Missive 66
23-04-2005
The One Called – shit Troy more records……

Singled Out

Missive 67

Dedicated to Kelly and Mark – lots of love – missing you.

I’ve probably said this on one or two occasions during the course of these ramblings – but am I the only one out there or here as the case may be, I do wonder if people actually read this stuff, maybe enjoy it – the latter we obviously kid you about – hell it pains me writing it – only joking, course we love doing it – the written stuff that is – now now. So with that in mind time to loosen things up a little now that I have no readers and thus no fear of embarrassment – we can now review the records we really like instead of the ones we pretend to dig so with that – the singles –

Bucks Fizz

Of course we fool around, bet that struck the fear of God in you – there is after all nothing more heinous in pop than the pairing of those two words except maybe for Robbie and Williams or Cliff and Richard better still The and Darkness, sorry boys we kid you surely, just please don’t send us any records as I fear we will have a massive overload of pure pop love – yea like I’m the Queen of Sheba.

Featured slabs of wax on the dissecting table this time round – An Albatross, XBXRX, Mercury Tilt Switch, The A Forest, Ari Up, The Cherubs, The Priscillas, the Solution, Tracy and the Plastics, Gossip, George Bush is a twat (and so is Tony Blair) and last but not least Xahdrez.

So now that I’ve managed to upset 99% of the invisible readership we move swiftly along to the rekkids – and we start with a little something from the same label that rounded up and put to bed Missive 65 -

An Albatross / XBXRX ‘Split’ (GSL). Man a weird web of intrigue they weave. An Albatross probably lay claim to putting out one of the strangest and yet impossibly infectious releases we’ve heard in such a long time. Like a sonic version of a humungous fairground roller coaster it comes across to impart a series of sensations that range from being in thrilled with anticipation, terrified, nauseous, exhilarated and feeling cheated to the point you want your money back at the end of it all. So with that it must be good then eh? ‘I will swim into the lazer eye’ is bizarre, unhinged and deliciously deranged, call it surrealist sci-fi junk pop – this baby literally turns you inside out, the purists will hate it those with a more open mind will fall neatly into two camps between those that want to smash it to pieces and those who will spend their lives camping outside the bands HQ ready to stalk them into existence. File under clubby / down tempo / punky / psychedelic prog and fried whirly pop – I think that covers all conceivable bases. XBXRX word has it are practically banned from venue everywhere they play which kind of elevates them up the list of must see bands, so far Canada, parts of California and bits of Alabama have put out the thanks but no thanks bunting in honour of the band. Hell, your probably thinking they must be doing something right. We’ve tried these two tracks at a variety of speeds and 331/3 seems to hit the button so much so that you feel inclined to want to switch the lights on and only dare play in daylight. Titled ‘AA1’ and ‘AA2’, it’s the latter that catches the ear or as is the case shears the ears of – a brutally spastic display of wired stutter hardcore that at times sounds like some unholy orgy of bloodlust or an accident in a cemetery involving a book perhaps titled ‘DIY to waking the dead’, certainly not something to play when ‘the must be impressed’ in laws and grand parents flock around unless of course you prefer them never to speak to you again – think of a particular Satanic version of The Cravats, some frankly menacingly John Zorn and a year long session with a mental institution. Wicked stuff and pressed on red vinyl – every one’s a winner then except of course the neighbours – expect bricks through windows. www.goldstandardlabs.com

Mercury Tilt Switch / The a forest ‘Split’ (too many fireworks). A top drawer face off and the fourth instalment of the much celebrated Dialogue 7” series, this being Dialogue Four. And we say celebrated purely based on the evidence of this cute and cutting split – though our hands are up and we whole hearted admit they sneaked under our radar (but we would love to hear them hint hint….hint). Two tasty slices of young Scotland is what you get. Mercury Tilt Switch kick in with ‘Get ready for the trench run’ and finds Dundee’s finest packing enough sonic artillery to bust the speakers and at the same time revealing perfectly why they’ve garnered a growing, what amounts to word of mouth support with key support slots for the likes of Jetplane Landing, Hundred Reasons and Biffy Clyro. Mercury Tilt Switch operate in an edgy environ, their sound is the paranoiac charge of intense passion and simmering fury. All at once jagged and brutal, fractured and rampant they seem happily content at incorporating a menace like sheen of twisting math rock time signatures all blessed with a throat-ripping grip to boot. Flip over the disc to be greeted by the distinctly contrasting sound of The A Forest. ‘Dans l’aide du levrier retraite’ charms its way into your air space almost like an apparition, frail and frosty sounding, sparsely beautiful it has to be said yet maintaining that same initial impression brought about when first hearing ‘Waxen Wane’ by the Cocteau Twins and ‘Geek Love’ by Bang Bang Machine drifting from the speakers of the old dusty radio set one late and dark evening courtesy of the late John Peel’s night time show. While it might lack the force and grandeur of the latter there’s something numbingly arresting about the way the vocals sweetly caress almost siren like as though your stepping from what passes for realism into something picture book albeit pastel shaded. Ultimately though its perhaps the quieter and more reflective moments found nuzzling between the bitter sweet angst of Melys’ back catalogue that many of you folk may nod approvingly and agree it shares an affinity with. A daunting split release and of course essential. Limited to 500 copies and no doubt selling by the bucket load if there’s any justice out there. www.2mf.co.uk

Ari Up ‘True Warrior’ (For Us). Been a while since we’ve had cause to crack open the bubbly and dance frantically around the listening shed shouting hip hip hooray for ‘for us’, of course we don’t, after all that would be ridiculous and anyway we’d bang our heads on the low beamed ceiling of the bijou shoebox of our reverse intra dimensional TARDIS gone nipples up Singled Out listening mat, so there – smoke that. Yet that said we rarely see For Us releases these days – harrumph, but here in our hands we have something quite truly special, the re-appearance of Ari Up which for those among you unfamiliar with her history was one time member of quite possibly the first girl power band the Slits. One of the true DIY ethic ensembles of the late 70’s, the Slits released one corking album ‘Cut’ gaining the attention of John Peel, their sound was a collision of abrasive ad hoc guitars struts and tribal rhythms with a noticeable reggae edge. Re-emerging in Jamaica in the 90’s under the pseudonym Medusa interest in all things late 70’s saw Ari Up return to the fold splitting her time recording in the States and releasing the Ari Up EP from the lead cut here is taken. Partly reminiscent of Natasha Atlas / Transglobal Underground as though spliced with both Lene Lovich and the Knife, instantly infectious with its off centre reggae meets middle East funky wobble. Flip side features the far meatier ‘I’m allergic’. Written by Ariane of the Slits it sees her reverting back to type in a spectacular way, sometimes ramshackle always raw and fleshed out by sneering guitars and rooted with a softly teasing dub-esque underpin – think of a schizoid meeting of worlds between early Creatures and even earlier Banshees. Damn good of course – go without saying.

The Cherubs ‘Club Hoola Hoop’s Walls’ (Cargo). Welcome return of these guitar-slinging kids from Norway following their killer ‘Hey Bunny’ debut at the tail end of last year (see Missive 46 note takers). With an album in the can and due any day ‘Club Hoola Hoop’s Walls’ is the quintets second trail blazing single and sees them ever more immersed in that much beloved CBGB’s sound especially on the flip cut ‘This Awful Morning’ with its almost casually matter of fact deadpan delivery ala Jonathan Richman and the Modern Lovers though here spiked with the poppy tingle of a tamed variant of the Saints but then it’s the rollicking gripped by the jugular antics of the feistily fraught lead track that gets the deserved plaudits. While Scotland’s current spiky pop legacy might be in safe hands with the all-conquering Franz Ferdinand, it’s the sound of that nations old guard Postcard records that the Cherubs cleverly tap into with admired aplomb. This baby just ticks jabbing away ten to the dozen, tearing and hurting with its razor sharp machine gun like regimental austere post punk punches, think of a rampant no nonsense boogying Josef K paired up with a pre chart action Orange Juice sharing an impish intent to set your hi-fi ablaze while having you dancing your boots off and shaking your hips like a wild ‘un. Essential in case you hadn’t already guessed. www.cherubs-hq.com

The Solution ‘I have to quit you’ (Psychout). Most tasty indeed. The Solution, formerly known as Soulmover, is the latest back to classically drilled 60’s soul vehicle for Scott Morgan and Nicke Royale of the Hellacopters, yep those same dudes who peppered the old wax record racks with a list of gems as long as your arm for such notable labels as Get Hip, Munster, Bad Afro, Sub Pop and of course house favourites Estrus. This delicious two track offering reveals a more sensitive side that hones in on all those classic Stax era platters, so authentic it comes replete with a layer of dust as though it’d had been mistakenly locked in the vaults and only recently discovered trembling and cold at the back in the dark. Now dragged into the sunlight this cutie shimmers with a depth and clarity of a fine bouquet that’s been left to mature, not a million miles in texture terms to those well carved releases consistently put out by the Panda Gang. ‘I have to quit you’ is steeped in breathless classicism of the age, supported by a smouldering horn section this Mayfield like boogie will leave your hi-fi smoking. Flip side though is where you’ll find the real deal, ‘I’ll be around’ is a cover of the old Johnny Copeland heartbreaker. Dutifully cast with an achingly rich passion that these days seems strictly in short supply it weaves it mercurial hand to draw you close before unleashing its weeping lovelorn personality to root you firmly to the spot as though your heart was seeking to vacate through your feet in an attempt to throw a consolatory arm around the wounded waxing. A worthy addition to any well heeled record collection – purchase and be the envy of the neighbourhood.

George Bush is a Twat (and so is Tony Blair) ‘Liar’ EP (Three Minute Warning). How to make friends and influence people I suppose is not an old saying that this lot adhere to or in fact care about. Absolutely no information on this other than an accompanying note with the scrawled request to ‘review please’ and a London postmark. How strange. That said this collection of bizarrely catchy toons has been doing a fair bit of damage on the old stereo hi-fi system. ‘Twat’ reveals more than a whiff of nights laying the neighbourhood to siege via the booming sounds of old early 80’s oi / hard core punk records, lyrics written in a second one would guess given that it’s just someone screaming murderously ‘Twat’ over and over again against a backdrop of 150mph raging two chord sonic dismemberment though what the drummers been told to play is anyone’s guess. ‘Saddam’s my Man’ is pure kookiness as it butchers Wham’s ‘I’m your man’ and takes it as their own and sets the whole thing to a head melting disco – goth vibe. Then there’s the avant garde – art rock – dub workout of ‘Electioneering’ craftily utilising PIL’s ‘Careering’ as its key template and the pop fixated Dead Kennedy’s like ‘WMD – Where’s my Democracy?’ gathering together more digs than a road workers convention. And this being election time in the UK what better way to target your bitterness and frustration at your elected Government than the sarcastically barbed ‘Labour Pains’ – Question Time on Acid if you like. Cruel but satisfying stuff.

The Priscillas ‘Gonna rip up your photograph’ (Damaged Goods). The debut release from Jenny Drag, Kate Kannibal (smart pseudo), Mavis Minx (even better) and Guri Go Go (obviously not the names they were born with) who are collectively known as the Priscillas. Now there was for a second a deep rooted fear that these crazy gals despite their carefully thought out tags mightn’t have, shall we say, spent as much time on the actual recording side of things – but boy were we wrong. While they mightn’t have that trashy charm of the all stomping feline crew the Sirens, the Priscillas do excel at taking all the base elements from the best known girl bands from the 60’s to the present day and distilling them into spiky and spitefully feisty fuzz fuelled sub three minute gems. ‘Gonna rip up your photograph’ is a head on collision between the Shangri – La’s and Girlschool, coolly matter of fact in delivery this ear catching slice of rumbling powder punk pop is not so much the Go Go’s gone bad but more like the Go Go’s wising up, all set to harmonies that serviced summers gone by and exuding a slight but detectable glammed up perfume to it all. An appointment with the ‘Brain Surgeon’ awaits on the flip, two minutes of wig flipping fun and perhaps for me personally the stronger of the two cuts mainly for the fact it has a primal sounding drum score that could have easily been recorded in a toilet on old discarded beer kegs. Throw in some well-aimed stalking riffs a few blood-curdling shrieks and a nutty b-movie gloss and you have yourself a pretty riotous schlock horror pop thumper. Pressed on splatter green / clear vinyl so what are you waiting for? www.damagedgoods.co.uk

Gossip / Tracy and the Plastics ‘Split’ (Dim Mak). Another of those must have split releases this time sees the pairing together of Gossip and Tracy and the Plastics all lovingly pressed on 7 inches of grey marbled wax. Gossip are a trio hailing from Athens, WA via Arkansas, friends of the Chromatics stars of the GSL stable (see elsewhere) they’ve already made a name for themselves opening for such luminaries as Sleater Kinney as well as having two full lengths under their collective belts for the legendary Kill Rock Stars imprint. This split finds the band chipping in with two darkly cast cuts, ‘Left out Now’ as the stylus hits the wax stalks ominously coming across the vinyl like a sadistic evil blues growler at times flaring up into a potent don’t fuck with me swollen proto punk snarl, ravaged, sparse and immediately unnerving stuff that nuzzles in between early PJ Harvey and Banshees with a decidedly noticeable mid 70’s no wave edge. The spartan ‘Sleepers’ has Beth Ditto’s raw gospel like vocals pushed to the fore initially before the austere clout of Joy Division like claustrophia takes hold to cloak it with a shaded doom like demeanour. Tracy and the Plastics is in reality Wynne Greenwood a feminist video artist from Washington via New Jersey. Live shows feature a solo Greenwood fronting her video back-dropped band playing all the members herself, which itself sounds like something worthy of the entrance fee alone, on this split she romps in with a brace of cuts of her own. ‘Dawn Feather’ is a totally fuckin’ wired head trip of a track, belying a strange fusion of death disco ceramics and dirty sounding elements of electro clash, think Cobra Killer tangling with a seriously edgy and out of sync class of impish kindergarten tots. Fragmented, frantic and wickedly screwball. Wacky perhaps isn’t the best way to describe the very brief ‘Save me Claude’, both eerily abstract and childish it’s like Laurie Anderson waking up to find herself part of a noire-ish dreamlike David Lynch landscape being serenaded by some odd looking acid fuelled cartoon characters as envisaged by Lear. Of course you need it in your record collection if only to avoid being ostracised. www.dimmak.com


And as is almost always the case the last featured record in this particular missive and with that time to tuck you up into Bedfordshire with something rather wonderful and dare we say special –

Xahdrez ‘The Second Half of Nothing’ (Vacuous). With previous outings for the likes of the Loud Leper and International Dubplate Mafia labels plus a short spell playing trumpet in the Broken Family Band, Xahdrez is the electronic alter ego of Nick Wilsden, who over the course of time has been known to take charge of the trumpet for the Broken Family Band. Here we find him locked in his bedroom with just the laptop for company carving out sweetly distant sounding spatial landscapes. ‘The second half of nothing’ features five perfectly arranged suites of glitch electronica each individually exploring varying aspects of atmospheric moods. Opening to the sounds of the twilight daze of the almost stately elegance of ‘10080’ all at once haunting, regretful and yet regal, it sleepwalks amid a terrain of fragmented grandeur interrupted by clicking beats and past echoes to suggestively stumble into the dainty but delightfully comatose ‘Sedonic Hill (mistakes I’ve made)’. Here the snoozing array of icicle pop toy electronic lullabies are at play under the cover of darkness, starry eyed and teasingly playful. ‘Hold 10’ is more organic in outlook and presentation, the lulling calm it endows with its clock work dynamic holds you hypnotically beneath its spell to be caressed lovingly by the lunar pirouettes within only to alter trajection towards the end for a spot of old time Atari tennis ping pong. Over on the flip the sounds become a lot more malleable and fleshed out on ‘Venezuelan Coins in the Caracas Metro’ greater attention to sound progression and rhythmic interplay begins to come to the fore, a simple bossa nova underpin is splintered by weaving brass arrangements all spicily incumbent amid a lonesome celestial playing field. ‘In night’ wraps up the set, cavernous skins are soon shed and in their place the chatter of digital speak converse in fuzzy logic, part abstract part nursery room a bit like those early Jean Michel Jarre compositions being detached from their vibrant codas while their minutiae mechanics are given a spring cleaning. All in all a very much seductive and twinkling like release – more please. www.vacuouspop.com

As is always the case my debt and gratitude to all those who’ve made these musings possible whether it be the bands, press agents or labels – too many to mention but you know who you are and of course not forgetting you, yes you for taking the time out to wade through these ramblings and I sincerely hope you find something to set your record collection a-chattering feverishly.

Complaints, death threats and offers of marriage (the latter two being the same thing I suppose) readily encouraged, we do like emails and I promise not to bite and more importantly to reply.


‘The Sunday Experience – coming real soon to a PC near you’

Take care of yourselves,

Lots of love,

Mark
X

Singled Out is best served chilled with a speciality side erder all lovingly tendered on a slow bake.
**Singled Out is a fat free product tested on Hi-Fi’s in controlled conditions. Repeated dosages may cause infrequent bouts of exuberance and wig flipping – if side effects continue – desist from all activities retire to a darkened room and repeat experience at maximum volume.

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