missive 121 - part 2
07-05-2007
Singled Out
Missive 121 - part 2

For Kelly and Mark - missing you always.

Put the needle on the record……

Bollocks we must have had a bang on the head - two missives in one day with a third scheduled later on - if that PC performances allowing…..

As per usual contact stuff - mark@losingtoday.com or drop us a message via www.myspace.com/thesundayexperience and you to can have your CD lost in the great record mountain…for now till later more of those record type things…….


Subliminal Girls ‘Burn KOKO’ (Weekender). More essential ear gear from those indie party people at Weekender. Subliminal Girls are neither girls or subliminal in fact the sentiment that festers throughout ‘Burn Koko’ is as directly explicit as a quick twatting around the bounce with a rather heavy object. Obvious that they don’t subscribe to Dale Carnegies philosophy of making friends and influencing people given that with this twin pronged serving of barbed anti scene / trendy put downs they’ve probably kissed goodbye to that all important N*E next best thing cover shot which arguably as a result should see their career extend somewhat past the obligatory two singles and one album curse that seems to haunt bands vaunted as such. ’Burn KOKO’ is a spitefully smug anthem for all those who hate the bandwagon jumping brigade with a passion you know the type those upper class student bastards with a Daddy’s allowance the size of a developing countries GDP, the identical brigade who wear the same t-shirts, jeans and have haircuts that look like they were cut by a blunt scissor grasping blind person suffering a seizure. We don’t ascribe to the arson side of things though we are much in admiration of the way they sound like a bastard offspring of an illicit bunk up between Carter USM and the Newtown Neurotics, a criminally infectious - audaciously cheeky even - two chord key romp being wrestled by good wholesome slabs of Saturday afternoon terrace chant harmonies and pogo partying hooks aplenty, all this blessed with a chorus hook solely crafted to drive you to distraction and incessantly whistling away throughout your waking hours. It’s enough to make a grown man cry at the joy of it all. Flip the disc for ’Mirror’ - more of the same razor laced candy sarcastic scene baiting pop, flippant, rowdy and riotous kind of early Pulp gone bad with sheds loads of issues and a serious attitude. All good homes deserve one and funnily enough even the trendy circuit they seek to pour scorn on will buy into it and change allegiances and follow them so that they in effect become the Koko brigade - vicious circle this pop/ fashion thing. www.myspace.com/weekenderrecords

The Thermals ‘A Pillar of Salt’ (Sub Pop). More crucial hi-fi carnage from the ever dependable and re-invigorated Sub Pop enterprises. Been a while since we had anything by the Thermals gracing these pages. This feisty little slice of wired proto punk is culled from last years acclaimed semi concept set ‘the body, the blood, the machine’ (which sadly passed us by but has been promoted to the top of our next time in a record emporium shopping list) and marks the trios forthcoming appearance at ATP and full UK tour where they’ll be joined on the road by the Cribs. ’A pillar of salt’ is a fiercesomely hi-octane adrenalin racing slice of bitter sweet pop, honed to prickling perfection it comes replete with a superbly stratosphere punching catchy two step buzz sawing motif that insidiously chips away at your senses like some form of Chinese water torture. Need we say more of course not stupid - just buy the blighter. www.subpop.com

Escape Act ‘Hot Air’ EP (Twist and Shout). Ridiculously smart turntable Tupperware it has to be said. Melodically astute and superbly coded bristling to simmering power pop is the name of the game for this the debut release from Ireland’s Escape Act. Already the subject of much admiration among the clued up chattering classes following their appearance at the Belfest. The trio made up of ex members of Desert Hearts, Roque Junior and Rachel’s Asylum caused a buzz when their my space demo was posted and duly picked up by Radio 1. Since then they’ve been busy beavering away at the Lost Wax studios recording material for this their debut ‘Hot Air’ EP. Featuring three slices of ridiculously infectious bright eyed buzz pop, Escape Act meld contagious power chord sensibilities with a deliciously contagious song craft that belies an unsurpassable flair for carving a honey honed hook or three. The numbing ’Napkins and Nettles’ opens the set, this cutie struts, swerves and swoons in equal degrees sounding like something swiped from TFC’s Norman Blake’s prized songbook while slyly referencing the Flaming Groovies, early career Velvet Crush and Apples in Stereo - zig zagging riffs softly stirred by part bubblegum wide eyed summer loving melodies caressed by sumptuous rays of silken spun West Coast accents. ’Cabin Fever’ is a cutely disarming little love noted pocket rocket, devilish drive pop that fades in and slowly builds in stature, running on the spot rifftastic dynamics that are shot through with the same breathless beauty as endowed Moose’s ’Jack’ spliced with moments of refined key work and subtle sheens of shoe gaze haze. Leaving the best until - ’Corpses Candle’ is just what the doctor ordered, sizzling shimmer like heartbreak delicately bathed in feedback glazes which to these ears recalls early career Paris Angels tussling with New Order replete with harmonies hoodwinked from the Pixies with the Hollow Men doing tasty things on the mixing decks In all honesty one of the best things heard here since the Hoverchairs criminally overlooked shy eyed treasure ’Hide and Seek’ from a decade or two ago. Desirable stuff. www.escapeact.com

Parka ’If you wanna?’ (Jeepster). Blimey been years since we had any Jeepster stuff doing the business on the old hi-fi, mind you the blame lies squarely with us - we do lose track of these things. But damn what a way to re-acquaint yourself than with this rollicking ball busting beauty from Parka. Those who take notice of these things may well remember Parka’s seismic ’Disco Dancer’ causing a rumble on that ridiculously essential split release with Mr Fogg that appeared on the well heeled Worst Case Scenario imprint towards the tail end of last year. ’If you wanna’ sees the Glasgow based upstarts get their full debut release and well tasty it is to. ‘If you wanna’ sees these rowdy rascals dish out the goodies, an energetic blast of hi octane boot tapping mod pop is what’s on offer. If truth be told it sounds to these ears like the Motors ’Dancin the night away’ with a poker up its rear end and a bad case of the itch and translates superbly into three minutes of trimmed tightly honed blistering beat pop replete with wall punching three chord pummelling new wave styled power chords. Riotous, frenetic and impossible to put a lid on - in short delicious indie disco decimating demolition pop. Flip over for the equally resistibly infectious ’Hoxton Hair’. Another subtle dig at the semesters (see Subliminal Girls elsewhere) this babe comes packed with a sizzling snaking riff that sounds like it was concocted by Ray Davies and fine tuned by Supergrass, more snot nosed cocky attitude than an adolescent ASBO release party and damn bloody unfeasibly catchy you might just as well give up any hope of resistance right now. ’Closing time’ wraps up what has been a killer set with what can only be described as a dippy drinking ditty no less that has enough alcoholic fumes eking from it to have you pissed as a fart just listening to it not to mention hitting you were it counts just here, no not there, here. Blimey feel like a pint now - fancy a quick one? www.jeepster.co.uk

The Stills ’Destroyer’ (Drowned in Sound). Another band who’ve been away for far to long for our liking, the Stills return with a by all accounts stunning follow up to 2003’s much acclaimed ’Logic will break your heart’ full length entitled ’Without Feathers’ (hang on the blighter has been out for two months now - darn another for the shopping list - bloody endless this). ’Destroyer’ culled from that forthcoming set pretty much defiantly rallies with the same sentiment as espoused so brutally by the Soft Boys’ ’I wanna destroy you’ nearly three decades previously and sounds to these ears like a revved up Butterflies of Love with a touch of the Dylans (as in his Bobness) returning from a Stax all nighter. If ‘Destroyer’ is to be used as a yard stick then admittedly the sound has radically changed - looser, mature and more fluid in texture which frankly puts paid to the non believers who recently littered the bands forum with cries of ’where is my Stills’. This time of asking ‘Destroyer‘ is more traditional rock based even mellow if you like and blessed with a delicious gospel styled r’n’b key intro and a bracing brass arrangement which if I’m honest did catch us on the hop somewhat first listen - but damn its bloody good - stick with it the rewards are bountiful. Now for that album. www.thestills.net

Feist ’My moon my man’ / ‘Remixes‘ (Polydor). Now I ain’t going to beat around the bush - what we know about Feist I could write on the smallest stamp in the world and still have plenty of space for several doodles. This little gem is taken from Feist’s imminent ’the Reminder’ set which we have recently taken delivery of you’ll be glad to hear (no grumbles this time around) and will be no doubt loving much at the weekend. Former housemate of Peaches, friend of Gonzales (who incidentally shares co-writer dues in this instance) and sometimes member of the Broken Social Scene, Ms Feist’s ’my moon my man’ pitches its tent somewhere between the ridiculously talented Candie Payne and the delectable Hafdis Huld. Flighty, flirty and irresistibly laced with a demurring sultriness, ’my moon my man’ flits and hops delicately into your listening world casting an enchanting seductive caress to the proceedings, Feist’s breathlessly silky soft vocals shimmer like sensual apparitions atop a crookedly serviced salon bar styled throbbing bass underpin. Does it for us anyway. Not sure how readily available the remixes are but those of you savvy enough should be able to wrestle yourselves a copy - your efforts will be well rewarded ten fold. Berlin’s Boys Noize goes head to head with ’my moon my man’ and emerges from out the other side with the floor buzzing essential deck wear ’classic mix’. Stripping the original mix to the core Boys Noize runs the minimalist gauntlet and endows it with a seriously after dark horny futuro funk re-spray that’s built upon a pounding clockwork dynamic and threaded with vocoder vocals that towards the finale dissipate into a colourful cortege of tip toeing string arrangements. Elsewhere Chromeo are drafted to sprinkle a little of their alluring magic upon the old Nina Simone nugget ’Sealion’ (which in effect was originally called ’Sea Line Woman’ and initially appeared on her /Broadway, Blues, Ballads’ set for Phillips in 1964 - nobody likes a smart pants - Ed). A staple of Feist‘s live set for some years now. In Chromeo’s hands this little cutie is dusted down, sumptuously specced up and given a classy and deliriously laid back Studio 54 underpin as though Sylvester on chill pills had been drafted in with the Commodores for a spot of seductive moonlighting. www.listentofeist.com

Islands lost at Sea vs. soft priest ‘split’ (akoustik anarchy). And do we love this, you better bet your skinny jeans ‘n’ tops and set square crafted angular hairdo we do. More celebrated kookiness and bonce blending boogie from the over packed closet of tasty top table tuneage courtesy of those Mancunian rascals over at the esteemed and much admired Akoustic Anarkhy enterprises whose melodically modified canteen of delights on this occasion sets about serving up a deliciously demented, deranged and dippy double header of warped ‘n’ wayward lo-fi loon pop from Messrs Lost at Sea and Soft Priest. ’Way we played it yesterday’ is quite frankly akin to have fluffy marshmallow force fed via a huge syringe into the spaces that lie in your head and is the debut release from Dan, Adam (obviously not the names they were born with) and Bodge who are collectively known to a very strange and select musical community (who it has to be said huddle en masse to venture out after dark and even then only on the proviso that their guardians have said they can) as Islands lost at Sea. Swiftly stepping aside the audible muttering of ’ones to watch for’ this trippy little nugget will appeal principally to all those who’ve ever lain awake at wondering what a sunny afternoon spent chilling on the riverbank smoking hi-grade weed in the company of Tunng and the skewed crooked symphonies that made up Go Team’s ’Get it together’ (because I know we have mainly for the fact that we don’t sleep anymore at the Losing Today compact and bijou record shed- well not since T*sco asked for their experimental multi purpose environmentally friendly life size cardboard box back - ho hum). Dippily decorated with kooky kazoos, sponge like bass underpins, South Pacific dream scapes, pissed pastoral pastiches and bathed with an impeccable though obviously inebriated down tempo vibe this bonkers beaut has all the trimmings of a lysergic Muppets parade suffering sun stroke on sea side day out with Toshack Highway‘s debut full length for ear phone entertainment. Flip side features the much welcomed return to these pages of Soft Priest (better known to kith and kin as Charlie Bayley) who sharp types with long memories among you may well remember us fondly head over heels in admiration for following his goofy ’Done It’ debut (see missive 87 - in which incidentally we cast a fond eye over label mates the Loungs’ debut release and co-incidentally who’s debut full length ’we are the champ’ has just arrived to be much loved here). If only our priest had been so laid back and entertaining instead of the fire and brimstone God will strike you down Latin speaking dog collared demon from the local diocese - then maybe - just maybe we’d have attended choir practice or at least been around to be considered for choosing as it is we simply have to console ourselves by practicising the scales of our cherub like vocal range on selected days allowed for by the customary by laws of the neighbour hood which invariably involve carrots, space dust and weird archaic festive days - sales of windows are up you’ll be glad to note. We where we - ah yes Soft Priest - ’Study bunk breakout’ what can I say - barking might be as good a place as any - high jinks at the end of the pier of wonky lands promenade, a kind of rustic paradise abridged with funky bass lines braided with interloping samples and featuring a magic mushroom munching orchestra made up of Michael Bentine’s Potty Men having a face off with the Clangers while being conducted and arranged by Joe Meek an utterly disarming, disorientating and dangerously delirious in the right kind of setting - these moods can of course be heightened by the intake of several pints of falling down juice. You can catch the Soft Priest preaching to the masses with his psalm pop deliveries and turntable testaments at the much acclaimed and near legendary Akoustik Anarkhy nights. Buy on sight. www.akoustikanarkhy.co.uk

John Butler Trio ’Funky Tonight’ (Atlantic). Scratch away t the deftly plucked finger licking deep South dipped delta folk blues riffmanship within ’Funky Tonight’ and you’ll discover a horny little devil gagging to cut loose. Culled from their recently released ‘Grand National’ set and follow up to the multi award winning breakthrough album ’Sunrise over Sea’ from two years ago, Butler showcases his unnerving folk blues hybrid guitar playing song craft, again aided and abetted Michael Barker and Shannon Birchall on drums and bass duties. Dusting down his grandfather’s vintage national dobra resophonic slide, ‘Funky Tonight’ sees Butler carving out a deliciously sly fusion of subtle early 70’s styled street blues struts swamped with wah wah’s and countrified cross pollinated Gaelic folk blended by distant echoes of the Hendrix classic ’Cross town traffic’. Damn fine stuff if truth be told. www.myspace.com/johnbutlertrio

The Machine ‘love in a dead end town’ (self released). Retro styled three track corker from London based combo The Machine and aside that little more as to information with which to impart. That said what you get in return for your time, effort and hard earned walla are a trio of hi - gloss in production nuggets of svelte mood-ist electro pop. The set opens with the clockwork rhythmic ‘love in a dead end town’ - harnessing the hook able pop sensibilities of OMD is no easy feat but here is pulled off with much admiring aplomb and cleverly threaded through a touching bleak noire like electro romanticism rarely heard since those early outings from Soft Cell yet endowed with a subtle sophisticated sheen that admirers of the much missed Leeds ensemble Yellow Stripe Nine may well swoon for. The buzz sawing pulse racing ‘Remember’ is a darker affair still, interweaving house / acid vibes a la Underworld ‘Born Slippy’ this sexy and sleazy club floor crunching slab of dirty futuro funk seductively taps into the mind set of Heaven 17 c. ‘Penthouse and Pavement’ and twists into the matrix the essence of Aloof’s ‘One night stand’ to provide a throbbing nocturnal teaser of some measure. The zig zagging candy twist popping ‘Sheila’ wraps up the set to not only liberally borrow the coda from New Order’s ‘1963’ but pretty much turning out what can only be described as a neatly condensed précis of ‘Brotherhood’ into the bargain - still cute as hell and so toe tappingly tasty you might want to consider nailing to the floor your dancing boots for fear of some form of hip harming hi-jinks. Check out their my space page and rip yourself the quite exquisite ‘HG Wells’. www.myspace.com/musicofthemachine

The Outdoor Types ‘Jangler Swift eye’ (self released). Strange pop - not quite the theatre of the absurd but not far off. If there was such a thing as an intensively crafted manual for pop to hand then it’d be a sure bet that the Outdoor Types would speed read and skip the pages trying to locate phrases involving words such as ‘strange’, ‘odd’, ‘impish’ and / or ‘clever’ and then go about crafting their modified model for counter culture domination based purely on those abridged pages. Three tracks feature on this self released outing - dislocated, abstract musical hall styled folk that recants darkly weird tales plucked as were from dusty copies of Boy’s Own and delivered with a stylising that recalls first hand ‘When in Rome, Kill me’ era Cud with a side serving of the Cravats on anti psychotic medication all served out with the mercurial pop twist of the Beatnik Filmstars. ‘Jangler Swifteye’ which opens the set is just plain eerie, braded with a weeping violin accompaniment this darkly beset beaut stutters and mooches with creepy pensiveness like a wired variant of ‘the Teddy Bears Picnic’ transported magically in to a scene of candle cast shadowed Edwardian Tavern treats that keeps shifting dynamic and putting you on your back foot. Just when you think you’ve nailed the blighter they throw in a spot of Blue Oyster Cult syled guitar coda to throw you off the scent and disappear in a puff off smoke. For reasons best known only to me and the surrounding four walls each time I hear ‘Vanishing Cream’ I feel the undeniable urge to partake in a spot of Cossack dancing while saving the best until last - as is always the case don’t you find - ‘Salvaging Wrecks’ is your catchy as hell drinking and singing - a - long type of thing, a wickedly wonky dusty and drunken saloon bar hoedown featurette - welcome around our gaff anytime. www.myspace.com/theoutdoortypes

See you later
Mark
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