerk, Lydon and pre disco dolly Human League are being orchestrated by the unseen hands of ’A broken frame’ era Depeche Mode. Flip over and you get the ’slightly’ extended alternate album mix of the lead track and a reframing of the same cut by ’Major Tweaks’ which though sadly adding nothing to the table does at least smooth over some of the chill. To cool to be without and as an added bonus if you get down rather sharpish to the ensembles website at www.boysfromscandinavia.com you’ll find yourselves treated to a limited free exclusive track for download entitled ‘God Looking’ - can these people do no wrong we ask. www.materecordings.com

Okay staying with Mate recordings - we featured this a missive or two ago and it now seems to have gotten a proper release - so to save you arsing about trying to find the relevant Singled Out and us from re-reviewing it again - here it is in all it’s unadorned glory…….

Roger ‘Kids and Thieves’ (Mate). Really getting daft this - would you believe - another release found snuggling out of the daylight and with that outta our earshot. Those with reasonably long memories may just remember us nearly spontaneously combusting to the sound of Roger’s (better known to his parents, relatives and casual acquaintances as Teemu Metsala) last outing as part of a split release with the equally irresistible Boys from Scandinavia. This particular release features your standard radio edit plus four additional extended remixes which we are led to believe feature on the 12” format. The acutely addictive ‘Kids and Thieves’ mainlines into that whole early 80’s vibe, twinkling candy coated starry eyed electronics shimmer seductively with the skeletal chic of Heaven 17’s ‘Play to Win’ as though rewired by the pop super brain of Steven ‘Tintin’ Duffy. The extended 12” mix offers pretty much the same coolly coalescing club floor caressing only you get more of it and pretty much stylised authentically to mirror the way the early 80’s trend setters applied themselves to the notion of ‘the’ long mix format. Elsewhere three additional remixes bolster this stirling set - from Paris’ ANIMAL, Manchester based mystery man Sly Wink and the Sigils AKA Andy Davidsson of Cardiff’s Slow Graffiti nights fame. The former injecting a veritable sense of A Certain Ratio to the brew with his loosely executed slack strung funky lines, while Sly Wink welds onto the undercarriage a seriously vibrantly gritty Kraftwerk like space age hyper drive leaving it to the Sigils to instil perhaps the best of the three sonic face lifts with a dreamily crafted backdrop that hustles and bustles vigorously while temptingly dipping into some sublimely carved mid 70’s silken synth pop overtures. Pristine pop - you just can’t beat it. www.materecordings.com

The Call ‘Push On’ (Self Released). We here get to see so many press releases and if truth be known most are about as useful as a chocolate fire guard citing as they do for the most part the latest well worn street talk while listing the latest line of hip kids to file their latest protégés alongside with. In fact such is the need to sell, shift units and bugger off into the sunset before the dust has had a chance to settle that some go as far as to compare said young guns with acts so established and recognised that you feel the weight of expectation has already crushed them before they’ve barely had a chance to walk on their own two feet unsupported. So with that in mind it is that we get this debut platter from the Call - refreshingly un-hyped - well that is if you don’t count the obligatory XFM and Radio 1 pant pissing overtures. Unsigned it seems and probably sounding better for it, no comparisons listed here - instead one imagines the throwing down of a ‘you decide’ gauntlet. ‘Push on’ features four tracks and by our reckoning possibly provides the most unassuming release we’ve had the pleasure of hearing since that wonderful debut from the Heart Strings last year and with that one of those records that’s so out of step with current trends that it’s welcomed like a breathe of fresh air. Well drilled melodic pop I think is the best way to describe the Call’s wares, softly decorated with sumptuously airy soft country accents that flicker gently aside an ear tugging heart hanging array of crafted delicately cured driving power pop. The title track opens the proceedings and is without doubt the weakest thing here surprisingly though that doesn’t mean it’s any less loveable - it’s your standard thundering slice of earnest lighter waving slow to burn dad rock gubbins that along the way passes all manner of nods to the likes of Travis and Elbow while under its saccharine heart felt chassis there purrs a distinctly subtle west coast country pop dynamic that’s one measure of World Party and several parts of Beachwood Sparks. Once the familiarity of ’Push on’ fades the band really get to grips with the business in hand for we defy you to come up with two better gems of arresting radio melting AOR pop this year other than ‘Alone Tonight’ and ‘Let’s keep this quiet’. The latter cut a true pop gem that strangely evokes momentary recollections of Ronan Keatings early solo outings all threaded throughout with a heart pounding needling riff it invests a searing hook laden dynamic brought to bear by an ear snaring driving soft rock melody that’s braided by a breezy rush of seductive slide guitars that recalls subtly the Mayflies and the Raspberries. Classic stuff. ‘Alone Tonight’ is a glorious manifestation of late 70’s / early 80’s Rod Stewart (well it helps having a singer who has a ringer of a vocal for the one time leopard skin pant wearing Scot) solo stuff - principally ‘Young Turks’ era as though overhauled and given a streamlining power pop polish by his old sparring partners the Faces and while you might be thinking hang on a second - it really works and believe you me given the current crop of soft rock poppers - the Feeling, Orson and Keane et al then this wipes the floor with the lot of them in terms of pop sensibility and un-nerving coolness. ’You need this lie’ rounds of the set on a tear stained note all chugging guitars and breaking hearts it’s all too much I need a lie down. Single of the missive. www.thecall.co.uk

The Slides ‘Slow Bullet’ (MVine). Spotted apparently by the ordinary Joe public - yea that’s you mate - and snapped up by MVine as a result of the overwhelming affection shown by the nation at large via a public audience vote - sadly details of the actual voting membership isn’t known and any attempts at gerrymandering by Mr D Duck and Mr M Mouse have so far gone unchallenged. Joking aside a treat is what’s been unearthed in the shape of the Slides. ‘Slow Bullet’ is a wee taster for the quartet’s mini album also called ‘Slow Bullet’ which is due for release in May and a corker it is to bathed in gently lulling softening 60’s country psyche vibes that at times sounds like the Roses boogying with the Charlatans. For now ‘Soft Bullet’ is perfectly titled given that it slowly without fuss or fanfare wraps you around its fingers bathing you in a tingling wash of swirling Hammonds a la Charlatans (again - of course we are on a percentage don’t you know!) and the tentative use of effects pedals including the much underused wah wah replete with repetitively strummed guitars, a distilled and purified extraction of the best elements of the whole Madchester scene and lovingly wrapped with a sucker punch for a chorus hook to die for. Okay you’re still sitting on the fence needing a little more convincing - it’s all about what these lads do with those prime ingredients that counts here because as though by some kind of slight of hand ‘Slow Bullet’ assumes a starting point of just being merely cool and shifts daringly before your very ears and eyes to being simply jaw dropping in the space of 3 minutes - the phrase ‘will piss over the competition’ is as apt here as it was ever meant to sound. www.mvine.com

NFD ‘Light my Way’ (Jungle). Second full length ‘Dead pool rising’ waiting in the wings and due for release shortly and previously unknown to us we banged this on and the first thing I thought was ‘fuck me it’s the Fields of Nephilim’ - so imagine my delight and er - horror - to discover that this is in fact the Fields of Nephilim well if you count having both founding member Tony Pettit and drummer Simon Rippon in the ranks. ‘Light my way’ has all the trademark anthemic goth wasteland trappings that made the likes of FON and their like minded cohorts the Mission and the Sisters of Mercy such a aural treat in the mid 80’s, though many may cry that its dated and perhaps casually side step away from it there’s a lot to be said about these doom laden epic sound scapes that’s pretty much a part and parcel of everyone from Numan to Mendeed. While the radio edit of ‘Light my way’ is your standard four horsemen of the apocalypse MTV friendly rotation rock replete with needling riffs, bludgeoning grind and images of torched earth and fire raging skies it’s the tempestuous rage of the ’Fog Descends’ mix of the same cut that provides for the best moment here, not quite as brutal or self loathing as ’Pandemonium’ era Killing Joke but rather more an equally though localised puss ridden half cousin bolstered by a hugely hulking armoury of skull clobbering head hanging hooks and skin peeling riffs that sound as though they’ve been locked away forever more brooding and festering somehow releasing themselves from their shackles to inflict their disease ridden sickness. The deliciously desolate ‘Unearthed’ rounds up the set, a morbid darkly toned love song of sorts that to these ears sounds like the Bristol underground scene of the 90’s bighted by a power cut and threaded and scarred throughout with the kind of atmospheric claustrophobia and unearthly penetrative chill that enough to freeze you to the bone. Worth checking out - though consider yourself warned party music this ain’t. www.jungle-records.com

Roebeck ‘Do you remember’ (69db music). Literally had us beguiled and weeping did this cutely formed three track debut from Roebeck. ‘Do you remember’ is the first of three planned projects for duo Luke and Brett (Roebeck) which all things being well will culminate in a debut full length sometime early next year. A swirling array of succulently smouldering after hours night pop is what’s on offer that to these ears sounds not unlike the kind of stuff that Tim Lee’s Tummy Touch / Touch Tones outlet would dearly kill for. Combining softly trod down tempo chic with the stirring half woken glaze of shyly entrancing rustic accents, Roebeck’s sound doesn’t so much hit you but rather more seeps through you. The wonky jaunt of the title track which opens the set is a glorious fusion of tingling shy eyed romance and child like inquisitiveness that suggests glacially chilled elements of both J Xaverre and Minotaur Shock swapping notes in the mix and snuggled up warmly together within a hermetically sealed bubble bound for the type of lunar lounge horizons more readily associated with the bachelor space age pop designs of the cosmically groovy Stereolab upon their arrival these cute imps craftily treat Gane and Co’s ‘Miss Modular’ to an overhaul of it’s interior with a sprinkling of trippy moon dust. Given the right amount of airplay and club coverage the delicately off balanced and sophisticated sounding ‘Just wanna be loved’ featuring the guest vocals of Marxus Nexus and may just prove to be the seasons find for the lovelorn among you. Cradled beneath a gently lulling rocking chair dynamic this desirable and timidly thrust skeletal love note is suggestively accompanied by a fragile flotilla of twinkling starry eyed rustics and cocktail cabinet velour of the type that wouldn’t be found wanting in the Beloved’s abode that is if it were teased and scented throughout with the feint essence of Youssou Ndour and Neneh Cherry’s ’Seven Seconds’. ’Starry night on Emerald Bay’ wraps up the set with a rather sweet though all to brief sub 2 minute spacey sound scape that frankly does what it says on the lid and beyond that we’ve nothing more to add other than to say shift your backsides to your local record emporium and acquire a copy for yourselves immediately - failure will result in tears mark my words. www.roebeck.co.uk

Jim Moray ‘My Sweet Rose’ (Self Released). A record that we suspect will be the cause of heart failure in certain quarters is this quite sublimely arranged outing for Jim Moray entitled ‘My sweet rose‘. A soul sapping 7 minute taster for Moray‘s follow up full length (‘Jim Moray’ released in May) to 2003‘s debut ‘Sweet England‘ which by all accounts won plaudits from wherever it was heard, ’My sweet rose’ is everything the word epic was made to describe. A huge deeply textured beautiful paint bomb of crushing emotions, swirling strings, sweeping widescreen orchestrations, empirically charged classically encoded heart hanging pop that’s measured finitely right down to the merest of detail in terms of mercurial effect and stately magnificence. Reference wise think of the breathtaking elegance of Sakamoto’s ‘Forbidden Colours’ and ‘the Last Emperor’ locked in a lasting embrace with the swirl and push of nature’s elements as harnessed by Bush’s ’Hounds of Love’ rustling in the mix all converging to usher a breakdown of the senses of such colossal fortitude that it wouldn’t surprise me if by its end your hi-fi needed a re-assuring cuddle. File under delicately destructive. www.jimmoray.co.uk

Elle Milano ‘Swearing for Art students’ (Brighton Electric). Those among you who love your pop served up as wired and frenetic as can be may do well to tune into Elle Milano’s raucously hued debut four track EP. While it could be argued that this Brighton based quartet don’t have any inclination to push the envelope of pop they sure as hell do a good job of kicking several shades of brown stuff out of it, wildly energetic to the point of hysteria Elle Milano in the short and all to brief space of 10 minutes produce what perhaps Blur’s ’Blur’ might have sounded like had Albarn not rounded and smoothed all the bent out of shape bits that the skateboarding riff hooligan Coxon had deemed what the nation’s ears deserved after the tepid ’The Great Escape’. From the opening angulated throb of ’Swearing for art students’ this lot get right under your skin coursing through your veins channelling their way to your psyche to do untold wicked damage, jarring chords, shouty vocals, a highly strung freaky punch drunk dynamic and blessed with an acutely spiky attitude that you feel might reach out and throttle the shit out of you if dare stand to close to it. The skinny tied art popping ‘Men are bastards’ is, pardon the vernacular - fuckin mental and may at intervals invoke among older viewers memories of the Buzzcocks more off the wall and spicily brazen two minute fumbles in the bag of pop - jerking riffs off fly like shards of splintered glass with such an unnerving stop / start currency that it wouldn’t surprise me if it had been recorded in a studio decked out in flashing strobes - dancing to it is deemed highly unadvisable. Shades of Bogshed litter amid the rubble left in the wake of the zig - zagingly urgent and potently sharp as fuck ’Amphetamine Skyrocket’ while the psychotically challenged ’Believe your own hype. Always’ (incidentally the best thing here by a country ’house’ mile) may yet indeed prove to have far more lasting side effects than a bag of dodgy made for tripping pills. Essential of course if only to reduce your hi-fi to a heap of gibbering rubble. www.brightonelectriclabel.co.uk

The Randoms ‘Two stripe trainers’ (November). I’m actually old enough to remember 4 stripe trainers of the type you could only buy at Makro - that were made of some kind of indestructible plastic that once worn activated an odour that not only killed all living household plants in seconds flat but caused household pets to leave home looking for alternative accommodation, trainees it has to be said that defied all known attempts to destroy them a matter only resolved by hiring a priest with a big pointy stick or so it would seem. Why I mention this and indeed whether it has any relevance to the Randoms two stripe variety is debatable bordering on pointlessness. However it’s out - my conscience is clear. Where were we - ah yes the Randoms, debut single time for this Wigan based quintet who it seems have already had two of their songs picked up for use by Californian surf gear suppliers O’Neill’s and as if to add to the surrealness of all this shot the video for ‘Four Stripe Trainers’ at the Phoenix club (as in the stop my ribs are aching with laughter comedy show ‘Phoenix Nights’). With an album in the can and we assume awaiting release shortly ‘Two stripe trainers’ a tale it seems of not being happy with ones lot really does sound like Ohio band Moviola c. the criminally overlooked ‘Durable Dream’ full length as though sparring with elements of early Joe Jackson, Buffalo Springfield and the Lemonheads and cured with a dulling soft west coast vibe that’s packed throughout with delicately measured wintry hued jangling chords that have a tendency to burst open resplendently at intervals to mushroom happily filling your listening space no less. Flip side ‘Taking your best mates girl to the pictures’ is for me personally the favoured cut of the two managing as it does to take Jarvis Cocker’s kitchen sink dramatics down to the Mersey for a good ducking and whatever else you may care to say about it you can’t deny there’s trace elements about this that suggest Pulp being found doodling in the studio with the Mersey delta sound so becoming of early Coral / Zutons and wrapping it in a subtle shade of 70’s AOR pop for good measure. www.therandoms.com

See ya tomorrow

Take care

Mark
X