Alas folks no un-witty pre-amble to this missive jeez we’re thinking that things are bad enough with politicians cooking the books (one of which who had the nerve to retort that the public had no business in his private life and they were jealous of his stately home - a home no doubt paid for by the years of unscrupulous expenses accounting - talk about being the judge and executioner these clowns blame a falling system that they themselves agreed) - we’ve been much amused on a daily basis watching these red faced villains trying their best to excuse themselves from their deeds trying no doubt to ensure that they remain in their privileged seat while simultaneously opinion polls forecast a mass exodus of voters unwilling to vote in the forthcoming European elections - again another expenses gravy train - with one wit suggesting the other week that we have a ’none of the above’ entry on the voting cards - no doubt someone had been watching ’Brewster’s Millions’ - hence not the original idea that Radio 4 decided to tout then eh? Given that the working class and especially women fought long and hard to get the vote would it not be a good idea to make it mandatory that people had to vote with the proviso that there would be an ‘abstain‘ selection on the polling card, a failure to vote resulting in a means tested / scaled fine based on tax / benefit returns with the added bonus that the Government - instead of raiding public pensions could use the cash to pay off our crippling national debt. Just a thought.
Anyhow some tunes and things…yippee…..
Oh and address for submissions, insults and votes into parliament at the foot of this rather brief but beautiful ramble……
http://www.myspace.com/churchofthedrivethruelvis - would you believe it our pesky laptop is suffering from sun stroke the result of which being that its somewhat mooted our enjoyment of these two posted demo cuts from the last London based beat pop combo to have turned our heads. Be honest Church of the Drive Thru Elvis is a name worthy of heading up an art house t-shirt brand all of its own, alas the information is scant we’ve only managed to pick up on the fact that there are seven of them though quite frankly the only thing you really need to know is that they cut the most uber cool of sonic shapes. Combining lip curled vocals dashed with the slinkiest 50’s cool cat riffs you’ll find difficulty in hearing outside of a Blue Caps fronted Gene Vincent collection and occasionally found making the odd sassy detour into salsa realms, Church of the Drive Thru Elvis sound like a smoking after hours gathering of souls drawn from the likes of Flaming Stars, Gallon Drunk and the Godfathers all professing a fondness for the twang, sophisticatedly spun soul blues and Martin and Sinatra. The galloping ’moving to your town’ skips to a spectral coda drawn teasingly from the immortal ‘ghost riders in the night’ and while there’s more than enough to suggest a passing admiration for the Gun Club, Fatima Mansions and Wall of Voodoo its ‘high street’ that snares our affection. Indelibly drilled with a seriously wasted and monochrome 50’s accent and filleted with some nifty Dick Dale / Link Wray reverbs this babe seductively shimmies between the smoked and the soulful with the added bonus that it sparked up sensations in us not felt around this gaff since the day we first witnessed Swansway mooching mercurially through ‘soul train’. Add to that an impossibly slinky slice of exotic latino vibes that appear roughly at the 2.05 mark which as it happens is the point that our PC decided on a spot of impromptu editing. Despite the glitches we think we have the measure of them though we love it even more banged on a CD and posted out to us - address on application.
http://www.myspace.com/therafttheband - this lot - well we say lot - there are only two of them as opposed to the gathering rabble you’re no doubt imagining in your minds eye - anyway this duo - hail from the Wirral a place to which we are much familiar with having lived there in a contrary mix of good and bad times a few years ago and a place I was attracted to because it had an abundance of trees and greenery to which at the time Liverpool was sadly lacking and stranger still ending up living in an area which had my father taken the brave plunge when I was a mere nipper I would have grown up in. Life’s like that isn’t full of happy coincidences all of which I’m sure is of deep interest to both you the reader and Phil and Marc - for it is they who are the Raft. Several albums under their collective belts which we here a thinking we need decorating and installing pride of place in our own handsome collection with the latest being the recently released ’RR’. pursuing that finest of traditions of hand crafted Mersey derived bitter sweet pop that extends back to the Lotus Eaters this duo describe their sound as ‘strange but poppy’. the poppy bit we can equate with given that both ‘you’ve been waiting’ and ‘hey green eyes’ are both sweetly possessed of that self same jauntily twinkling pop euphoria that was much a part of the a pre ’three lions’ Lighting Seeds, the former being particularly awash in subtle 60’s sourced Scouse-a-delic sounds much primed at one time by the likes of the Cast and the Coral while the latter is carved with a drifting country tweaked carefree lovelorn glow that wouldn’t look out of place on the Bus Stop and Summershine rosters. That said - they are the weaker tracks it should be noted. ’he’ we are assuming features a guest female vocalist either that or Phil has been subjected to hot objects in the most sensitive and personal of places, a bit of a gem this, best enjoyed we’d hasten to add in the still setting of the witching hour and sounding it should be said like a distant cousin of the Lover Speaks lost nugget ’no more I love you’s’ (seriously forget the Lennox cover - the original trounces it). The shimmering sun toasted ’do you know what you do to’ offers a slice of razor sharp power popped buzz sawing bubblegum which admirers of early TFC and Epicycle may do well to seek out though for us pride of the pack is the utterly captivating ’december’. a honey dripped slice of candy pop tenderly coaxed by a mellowed marinating of prime time 70’s MOR accents and softly stirred west coast breezes that freewheels into the slyly romantic vintage pop realms so deliciously occupied at the moment by the Heartstrings and yet caressed by the sweetly affecting radiating artistry of Brigadier and rounded off with a vocal that’s not unlike a certain Gilbert O’Sullivan. Cherishable.
http://www.myspace.com/chrissansonmusic - an abundance of tearfully tweaked treasures to be found here all cut and crafted with the kind of fragile flair that aside making you feel somehow numbed and in awe have a distractive tendency to tweak your senses and make you feel compelled to snuggle up and give them a consolatory cuddle or two. Best viewed we feel in the wee dark hours, there’s something of a concerning belief about these cavernous epitaphs that you sense left to the hustle and bustle of the day’s busyness that they’ll somehow lose something in their translation, something that the dead air provided for by the atmospheric advances of the twilights stillness will nurture, tame and allow time for them to unfurl and ultimately saturate and bathe the silent passages with their bleakly beautiful opines. On Earth is the deeply affecting and romantically souring ambient alter ego of Tunbridge Wells based musician Chris Sanson who it seems is possessed of an artistry exquisitely honed and informed by noir framed dronal recitals and an acute grasp of ice tipped minimalist classicism, all at once intimate, detached and deeply desolate, On Earth crafts finitely porcelain curvatures of expressive sepia trimmed tenderness, aching and hurting for the best part these reflectively nostalgic overtures are stained with a bitter sweet solace that reference wise orbit realms more readily occupied by the likes of Max Richter, Hauschka and Bronnt Industries Kapital. From the optimistic wide eyed Brontean rushes of the Fort Dax like ’rosebud’ which opens proceedings here found beautifully dissipating into sweetly melancholic montages of sighing crestfallen opines to the hymnal and reverential tonalities of the fragile chamber like ecclesiastical sounding ‘oak‘ that momentarily takes you back to your formative childhood years simultaneously quietly inspiring you with its dustily scratched glassy textures, On Earth veer and apply a spectral alchemy that at times could easily pass for the lost link that unites the universes of Harold Budd with those of a youthful Ryuichi Sakamoto albeit the latter considerably scaled down as a miniature portrait. Elsewhere mention should be made of the celestial overture ’risen’ replete as it is with its wide screen aspect like cortege of droning crests while the aptly titled ’floating tapestry’ provides the set with its most telling moment - a six and a half minute orbiting symphony which like the aforementioned ‘oak’ is delicately airbrushed with a hymnal texture that‘s all at once graceful, statue-esque and blissfully hushed. There’s an album entitled ’one touch of nature’ which is free to download via the pocket change imprint as well as an EP on the much admired Make Mine Music label as part of their ‘Clouds’ series entitled ‘with eyes turned skyward’ not to mention the ‘Gnosis’ EP which you can grab for nowt from Black Winter Recordings - all of which we’ll endeavour to nail, hear and review for a future mention.
The Scratch ‘you want the world’ (pony land). More blitzkrieg bubblegum pop hurtling at velocity from those St Albans types the Scratch. ‘you want the world‘ is the bands final three track salvo before the weighing in of their forthcoming ‘whatever happened to Friday night?’ full length due to hit the shelves of all taste making record stores in October. No need to bore you about how much we here are smitten by these spike topped sounding flashbacks this one track advance promo (the releases twin flip cuts will feature here the minute we nail a finished copy - marketing strategies eh?) has had us bouncing off the walls like bad ‘uns and sporting the kind of contortionist foot shimmies that frankly may well be deemed illegal in certain parts of society and dare we say life threatening to elders of a certain age of which we are though that’ll be old enough to be your dad though not so old as to be found in the local Darby and Joan club playing dominoes and swigging brown mix. Anyhow enough of that - ’you want the world’ is a superb narcissistic cutie, an anthem for egotists or so it seems drilled with a seizure stricken ear candy day-glo effervescence that’s rapt in hooks and duelling harmonies aplenty which unless we are sorely mistaken sounds not unlike an acutely audacious prime time ‘love bites’ era Buzzcocks in the studio wrapping up another chart bound punk pop pretty only for the impish Mr Devoto and his Magazine sorts to sneak in through the back door and tinker with the tapes adding some of their trademark muscularly wiring psychosis ravaged riffage to the proceedings. A class apart in our book. www.thescratch.co.uk
The Melting Ice Caps ‘mise en scene’ (self released / free download). Feel we may well owe the Melting Ice Caps an apology given we could have sworn blind that we’d featured their second outing - incidentally via the God is in the TV download singles club - in these pages to much love and fondness. Alas a quick spot of research reveals that that may well not have been the case which is a bit of a puzzle for us because I actually remember the record and the feeling of a warming buzz it give off each and every time we played it. ‘mise en scene’ backed with ‘night school’ is the fourth outing from the erstwhile pen of a certain David Shah who at one time was a member of the much missed Luxemburg - a band so flawless they should have been massive. Alas it was not to be leaving Mr Shah to retreat, rethink and opt for an ostensibly more stripped down and intimate setting. Still disturbingly blessed with an unnerving knack for cobbling together a nifty slice of attractively drilled candy pop when he hears one albeit removed of the gloss of his former charges and framed in a more nakedly warts n’ all environ, ’mise en scene’ is draped and decorated with a sweetly sunburnt wind chill that’s tempered with a tingling carefree radiance of a country tweaked mellowness and mounted upon a tumbling and jauntily wide eyed cascade that in truth had us here recalling elements of a youthful Micro Disney and Go Betweens as though found coaxed and moulded by an early 80’s kitchenware records vibe. Proving to be our favoured cut ‘night school’ sways and swoons with the kind of softly succulent sucker punch pop that these days keeps turning up on releases put out by Matinee recordings, more expansive sound wise than its lead out sibling and ribbon wrapped with elements of a ‘Liberation’ era Divine Comedy styled glow freewheeled upon a gorgeously looping St Etienne / Dubstar like melody carousel. We will I promise seek out the prior split with the Soft Close Up’s for further future mentions. www.themeltingicecaps.co.uk
http://www.myspace.com/societyofimaginaryfriends - utterly beguiling, exquisitely detailed and as beautiful a thing you’ll hear this side of those shy eyed aural amour alchemists Musetta, its no surprise that Society of Imaginary Friends have featured in these pages to much rapturous acclaim, their melodic symmetry is breathlessly at one with the ever changing moods of nature itself one minute intense and emotionally turbulent the next intoxicating and divinely demurring. Engaged with a timeless majestic classicism their full length ‘sadness is a bridge to love’ is an emotional colossus, lush landscapes pepper corned by the undulating folds of intimately focused nocturnal embracing noir tipped suites that teeter impeccably between a senses fracturing searing melancholia and sweeping arcs of consuming euphoria none more so is the beauty of this set to full realisation than on the ghostly arabesque mantra ‘night of power’ while elsewhere we suggest you hook up to the fairy dust sprinkled ‘for those online’ - magically awash in the type of gloriously radiant celestial hazes that you suspect have at sometime in their life cycle been found adorning some enchanted backdrop for a Walt Disney masterpiece.
And for those a little too lazy to traipse over to their my space site to see what all the fuss is about here’s a little video presentation for ’the easy way’ to give you a gentle nudge - noir tweaked torch braided by Raymond Scott styled powerhouse accents - irresistible.
Ghost in the Water ‘clean sinks and folded laundry’ (Hidden Shoal). Culled from their recently released debut full length ‘tooth’ which we will try to remember to seek out for a mention in future despatches, ’clean sinks and folded laundry’ from husband and wife duo (Nathan and Mandy) Ghost in the Water (a side project to Fitzgerald) is a delicately caressing slice of willowy starry eyed pop that’s seductively primed and framed with a wonderfully hollowed weeping string arrangement and serenaded by a glassy cortege of twinkling celestial keys over which the hushed intimacy of Mandy’s forlorn and faraway wounded vocals trace their hurtful detail, sweetly sombre stuff that to these ears sounds not unlike some tear evoking sparsely drawn farewell embrace hatched between a stripped and frail Cranberries and Sundays. The ostensibly busy sounding space traversing ‘how to draw a ghost’ over on the flip is much more readily upbeat in texture still dogged all the same by a sweetly bitter aura but threaded with a frantically galloping up tempo zig-zagging buzz sawed dynamic that quite frankly does it for us notwithstanding the fact it still imparts a sense of teasing detachment which kind of makes you feel a little low and vulnerable. www.agora.hiddenshoal.com
Voluntary Butler Scheme ‘Tabasco Sole’ (split). Blimey didn’t we mention this lot just a missive or so ago 204) missive 20when they featured on that rather spiffing CD compilation that adorned the cover of the latest edition of that illustrious Thee Humbug fanzine put out by those taste making sausages Thee Sheffield Phonographic Corporation. Of course we jest for the excellently named Voluntary Butler Scheme is not a lot but rather a he by the name of Rob Jones who according to the attached press release (which you will duly note we haven’t lost - wonders will never cease - damn spoke to soon its just started raining) ‘laughed for 10 seconds on coming up with the name though hasn’t laughed since’ - we’re with you on that Rob. Anyway ‘Tabasco sole’ is darn irresistible. a day-glo dipped sherbet sprinkled slab of deliciously kooky and wonky 70’s flashbacks - impossibly infectious and audaciously cute and radiantly awash with a fuzzy felt kaleidoscopic dizziness more common to the Busy Signals, add to that the fracturing hazes of West Coast motifs done to such crooked precision that you suspect they’ve taken a quick vacation in Elephant 6 Collective land under the guided hand of Of Montreal and Olivia Tremor Control whilst not forgetting to throw in some pretty neat rose tinted fondness for 70’s kitsch a la ‘get it together’ / Pickled Egg era Go Team albeit here found relocated on some bizarre the Double Deckers meet Sesame Street set. Song of summer I wouldn’t wonder and yes it does have cheeky nibbles of the riff from the Jackson 5‘s ‘ I want you back‘ which kind of makes it adorable. Flip sides aplenty here - three in fact including a stripped to the core remix of the lead cut by Akira the Don’ whose version though less spangled in texture seems more intent on working his magic on the sound channels making this something of a head phone delight. Then there’s ’split’ which has something of an early Cornelius vibe about it initially though may well after a play or two divide the camps depending on your perspective into those who find it as annoying as Ryan Paris’ ’dolce vita’ or those who find it the most essential trip-wired goofiness since Pop Off Tuesday went off radar. Your choice. Ending with a cover version of ‘together in electric dreams’ which aside having the press release noting the original as a classic - which in itself was most perturbing - was probably one of the foulest of excesses to ever stumble from the musical car crash that was the 80’s, that said say anything bad about Messrs Moroder and Oakley in our gaff and we are at your door in a jiffy with a blow torch, an evil stare and a list of insulting words the likes of which scarcely heard on these soils since the Romans were packed off for their shoddy wall building workmanship and leaky drains. Alas then things get thrown whenever we hear ‘electric dreams’ in any form so sadly we are in no position to comment critically - sounds alright though has a middle bit that goes a bit skewiff which is cute - but arrrrrgggghhhh - get it off…….could have been worse it might have been ‘dolce vita’ oh er. www.splitrecords.co.uk/artists
Fight like Apes ‘something global’ (Model Citizen). We really must try and nail a copy of this lots debut full length ‘Fight like Apes and the mystery of the Golden Medallion’ because we here are thinking we are missing out on a certifiable pop treat - albeit that’ll be a skewed and schizoid pop treat. Last seen venturing these pages last Christmas when they appeared as part of the Maps Magazines festive calendar type thing with a particular fetching glacial re-drill of ‘snore bore whore’ which admittedly had us fondly recalling the Delgados ‘pull the wires from the wall’. pressed up on limited quantities of numbered white marble wax and available as a download ’something global’ ripped from the aforementioned debut full length set is an atonal pop nugget that shimmies, swoons and serrates, our ears are detecting shades of a younger Ladytron cross wired with the frantic seizure stricken electro kookiness of Winterbrief all serviced with healthy side order of Helen Love to go, furious and frenetic and about you like a rash this caustic cutie is replete with a maddening backdrop of wiring meltdown synths all dimpled with ridiculously attractive glazes of arresting sugar rushes that quite frankly once rearing into earshot begin to drill deep into your psyche and have you going yabba yabba yabba or feelings to that effect. Criminally contagious is I think the best way to file it. Without a shadow of doubt much deserving of the seldom given ’best song title this missive’ award ’this is like the time Jody didn’t know what cunnilingus was’ is one of those blink and its gone moments given its only 65 seconds long, exclusive to this release and much reminiscent of those impish and much loved sorts Johnny Foreigner, some kooky casio’s a la Zea, a quick exchange of insults leading to some brief and abruptly demented psychotics and then the blighters over. Mmmm. Much loved of course. Culled from a live appearance at Holland’s Eurosonic festival earlier this year ’battlestations’ perhaps sums up what we here love so much about this lot - that unruly and unhinged ability to all at once sound playfully subdued and vulnerable yet all the same a hairs breadth away from being rampant, raging and at the edge of their tether such as found in abundance here initially a gorgeously crestfallen twinkling slice of starry eyed hollow some orbiting sparseness that in truth at times freewheels pop parameters previously ventured by Nena’s ’99 red balloons’ before unravelling into a spite lashed slab of skin peeling kraut drilled pummelling. Essential of course as though you needed telling.
The Foxes ‘lover, killer’ (room 10). By our reckoning the third single from these dudes, and dudes they are because we here are beginning to see a pattern forming in that each and every one of their releases has a tendency to wallop our hi-fi each and every time the blighters rear into view. Certainly responsible for some wildly frantic toe tapping in our gaff since arriving through the mail box earlier today ‘lover, killer’ is so damn fecking catchy it ought to come accompanied by a course of jabs, restless 60’s drilled punch pop that to these ears sounds like a mighty fine dose of The Stairs and early Bluetones / LA’s fair, whooping vocals, zig zagging strut laced riffs and a breathlessly hip shimmying pristinely tuned beat pop awareness. Now tell me just what the hell is there not to like? Well as it happens there is the small matter of the flip cut ‘headlock’ - as with previous releases something of an affinity being drawn with all things scouse-a-delic, with its dizzy lysergic swirls cut finitely with traces of ‘rubber soul’ era Beatles-esque vibes that run through it like words through a stick of rock, this mellowing honey is invested with a desirably fetching see sawing shanty like dynamic that finds itself subtly undercut by softly drifting kaleidoscopic tonalities that nibble with much adoring aplomb to the likes of stuff the Coral were spitting out like no ones business a few years ago. A debut full length is mooted about time by our reckoning. www.thefoxesband.com
And that’s it for a day or so, thanks to all who’ve made these rambles possible - for submissions -
Snail mail -
105 Shaldon Drive
Morden
Surrey
SM4 4BQ
UK
Email - as our usual email is a bit buggered - and no I haven’t had a chance to purge the accounts - then please try - surroundinsound@aol.com
For updates - in colour to boot with sounds - yep we are reluctantly joining the 21st c - www.myspace.com/thesundayexperience
Er - see you then - take care and all that stuff….
