Elbow - Build a Rocket Boys!

From Rochdale via "the man from La Mancha", the new album from Elbow is like every other with one significant difference. People have heard about them now, and from the cover of this month's NME it is Elbow's Guy Garvey, grasping a microphone and looking matter-of-factly, not a garish garbed bright young thing with lenseless specs. Mercury Music Prizes bestow mixed rewards upon recipients; Elbow found themselves playing with the BBC Concert Orchestra and having "One Day Like This" adopted as the television producers bed of choice for stirring images whenever usual choices Sigúr Ros or Coldplay were deemed no longer de rigueur. Not at all bad - or in character - for a band previously content with relative obscurity.

Following up "Seldom Seen Kid" with what must be the equivalent of the next novel after a Booker Prize, Elbow have shrugged their shoulders and brushed off everything they are comfortable playing. It's same-but-different, more rounded, spun with observation and realism, miserable but steadfast.

There are tracks on "Build a Rocket Boys!" that venture into territories both new and familiar. "High Ideals" concludes with a drunken fumble at a Tapas bar, all bar-room pianos and brass; "The Birds" whips up hotel room jazz into an over-bearing schalger. In "Jesus is a Rochdale Girl", the observational postcard from the North is as moving and honest as anything from Cherry Ghost or Richard Hawley, and from here through "Open Arms" and "Lippy Kids" new familiar favourites for fans long-standing and recently recruited.

At their best when enjoying allowing the little things to build into a whammer of a finish, this album revels in the ascending and the simplistic co-operating. "Lippy Kids" is a title which belies its real content, the nostalgia and world-weary, dour and determined. It's the Lancastrian way of expressing hope and if there's the hint of the reverential it is subtle - "angels" are namechecked across the album, the religious and the scientific alluded in the title and choral orchestration.

There was something of the happy accident about the way in which Elbow's trajectory shot upwards, and implied hints of returning to comfortable pastures with this album cannot be denied. It is a strong album, strong in texture and content, and perhaps deliberately there are no obvious repeats of end-credit hugging anthems. Unlike Leeds' Kaiser Chiefs, whose occasional stumbles into chart-bothering struggled to exit the laden guff of their albums, Elbow know better than to surround one sure-fire bet with also-ran material. "Build a Rocket Boys!" acts as reminder and threat, as a thank-you to the Mercury and all it has allowed, but tellingly also a hat-tip to the crowds waiting for more they could recognise. It deserves as much attention and praise, though could do just as well with neither.

The Candle Thieves

Simple yet effective is back, people.


It's the age of austrity, music is rediscovering melody and none more sucessfully than The Candle Thieves. The duo - from Peterborough, never knowingly infamous for musicians unless you know otherwise - have a straight-forward, innocent side, at turns endearing and naive. "Breathing (Just For You)" is a repositining of Owl City to the shires of England and it's all the brighter for its playful charm.

The Candle Thieves spent the best part of 2010 on the road with gigs ranging from colourful toytown instrumentation at fans’ local pubs, living-rooms, kitchens and back-gardens to high-profile US support slots for Scissor Sisters, Lissie and David Gray, in-between releasing acclaimed EP ‘Sunshine And Other Misfortunes.’

With all the talk of cuts and budget constraints, why not enjoy the stripped-down simplicity of a darn-good pop song.

I don't do scores usually, so give the Candle Thieves a luminance rating of "sparkly".




"Breathing (Just For You)" is released on the 21 March.
You can find them - www.myspace.com/thecandlethieves

Robert Miles "Thirteen"

In the mists of time, hidden amongst layers of subsequently placed concerns about paying the bills, football statistics and favourite recipes, is the memory of “Dreamland”, the shockingly successful (16 platinum discs, 12 gold, across 21 countries) album from Robert Miles. If you don’t remember him for “Children”, try “One and One”, the follow-up single with the female vocalist....Got it? Good. Now forget all of that, because it won’t help you one bit here.

“Thirteen” is essentially Miles’ “where I am now” album, and as his sixth studio release it is distinctly soft-rock and guitar wig-outs. The licks of guitars are everywhere; reverb on “Somnambulism”, jamming on “Black Rubber”, and fuzzy amongst the tin-pot drums throughout “Archives”. This possibly is some kind of midlife crisis (Miles is 41), for amongst the mild sci-fi hints (an obscured vocal sample features across all songs saying the same thing) and loose feel of a concept album, all the songs here sound like is the forced marriage of dance and lift muzak.

In fairness, this is not the dance music of the contemporary club scene, and should not be compared with that kind of output. Putting the guitars to one side, as one expects should have been suggested by his producers, the tinny drums and basic chillout here is simplistic stuff. It would appear obvious to point out how disappointing this album is, though they do say “Thirteen” is unlucky.

Britney Spears "Hold It Against Me"

So it's out there, and YouTube is full with "0 Views" hastily copied videos of it, Twitter is awashed with RT'd links to naughty download sites, and Facebook seems to have become a de facto fan site....

Yes, Britney Spears - the schoolgirl gone RnB princess via media meltdown - has a new single out (as though any of the contrived publicity has passed out by). Is it any good? Erm...Well....

It's a muddle of a song, to be fair. The title - "Hold It Against Me" - is the tag-line for the world's worst chat-up line (and, it seems, written in more seriousness than The Bellamy Brothers ever did).

There's just the hint of the GaGa about it (the 'in the club playing my favourite tune' vibe of the first verse is clearly hoyked from "Telephone"), with the dubstep beats and multi-layered vocals all combining together with an over familiarity. Remember when Kylie over-used the vocal-effect of 'coming up to air from underwater' ? It's here, right before the Eurovision-style key change for the end. There's even a sudden stop ending, an old throwback if ever I heard one...

All that said....however....it's a comeback single alright, one which shows intent and direction. Faced with Rhianna and Lady Gaga, and witnessing the hapless reinventions of one time rival Christina Aguilera, le Spears has not embarrassed herself much at all. Tap your foot, nod your head, murmur along to the words whilst in the shower; it's at the upper end of 'decent'.

Whole new image? Entirely new direction? Revolutionary reinvention? Not a chance. It's still very identifiable as Britney Spears, unusual mouth-full-of-boiled-vegetables voice an' all; it sure as Heck ain't "Toxic".

Sleeper

Back when NME used to leave newspaper print on your fingers, and "Melody Maker" wasn't the name of an iPhone app, Britain rocked to the sound of one of the last genuine musical movements.

Jealous of being locked out of the older scene - where a single £15 pill would last all weekend - the kids of the 90s picked up their guitars and generated years of a very British music revolution. Call it 'Britpop' or 'indie', it was the coming together of northern lads borrowing from Merseybeat and southerners taking on the Mod sound, in a gear-shift in cultural attitudes and behaviour. It wasn't without its low points (ahem, cough, Kula Shaker, aichooo), nor did it end when it should have done (go away, Silver Sun), but don't we all want to compartmentalise our youth into little packages? Course we do.

And here's the thing: most retrospectives will stuff their pages chocka with the Union Flag plus Gallagher combo, plastering the memories with posters of blokes and their outgrown fringes. Despite the best efforts of many female-fronted and all female-bands (from Sneaker Pimps through to Lush), the majority male bias to the scene remains the more profitable to recall.

This is a shame, not least because any broadbrush overview ignores the very specific reasons why Britpop was unlike any other modern musical moment. (Why are all contemporary females in pop soloists, whilst men make up the groups? Wasn't always ever thus...)

Louise Wener's Sleeper (as they were always called, especially in Select), did not use femininity as a leitmotiv, though female twists to the narrative did appear throughout their time bothering in the charts. It was Wener, to be fair, who sold the band for what they were. Her voice - with the fragile break of Tracy Thorn about it - and indie-chic look (dividing schoolboys between her and fellow pop Louise Nerding from Eternal) were vital pieces in the Sleeper jigsaw. Yes, they had more radio-friendly melodies than many of the other girl-led bands (Elastica, for example, tended to stay away from mainstream radio stations), but that is by no means a crime. Heck, it got Garbage through two albums before the scene finally ended its final come down.

Sleeper stand up today to much critical scrutiny. This is uncommon - Lush turned out too many middling fillers for my liking, and Echobelly had a firework-like career (though check out "Djinn", if you can, cracking late-late-late-career single). Sleeper have a constituency and maturity which belies the mainstream, readily available nature of their output.

There's plenty of songs I could highlight, but I'll go for the couple to which I return the most. "Inbetweener" - the name living on in cult Channel 4 sitcom-land, though not the same meaning - and "She's a Good Girl". I hope the unitiated enjoy.

Last Lungs

Lancashire post-rock lovelies Last Lungs agreed to sit around a table for a little chat about their tour, plans for the future, and an unexpected favourite track for the journey home [clue, it's at the bottom of this entry ;)]

The interview can be found right here

A little slice of their stuff is right here :




Oh, and for a treat, as played on their van home...http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vjLcQMO5SS4


((This interview took place at the New Continental, Preston))

UndeReview - Next Stop Atlanta "Next Stop Atlanta EP"

Next Stop Atlanta


Truth be told, the pop-punk scene didn’t half trip itself down the steepest of hills just as things appeared to be breaking out into very interesting times. Maybe the need for mainstream foot-tapping melodies over-balanced the logistics necessary in ‘keeping it real’, the fashion equivalent of bringing two north-facing magnets together?

Next Stop Atlanta take to the stage with this history – albeit not personal – putting its hand on their shoulders. For the best part of their EP is reimagining the past, remembering how everything was and could have been. This is the photo album flick-through which doesn’t involve awkwardly skimming past elderly relatives in bikinis or parental units in states of undress. Smiles and relief all round, not least in the familiar surroundings of breakfree choruses lifted above melodic free-for-alls and snappy surf guitars.

To British ears this could seem positively garish, so thankfully the lyrical content has melancholy and regret whisked into the generally over-familiar streetsmart attitude. Unlike the kind of throwaway “songs with no meaning” referenced in the brilliantly catchy “I’ll Catch Fire”, there are substantial, heartfelt moments throughout, strides away from the playground lowlights from recent years.

Opener and typesetting nightmare “fourteennineeightseven” has more bounce than Freejumpers let loose in a multi-storey, all layers of vocal and runaway drums and the much maligned stop/start ending. In short, these are top songs more “Deathcar” than “Ticket Out of Loserville”.


Lesser publications would make issues aplenty with NSA’s female singer, who speaks assuredly from the heart without vocal trickery or (and here’s the thing) an accent from the Emo Stageschool. When asked to soothe worried souls (“When Perfection is Key”) or put the record straight (“You, Me and the Dance Flaw”), her authenticity far outshines any audacity.

That could well be the best summary for the EP; polished production, and tasty little guitar breaks which are superb and conventional in almost equal measure. There is no threat of history sticking out its leg anytime soon, there’s clearly a lot of Next Stop Atlanta to go round only hinted at here. A fine EP and much promised, even if the ambition of the band name may be a while off yet...


Next Stop Atlanta on MySpace, Twitter and Facebook