Featuring insightful music, film and book reviews, Superhighway Companion is an essential online guide for those with cultural wanderlust.
All reviews by Tom Stanton.
The second cinematic outing to Forks to drop in on the Emo-vampires - now with Chris Weitz in the director’s chair.
The first Twilight movie was a highly enjoyable chunk of teen fiction. Moving at a jaunty pace, full of wit and likeable young actors it was lapped by those who deep down, sorely miss TV shows such as Buffy The Vampire Slayer and Dawson’s Creek. This time round the tone is darker. The two lovers, Bella Swan (Kristen Stewart) and Edward Cullen (Robert Pattinson) become separated. After a bloodlust-fuelled incident, Edward leaves town wrongly believing he is keeping his beau from danger. Cue a lot of pouting, staring blankly out of windows and late-night primal scream therapy from Bella.
Much like the book, there is not a lot of action in this instalment and the overall pace is a little sluggish. The script is at times cringe-inducing and while the clear intention is to convey how deadly seriously we take our romantic crushes and infatuations at eighteen, the impact is lost when delivered over-earnestly by leads who look more like they are in their mid-twenties. But this film is not without its memorable moments. It is impossible to take your eyes off the fantastic Michael Sheen eating up the scenery as the head of the Volturi and if you don’t feel exhilaration as a pack of werewolves haul ass through a forest to the sound of Thom Yorke’s Hearing Damage, attempting to run down a beautiful, sadistic vampiress then check your pulse,
Sennen’s sophomore album Where The Light Gets In was an absolute gem that while critically acclaimed, was criminally overlooked by the record buying public at large. The album proved the band to be blessed with the same ear for irresistible melody as prime period Teenage Fanclub as well as the ability to embark on breathtaking instrumental excursions worthy of Explosions In The Sky.
This brand new 6-track EP provides us with more of the same. The title track is bursting with the joyous melancholy of early Flaming Lips and, thankfully, their cover of New Order’s Bizarre Love Triangle is far from the ill advised stab at a sacred cow that one might fear - stripping the song of its traditional Baggy-fied beat, the band fully expose the melancholy which lies at the core. Bringing things to a close we have Figurine, a billowing, wintry ballad which then leads into the scorching jam that is the final track, Out.
Like many young artists Sennen have to juggle their true calling with their day jobs, taking time off work to tour and record. Hopefully, until rock stardom is secured, their employers will remain understanding as this is another vital slice of sumptuous indie rock that bodes well for the new album.
Looking at the Bristol’s hip hop scene from 1983-1993 and the music’s accompanying disciplines of MCing, graffiti art and breakdancing, this book consists of a series of transcribed monologues from the scene’s key players who include DJ Milo, Krissy Kriss and Smith & Mighty. The naturalistic flow of the text and the inclusion of colloquial language in these insightful passages really add authenticity and they feel spontaneous.
Parallels are drawn with London, where a similar scene was also happening, but the capital’s scene lacked the close-knit community spirit evident here. There is a downside to this intimacy though. The smaller scale meant the interlinked Bristol crews mostly attended the same events and parties, so there is a fair bit of overlap and repetition - nearly every chapter needlessly reminds us this era was before internet and mobile phones.
In terms of illustration, there are a plethora of flyers to view, though sadly, little in the way of the legendary graffiti described. It would also have been nice to have some exclusive images of the big names mentioned here as partaking in battles and jams past – namely Dr.Dre, Roni Size and the Jungle Brothers.
This 4-disc set collects the entire first and only season of NBC's Knight Rider re-ignition which originally aired in 2008.
It is a shame this series was cancelled because it is for the most part good fun, packed full of pretty people and even prettier car chases. The use of Val Kilmer as the voice of the Knight Industries Three Thousand is inspired. The sleek, sentient KITT now speaks with the suppressed monotone of a madman who has recently undergone a frontal lobotomy. You believe KITT could snap anytime, eject Michael Knight and then repeatedly reverse over him before calmly driving off humming Light My Fire. This would not be an entirely unwelcome occurrence, as the new Knight (played by Justin Bruening) is definitely the weakest link here. He is essentially a generic Hollywood heartthrob who lacks the unique visual impact and charisma of the young David Hasselhoff, and the wisecracks and faux edginess soon irritate.
The feature length pilot episode is a solid reintroduction, but the following nine episodes are bogged down by the will-they-won't-they love dance between Knight and Sarah Graiman which is devoid of chemistry and gets old really fast. Mercifully, halfway through the series things shift up a gear, the writing becomes tighter and instead of our heroes simply stalling the bad guys until the law arrives, Knight is blowing away waves of hoods with various weapons while AC/DC’s Rock ‘N Roll Train pounds in the background. It is a jarring, but much needed change in tone. This does lead one to believe that perhaps the poor ratings the show received can be put down to programme makers being unsure of their target audience and maybe more time should be spent on market research if another Knight Rider revamp is to be considered?
This is the latest album from the young Hamburg team who play their post-rock with a pinch of electronica.
Opening track Captured Moments is a promising start with its bleary-eyed guitars that explode into white noise, layered by fuzzy underwater strings and piano. Matthew Jason and Chris Burda then continue this winning streak with former single Crawling and the vibrant, dramatic title track.
But further in, the album collapses under its own weight. Tranquillity is an uncomfortable mix of hair-metal guitar and rigid, sequenced backing tracks. Lacking the ragged rock rush of Mogwai, much of this album has the synthetic sound of an overproduced bedroom recording. Angle Of Incidence and the unfortunately titled A Smell Of Boiled Greens drift in to the sterile realms of Muzak, whilst Far To The Past could be an Editors’ instrumental outtake.
Intelligence and Take A Shot On Me do however give the album a rousing end, almost returning to the impressive form of the opening tracks. But ultimately, despite the flashes of brilliance, this duo doesn’t do enough with this well-trodden genre to warrant repeated listens.
Graphic As A Star is the sixth solo album proper from Psych-folker Josephine Foster.
The Colorado born balladeer is seemingly a graduate of the Robert Pollard school of song writing, as most compositions on this 26 track album clock in at a mere one or two minutes. Much of this sprawling acoustic opus succeeds, seducing the listener with Le Volume Courbe-esque minimalist plucking and strumming. Minimalist is definitely the key word here, on Your Thoughts Don’t Have Words Everyday and What Shall I Do – It Whimpers So, her vocal is backed only by a distant budgerigar. Foster has a trembling soprano voice that haunts and bewitches in equal measures. Sounding like a 1940s forces sweetheart, she conjures up images of families gathered round the wireless on winter wartime evenings. On one of the strongest (and longest) tracks, On My Life Stood – A Loaded Gun, the wistful melody and hazy harmonica evokes Ron Sexsmith.
Despite their brevity, some tracks here do sail perilously close to the territory of nothing-music occupied by the likes of Norah Jones. But, this comparison is perhaps a little unfair, as the few moments where this album fails to engage are down to Foster’s largely diction free delivery rather than the songs themselves.
The band that people used to love to hate is now the band everyone is surprised to like.
Not since the Beastie Boys released Pauls Boutique in 1989 has a musical reinvention been not only so unexpected but so very welcome. On Primary Colours there is little trace of the flailing garage-shlock of The Horrors debut Strange House. This time around they boldly take the alternative indie of the Psychedelic Furs and mix it with Th’ Faith Healers cyclic avant-garde lurch. Mirror’s Image begins the proceedings with its Closer-era Joy Division keyboards and reverberating passages of warped guitar that go on to underpin the rest of the album and over these edgy textures Faris Badwan tells of romantic encounters and snarls his kitchen sink dramas. The title track is an Eno-flavoured college rock gem that could sit quite happily on the soundtrack to any John Hughes film from the 1980s. Despite the streamlining it is clear that the band still have bite, as evidenced by the thrilling Goth-stomp of New Ice Age, where a post-apocalyptic vision of extreme conditions is recounted over walls of discordant guitars. Badwan, possessed simultaneously by the spirits of Mark E Smith and Brett Anderson, warns of “A new ice age, closer day by day/We’ll freeze when ice wings are swooping down” and any initial thoughts of chatty CGI mammoths are soon forgotten.
So far, so effortlessly glacial. Things do begin to thaw out a little with the acid rock dribblings of I Only Think of You and I Can’t Control Myself. Placed side by side, both tracks create a slightly sludgy section towards the end of the album. Things do end on a high note though with the panoramic groove of Sea Within A Sea with its intense bursts of guitar that lead into an ambient arpeggio.
Primary Colours is a finely crafted album by a band who have finally managed to strike a balance between style and substance.
There are definite similarities between The xx and Cardiffian cult legends Young Marble Giants. With their monochrome aesthetic they even look like the cover of Colossal Youth. Much like Young Marble Giants, The xx subtly use space and silence to create the dynamics of their sound, whilst metronomic beats tick past unnoticed. They have clearly decided to shun the Indie Tricks 101 pedal stomping, quiet then loud sections and the end result is very refreshing.
On xx, star gazing singer Romy Madley Croft’s tigress fuff is soulful and dreamy without sounding insipid and the Viva Voce-esque vocal interplay between her and Oliver Sim on Crystalised, VCR and Islands is delivered with a distinct, chilled American R&B flavour. These tracks are given strength by atmospheric strings and a rhythm section that moves and soothes like a Thai masseuse. The beautifully down tempo Shelter is another winner, containing pockets of skeletal bass and sad guitars soaked in reverb with the treble turned up to 11.
Over the course of a whole album though, their sparse sound begins to feel a little too spartan. On some tracks, the band’s pretty melodies fail to fully connect with the listener, lacking the emotional punch of say Joy Division or Low, who do dark and desolate with better results. Also the cheeky pinching of the chorus to Chris Isaak’s Wicked Games for their Infinity, does suggests a dearth of ideas. But when all the right elements come together, The xx create sonically seductive music that suggests a promising future if they can hone their skills.
Two generations of sulky northern mastery collide on the latest long-player from The Cribs.
The stately Cheat On Me is the first track on which the addition of Johnny Marr is really apparent. His guitar is always glassy and needle-sharp, weaving a way through the track, creating a separate melody but never overplaying or sounding out of place against the barrelling bar chords. But most importantly they have created a classic football chant with the chorus. It’s only a matter of time before the terraces are echoing with “That’s another!” as their team put away multiple goals. Although I imagine, this is almost certainly not the effect the band were aiming for.
It seems like Marr has slotted in very nicely to his new gang, refining and enriching the sound, he is the ingredient you didn’t know was missing until now. Far from being watered down or neutered, Ignore The Ignorant is given depth and dimension by the elder musical statesmen, his guitar playing elegant and ethereal next to the Jarman brother’s stroppy, brat-punk riffs. Although there is little doubt that the crystalline chime of Last Year’s Snow and Save Your Secrets could see this cult band garner more mainstream appeal, it is clear upon hearing the latter’s opening lines “You are far more likely to be devoured/than empowered by your sense of romance” that we are still a long way from generic, charmless enorm-o-dome territory. Those devoted disciples concerned that The Cribs have mellowed or matured a bit too much need not fret, We Were Aborted and Nothing both spit and sizzle with the same trademark energy of old and Ryan Jarman delivers the chorus to Hari Kari with the urgency of a neurotic dalek .
One thing is for sure, The Cribs have managed to progress in a very satisfying musical direction whilst also retaining their unique ability to make the listener instinctively reach for the play button as soon as the final track fades.
Album opener Crystal Visions sets the scene straight away, beginning with psychedelic, twinkling-in-the-sunset lead guitar that would sit happily anywhere on The Verve’s Storm in Heaven. Then Milo Cordell pushes the red button and the track suddenly lurches into a wide-eyed, fringe-flicking groove, MBV guitars haemorrhage in the background whilst Robbie Furze’s chanting channels the cool detachment of Jason Pierce. The punctual Too Young To Love clatters in immediately afterwards, with a beat which sounds a lot like the one from Boards Of Canada’s Kid For Today, but at ten times the speed with added JAMC squall and Happy Mondays swagger. The slightly less exhilarating but just as infectious recent single Dominos is up next, which brings to mind early Secret Machines.
On the title track the band deploy some breathy female vocals; Furze and Joanne Robertson exchange mantras during this gorgeous, feedback-drenched lullaby. Imagine Ian McCulloch and Hope Sandoval trying to hypnotise each other in the front row of a Telescopes concert. Frisk and Count Backwards From Ten showcase The Big Pink’s skilful way in which they fuse fuzzed-up guitars and pulsing electronica, keeping the music organic enough to avoid sounding clinical, and the latter track’s leering drone closes the album.
The Big Pink are a band who wear their influences clearly on their sleeves, so much so that this album could have been called A Brief History of British Indie Circa 1990. As with a lot of music of this ilk, the lyrics are murky and at times too self conscious. This is something typical of the shoe-gaze genre though, a scene where an other-worldly aloofness is almost expected. Many of the words murmured on this album feel functional, simply there to fit the melody. But, keeping things simple but effective seems to be The Big Pink’s general rule of thumb. One could argue that The Big Pink’s influences are obvious, but as the talented duo have cherry-picked only fantastic influences to throw into the mix, they’ve produced album that is up there with the best that their direct musical ancestors have to offer. A Brief History of Love is a more than welcome addition to the ongoing dream-pop revival.
As a fan of The Jayhawks and their unique brand of alt-country since discovering Hollywood Town Hall and Tomorrow the Green Grass in the 1990s, recent reports that founder members Mark Olson and Gary Louris were to record and release a whole album together titled Ready For The Flood, was for me exciting news. It renewed my love for the band and it lead me to revisit The Jayhawks’ back catalogue and the satellite projects of both songsmiths.
Before signing to a major label The Jayhawks released two albums: The Jayhawks and Blue Earth. Both albums are wonderfully roughshod and effortlessly flit from dewy-eyed ballads to cocksure barroom workouts with the skill of early Flying Burrito Brothers. But, it is 1992’s Hollywood Town Hall that heralds the bands first great leap forward in song writing and it is here that the vocal interplay truly begins to be explored. Gary Louris sports the more traditional rock howl in contrast to Mark Olson’s helium yelp, and the way in which these two voices work together is the secret to The Jayhawks' appeal. The pair share and swap verses, harmonising, at times singing completely different melodies simultaneously and the results are always breathtaking. It is a rare thing that two such voices find each other, so distinct, dissimilar but so perfectly suited. It is a sweet, heady mix that is highly addictive. Tomorrow the Green Grass (1995) continues with this winning formula, this time filling out the sound on certain tracks with strings and piano. It is also this album that contains Blue, arguably their finest song to date. With its bright guitars, falsetto chorus and giddying middle-eight the song is, quite simply, perfection,
Tomorrow the Green Grass was also the last Jayhawks album to feature Mark Olson. Gary Louris continued with the Jayhawks after Olson’s departure, with the band heading in a slicker, more radio friendly direction. One might venture that Louris’ most interesting post-Green Grass work lies with Golden Smog. An Americana supergroup who’s line-up has over the years included Jeff Tweedy and Jody Stephens. On the country-rock collective’s 1998 album Weird Tales, Louris takes lead vocal on three of the albums stand-out tracks. On the beautiful Jane, we hear a crestfallen Louris trying to make sense of a callous lover, rasping; “Jane, why don’t you give a damn?/Jane, why don’t you stay?” By contrast, the beer soaked Until You Came Along sees Louris clearly in his comfort zone with his troubles behind him as he belts out this cellar-bar sing-song. But it is the epic, sweeping Jennifer Save Me that steals the show. Louris’ voice trembles over a simple but powerful chord progression whilst heavily reverbed pianos build the song dramatically, before ultimately giving way to a cacophony of 303 bleeping and note-bending.
After leaving The Jayhawks in 1996 due to the twin pressures of demanding touring and recording schedules, Mark Olson continued to pursue his musical career with singer-songwriter Victoria Williams and fiddle-player Mike Russell as The Creekdippers. Creekdippin’ for the First Time packages together the group’s debut and sophomore albums which were originally released in the late-90s. The most impressive cuts of this two-fer are Flowering Trees and Pacific Coast Rambler, both songs are layered with haunting harmonica and Williams’ eerie backing vocals. The latter track recalls the melancholic mood of Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere’s quieter, more reflective moments and at times you can almost taste the California desert dust. Olson and The Creekdipper’s 2002 release December’s Child makes better use of light and shade. Each song contains lyrics that are poetic without being pretentious and the album underscores Olson’s ability to tell a story replete with characters, without the song turning into a sprawling ten minute audio-novel. All of Mark Olson’s tales of everyday folk and their daily trials are told in roughly four minutes. How Can I Send Tonight and Alta’s Song sit comfortably amongst his best, but the highlight of December’s Child is Louris providing guest vocals on Say You’ll Be Mine. It is a welcome cameo and the listener is reminded that it is when these two voices sing together that the magic really happens.
In the wake of the recent Jayhawks reunion tour, Ready for the Flood is perhaps not exactly the soaring, jangling comeback that fans were expecting. The album is sparse, predominantly acoustic with minimal percussion, often recalling Simon & Garfunkel rather than CSN&Y. Also, neither Olson nor Louris’ voice has escaped the net of time, but one imagines this is partly down to the one mic, one take approach of producer and Black Crowe, Chris Robinson. There is none of the punchy, polished production of times past here, and that’s clearly the point of this very raw, naturalistic album.
Despite Ready For The Flood’s imperfections, it is a joy to hear them singing together again over the course of a whole album and, as they duet on album opener The Rose Society, “Where does time take your garden?/The house of love still standing/The garden abandoned”, we should think ourselves lucky the duo haven’t abandoned us yet and hopefully the near future holds many more collaborations between them. Mark Olson and Gary Louis are truly authentic American masters. I, like many people thought the Jayhawks were long dead, but with such an impressive body of work past and present, they are more alive than ever.
