Missive 92
03-04-2006
‘Daddy what’s the creepy noise - I’m scared’

‘Don’t worry kid if you’re lucky it’s probably a huge mutha of a beast let loose from the depths of hell looking for flesh to feast on at worst it could be that devilish Singled Out ready to boogie hard with the hi-fi‘.

Singled Out
Missive 092

Dedicated to Kelly and Mark

‘Singled Out - guaranteed bullshit ‘n’ hype free and proud of it’

Does this sound bollocks Special.

Welcome bright things to the slightly delayed singled out - we’ve been ill again of late so hence the lack of albums and er regular missive posting - so many apologies to all concerned we will in the next fortnight or so be trying our level best to getting of our arse and sorting out the backlog of listening gems. Phew.

Last time out we were obsessing to a certain point with the new found - well newfound to me - culture of free net labels which we indeed promised to do a feature on at some point in the near future. Well you can now add to that the phenomenon known as pod casts - no longer the domain of I-podders these are handy extended mp3’s that pack entire radio shows that can be downloaded and burnt to CD’s for your own personal pleasure / amusement. A careful search across the internet can throw up an amazing number of excellent shows ranging (in my preferred case) from 60’s garage punk to surf though in all fairness you can with a little tweaking find anything from tripping spoon tappers to brigades of bagpipe butchering anarchists (that said - sadly we haven’t come across these as yet but wait with anticipated breath with blank CD in hand). Podcasts that have so far taken our eye (and ears) aside the aforementioned (as in last time out’s singled out) are those excellent dudes over at Dorktones playing their groovy grooves over at www.dorktones.com . If however like me you like your sounds a little more grittily oiled then check out the excellently tailored Garage punk kids over at www.garagepunk.com who not only offer a loving home to the superb ‘One cup of Coffee and a Cigarette’ pod but serve up a feast of top tuneage courtesy of ‘Florida Rocks Again‘, ‘Rock ’n’ Roll Suicide’, ‘Out of the Vaults, into your Ears’ and perhaps the grooviest fooker on the airwaves ’Flying Saucer Rock ’n’ Roll now up to it’s 2nd transmission from out there. If it’s live sessions / acoustic studio sets your after then KEXP offer perhaps the best we’ve seen so far boasting a back catalogue of performances by the Bunnymen, the Capes, Tom Vek, Magic Numbers, Mark Gardner and the Go! Team to name but a few while future treats are promised from Belle and Sebastian, Elbow, Boy least likely to and Calexico - get your backside down to www.kexp.org. Over on Radio Clash at www.mutantpop.net there’s a bunch of top mash mixes - from which we managed to re-acquaint ourselves with a certain Mark Vidler of Go Home Productions fame who it seems since we last featured in these very pages has been busily beavering away creating all sorts of aural treats - most of which can be sampled on his website at www.gohomeproductions.co.uk and where you will be treated to mash up’s featuring face off’s between Blondie / Doors (a fookin classic by any other name) elsewhere there’s Beastie Boys / Ian Dury; Temptations / Coldplay; Marvin Gaye / 10CC and our particular fave at the moment XTC / Sylvester - has to be heard to be believed. Last of the pods for now - a worthy mention for Dark Culture which we accidentally tripped over mainly for the fact that one of their pods featured a track by A Flock of Seagulls. Pretty much a request show by Goth-ess Cinka - covering stuff from all genres though centring mainly on the early 80’s post punk / new romantic sounds - pretty much worth hooking up for your fortnightly fix of ‘shit I know that what is it?’ pop from days past - www.darkculture.net

Albums - ha ha - yes we are working on them - please hang fire - and while on the subject of albums - am I the only person in the whole living world that thinks the Morrissey album is - well shit - sorry can’t beat about the bush - makes his last album positively crucial - it is crud, crap, lacking ambition, humour and fookin tunes we’d have been slicing open our wrists if it weren’t for the fact that we was asleep two tracks in - that said it would have made a rather nice 7” single if left to just ‘Dear God’ and ‘The Father….’ Ho Hum. I’d have braced myself for the usual flurry of irate mini mozzers emailing death theats however as no one reads this who give a flying f***. Morrissey discovering sexuality - dear me give it rest people next you’ll be telling me Orson are talented

Onward to the singles then…..

Hafdis Huld ‘Tomoko’ (M-Vine). Debut solo release from sometime Gus Gus / FC Kahuna vocalist Hafdis Huld might in time prove, that is if our ears don’t deceive us, to be the kookiest thing you’ll have the pleasure of hearing all year. Joyously childlike this perkily charmed slice of loopy pastorally inclined kindergarten candy pop impishly enters your listening space with the kind of breathtaking colour and affectionate naivety of a children’s tree house tea party. Innocent and boundless with a cutesy energy ‘Tomoko’ is blessed with the teasing tread of curious and insatiably wonky hooks aplenty made up of dippy keys and the gentle rub of ambling rustics that apart from penetrating your defences as though by slight of hand together melt lovingly to the sound of Hafdis’ irresistibly seductive vocal itself a sugar centred cross between Bjork and Cerys Matthews as though found running amok and trippily colouring in landscapes more associated with the Fence Collectives King Creosote. Once in your headspace this dinky darling will drive you to distraction. Flip side features the equally engaging ’Fucked up Mind’. Beautifully skeletal in design, this softly introspectively honed flowering bruised gem lacerates and lulls in equal measures recalling at times the softer more emotionally punishing moments from the back catalogue of Melys - crushing stuff. All in all as perfect a release as you’ll hear in a fair while. Joint single of the Missive. www.mvine.com

The Aeroplanes ‘This is my love’ (White Noise). Kate Moss alert - first it was KM turning up at Aeroplanes gigs now according to a certain website no names no pack drill (Link2Wales) there’s been press speculation connecting the cheek boned one with the bands bassist - blimey when did that happen - mind you that said I wouldn’t expect to see the model in our preferred daily read Nuts And Bolts Journal unless of course she was kitted out in oily rags wielding a spanner and a mallet (we live in hope). Okay let’s cut to the chase. The Aeroplanes are shaping up to being one of those classic bands. Cut from the same cloth that decked out Oasis who themselves borrowed cast off’s (no pun intended) left by the LA’s, there’s something of the X factor (again no pun) that attaches itself to the Aeroplanes that sets them aside from most of the chasing pack. Already much loved here at Singled Out - though their debut (‘Don’t stop me’) was a tad disappointing it was the two cuts tucked on the flip (‘Black Hole’ and ‘Somedays’) that provided the seeds of what might and could be. It was no fluke either that ’Somedays’ became something of favourite tune here last year and still to this day sends shivers up the spine (now that it’s been included on a much played album sampler that will no doubt shortly blossom into the ensembles debut full length - just wait till you hear the ‘Flowers’ era Bunnymen-esque ’Slipping Away’). Like the aforementioned LA’s and Oasis - what makes the Aeroplanes stand out from the crowd is their simplicity, there’s no fuss, effects or dicking about - just a corking understanding of the mere mechanics on how to write a memorable melody that haunts the spaces between your ears long after it’s passed and been placed back in its CD cover. Oh yeah it helps that they come from God’s country - Liverpool - a rich musical pedigree of Wah, Black, Bunnymen, LA’s, the Balcony, Cook Da Books, Half Man Half Biscuit, Coral (the list is bloody endless) and oops nearly forgot - four blokes calling themselves the Beatles - perhaps you’ve heard of them - crazy hairdos and kooky records about fields of strawberries and riding tickets - could do well. Where were we - ah yes - the Aeroplanes - new single time featuring two brand new spanking tracks that no doubt once heard will sit so deep in your psyche that you’ll require some form of trepanning treatment to remove. You get the feeling that on the thunderously bitter sweet melodic cannonball that is ’This is my love’ that this lot are barely trying yet despite that still manage to invest enough souring intensity to provide a more than veritable poke in the eye for any would be competition. Beginning slowly this bruising beast of erstwhile insensitivity (the song being about wanting to be in love without all the emotional trappings) gathers apace culminating into a searing spectacle of ear snaring hooks and breathlessly arresting harmonies. As per usual with the Aeroplanes the treats are to be found shyly tucked away on the flip side. ‘Just a Girl’ with its softly sugared gently swaying demeanour craftily undoes you from the inside before you’ve barely had a chance to blink an eye in awareness, operating to a curiously hypnotic ebb and flow dynamic it takes its roots from the LA’s ’No way out’ and seductively wraps them around the Beatles gem like ’Girl’. Beautifully decoded with a sublimely breezy almost nonchalantly laid back air this has images of sultry evening glow summer nights embedded throughout it like letters on a stick of rock. Almost perfect - take note - greatness awaits. Deputy single of the Missive. www.theaeroplanes.co.uk

Sweat master ‘God Looks, Big Deal’ (Bad Afro). Described in the press release as possessing ‘hook lines that will stay in your head for days’ and who are we to argue. ‘Good Looks, Big Deal’ is the third single to be lifted from the acclaimed (though if memory serves me right not as yet heard here) ‘Tom Tom Bullet’ full length and provides for a high voltage hip swerving, bar door busting, foot stomping crookedly delivered slice of garage groove that’s been lovingly vacuum packed and distilled into a potently brief but audacious shot lasting 142 seconds. Blessed with a chorus hook that gently tweaks at Siouxsie and the Banshees ’Love in a void’ and braided with a pummelling in your face glam rock mind set this baby chugs across the hi-fi like a speeding train with a rocket up its back end barely pausing for breath and causing untold damage to loose fitting household objects not to mention inciting a riot in your psyche. In addition you get the animated video made by award inning duo Kalle Kotila and Malakias. Spoiling us eh? I should co-co. www.badafro.dk

Actress Hands ‘Snack Horse’ (Life is Easy). With the amount of corking bands coming out of Brighton at the moment one gets to thinking that maybe there’s a market out there for bottling up whatever that hidden ingredient is and letting the rest of the nation’s pop community share in its miracle minerals. As with Liverpool, Brighton is literally pissing an enviable musical roster made to measure at will, without wanting or more truthfully being arsed to provide a never ending list (just check out recent missives or else the smattering of finely tuned youngsters in these ramblings) it’s seems not a week goes by when the Singled Out shed doesn’t have at least one Brighton postmarked parcel containing a CD dancing on it’s cute and well formed welcome mat. The latest additions vying for your affection are Actress Hands. Formed in 2002 initially as ‘a one man avantpunkrock band’ (press releases words not mine), Matt Eaton (for it is he who was the one man avantpunkband) decided to recruit similar minded bodies in order to create the ultimate live experience which to date have culminated in acclaimed reviews for all corners. With a second album due shortly for release entitled ’Cattle Grid’ (with the first full length last years ’Why the Sale?’ due for repress and re-release to) this tasty two track release provides for a tempting taste of what’s to come. The slyly effervescent ’Snack Horse’ is a honey combed toasting of good to be alive brassy fanfares shimmering resplendently beside sun shining sounds that have been reclining in the midday West Coast heat all lovingly packaged into a busting with an infectious glow three minute slice of radio trouncing hip buckling romping pop. Think of those early pop fixated moments from Jumbo’s back catalogue meeting head on the crisp but breezy bitter sweet mindset of the much missed L’Augmentation, nudge up the power pop dial that sees elements of classic Micro Disney toying with the vibrantly candy coated mixture made up of prime Go Betweens and Boo Radleys moments. Flip side features the slightly more wired and less audaciously immediate 2 minute dash that is ‘Being Sure’. Paying it’s dues in the main to Glasgow’s finest - Teenage Fan Club - in particular the ‘A Catholic Education’ era found here with its DNA seemingly cross pollinated with the spiked melodic thrust of Dinosaur Jr, this cutie possesses more than enough savvy and breathlessly swooning zest to have the most casual viewer shaking their tats to. www.theactresshandsmusic.co.uk

Oom ‘Poison’ (Series 8). And weren’t we not just mentioning the musical joys to behold emanating from Brighton of late (and you thought we were kidding). First of two releases from the Series 8 stable features the talents of Brighton based quartet Oom. Fronted by a certain Debbie Clare who has it seems is also doing a spot of vocal moonlighting with Massive Attack at present (apparently all secret and er - hush hush - no worries there then love only two people read these scribblings and one of them hates music and the other by mistake) and features on one track included on their super duper ‘Collected’ best of entitled ’Joy Luck Club’. Described in the accompanying press release as a meeting between Bjork, Aphex Twin and Nine Inch Nails - (go on admit you’re reaching for your credit card as I waffle aren’t you?) - ’Poison’ is the ensembles debut release and a mighty neat little thing it is featuring three tracks that portray the differing facets / personality of the group. ’Poison’ opens the proceedings, and for the second time this missive immediately has you thinking Melys (who by my reckoning owe us an album or three given we haven’t heard anything by them for an age - building another studio I suppose - huh
- rock ‘n’ roll - the folly of it all eh?) - delectable and sexy without even having to try or so you’d suspect, this baby squirms seductively blowing hot and cold cleverly courting that old well used chestnut - the loud and quiet dynamic on this occasion craftily cut with a stinging array of heavily hung darkly woven soul sapping atmospherics that explode into life like a shard showering catherine wheel, irresistibly catchy with hulking hooks to match kissed sensually with a ‘butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth’ delivery. ‘Coming Alive’ my preferred cut of the three if only for the fact that it cutely borrows liberally the riff from Love’s ‘My little red book’ and at points hot wires it with a guitar break ripped straight from the Shamen’s ‘Jesus loves America’ then welds on a gorgeously infectious glam groove that even Bolan would blush to only to finally gather up all the ensuing bits and bobs and have it sound like a throbbing variant of Kate Bush boogying out with Baccara which once let loose on the club floor should see a fair amount of tail feathers being set alight. Rounding up the set the delightfully loveable ‘Drive’ in all its bare naked acoustic glory slyly empties whatever emotions you still have intact leaving you a numbed husk. Contact series8@supalife.com

Bean growers ‘You are you are’ (Series 8). Second Series 8 offering comes from those much loved Maltese sorts the Bean growers a band who by rights should be bloody huge by now having already snared the hearts of the Yanks with two acclaimed appearances at the SXSW in 2004 and 2005 as well as gaining several critical support slots playing across Europe with the likes of Stereophonics and Elbow. Last time we had the pleasure of hearing these cute kids we were mightily impressed by their honed to near perfection needling melodies which seemed to all at once pinpoint a veritable though respectable reference map that included Belly, Tanya Donnelly, Melys (again) and PJ Harvey. Three years down the line and its nice to see that age hasn’t blunted their edge or ability to hammer out gems at the drop of an hat. ‘You are You are’ sadly isn’t the old Numan goodie of the same name to be found upping the ante on the superb and much overlooked ‘Dance’ full length. Instead this tight as a gnat’s chuff is a no nonsense heads down low slung skinny tied boogying rocker replete with an awesome frontline artillery that’s bedecked with a gnarled twang-tastic fuzz galore perspective that’s more keenly identified as coming out of parts of Detroit and Scandinavia of late and has to said of strangely had it arrived say with a sticker heralding it as the new Hives release you’d be kissing its butt drooling that it was the best thing to hit music since the birth of ears. Blessed with a seriously needling riff that’s so alarmingly infectious that one suspects you’d need at least a month in detox to ween yourself off and the kind of off track coolness that doesn’t so much rear up into view immediately but rather more like some form of delayed shock creeps up behind and clobbers the shit out of you when you least expect it. Oh yea and did we mention Alison’s femme fatale pouting throughout - let’s put it this way you wouldn’t wanna argue with her. Flipside features the enchanting and emotionally piercing ‘Waltz’ which is quite simply put - elegant and stately. An absolute gem of classically treated crushed emotions dusted with the genteel sprinkle of inspired heart clawing strings and a shadowy late 60’s appeal made up of darkly stalking chords as though the decaying verve of the Animals version of ’House of the Rising Sun’ had been transported back in time to have its life sucked out of it by the restless passion, hurt and regret of Kate Bush’s earlier Bronte inspired outings. A master class of softly stirring tempestuousness. Essential as though you needed telling. Contact series8@supalife.com

Uncle Black ’Smile’ (Backwater). Already emblazoned on our hearts forever by virtue of their gem like ’Clock Prison’ from the small but well formed EP ’One day, we will go there’ of a year or so ago (even now the tears trickle in fond memory), Suffolk based trio Uncle Black return to fray by planning a few live dates provisionally pencilled in for Spring / Summer as well as beginning recording of what will be the eagerly awaited follow up to 2003’s debut full length ‘1000 Origami Cranes’. In the meantime (‘Smile’ / ‘Image’) this delightful two track nugget should keep the masses satiated - hey those good things in life take time right? Though I’ve said this countless times before Uncle Black are a breath of fresh air in a world gone mad, they offer a place of sanctuary amid an attitude and age of acceptance of quick turnaround and low sub standard quality. The sound is exquisitely drawn, tendered, cut and fashioned in the old ways to such a manner that you’d suspect, and probably rightly so, that what has passed for popular music in the last 30 years or so had somehow took a wrong turn and completely missed the turning into Uncle Buck’s quaint, quiet old worldly village green. The serene sounding welcome mat that is ’Smile’ is a joyously spirit lifting jingle jangling smirking spring stepping ambling slice of impeccable country pop replete with a brisk riverbank strolling effervescence married to subtle washes of transplanted made in Nashville slide guitars that to these ears sounds not unlike the kind of timeless stuff that Moviola can be found tinkering with these days. All in all the perfect musical accompaniment for summer afternoons spent idling under the shade of an Oak tree lost in your own little world staring longingly as the clouds glide by. Flip over to be treated by the superior sounding ’Image’. In an age where there seems to be something of a revaluation of the once derided mid 70’s MOR scene at large, given the right kind of airplay exposure this slyly catchy radio friendly road cruiser may just prove to be something of a surprise hit. Combining a curious out of time pop fixated brew that sees elements of both Buffalo Springfield and Gram Parsons nuzzling just below the surface blending with the strangely alluring dash of softly vibrating mid 70’s stylised west coast dustings equipped with faintly soulful vibes you’d be forgiven for thinking that this was a long lost treasure originally sourced by World Party and recalibrated in Oddfellows Casino’s potting shed. A quite unsettlingly perfect release seven minutes of which you couldn’t better in wishing to recline in the company of - the black country never sounded so old country. www.backwaterrecords.com

Six Nation State / Ox ‘Split’ (Worst Case Scenario). Nearly slipped our net to get lost in the CD mountain this cutie did. Third release from Guildford based Worst Case Scenario records (previous releases featured splits from Midnight Juggernauts / the Coronation and Jono Mccleery / Hijera - which damn it we sadly missed out on - still excuses for a stroll to the local record emporium has never been an issue with us). First up Six Nation State who you’d suspect could make some sort of anthemic cocktail with just a tray of old empty milk bottles given the evidence provided for by ’Keep Dancing’. ’Keep Dancing’ indeed bastard’s had us jigging like a bad ’un every time it rears into earshot, wiry skinny tied new wave ska threaded by head hurting catchy as fuck needling riffs that don’t so much lay siege and squat in your headspace but have the bloody nerve to nick your booze and fags and party hard into the night. From Southampton (well someone’s got to - easy tiger) safe to say they’ll no doubt at some point in the coming months be stomping all over a personal audio system near you. Flip side edges it by the breadth of a hair from a gnat’s arse. First we had the slacker age now it’s the ‘fuck you leave me in peace’ brigade and blimey in Ox a band that sound like they’ve had the kind of dogged bad luck that follows yours truly like an unwelcome rain cloud on an invisible leash. From out of its gloomily dour self pitying cocksure indie lull this baby miraculously unfurls and changes base to blossom into a peach of softly curdling tenderised warmth that basks in the reclining glow of mid 70’s Southern state MOR infected country pop as though combining elements of a more fluffily inclined early career Neil Young and er - Blue Oyster Cult. Look - go buy, listen and see if I’m not right. Expect wonderful things. www.wcsrecords.com

Heartwear Process ‘Mean Season’ (Velocity). Debut release for Reading based quintet Heartwear Process (don’t ask us what it means) features three cutely honed nuggets that unless our ears are taking le piss sound like the result of a laboratory cock up that has inadvertently intertwined the DNA strains from both the Flaming Stars (whatever happened to them) and Gene and produced a beast with obvious unresolved issues as to life and a demented albeit crooked understanding of gnarled overpowering pop dynamics. ’Mean Season’ is a vibrant slice of hip hugging, knee buckling, skull twatting frenetically hued belching pinball pop replete with the kind of off guard hooks that many ensembles would happily die just thinking about let alone putting into practice and borne of a subtle psychopathic strutting nature that would suggest restless nights spent listening to old vinyl records by the Meteors and Guana Batz at half speed. Flip the disc for what in years to come will be heralded and featured on any number of ’unknown pleasures’ compilations the brooding nose bloodying storm warring mass that is ’Brian Jones’. A gorgeous slab of majestically bruised from the inside darkly festering 60’s inclined sonic atmospherics - all the same can’t think why it would make them ‘feel like Brian Jones’ unless of course they all sport pudding basin shaped syrups with a phobia for water - nevertheless serious booty shaking fun to be had just for the asking. Rounding up the set the achingly wounded ’The Wolf Song’ - invites you to wrap your arms around it and give it a re-assuring hug and big kiss as it moodily throbs with a shyly drawn latent intensity - still sounds like Gene at the peak of their powers no matter how you paint it which is quite dandy by us. You need this. www.velocityrecordings.com

Demeter ‘Addict’ (Post Modern). If I had to sum up this particular release in one word - it would be - seductive. Demeter features a one time member of the Droyds who you may recall released that pretty smart ‘Take me I’m yours’ single a few years back and then went on a remix odyssey that saw them rejigging sounds for among others Client, Siobhan Fahey and Armand Van Helden before going on a sabbatical in 2003 / 4. Andy Chatterley now finds himself paired with Anna Mercedes as Demeter who to date have had two releases (’Hellfire’ and ’Pleasure Island’) both annoyingly slipping under our one time reliable net. ’Addict’ collects together three cuts of pristinely crafted sweetly cured expansive emotional pop, the lead cut finding itself honed with an explicit desire infected darkly stirring sleaze that should by rights come adorned with some kind of sexual health warning given that it does things to your libido that you never thought a record could be capable of. Think of a horny as fuck variant of Garbage with Anna’s sensually charged vocals softly purring amid a sonic drapery of alluring web like sound collages made up of stalking chords and icily tipped keys. ’Venus’ tempers the pace considerably to sound like a chilled damage limited 60’s vibed Katastrophy Wife with serious emotional issues, hurting and bruised this softly treading gem stingingly shimmers with a disquieting passion at its core. The moodily noire-ish ’Under your spell’ perhaps the best thing here courts with the kind of magnetic majesty that’s more associated with Goldfrapp as though here found detouring the wilderness backwaters of the rain swept after hours Bristol underground scene of the early 90’s, monochrome atmospherics that incorporate doom laden electronic symphonies and b-movie piano solos temptingly arc and flirt with Anna’s softly drawn shy like vocal treatment, claustrophically intense yet achingly beautiful. Essential. www.demeter.tv

The Seal Cub Clubbing Club ‘EP2’ (Nomadic). Try saying that after several pints of the black stuff followed by the additional oiling of a few chasers in between - perhaps parading behind the worst band name since Dogs Die in Hot Cars there’s much to love and hate about The Seal Cub Clubbing Club from herein referred to as THESCCC. The hate bits - well yea the name though still waiting for the day when someone decides to call themselves Bathing Bouncing Babies in Battery Acid or Scrotal Defect Analysis Report - how we miss those weird and wonderful bands from out of yesteryear that we could always count on the late Mr Peel to scare the shit out of us with. Where were we - ah yes - hate - well - across 5 tracks and 18 minutes those of you expecting something resembling adolescent growing pains and spitting venom served at 200 mph may do best to turn elsewhere for kicks because we swear that each time we put this damn thing on we were hearing things that we missed first time around - in fact that feeling got so bad that we constantly double checked the CD cover to ensure the tracks hadn’t mischievously changed. The hate thing rears its head in the way you can’t exactly put your finger on what you’re hearing, opening cut ’Celine’ is wildly frenetic, not quite bonkers but then not far off the mark, a sub 4 minute car crash of discarded moments in arty avant garde pop that between the grooves don’t be to surprised if you hear the feint detail of Captain Beefheart, the Fall and Half Man Half Biscuit as though gathered together for some kind of unscripted happening orchestrated by Frank Zappa, a track that is so becoming of frightening chameleonic grace it sub evolves at the flick of an eyelid incorporating all manner of skinny tie art punk manoeuvres, fuzzy guitars that in truth sound like they were hoodwinked from Kenny Loggins and sent to Devo for detuning, dreamy Floyd-esque / Ozric moments and some of the scariest testicle crushing falsetto vocals you’ll ever hear that all said and done out Justin the nipple and lycra loving Justin Darkness. ’Drums in der night’ is a little more together principally it takes it’s cue from the West Coast and after a fond moments break passing around the crack pipe emerges from the toxic haze something more commonly associated with the crookedly frayed, frazzled and lysergic outer edges of the Elephant 6 Collective - think early Of Montreal on bad acid recalibrating an oddball psychedelic canvas with a curious glam campfire sheen. Welcome to chill world - providing the treat of the set ’World of Fashion’ with it’s repetitive funky scarred Studio 54 skeletal guitar riff and heavily hung lunar-esque keys this fried cutie has all the off centred unhinged nouse that was much a part of those crucially classic early Bunnymen flip sides from years gone by. This fraughtly sparse this wayward jamming fusion of after hours head tripping down tempo vibes is carved straight out of the same cloth that once decked out the much missed Mansun, wonderfully wired but flippantly irresistible. The dinky and weirdly interluding kaleidoscopic ’Threebie’ with its nightmarish dropping in dropping out carnival-esque dynamic is your standard dicking about with echo effects though repeat listens will no doubt rot your head and in the case of being played backwards (should that happen to be your bag) may or may not hide secret messages from the beyond (that’s the Wirral to you kid). And just when you thought it was safe to shimmy up close to the hi-fi the blighters go and spring ’(I’m gonna get that) Rabbit’ which despite it’s cutely subtle Flowered Up references under the surface displays an unsettling secret love for Whitesnake and Saxon at work - only kidding or am I? Damn fine release shame I missed that debut - darn. www.thesccc.co.uk

Charlottefield ‘Stand Up’ (Fat Cat). There are times, I’m sure you’ll understand, when I wish every attending package containing CD’s sounded like Charlottefield, that air of something not quite right, perhaps more so that feeling of agitation and the fact that if cranked up to a certain volume on the hi-fi that it’s a race between the plaster on the ceiling / walls and your general mental wellbeing to see who gives first. With a new album in the can awaiting autumn release Charlottefield offer a nice line in cerebral massaging with hot needles for fingers, these two cuts display their schizoid mind set perfectly both contrasting the extremes of their sound. ’Stand Up’ with it’s wilfully wired math rock zig zagging and puss venting stop start frenzy though reminiscent of early Touch and Go heroes Storm and Stress perhaps owes more to the unbridled spastic fury of Boys Next Door than it does to Fugazi / Jesus Lizard and the like. Deploying mutated jazz signatures into a growling fusion of noise niking spiked riffmanship that’s been blessed with a seriously obtuse bent out of shape ‘melody’ that sounds like it’s been kicked from here to there, Charlottefield infuse all manner of art rock histrionics and barbed noodling chords that even the likes of Henry Cow might well applaud for sheer audacity. File under wickedly crooked. Flip side features the much more ominous sounding ’Can’t stand up’. Less frenetic than its sister track but what it lacks in terms of agitation it more than makes up for in heaving claustrophobic brooding. Not a million miles from the sometime post rock nuances of Windsor for Derby this swollen bruiser comes replete with a flotilla of hugely hulking rumble like swamp infested head buckling mechanics that intricately interlock into a humongous self loathing slow to unfurl juggernaut. www.fat-cat.co.uk

Kelman ‘The heart is a useless ally’ (Liner). What can I say - simply the best thing they’ve committed to tape - period. Keen observers to these badly written excuses for reviews will need no introduction to Kelman - for fuck’s sake we’ve been telling you for the best part of several years that they are as the French would no doubt say ’le dog’s bollocks’. Previously Baptiste in another life, an ensemble cruelly overlooked and much undervalued (shame on you - you feel bad now don’t you buying into that ‘here one minute gone the next’ indie pop shit), Kelman are brothers Marc and Wayne Gooderham of said previous incarnation already proud owners of the superbly heart heavingly genteel ‘The Happiest Man Alive’ release from a year or so ago, they are set to release their debut full length shortly - news which in our gaff is being readily prepared for by the hanging out of the bunting (as should yours) in anticipation. For now though a little taster of things to come and limited to 500 copies via Cargo (so no excuses now). Forget your Lows, Tindersticks, Galaxie 500’s, Lee Hazlewoods - in fact empty your head of all you’ve heard so far and burn your record collection in the process and start all over again, ’The Heart is a Useless Ally’ is a rip roaring healing celebration for all those who’ve ever locked themselves away preferring to hide from the day light sun and cry into a pillow longing for a love lost, a gloriously smoking babe that inherits the quiet revolution anthem like zeal of prime time James and twists it tightly around an overpowering emotion consuming headiness more becoming of Spiritualized with Velvet Underground inclinations. Soaked in joyously church like keys this hymnally graced slice of softly stirring enigmatic pop warms to the core and as uplifting as a factory load of Prozac could ever hope to be. Flipside features the equally inspiring ‘Untitled’ which gently treads amid the footing of deftly arresting unfurling hypnotic amble like chords all heartily flanked by a parade of snow glistened twinkling bells seductively awash with an ornately delivered authentic 60’s Hammond - sounds like Christmas but hey it’s April who cares. So good it hurts. Joint single of the Missive. www.kelmanband.com

More of the same - same time tomorrow with a shed load of goodies from among others Rampton Release Date, XRAYOK, Motel Hero, KJ, Toy Heroes, the Termites, the Bloom, Death Disco, Plastic Toys and oh so much more. The usuals thanks and stuff to all who’ve made these scrawling possible - address for contact is mark@losingtoday.com and snail mail is 105 shaldon drive, morden, surrey, sm4 4bq - till tomorrow take care of y’selves - bye - mark x