missive 141
22-10-2007
Singled Out
Missive 141

For Kelly, Mark and the late Mr Peel.

Singled Out - one groovy fucking bastard albeit with tooth and ear ache (this week only).

Of Arrowe Hill ‘your late unpleasantness’ (Ouija Board). There’s been a fair amount of bunting hanging in our gaff following the arrival of the latest opus from Of Arrowe Hill entitled ‘Dulce Domum’. It seems they are no longer the incumbent fly in the ointment drop outs from an era partly familiar yet strangely still to arrive as the dashing ultra limited 200 only one sided vinyl taster ’your late unpleasantness’ so indelibly proves. Swirling in all manner of 60’s styled manifestations the usually shadowy Of Arrowe Hill step from out of the shade and lock their sights to head trip oblivion with this fuzz laden pysche beat tombstone, a simmering brew of effervescent freak beat that takes a nifty toilet stop at Brit Pop and pisses over the Charlatans and Oasis before hooking back on board the magic bus next stop the 60’s to dish up some potently vintage hip shimmying swaggering blues that has you imagining a pot passing summit between the Stones‘ Keef, Traffic and Love - in other words its as cool as f**k. The aforementioned full length is due with deathly delight on Bonfire Night. www.myspace.com/ofarrowehill

That Fucking Tank ‘the awesome magnet’ (on the bone). Squalid, skewif and do we fucking love it. Comes packaged - we’re led to believe - on a spanking picture disc format which will include a freebie DVD featuring a tour shot of the bands recent European dates - something which we’ll have to grab for ourselves. Now newly equipped with a singer in the shape of ex - Danananaykroyd front mean Giles Bailey the rampantly dislocated ‘the awesome magnet’ is a seismic mutant swamp boogie and life long subscriber to the Touch ’n’ Go ethos, a pummelling gnarled grinding bastard of a spectacle bludgeoned by an unwavering claustrophobically fraught and fractured head in a vice like evilly bloated frazzled funk underpin that has you recalling a harrowing face off between the belligerent Shellac and uncompromising Jesus Lizard with believe it or not Pere Ubu refereeing the titanic clash with the blood letting floorshow awash with a spiked austere tension and sinew chilling dementia. If anything ’fascist because beautiful’ over on the flip finds itself drowning fast in unbridled tension, a molten hot pressure cooking tight as a gnat’s arse intricate progged math rock instrumental work out that‘s sure to prize off the scalp and flip the wig of many an admirer, splintered, dense, wayward and deep set with all manner of Henry Cow references - frankly we need more - and soon. www.onthebonerecords.com

Cynic Guru ’Drugs’ (Fat Northerner). It’s quite obvious that the hibernation season is over for those Fat Northerner dudes because of late the blighters have been peppering our hi-fi with a positive smorgasbord of spanking releases from the likes of Grand Volume, Bonebox and that frankly awesome debut from Redneck Renegade. Well kids seems like they’re not done with you yet in terms of pre Xmas treats and as though to rub more salt in the wounds of their peers the blighters now unearth Cynic Guru who as much as we hate subscribing to these kind of things may well shortly prove to be your new favourite band. ‘drugs’ is the debut release from Icelandic pop crooners, heartbreakers and all round dandy toon makers Cynic Guru, something of a taster for their January slated self titled full length. Like McCartney finding himself tangled up inside the dark recesses of Syd’s warping psyche the kaleidoscopic ’drugs’ is trippily filleted in all manner of softly intoxicating florescent hazes decoded with a mainlining sumptuous pop thrill that hooks from the word go and has the word epic tattooed on it arse in huge acid laced spangly letters - think of a psychedelicided mind bending ‘Kashmir’ replete with the dizzying aroma of eastern string motifs interspersed with the Beatles-esque styled ‘sowing the seeds’ by Tears for Fears and rooted to the spot by a glorious kicky botty rock underpin. About the closest find to a non narcotic enhanced high your likely to hit for a fair old while in record terms. Anyone fancy a spliff? Flip over the disc for the equally beguiling ’Dick’ - a crackling and popping vintage stained saccharine and sepia tinged throwback to the days of dusty shellac records, partly maudlin musical hall that if I’m honest has a sense of early Space about it albeit mooching about on an after hours dance hall floor swapping notes with White Town’s ’your woman’. Scarily cute. www.fatnortherner.com

Rebecca ‘Public Face’ (self released). With a limited edition self released and signed full length on its way - and from what we gather - already sold out on pre-orders alone via their website, Liverpool’s worst kept secret return to box pop clever with your hi-fi following acclaimed prior visits courtesy of the ‘halfway in love’ and ‘what you will get’ outings. ‘public face’ is a more considered affair than previously, don’t get me wrong it maddeningly pushes all the crucial buttons simultaneously sending the vital signs into states of sheer frenzy graced as it is by the panic stricken quivering scale stepping vocals of Tom Keys, some neatly casual duck walking guitars struts and is that the rarely heard sound of the Theremin in the background that we do detect to which on this occasion coalesce into a clearly defined bristling pop motif that runs through the core and suggests the trademark spirit of the much missed Mansun still flitting through their aural accoutrements with spectre like charm though this time countered with the kooky mechanics of the off kilter pop sensibility of Space at their most swooning. Still essential no matter how you dress it up. www.rebecca.info

The Brownies ’Means to an end’ (NRONE). We have to ask - but is it still legally allowable for records to sound this energetic. As said we only ask because this babe throws some cutely aimed punches. Second outing for this Norwich based quintet (three ladies, two chaps) which by our reckoning means we missed out on their debut release ‘small talk’ - buggering hell we say and another lost must have collection gap filler to be added to the ever bulging wants list. High octane frazzled power punk pop set across four cuts - well as a matter of fact three unless of course you buy the vinyl in which case its two yet with the added bonus of having them sassily shouting across blue coloured grooves. Getting confusing this isn’t it? Anyhow a blistering feast of girl fronted punk pop the like of which we haven’t heard around here since the anarcho days of Hagar the Womb, the Partisans and to a lesser degree Vice Squad. The tension racked ’means to an end’ is stricken with a buzz sawing mooching bass line over which wiring austere post punk signatures strut and zig zag with chilled ambivalence all seductively rooted upon a club floor trouncing death disco underpin over which vocalist Sophie cruises (alas not in the Julie’s sense) with fearless glee. For what it’s worth ‘it kills’ over on the flip trounces it to within an inch of its life, courting more angles than an origami puzzle this slamming prime slice of frantic heads down brazen boot tapping boogie is beset with a nagging and grizzled prowl like riff that aside skulking in the shadows to take its cue by way of rewiring the Cure’s ‘10.15 Saturday Night’ has an unnerving knack for rearing into avenging attrition just when you least expect it, though in truth it’s the bone crunching manic chorus that does it for us - audacious - not ’arf. ’tunc loving’ brings up the rear to expose a festering throbbing beast of dysfunctional desire. Consider yourself well and truly warned. www.myspace.com/nronerecords

It Hugs Back ‘carefully’ (safe and sound). Indeed yes we did mention this previously via missive 129 and unless I’m very much mistaken again in passing at missive 139 - but it seems some f you loveable rascals in record buying land are taking notice. Anyhow we don’t normally feature the same record several times but the band did kindly send along a finished vinyl copy of the single (with badge I might add) to replace our well worn CD promo and hey if you do the same we might be persuaded to feature your record in successive missives - good eh? Anyhow ‘carefully’ is ever bit as gorgeous as it was when we first heard it (missive 129) though we still have to maintain that we are more than a tad smitten by the flip cut ’sometimes the sun’ - radiant. Check out their my space site for a taster peak of their forthcoming single for Too Pure. Exquisitely luxurious shy pop. www.safeandsoundrecords.co.uk

Leander ‘Hide and Seek’ EP (Kennington). Absolutely perfect for these frost bound morns, Leander are Berlin based brothers Daniel and Lars who between them craft wonderfully shy eyed igloo pop that will appeal in the main to fans of Birdpen, Swimmer One and Minotaur Shock. Three tracks feature on this debut release which should go some way to acting as a tantalising taster for their forthcoming full length due early next year. Hauntingly fragile electronic folk pirouettes is what you get for your trouble, the deliciously dainty ‘hide and sleep’ is decorated with hushed and homely vocals cast upon beds of cascading electronic rustic twinkles and spectral symphonies that play peek - a - boo while softly showering the snow dropped scenery with sheens of alluring shy eyed loveliness - quite gorgeous if you ask me. The brief but beautiful ’east hills’ (clocks in at little over a minute) has all the trappings of an awakening Mum while the lushly lunatic ’precipice’ forlornly creaks, whirrs and pops delicately exuding a hurting lonesome aura that perspective onlookers may do well arming themselves with handkerchiefs before exposing themselves full on - quietly exquisites stuff - we await the album with much baited breathe. Go to the labels website for a chance to hook up with Finders Keepers head honcho Doug Shipton doing his stuff via their pod cast feed. www.kenningtonrecordings.com

Restlesslist ‘Dirty Pint’ (Life is Good). Damn, we love it we love it we love it. Lets not beat about the bush by some distance the single of the missive and perfect for the oncoming all hallows eve. The surreal ‘Dirty Pint’ is the second release from the bonkers but brilliant Brighton based crooked crew Restlesslist (still a terrible name lads) who feature in their ranks members of Electric Soft Parade and the Brakes who first appeared in these very pages to much rapturous applause for their rather spiffing ‘butlin breaks’ debut (see missive 88). A crooked though gloriously goofy jack hammering floor destined bouncing paint bomb of a cut, a skewif and unhinged marinating of quirky musical hall recitals, ghoulish ghost train rides and lazy eyed lounge loveliness - totally barking stuff as though 70’s kids TV loons Rhubarb and Custard had stumbled across an illicit hording of disused battered and buckled casios, a detuned guitar with two strings and a buggered cassette of early Cardiacs toons and decided amongst themselves albeit with limited resources to craft lunging scores for lunatic lifts. ‘Mint sauce’ over on the flip is - if it were at all possible - even more of a wig flipper sounding like an over wound army of clockwork toys drafted in on a wonky ice cream van and let loose into the hallowed halls of the BBC’s Radiophonic Workshop to kick out frantically riot laden and frenetic krautrocking cosmic love notes across the ether. Insanely ingenious - an album ‘the rise and fall of the curtain club’ looms large on the out of focus horizons due to mess with the heads of an unsuspecting nation in January. Did we say Single of the Missive by any chance - every good hi-fi deserves one. www.lifeiseasyrecords.com

My Little Problem ‘Elephants’ (Life is Easy). One of many treats to be found on their recently released delectable debut full length ‘All these things’. Housed in a sleeve (itself worthy of a small mention) depicting artwork credited to Class 5.3 of the Yardley Primary School and gorgeous they are too (well done kids), the twinkle some ’elephants’ sees Brighton’s Simon Janes and Co concocting a beguiling brew comprising of the off kilter fluffiness that was once the remit of the Elephant 6 Collective most notably Of Montreal, delicately tender morsels of bracing folk accents lilt longingly amid the grooves peppered by the breezy sounds of harmonicas (which along with the aforementioned artwork - is alone worth swapping your hard earned dosh for) and dotted liberally in effervescent watercolour shades of pastel which when gathered together have the resonating appeal of appearing like a enchantingly demurring low voltage perky pop half cousin of Shady Bard as it silkily navigates gently beneath your defences. The hauntingly stately sounding ‘paranoid’ over on the flip is emerged resplendently in hazes tip toeing rustics, backward looped vocals (that exude a Gregorian monastic appeal) and swirling strings that sumptuously coalesce into a regal like feast of romantic Gaelic intones that if we here didn’t know any better would suggest it was the work of Gorky’s meddling amid the doomed splendour of Lord Summerisle’s retreat. ‘goes around’ wraps up the set - by a short whisker proves to be the best thing here - refined, mellow, magical and ghostly this hurting honey is bleakly beautiful, scratched on the inside and achingly adorable as it tingles amid corteges of weeping strings, winter bound cellos and the distant beckoning of siren-esque calls from beyond the grave - achingly tragic and tailor made to twist your heart strings. www.lifeiseasyrecords.com

Lead Balloons ‘something’ you say’ (friends of mine). Another killer debut I’m afraid pop cadets. Lead Balloons are a Manchester based quartet who it seems have an unnerving knack for knocking out prime slices of perkily prickly pristine pop that to these ears had us much reminiscing lost treasures of yesteryear Hoverchairs, Hey Paulette and 14 Iced Bears. As is becoming customary with these things we’ve managed to separate the attending press release which no doubt would have been packed choc-a-block with exciting info witty anecdotes and such like. See pay peanuts get monkeys. Anyhow ‘something’ you say’ should by rights be heard booming joyously from any self respecting hi-fi shortly given that this bright eyed and bushy tailed honey sets upon you in an instant amid a haze of summer shining happy / sad jangles and the kind of push / tug charm that’ll have your innards a glow with a warming fuzzy felt feeling - will break hearts and have you with an unshakeable desire to dig out your old Sarah records starting with Another Sunny Day by my guess. Flip over for the equally delectable ‘don’t let that go to waste’- a seductive shoe shuffling honey that shimmies with skiffle styled beat pop briskness along the same Mersey delta banks as once resided a certain beat combo by the name of the Coral. Great things lurk around the corner methinks. www.myspace.com/leadballoons

Shitdisco ‘I know kung fu’ (Fierce Panda). Last appearing in these very pages following their rather seismic ‘Okay’ outing (see missive 120) which incidentally features here as the revamped ‘radio clit mix’ which you can snaffle up as your own by grabbing the 12”. ‘I know Kung Fu’ culled from their recently released ‘kingdom of fear’ full length which we must admit has sadly passed us by is found here dragged off to sonic operating table for a spot of radical make over treatments and upgrades only to be signed out when stitched up to terrorise a hi-fi near you. A frantic skewif stew of razor sharp white funk accents boxing clever amid a rigorously regimental back line of art grooving angular disco nuances braided with tribalised rhythms that to these ears sound like a fierce some club decimating face off with the Higsons immortal ‘I don’t want to live with the monkeys’ being savaged by a meeting of mindsets featuring 23 Skidoo and Youth’s early career outfit Brilliant all directed and choreographed by a tender of age XTC. Rampant rapid fire uber groove that doesn‘t so much sound like its been bitten by the funky bug but rather more has been cultivating a hybrid species of the blighters in their collective pants. The same cut is sent for a service to Goose who re-wire the original template with a tension racked hysteria stricken hypnotic floor rogering buzz sawing psychotropic house vibed wig flipping diode fusing melt down of some measure. Nuff said raked. The aforementioned ’OK’ the radioclit mix is rendered almost unrecognisable wired as it is into a rampant club crunching fucked up and frenzied white funk stew laced throughout with spiked spidery kaleidoscopic riffs hoodwinked straight out of the Shamen’s ’jesus loves Amerika’. ’dreams of infinity’ the passions remix which you can find on the 12” flip is a full on turntable terroriser that gets down and dirty with early 90’s Detroit house albeit as though conceived by the shared mindset of Cabaret Voltaire and A Certain Ratio while the grind you down riddled with looping mantras Ferg F1000 Peterkin mix of ’House Fire’ is a superbly schizoid slice of unhinged art groove that’s one part Fire Engines, one part Gang of Four and several parts fucking bonkers and mental with it loveliness that’s frankly so irresistibly toe tapping it should come complete with its own restraining order. In a perfect world a monster hit. www.fiercepanda.co.uk

French Possession ‘nothing else applies’ (matchbox). Sun soaked country pop with its tingle dial cranked up to full melting beneath swoon factored honey glazed moments of shyly stirring melodies that swirl sumptuously between tenderly introspective melancholia (‘nothing else applies’), triumphant music hall barracking relocated to a campfire side setting (the courtneys of gallantry’) and sheer fuzzy felt laced doey eyed chic vibes (’Ginny’). Listening to French Possessions debut triple A sided platter you’d be understandable forgiven for suspecting that these youngsters didn’t own a radio or for that matter paid any attention to the media for their sounds are carved in the rich tapestry of classically shrouded pop that seems a far and distant cry from today’s hectic come day gone day hustle and bustle. ’nothing else applies’ lilts and caresses with the same warming low centre of gravity buzz that flickered through REM’s ’automatic for the people’ as though phased through the mindset of the Go Betweens, boy / girl vocals, softly demurring breezily chiming guitars longingly braided with an arresting off kilter effervescence whose only intention is to delicately unlock your defences. Like a latter career Kinks ’the Courtneys of Ballantry’ is a touching barn styled music hall lump in the throat tear jerker that adopts in passing the coda from Mary Hopkins ’those were the days’ though in our humbled opinion the best of the set is the nuzzling upbeat ‘ginny’ which wraps up the debut. Possessing a sense of those classic Keith Waterhouse penned black and white socio - kitchen sink films from the 60’s a la ’billy liar’ et al, this honey is wrapped amid gently undulating piano motifs, casual carefree riff rambles and stately Beatles-esque string arrangements which all combine to make it an exquisite velvet lined slice of sumptuous smoothness. Essential type thing. www.matchboxrecordings.co.uk

Happy Mondays ’Dysfunktional Uncle’ (Sequel). As though they’d never really gone away which when you look at it has the odd effect of appearing as though in terms of musical trends and fashions the last 15 years haven’t happened - either that or the Mondays have been preserved in some pre Oasis-ised Mancunian sci-fi state of suspended animation. Taken from the recently released comeback album of the same name itself a mish mash of celebrated highs and excruciating lows in terms of music, ’Dysfunktional Uncle’ will please the old guard being that it’s the Mondays by numbers (and for once the right numbers) distilling as it does all their excesses and swaggering Manc street mentality into a pocket sized 3.44 lasting lightshow of fat ’n’ funky lazy eyed grooves, a bit like putting on a cosy pair of warm and familiar slippers - albeit slippers possessing a degree of tongue in cheek edge and the kind of sassiness that’s only achieved by waving two fingers at convention and doing its own thing. That said the more cynical may well view this as the Mondays playing from memory minus the pills, the bellyaches and sadly lacking the thrills.

And that’s it for a few days - there will be a quick my space missive either tonight or failing that tomorrow for certain - next time out all manner of loveliness from the likes of sugar drum, grayceon, shreber harber mole flying wheel, Richard houghten, tabloid, maths class, mnemosyne, zuprowsk connection, auto drone and purist spiritual pigs (latter two - both of which are long overdue releases deserving reviews which in all honesty we lost in the great PC breakdown of a month or two ago), also stuff from Lupen Crook and a stack of killer things from Science Fiction Theatre - woo hoo.

Till then have fun and take care of yourselves…updates as usual via www.myspace.com/thesundayexperience - drop in say hello and stuff.


Mark
X

Singled Out is a ‘don’t stick that on the hi-fi you don’t know where its been’ production all rights are reserved and as it happens look rather fine and dandy.