Singled Out - diligently fumbling about in the great sack of pop…..
http://www.myspace.com/hellotheboyfriends - are you sure we haven’t featured the Boyfriends previously in these pages, perhaps not but then the name is ringing alarm bells very loudly in our very frail and sensitive feeling early morning heads, maybe we’ve been distracted by the fact that we’ve eyed both the Housewives and the ever wonderful the Lovely Eggs on their friends list - both of whom certainly have without the need of checking featured here to much joyous rambling the latter of whom currently boasting a debut album which we’ve mistakenly managed to - for the meantime - mislay - but will you can rest assured - be sought out, dusted down and set for some speaker spanking entertainment in the coming days. So back to the Boyfriends, a London and thereabouts quartet led from the front by Laurie who are so far unsigned and describe their influences as ’making a racket in order to upset sad boys with acoustic guitars at open mic nights’ - a statement that alone has had our appetites (and I’m sure a great majority of yours) well and truly whetted even before a note has been played. Anyhow just one track posted so far. ’ballad’ is delightfully skewiff, off centre and out of focus, opens to the sound of a cigarette being lit a la Roxy’s ‘dance away’ - a sound effect it should be said that we here firmly and frankly believe should feature more on the days pop platters, unreservedly affectionate in appearance with the twinkling glockenspiel chimes giving it a childlike airiness, yet while there’s a more than well oiled purring and snazzy pop dynamic afoot brought on by the occasional shoe shuffling funk shimmy you can’t help being haunted by the nagging feeling that something sweetly sinister is at work here, the bewitching like intoxicating braiding of the softly caressed Natasha Atlas styled Arabesque mantras dizzily demurring in the background give a veritable woozy and mysteriously mystical aura that at first take might appear like the more spell crafted moments of Giant Paw’s weird unreality cross wired with Swansway’s ’soul train’. Goes without saying we need to hear more.
Okay video time, got a quick email from Andy from the criminally cool combo Out from Animals - that’s not to say a personal email - its not as though we here are partying, ligging and hanging around trendy drinking dens until all hours of the night righting the worlds woes and discussing the piss poor shot selection of England batsmen - no alas it came via a mass mail out - anyhow aside giving details of their intended appearance at the Pangaea festival which alas was yesterday and unless you have access to a time travelling machine is of no real consequence so we here won’t loiter any longer (that said if by chance you do have such a device please contact me for an updated list of records I’d like picking up - the usual stuff Elvis Sun issues, Beatles first pressings, an ever endless infantry of psyche rarities and a fair few names of person’s I’d like to see strangled at birth). Anyhow enough of that of course we only jest the Beatles records we can live without, anyway at the foot of said email - the mass mail out one - there was a link for a video of a song in progress entitled ’skeletons’ featuring a guest appearance by the 30000 bastards - the video - a montage of old Disney animations is pretty cute the song - well in truth there’s definitely a slinky and updated Cab Calloway thing going on….well smart by our reckoning…..
http://www.myspace.com/sentinelsunderground - must admit that we were much taken with the cuts found lurking on the my space player of Miami Beach based electro duo Sentinels Underground. Aside a great name - agreed - Messrs Isler and Cmongrooves weave an alluring melodic matrix whose template appears to adopt the work of mid career New Order as its core, the sounds fluid and appointed with a consuming wide screen aspect veer and weave elements of early 70’s prog electronics - most notably Tangerine Dream with the subtle glaze of 90’s styled trance / house a la Sven Vath. Between this the foundations of mid 80’s euro disko calibrations a la Front 242 provide the unifying underpinning fixture. With a debut EP being mooted for September touchdown three tracks loom on their my space players, tracks which should at least give you a more than adequate taster of what to expect in the future. Opening with ‘power and misery’ a bit of a vibrant monolith all said - that is if you can have a vibrant monolith, trace lines of a very early post Joy Division New Order muddy the grooves with an austere post punk wrap, add to that elements of a youthful and aforementioned Front 242 plus a few dashes of a post Vince Clarke Depeche Mode and delicately drill the brew with a decidedly shadowy texture whose blueprint nods towards Clock DVA and you have yourselves something of a cosmopolitan death disco-ish cutie. Much lighter and spacier in feel and approach is ‘the sentinels’ framed amid swirling corteges of orbiting synth night lights if we didn’t know any better we’d have to say that this was the handicraft resulting from a casual studio face off between a ’you gotta say yes to another excess’ era Yello and Jean Michel Jarre while best moment of the set by some distance is the demo version of ‘the game of the dance’ which is draped in all manner of reverential / monastic tonalities and wired with such subtle windswept gothic accessorising that we here were needing a double take to ensure it wasn’t some rare relict from a recently uncovered collection of mid 80’s Mission nuggets. We await that debut release with much expectant anticipation.
http://www.myspace.com/peterodyssey - alongside Daniel M Sentinels Undergrounds Peter Isler can also be found moonlighting as Music Odyssey who to date have released by the looks of things one self titled full length featuring nine mood setting atmospheric suites which when viewed as a whole appears to be something of a fond gathering of treatments informed by classic soundtracks and soundtrack composers of yore which on closer analysis raises further considerations as to whether the song titles came first and to that end indicated and influenced the mood and texture of each given piece so that on ’the evil within’ the expectant brooding tones are fully realised by something much crafted with Bernard Hermann in mind while ’the escape’ is set to the kind of fraught but cleverly conceived techniques more associated with Jerry Goldsmith. Elsewhere ‘into the night’ as you’d rightly expect of something so titled is edged with a subtle apocalyptic glaze that to these ears sounds not unlike Goblin being found shimmying up to Harold Faltermayer though for us the best moment is the hollowing and graceful ‘noir waters’ - a moment of sweetly serene tear stained numbness much recalling a certain Roy Budd. Need to hear more we reckon.
Something we’ve recently spotted lurking in our electronic mail box which I think is well worth the taking of time to investigate is the rather fine multi media network that is the Artic Circle collective, basically a like minded gathering of souls from the four corners of the globe seeking to spread the word as to their shared musical interests via musical events, record releases and radio transmissions - neither a promoter, a label or a radio station - just a collective conscious - a canteen if you like inviting people to drop by, kick off their shoes and basically just chill. The collective is supported by a stellar cast of some of the finest imprints currently occupying lodgings in the underground pop’s sphere of influence which by the powers of copy and paste we can reveal as being Fat Cat, Erased Tapes Records, Type, Static Caravan, Loaf, Home Normal, Spekk, Lo Recordings, Front & Follow, Trace Recordings, Bip-Hop, City Slang, O Rosa Records, Red Deer Club Recordings, Willkommen Records, Touch, Need No Water, Bella Union, Rumraket, FBox, Bedroom Community, Samadhisound, Expanding, Room40, Trunk. The collective have taken to the weekly issue of a one hour pod cast radio show hosted by Ben Eshmade who by some dastardly means of slight of hand conjures up a dream weaving play list made up of some of the hidden treasures currently to be found in pop world - the latest show features cuts from the likes of our brother the kite, cathode and the slow life though it’s the opening and closing brace from the previously unknown to us Sweet Billy Pilgrim that had us all a flutter especially ‘here it begins’ a beautifully mellowed love note that imagines a sedate and demurred Godspeed swapping notes with an equally out of it and chilled Arab Strap. In addition - and we could be wrong here - so while we await with baited breathe the correcting email - there is the additional Chiller Cabinet / the Circle pod cast which is basically a remix show put together by an invited musical guest - Australia’s Inch Time has the honour on this occasion - alas we haven’t heard it yet as we are busy downloading it - which bearing in mind its via Aol’s super duper broadband should mean we’ll get it sometime Xmas. Previous guest re-mixers have been the Nowhereians and the much admired Sone Institute. As though all this wasn’t enough if you get in fast you’ll be able to pick up an exclusive three track download set of the Sons of Noel and Adrian recorded at the Union Chapel last June. Phew! Blimey the link - http://arcticcircle.libsyn.com/
Blindfold ‘faking dreams’ (Cinepop). From the moment the softly soured spectral riff opines swelled and dissipated heralding the introductory passages of ‘falleg depuro’ the opening cut from Blindfold’s second full length ‘faking dreams’ we were succumbed, subdued, spellbound and utterly smitten. The accompanying press releases gushes longingly, reference markers such as Sigur Ros and Radiohead are casually thrown into the mix while the text leaves you almost in fear that what you have in your hands is a minor classic of some consuming ambition. They would say that wouldn’t they you say suspiciously - I hear you loud and clear on occasion you’d be right. Not this time. For ’faking dreams’ is exquisite and when it isn’t exquisite its just plain old sublime. Dull eh? Alas previously unknown to us Blindfold are an Icelandic quintet now relocated to Blighty, London to be precise, apart from the occasional compilation appearance, to date there’s been just one previous release - the self titled debut full length - amiss in our gaff to much ranting and muttering of ill thoughts. ’faking dreams’ is an emotional thumb screw, there’s a beautified forlorn grace about these ten tracks, sometimes solemnly stirred, at others touchingly fragile yet always tender and carved with a measured and quietly beguiled elegance that would suggest they’ve been appointed with the sole remit to seductively swirl and tease their way through and catch you on your blind side and ultimately past your defences. ‘faking dreams’ is marked apart by its subtleties in so far as the way it draws you close, for comparison perhaps only Shady Bard and liketrains have in recent years taken similar flight, in fact both are particularly called to mind on the detached ache that dimples and fractures the head bowed bruised beauty of ’don’t think it’s a sin’. Of course being from Iceland and blessed with a record bathed in all manner of rippling chime cascade, snow tipped cavernous detailing and spatial nuances there is always at some point going to be an intimated and perhaps lazily perceived association with Sigur Ros which as it happens on this occasion is indeed well founded and none more so felt than on the title cut ’faking dreams’. seductive is an understatement - this beauty is braided by choruses of undulating riff tides carving serene pathways that are punctuated by the tenderised juncture of soaring vapour trails of blossoming intensity that ebb and flow with a yearning sweet unbridled romance casting out bliss driven majestic communiqués into the ether swelled voids. ’wait’ on the other hand is pierced with an alluring mellow detail of such delicately wound intricacy that you’d have to re-acquaint yourself with the more lulling aspects of both the Grails and Godspeed’s back catalogue for comparison while the fracturing numbed aura of Radiohead is clearly present on the hollowing tormented trace lines of the ethereal ’fix you’ notably on the way it blisters, erupts and unravels at its finale. All said the sets best moment is the parting sub ten minute instrumental epic and cataclysmic ’reverse’. A bit of a slow burner and it should be said force of nature that builds steadily in stature and mass as it veers through an absorbing evolutionary cycle of serene wide screen glacial lulls, sheens of controlled dislocating discordance, halos of almost hymnal transcendentalism to rupture into sun burnt showers of razor like shimmering turbulence before dissipating again as though momentarily taking the foot of the gas only to re-engage and take flight towards a skull crushing and blazing soul sucking bliss kissed finale. Stunning in a word.
www.blindfoldmusic.co.uk
Key tracks -
Reverse
Fit you
Faking dreams
Caffeine and sleeping pills
Whizz Kid ‘the yellow and blue’ EP (Bearsuit). Arriving today a CD and letter from Mr Hillary the head honcho over at Bearsuit a label based in Edinburgh and much loved around this parish notwithstanding the fact that there’s always that sense of childhood reminisces of unwrapping presents left beneath a Christmas tree in that with each and every release you never quite know what’s going to spring out of the package, their prized asset Kirameki being the case in point. Not as frazzled or surreal as the aforementioned bench mark setting Kirameki, Whizz Kid you slyly suspect may well prove to be in time the labels impish enfant terrible if this EP documenting their first formative musical steps is anything to judge by. A duo pairing the talents of Belgium musician J-Kane better known more than likely to some of the hipper and more informed among you as Pornophonik and Scottish artist Yo Yo Nielson. According to Mr Hillary they’ve only been working together for a few months with an album already in the works and being mooted for completion and release next year. For now though we have this four track calling card by way of a teaser peak of things to come. A curiously playful and distractive outing it should be said that one suspects hasn’t quite decided whether it wants to seduce or spook you, ’the yellow and blue’ opens to the genteel lilt of ’summer bubbles’ a tingle some pirouetting figurine of sorts forged upon a looping classical key motif welded upon a down tempo tweaked clock working mechanism and decorated with the kind of sepia tipped aura that gives it the air of something recently rescued from out of a long forgotten and hitherto dusty treasure chest that’s lain undisturbed throughout the passing seasons in a loft. Throw in some cute some baby chuckles and you have something that should first and foremost appeal greatly to admirers of Raymond Scott’s ‘soothing sounds’ library. By sharp contrast ‘the yellow and blue’ is more unhinged, beset by a vivid blankness everything about it suggests something unravelling, the skewed ad hoc time signatures, the ill fitting and ostensibly disturbed fracturing psychosis apply it with a chilled charm that suggest it being the score from sort sinister peek a boo murder in the dark movie, not I should add one for those of a fragile nature fearing a night lying awake wondering what the hell that scratching noise under the bed is. Reverting back to the seducing side of the equation ‘some kind of temporary’ finds itself lushly awash in all manner of dream weaving promenade perched ambience textures, starry eyed dimples and waltzing trip hop cascades revealing the merest of dub aspects and toy box corteges which if anything we’d suggest was something of more than a passing interest to admirers of Discordia. ’snow burning’ wraps up the pack - yep you’ve guessed it back to weirdville - Oriental chime motifs, shuffling beats, dead pan vocals ripped from the ether, backdrops of wiring ominous opines - don’t know about you but I get the distinct impression that the pair were reading from different song sheets - and you thought Pop Off Tuesday were crooked. Impishly inspired. www.myspace.com/bearsuitrecords
Medes ‘absence of opposition’ (100m). Another release that impishly sneaked below the welcoming radar, been out now for a few weeks though nevertheless still deserving of your time and affection. Medes is the ambient alter ego of a certain AJ Cookson who you may recall we mentioned in passing when we had a sneak peek at what was happening over on the 100m my space page a few missives ago, though that said the more keen eyed among may also recall his current collaboration with Matthew Rozeik under their Necro Deathmort guise - again mentioned here a missive or so ago with much affection - a collaboration that should shortly see fruition with a release via Newcastle’s esteemed Distraction imprint. Anyhow back to Medes, four cuts feature on this EP an edgy brew it is to that finds its reference location markers lying somewhere between the much missed 70 Gwen Party and a particular darkly chilled Wagon Christ with the regally shadowy and wide screen ‘skulls’ in particular proving to be wired amid a tensely dread seared foreboding cast and scarred with a detached apocalyptic flavouring daubed in Dadaist dub accents. ‘pleasure model’ is perhaps anything but, glazed with a detectable ‘exorcism’ era Killing Joke psychosis albeit less threatening you understand - this ominous slice of monochromatic oblivion is exotically trip wired with swirling eddies of psych tweaked industrial raptures while ‘beat’ - admittedly our favoured moment of the set - is an oncoming swathing storm of fracturing post apocalyptic Orbital and Plaid worlds colliding with those impish souls Add N to X busy fumbling beneath the mixing desk applying their own solemnly statuesque engineering to the proceedings. Wrapping up the EP the bleak and impending ’Mr Dash’ is perhaps one for the lights on in daylight brigade, this deep drone pulsar is fraught with all manner of doom cast calibrations sounding at times not unlike the magnified communiqués reverberating throughout inner workings of some vast intergalactic leviathan. A must have release by our humbled reckoning. www.100mrecords.com
Bridalveil ‘the death of us’ (self released). Apologies - think we’ve had this for a while - found skulking around the gaff today in an impromptu cd pile tidying up session. Don’t know about you but each and every time I hear the word bridal veil I’m forever found whistling the Smiths’ ’Queen is Dead’ - perhaps then its just me and of course 20 million Moz obsessive’s. Anyway you won’t be to surprised to hear that we’ve managed to separate and mislay the press release that accompanied this CD. Not to worry because we’ve done a spot of tin ter net research and among the reams of information we’ve managed to gather we’re able to tell you that this is in fact their debut release, they number in five, hail from Essex, consider their influences Fightstar (whose latest I swear we have about our personage), Glassjaw and er - Duran Duran and describe themselves as sounding like (quote) ‘Lithe young ladies pouring liquid sex all over Father Christmas and his elves, broadcast on a dirty webcam to all the priests of America’. Well not so sure about that being the Catholic boy that I am what I can say though is that this four track calling card packs enough energy to keep several medium sized houses aglow in amp munching electrical appliances. judging by the opening salvo, the title track ’the death of us’, this lot are more than adept at the knocking out of a bristling brew that hot wires elements of emo and math grind, replete with contortion bearing dislocating shards of intricately honed jabbing riffmanship there’s more than a Mega City 4 currency at work here dimpling the matrix with an acutely though arguably see-sawing pop sensibility and no doubt the type of stuff probably occupying the heavy rotation schedules of certain digital TV music networks. Yet despite its obvious nod to Ned’s Atomic Dustbin at roughly 2.20 in a seismic sea change occurs wherein the imploring vocals are replaced by something readily more hell bound, apocalyptic, hardcore and razor blade gargled in nature. What’s that all about then. ’betrayer’ is more introspective in comparison, dappled with moments of serene post rock-ism and splintered and unbound amid ruptures of scalding seizure stricken venom while ’led to water’ finds itself shredded and ripped from the core with skin flinching emotionally turbulent tidal waves of serating metal headed carnage. All said and done best cut is the parting ’ambition’ - a fierce some slab of tarmac frying cart horse bound for hell gruelling and grinding no fun scowling all bleached, grizzled and garrotted with a decidedly swamp dragged punitive hardcore funk underpin that frankly does it for us. Need we say more. www.myspace.com/bridalveilband
Buck Brothers ‘you’re so good good good you’re great’ (back2forward).already responsible for what could have been an impromptu visit to the local emergency casualty unit when their previous outing - the insanely infectious ‘when I look at you (all I think about is sex)’ - sent electrifying sparks across our listening space and had us all a scramble not to mention the rediscovering of our dancing feet which along with hips where going 10 to the dozen in the kind of feats of boisterously brazen bravado scarcely seen here since a woefully memory scarring fateful school disco moment involving one to many sherbet dips, loon pants, a bad choice in dance floor shape cutting, an unrequited childhood sweetheart and a button badge the size of a bin lid from which the London Eye is widely believed to have been modelled on. Enough of the reminiscing. Anyway this is single number two to be culled from the London based trios forthcoming second album ’we are merely fillers’ - a copy of which we’ll have to scout around for as I’m certain we’ve got a copy. ’you’re so good good good you’re great’ again provides further evidence as though any where needed that this lot have been kissed by the fairy of pristine pop either that or they have access to a seam of secretly stashed radio romping 18 carat pure pop gold. A precision honed sub three minute shot of acrylic tinged adrenalin is what you get for your trouble that blisters and veers with such wanton aplomb it literally pins you flat to the wall, a rampantly riot lashed snot nosed power surging pogo pop sortie replete with three chord tuning, oi oi backing harmonies and blessed with ridiculously appetising hooks aplenty that will frankly cane your hi-fi and have you super gluing the repeat button and which ultimately sounds not unlike a face off between a prime time pairing of the Buzzcocks and the Ramones. You have been warned - anti contagion shots are optional. Quite frankly the blighters are toying with us. www..yspace.com/buckbrothers
And that’s it for a day or so.
As ever thanks to all involved in making these ramblings possible whilst not forgetting a special thanks to you - yes you - for having the patience and time to read it.
As usual addresses for submissions should you so wish to submit various items of audio pleasure -
Snail is
105 Shaldon Drive
Morden
Surrey
SM4 4BQ
UK
Email is - surroundinsound@aol.com
Updates available at - www.myspace.com/thesundayexperience
Till next time (more than likely Monday) - take care of yourselves.
