The Empire State - "There Was A Hero"

Gender testing athletes, pan-Continental legal kerfuffles, banning festival flags, and demonstrations against equality in healthcare; just what on earth is going on in the world these days? Some common sense, that is what we're after, sitting down to observe the world from a sedentary position away from the madcap, the panic of for-the-hell-of-it news print, the rise in unnecessary worries.

And while you're sitting there world-watching, listen to some Empire State, the Lancashire band with a heavy dose of Turin Brakes and unplugged Manics about them. The mood through "There Was A Hero" is essentially contemplative with "Found Me In Your Photographs" a typical example of their mature take on topics so often wrung dry. Your standard indie band the Empire State are not, this EP is sober in all senses of the word. Its title track is a genuine and moving song not too far removed from "Local Boy In The Photograph" for those Stereophonics fans still around to admit such things.

Glasto Ferret

Preston's Mad Ferret is hosting its regular antidote to cramming in a bus down south with another "Glasto Ferret", this year packed with more emerging talent than a fire-drill at the studios for Britain's Next Top Model. From whom, I have picked some tasty names for delight, but this weekend there's the promise of ice-cream from a real-life frozen pudding truck in addition to the bands, beats, and beer. Anymore could you ask in all honesty...?

Mindshock are the definition of intriguing, the unique vocal twang (think Brandon Flowers with hiccups) setting a serious slant to leftfield songs. Their new EP "Dream Story" is on offer a iTunes and should be a vital purchase.

Raucous riff-crazed The Adventures of Loki are all the fun of British Bulldogs in the playground, with more playful boy/girl on-stage action than would be permitted overseas. When they suggest listeners "Dance Like A Maniac" only space disallows doing just that - the punching melodies are just half the story. For a full spec, they must be watched live - nay, witnessed - with anticipation turned higher than the speakers.

No festival, anywhere, can occur without madcap beardy loving, so ensuring all daughters are zipped securely away, The Loungs are one combine harvester away from perfection. With the full brass and cheery harmonies any sane person could ask for, this is the kind of sound you don't know you'll regret missing unless you do.

Underdogs have the sincerity and presence to convince you that they're running through your favourite songs, such is the strength of their infections, intelligent set. Dragging indie through strip-clubs and backstreet bars to toughen it up a little, avoidance of this highly impressive band is probably going to be harder the way things are going.

Swooning and sweeping melodies, the very sound of Kate Bush playing hopscotch in the rain, Sophie's Pigeons are alluring and magnetic, quite the curtain-twitchingly curious. In most cases they are not even trying to be impressive, the piano-led abundance of fun pours out sounding perfectly natural and feeling positively renewing.

Throughout the weekend from 26-28th June, there are over a dozen more outstanding groups from nearabouts, enough to tempt you from Wimbledon, clearing out the cupboards, or spending time with any significant other (they'll understand....)

Bikini Black Special - The Grim Mathematics Of Intercourse

Sounding like MGMT fronted by a Bond Girl, electronica group Bikini Black Special are menacing and intense, broken glass sharp throughout their debut album "The Grim Mathematics of Intercourse".

In place of abandonment and summer beach anthems, tight rock beats and layered samples roll and crash, the album veritably stuffed with the equivalent of speeding freight-trains of styles and additions following each other. Throbbing bass, trip-hop beats, vocals crunched and wrapped in white noise: this is a paradox of an album, hyperactive but paranoid, serious while celebratory.

While the crafting of each track is clear and potentially restrictive, "Grim Mathematics" will not fail to hook in any listener - be it the evangelical fervour of "Black Hat" or the techno revivalism in "Repo Men". The phrase "Bikini Black Special" refers to one of the highest levels of alert state used by the Ministry of Defense, with no defined target; the tracks here should put the exciting band on the highest state of alert, undoubted better things should follow.

The album "The Grim Mathematics of Intercourse" can be found http://bikiniblackspecial.bandcamp.com/album/the-grim-mathematics-of-intercourse

The band can be found at http://www.bikiniblackspecial.com/

"The Grim Mathematics of Intercourse" is launched at The Mad Ferret in Preston on 20 June

The Cities / The Northwestern

Appearing live at Mad Ferret
in Preston on Saturday 6th, two bands to keep up the heat of the summer with intense live reputations stacking up behind them

Local lads The Cities cram a novel of heartfelt lyrics into each song, a veritable thick-fruit smoothie of rolling melodies sweet with the bitter aftertaste of life's lessons learned. Stand out tracks "Cold, and "Scar".

The big draw for the night is surely The Northwestern, the uplifting and optimistic band formed from Sam Herilhy and Simon Jones from highly regarded former Sony post-rock outfit Hope of the States. Together with Franseco Menegat, Ian McCullagh, and Jonny Winter, formerly with The Open, the new group maintain the sweeping guitars and orchestration but switch the introspection for sheer celebration. If you didn't pick up the upturn from final Hope of the States album "Left", it may take you by surprise to hear "All The Ones". Beaming and bright, the expression you can see on Herilhy's face is a smile. You should get used to it, he's clearly enjoying himself.

The gig is at Mad Ferret, Fylde Road, Preston, on Saturday 6th June.


Picture of The Cities from Michael Holdsworth
Also appearing on the night are Underdogs and The Fifty 50's

The Nightjars

"I'm sorry I don't really feel that way..."

With this melancholic tough to single 'Valentine', Manchester's current names-to-drop might suggest the usual indie reflection. Repeated listens to their new eponymous album shows how far they are from anything "usual"; indeed appropriately named track "Logic Has No Part In It" takes their respectful love for REM and Velvet Underground into playful time-switching areas not too far removed from YouthMovies or The Northwestern.



"Machines Gone Down" should be marked now as a future festival fave, sounding quite brilliantly like the Editors fused with the Kinks, sounds which emerge from the folk of "Valentine" or the acoustic musings of "Crash This Car" ("I can't speak for myself", a silly claim in an album full of wistful, wondrous songwriting).

Unlike the 2008 mini-album "Towards Light", this is not instant or immediate, the beautifully realised collection of songs proving there is still life yet in the age-old practice of allowing an album the freedom of tell its own stories. There are few albums suited to the days when the summer heat is as close at night as at high-noon; the Nightjars is a perfectly placed candidate.


(For those who like scoring systems "■■■■□")

"The Nightjars" CD is released 29 June
The Nightjars can be found at www.myspace.com/thenightjars
and also www.thenightjars.com
Online Press alistairbeech@hotmail.com

New Continental Beer Festival [Day 2]

The fact that the pint of loopy-juice in front of me has not been touched is either because my intake has reached dangerous levels already resulting in a rare moment of brain-sense booze wise, or the indentikit lager is offending the rediscovered love of real ales following another great day at the New Continental Beer Festival. Either snobbery or a skinful - I will take it being the former, for the sake of reputation if nothing else.

At the Continental a brightly dressed Canadian woman is enthusiastically pointing at every barrel with an increasing broad smile. "You guys are so inventive with your beers. You and the Belgians," she laughs, knocking back a few slurps of Bishop's Farewell (Oakham Ales, 4.6%). "Is it 'bishop' as in religion, or chess, you think?" she asks with a self-mocking giggle. "I don't want people to know I can't play chess!". On her recommendation I try the Bishop's, which is a SIBA National Supreme Champion Bronze Award Winner. Impressive stuff, it would seem, and it pleases the Toronto palate. This more robust Lancastrian mouth - with no offence to our colonial cousins - found it bright and friendly but the lasting taste did not match its fragrance.

While I go for the subtle and soft Santium (Pictish, 4.1%) my companion follows my recommendation from yesterday to try the potent Dark Side of the Moon. After a few sips he raises his eyebrows quite highly; "Think I will only have one of these."

With its toffee undertones Farmhouse (Roosters Brewery, 3.9%) is an unsuspecting good find, lightly fizzy and with tangy body. Our favourite bundle of enthusiastic Canadian joy is gleeful in her recommendation of True Grit (Millstone, 5.0%) which really did surprise both my companion and me. The hearty hoppy taste merges into a thoroughly bright and sparkly grapefruit flavour, rounded off with a sour tang not too dissimilar to munching on a slice of lemon.

My companion tries Cartfold Gold (Hart Brewery, 3.6%) while I aim for Cappuchin (Brass Monkey, 4.5%). Both of these lighter pale ales are good for bringing some balance to the onslaught of heavier beers: the former is pretty anonymous but the latter kicks in with a tougher undertone. Despite the good things said by our Canadian friend we both feel disappointed by Bitter and Twisted (Harviestoun, 3.8%) a Scottish ale which is supposed to be one of the beers to try but leaves a rather underwhelming taste. The twist is supposed to be a kick of lemon but nothing seems to come through at all.

The sun is greeted with rushes to the ciders and barbecue, but in the interests of research my companion and I decide to finish with two ales coming with high recommendations - and not just from Canadians. Little Brown Jug (Spire Brewery, 4.4%) is close to Newcastle Brown Ale in colour and taste, albeit with a brown-sugar spice in the aftertaste and a quite stunning smell. "It smells...awful," says my companion, "but if I breathe out before each taste it's really good."

Dark Ruby Mild (Sarah Hughes, 6.0%) was spoken about before hand as the potential winner of the best ale of the festival, so with all the originality of investigative journalism it is the last drink tried. My head throbs a bit, my eyes go a little blurred, and then I take the second slurp for a full-body shock. As a mild it is an intense and angry pint with a sweet punch that calms down in the backnotes which acts like a sparking fire.

The old-guard veterans speak of this being one of the best festivals they can remember. It certainly seems to have gone down very well, even with Canadian women, and what do they know about beer.

New Continental Beer Festival

To Preston's The New Continental Beer Festival (you can find them here - http://www.newcontinental.net/)

The turnout to the 2nd Beer Festival has surprised those helping serve from the one-hundred ales behind them. They dart to and from eager customers like minor celebs in a children's television show participating in one of the more physical and confusing games. Clumps of people form and separate much like any other normal pub crowds although unless within walking distance there is a former Polytechnic, historic railway line, or financial institution, these crowds are more prone to getting out notepads and pencils.

Mixing a love of proper beer and anorak-tendencies towards ticking off every minor brewery in the country is a particular curiosity attracting the particularly curious. If political party conferences draw the kind of crowd which could be identified as such by an alien beaming down from Mars, so too the Beer Festival faithful. Three men turn up wearing t-shirts from past Festivals in the style of gig goers putting on vintage tour t-shirts. Some guard their notepads like Neighbourhood Watch types surreptitiously gathering information about the woman next-door-but-two with the different cars outside the garden every other night. All of them, certainly the lesser spotted dutiful wife, are starting slowly, ponderously, which surely cannot last for the whole four days. Rumour has it the drinks may not last the weekend...

My first drink of the night is Golden Sands (Southport Brewery, 4.0%). As I wait to be served, an older man near by turns to his friend to sneer at the inclusion of perrys. He uses the same voice a golf club member would use upon spotting someone in the club house wearing jeans. The Golden Sands goes down quite quickly: it is light and mildly fruity. I notice my behaviour - nodding on recognising flavours, arms folded, studying the Tasting Notes - has moved me from mere mortal to a lower level Festival junkie. I over hear a woman assure a friend that after two pints she would pull her husband into town. The air around her clears with cynical reactions from gentle coughs to broad, obvious smiles.

I move onto Amarillo (Crouch Vale Brewery, 5.0%). The taste is smooth but nothing comes through of much distinction. The back notes are not obvious enough, the aroma unusually flat. On either side of me, men more noticeably my age point seemingly at random at first until they too show the anorak, veteran realities. "Has to be Pictish ales next, mate, they were the highlights at Leicester".

Glotts Hop (Howard Town Brewery, 5.0%) is my next choice, and blows all the work stress out of my head. The heavy spice brings with it the slightest suggestion of fizziness. My head begins to swell until another gulp washes over the brain with a hoppy fullness.

At this point I am cornered inbetween the trumpeter on one side and old lads on a session on the other. My main correspondent tells me about other Festivals like a music journalist would namecheck bands and gigs. Goosnargh, I am told, does a good run of ales. Somewhere on the outskirts of Leeds, too. He suggests Farmhouse (Roosters Brewery, 4.3%) which has a deep, unusually sweet taste, with the back note of a Wham bar. Using his table as my base for the evening, I stride over to try Ginger Marble (Marble Beers, 4.5%). It is like drinking a gingerbread man, the reaction to which seems to appear all over my face. Am I in danger of not being accepted as a Festival old-hat if I can't take my ginger ale? I stand firm, cross my arms like my dad would, peer over the other drinkers, nod. A group of younger men have been joined on a round table by two older types sharing notes. I hear someone suggest moving down from the strongest ale to the weakest, someone else thinks the opposite would be better. Tough, serious business this ale festival lark...

To end this opening night I choose Dark Side Of The Moon (Spire Brewery, 4.3%). This seems to be the choice of everyone, with word spreading of its quality. "I used to be into subpop, you know, before Nirvana released that....what was it....blue cover, baby....Anyway, that came along and we all thought, 'Shit, okay, grunge is big, time to move on," so we did. Upstairs attic conversion in Plungy, bit of reefer going on, Floyd. Oh yes, mate, oh yes." My friend approves. He sounds like Steve Coogan's Saxondale, which I guess means I am only a few years from sounding the same. This particular version of Dark Side holds a lot in common with its seminal album namesake, the depth and texture, the ease with which it settles the brain but slightly confuses the palate.

With so many choices - okay, yes, there are ciders and perrys - the first two days of the all-weekend stretch will be the days to go for total satisfaction. Like so many train spotters down the years I leave with a notepad of facts and figures, all set for the next timetabled departure. All set, all aboard...

undeReview - BAFTA Television Awards

Unlike their film award cousins the small-screen championing BAFTA Television awards seem to be carried out with an air of slight embarrassment and knowing cynicism. Television has had something of a bad time of late but the lo-fi treatment given to congratulations suggest the 'lesser relative' is not given much respect even along the corridors of the Academy.

With Graham Norton's many double entendres and jokes seeming to fall very flat - poking fun at a clearly nonchalant Jonathan Ross merely underscored the sense of the BBC being somewhat the old boy's club - the awards themselves needed to carry interest. Curiously for a medium shadowed by the problematic fervour of producers wanting to ignore the actual will of the televoting public, BAFTA allow one award to be given from the telephone and email votes of the general viewing constituency. With great irony the winner of this 'public award' - grandly labelled and sponsored "Phillips Audience Award" - went to the teen sex drama Skins, clearly the result of tech savvy voting teens rather than the will of many millions of viewers who watch such rivals as The X Factor, or Coronation Street.

The Academy could have made safer choices than the unexpected winner of the audience vote but seemed to have been placing themselves in the same spoiler mindset as those ballroom fans who ensured John Sergeant kept clod-hopping around BBC One's Strictly Come Dancing. Given the mood building behind veteran Eastenders actress June Brown for her Talking Heads style maudlin monologue BAFTA chose the lesser known Anna Maxwell Martin for her role in Channel 4's Poppy Shakespeare. As he seemed to admit in his acceptance speech, Harry Hill was the lesser and somewhat bizarre choice for another (third, would anyone credit it) trophy for Best Entertainment Performance. This clumsily all encompassing award is for, shall it not be forgotten, fronting a clip show of television highlights.

There may be only kind of programme to make a person laugh - comedy - but BAFTA manage to split the genre into three. Is it possible to explain how a Situation Comedy (won by The IT Crowd for Channel 4) is justifiably split from sketch shows (disgracefully awarded to the under performing and outdated Harry and Paul on BBC One)? Were BAFTA so willing to give only the best a place in their record books such differences would not be artificially carved. The third fork for celebrating comedy gave David Mitchell - agreeably one half of a comedy duo in The Peep Show - an award greeted with gritted teeth and embarrassment.

Far too often the concept of the award show is questioned but such industry back-slapping maintains at least the justification for those lesser known shows getting continued funding. It should be celebrated whenever Mad Men (tucked away on BBC Four and winner of the whimsically named Best International Show award) or White Girl (for BBC Two) gives necessary praise to lesser known producers and stars. However the overall sensation coming from the programme, which like so many televised award shows carried self-congratulation over the threshold of comfort for an ordinary audience to enjoy. With so few awards going to the expected recipient the British Academy possibly hoped to keep the audience watching through a contrived suspense. Ultimately the whole exercise just seemed somewhat lacklustre and disappointing, and how else has the very worst of television been described over these last twelve months?

The Empire State

Lancashire-based The Empire State release new EP When You Call full of a new found confidence as a stripped-down band sounding at their most genuine and contemplative. Their MySpace profile includes two songs from this in addition to those tracks which provide some clues to the development - dare we say "journey" - from rabble rousing Britrock to a more delicate, rounded band.

From the EP, "Awake" is looking out for closing film credits to accompany, as six minutes of anguish fall over orchestrated guitars recognisable in most choruses from Hope Of The States' Left. Actually the very first notes gives the impression of a heavier track influenced by Interpol before taking its earnest route. "Awake" does have its issues - the length allows for a neat joining solo and expansion on some lyrical themes but when this is done another return to the chorus means the ending seems overwrought.

The title track is a real smiling assassin, tough lyrics delivered as softly as a love-letter wrapped in barbed wire. One rock'n'roll solo leads into an all out stomp of piano and guitars, working around a simple premise but delivering an intricate and clever song.

By way of further notable mentions, "There Was a Hero", is melodic and sharp from the light-touch guitars to the neatest little chorus this side of church on a Sunday. "I Hear It's Your Birthday" will warm your insides; the bridge "So what if it's raining outside" is so perfectly pitched you will swear blind you've heard its crafted strength before not too far away from a Biffy Clyro acoustic set.

Worryingly it seems people are eager to label as "old fashioned" the concept of a band getting down to the simple pleasures of blues or rock'n'roll guitars, honesty in lyrics, and vocals which don't want to be so irritatingly postmodern. There is more drawn from the lineage than the contemporary but openly and obviously; The Empire State hide nothing, their preference for part-acoustic songs emboldening all that can be made with few ingredients. If it is permitted to indulge in old fashioned puns there seems no chance of the sun setting on this particular Empire.

The Empire State are:

Joe Holden: Vocals, Guitars
Ben Titley: Guitars
Andrew Bamber: Piano & Keyboards
Gareth Woodfield: Percussion and Backing Vocals
Dave Sadler: Bass
Rob Marsden: Drums

Beats of Success

James Hodgson is one of the creative forces behind Preston's Beats of Rage nights, run at the Coda nightclub. Known for bringing in some of the biggest and brightest names in dance music, Beats of Rage was recently selected by Mixmag magazine as one of the best club nights in the north of England.

Inevitable first question, then; how the devil are you?

I'm good. Just got up, and it's midday. The life of a promoter is pretty sweet if you like lie-ins!

Being mentioned and so highly rated in Mixmag comes after a very long time working with Beats of Rage; just how steep an incline has it been from the start to now?

It's been pretty crazy. I wouldn't say we've been an overnight success, but I think we've been getting better and better as time's passed. Everything's been getting better, from the acts we put on, to the crowd. And now to get a bit of attention of national press for it is brilliant, proves we're doing something right I hope!

What are your memories of the first BoR night; how did the expectations meet the reaility (if indeed you can actually remember the first night...)

It was at my mates house, above a florist, in the town centre. I convinced my mate to have a house party, and my band played. It was busy, actually, and the buzz in the air was incredible, even if my band was shite! We were kind of like the Klaxons/Hadouken!, but back in 2006. It was such a good atmosphere, that I knew I had to carry it on.

This kind of night would not work everywhere, why has Preston seemingly been so good to you?

Maybe because we're the only people doing this kind of thing in Preston?!?! Haha, nah I'm not sure, but I think our transparency and attitude help a lot. It's pretty easy to see that Beats of Rage is run by two chaps, who just want to have fun. I think people see that, and support us a lot more. It couldn't be done without all the people at the front going mental.

The line-ups we're getting are Manchester and London-worthy, in Preston. It's insane.

Dance music, in general, and drug culture are often painted as walking hand-in-hand; is it possible to decouple the two at all? How serious a problem is it if Coda has a group of people bouncing off the walls?

I don't do drugs, never have done, so drugs are a big issue with me. We operate a strict drugs policy at Coda, with searches and the full works. It's not a problem unless you let it become one, and I think we do well to keep it out of our club.

I think the key problem is dealing in clubs, so people are taking all kinds of dodgy shit, and especially people who've never taken any before, but are a bit drunk and fancy it. That's a recipe for disaster. It never happens in Coda, and we work ultra hard to keep it that way.

Did the younger you not just want to be a train driver or builder or something a little more predictable and ordinary?

I wanted to be a journalist! I did it at uni and everything. But I learnt the people are generally snakes who'll kill their own mum to get a good story. Not into that at all.

Also, by the time I was in my 3rd year, I was doing BOR on the regular, and DJing on the radio, so by that time, I was just doing the work I had to, and having as much fun as I could. I fell into what I'm doing now though, just a series of fortunate events, and me being lucky enough to get given chances.

Actually, on that topic, can you put up shelves or fix plugs?

Haha, of course mate! I live with my girlfriend, so I've sorted everything out in our flat. When I put my bed together, I felt like such a man, it was pathetic. The boiler broke the other day too, and I found myself having a poke around the airing cupboard, seeing what was up. It was then I realised I'm basically my dad.

How far could Beats of Rage go; are any long-term plans set outside Preston?

Well we're currently selling out and we're booking some of our favourite acts from around the world, so I guess my hopes are that this continues! We're getting some ridiculous acts on, and because we own the club, we literally spend all the door money on acts, meaning that the club is hosting acts that wouldn't normally play in that size venue. It's such an amazing situation we're in, I think it's incredible.

As for outside Preston, we DJ and stuff outside the city, but we don't have any plans for expansion and stuff. No way man, Preston is my home. One lad couldn't believe that we don't have a night in Lancaster. Lancaster?!?! I'm from there, and it's grim.

You're known for your characteristic wardrobe, who are the names you prefer wearing?

Haha! I just wear what I like! My favourite brands, I reckon, are Bape, Stussy, Mishka, 10 Deep, Crooks & Castles, and most importantly, Kidrobot. I'm a Kidrobot freak mate. Their hoodies are done in batches of 256, so they're a bit rare, but absolutely beautiful. They destroy my bank account though!

I wear hats, too. I love them. I have over 20 hats, so I think it's a bit of an obsession.

Is the concept of a DJ being able to "read the mood" of a room total nonsense?

Not totally. I think it's pretty easy to DJ these days. Loads of software to help, you don't have to buy the latest vinyl and stuff. Everyone can get the records, and everyone can play them. I think the skill of DJ'ing more than ever lies in the tunes you play. I've heard some terrible DJ's, who play the wrong tunes, at the wrong time. But I've heard warm-up sets where I haven't recognised a single tune, but it was perfect for the time of evening.

All that DJ Rockstar stuff is bollocks, though. I play Xbox, and collect Vinyl Figures, and play Jackin' House. I don't come off stage and take some smack off a hooker's eye or whatever. I usually have a bit of a dance, and go to bed.

How many guilty pleasures are there in your CD collection?

Not many, actually. My girlfriend's filled my iPod with all kind of incriminating material though. I'm a sucker for disco, And Soul. But I guess they're kind of 'cool'. But I hate ironic music. I don't listen to my soul and disco records in public, because people start dancing to them ironically, and think I'm joking. I hate that.

Is there a frustrated song writer trapped inside you?

No, but there's a crap producer! I was always rubbish at writing songs, but I like to produce and arrange songs with others. I haven't got time these days, but me and [fellow DJ] Pish are trying to get producing again, make some delicious music.

Which band or DJ in Preston do you rate? Which Preston band should be making it this year?

No-one in Preston comes close to Joe. He plays everything, but last time I saw him he played Chicago House, which I'm a massive fan of. Lots of DJ's are coming up at the moment, and it's a bit easy to get into, so you have to separate the wheat from the naff. Bail, who plays Dubstep, is pretty dope, too.

It's a night out, my round, what am I buying you?

What bar are we in? I hate it when people buy me drinks, because I don't want to order something expensive and cost them a fortune! If we're in Weatherpersons, I'd probably ask for a Magners, or some delicious gin.

If we're in my club though, I'll buy you one, because I'm nice. Sometimes. I'd suggest the Gin and Iron Brew. No doubt.

What be your plans for the next 12 months?

Get my nightclub to the standard and capacity where it's the best club in the city, and carry on building on our nights.

Also, more realistically, witness Beats of Rage going mega, and having to build an extension on the back, to increase the capacity from 400 to 5000. And put on Daft Punk.


It's been a pleasure, or hopefully it has. See you at Coda at some point...

Cheers Liam!


[Questions and editing - Líam Pennington]

Interview conducted by way of emailed questions, edited for clarity and space. James Hodgson can be found at http://www.myspace.com/j2theh.
For up to date details on all nights out in Preston, go to www.prestone.co.uk

Jack Peñate - “Tonight’s Today”

By way of invention former....what was it, again? New Brit talent, LDN icon...however formerly described, Jack Peñate returns with a modest new sound clearly more in debt to reinvention than absolute honesty.

Something within the Latino beats of “Tonight’s Today” does not communicate with complete clarity the voice of the man behind “Second Minute or Hour”. Repeated plays of the song drills the unfulfilling chorus into the head but only because of its familiarity to the sound of a kid with ADHD poking a parent up the nose with a cone of candyfloss.

The associated video is some bizarre circus act which has taken all the best bits from Madonna’s “Justify My Love” video with the addition of elephant footed abstract imagery. A certain Ms Allen turned a corner with success; Jack sadly has met a wall.