Live Review: Yuck – The Joiners Arms, Southampton 17/02/2011

Yuck may be the buzz band of 2011, but they are a godsend for anyone still stuck in the year punk broke. The band’s self-titled debut is littered with references to the cream of the class of ’91. The sad, sedentary vocal delivery and the melodic guitar lines that litter Holing Out and Get Away are pure J. Mascis and they have a mini-Teen Age Riot in the urgent riff-o-rama, Operation. Elsewhere on the album, lush, languid, lo-fi ballads such as Suck and Suicide Policeman recall Pavement’s most tender moments.

But unfortunately for Southampton, none of the above is to be witnessed live tonight. All thanks (allegedly) to a blowtorch left on all day in the Chinese restaurant adjacent to the Joiners Arms, which caused noxious fumes to filter into the building while local support band Dead Rabbits were soundchecking. The fire brigade arrived, the police cordoned off the pub, and the disgruntled punters reluctantly piled into the nearby Plume and Feather, all hoping that they would be allowed back in to their much-loved locale before the night grew too old.

Certain excited members of the amassed crowd began liaising with members of Yuck and their tour support Fanzine, and a plan was hatched. The idea was to transport the band with their equipment to the nearby Soul Cellar venue, where they could set-up and play. This idea was run past Yuck’s tour manager who curtly declined the offer, as the gig had to be official due to contractual reasons. It’s best not to argue with tired tour managers, and this one was no exception, not least because he seemed to have, rather implausibly, two glass eyes. So, it was to be Joiners or nothing. But, at 10.30pm it was officially announced by the now very weary and stressed tour manager that the gig was off.

Since then, it has been announced that the gig will be rescheduled and it has been confirmed by the Southampton Guildhall Box Office that anyone who can’t attend the new date can get a full refund.

During sound check on the 17th, before the drama unfurled, Yuck’s otherwise charming drummer, Jonny Rogoff was overheard sneering: “Southampton has no real Rock ‘n Roll scene”. Let’s hope that the sheer optimism, dedication and passion displayed by the sizeable crowd who braved the bitter cold (and St. Mary’s Street) that night in the name of Rock and Roll has changed his mind.

Album Review: Fionn Regan – The Shadow Of An Empire

The County Wicklow wordsmith turns the electro-acoustic up to 8 for his sophomore sessions.

With a first half that contains the more Dylan than Dylan opener Protection Racket, the anti-authoritarian garage-rock rant of Genocide Matinee and the brooding Mersey-beat of Violent Demeanour, it is clear that this certainly isn’t The End Of History Part 2. The Shadow Of An Empire is a rougher, more energetic affair when compared to the instantly accessible, lilting folk of his Mercury nominated debut. If The End Of History was a weather-beaten hike to a remote farmhouse to curl up, crestfallen, by the fire on the morning after, then The Shadow Of An Empire is the night before – a whisky and ale-fuelled barnstormer of a hoedown. But even so, it is still the slower numbers that provide the show stopping moments here. The romance riddled recollections of Little Nancy and the sweeping sentiments of Lord Help My Poor Soul betray Regan’s skill for sad-eyed songcraft.

Much like Laughing Bob, Regan has a unique way with words. His lyrics blur the boundaries between music and literature; he was even invited to speak to students by the Literary Society at Trinity College Dublin. It’s hard to think of many contemporary artists who can paint such vivid pictures of rural recreation or create such colourful, countrified collages.

While it is not as consistently stunning as his first effort, Empire is yet another effortlessly realised body of work and a glorious racket.

Album Review: Ke$ha - Animal

Animal is the debut album from obnoxious juvenile delinquent and sociopath Ke$ha. It opens with the cliché ridden whine-hop of Your Love Is My Drug and reaches a harrowing zenith on Blah Blah Blah - a tootling runt of a track so relentlessly and, it would seem, intentionally annoying you’d think it was produced and arranged by Michael Bay. The equally cretinous Dinosaur is a mean-spirited attack on an unfortunate barfly who Ke$ha believes is far too old to be admiring her (which probably means he’s over twenty-five), and contains the mind-numbingly churlish lyrics “you need to get a CAT scan” among the opening couplets.

It’s also quite unclear who Ke$ha’s demographic is. Lacking the lupine mystique of Shakira; the hip-shaking soul of Beyonce; the all American wholesomeness of pre-Right Said Fred era Britney or the unabashed dirt bag factor of Aguilera – Animal sounds likes Avril Lavigne remixed by Grooverider and spat out by a cross between Pink at her most brattish and Paris Hilton’s less attentive younger sister.

At the other end of the scale here, we have 6 Music playlist regular Tik-Tok, and this listenable La Roux-esque electro-pop paean to having a good time stands out like a sore thumb. The sun-kissed, vocoder driven ballad Stephen also provides brief respite. But ultimately, most of this disjointed jumble falls very wide of the mark.

Video Game Review: Aliens vs. Predator (Playstation 3)

In space, no-one can hear you swear at the screen when playing Rebellion’s old school-flavoured first person shooter.

Much like in the original PC and Atari Jaguar instalments of Rebellion’s AvP series, when playing as the Colonial Marine this next gen revamp is a genuinely terrifying video game experience. Like all true masters of suspense, Rebellion understand what you don’t see is more terrifying than what you do see. Throughout the game sudden bursts of steam from overhead pipes will bedevil your hapless grunt while loose grating panels will cry wolf and clatter open. This builds up a tension to ensure that when the hoards of unfriendly extraterrestrials do appear, the player’s already ghostly white knuckles will lock their trigger finger down hard until their weapon is empty.


When playing as an Alien or Predator, the most satisfying way to dispatch enemies is to physically grab them and perform a fatal grapple kill, triggering an animation that usually involves a gory decapitation. Unfortunately, the way in which to perform these instant eradications is based purely on luck, as the symbol which signals when you can perform them appears seemingly at random. The elusive icon may or may not appear when you’re stood ten feet away from an oblivious opponent or locked in a flailing, saliva soaked melee battle. If you’re lucky it will flash up for a split second whilst your enemy is running humiliating rings around you...or perhaps it won’t. This is particularly annoying in multiplayer and while it means players do have to vary their tactics and not use the same one hit kill every time, it is very frustrating to know that during a frantic death match your most formidable attack methods are wholly unreliable.


AvP is certainly not the prettiest next-gen FPS on the market, but thankfully Rebellion have certainly not skimped when it comes to gameplay and story - they clearly know the subject matter inside and out. In fact, it has been this games developer, along with Dark Horse Publishing, who strived to maintain the dignity and credibility of the franchise while the films have taken a creative nosedive. A nod must also go to the Alien campaign for sheer originality. There aren’t many games on the market that let you ‘be’ a lethal biological weapon that can scuttle across walls and ceilings at breakneck speed.

Hardened FPS veterans may be somewhat underwhelmed and feel short changed by Rebellion’s gritty, back to basics approach on what is essentially a slight graphical overhaul of a game released in the 1990s. But, if you can get over the bland visuals and ergonomic quirks of AvP, this galaxy spanning match-up will award you with an intense, immersive single player experience and a rip-roaring online romp.

Video Game Review: Batman - Arkham Asylum (Playstation 3)

The lunatics are running the asylum as the world’s greatest detective has to face his worst fears and survive a night trapped in Gotham’s home for the emotionally challenged, all thanks to his old enemy and super criminal, the Joker.

Judging by the games' tenebrific tone, rich, gothic visuals and the detailed character profiles, it is clear Rocksteady Studios have assiduously studied the cream of Batman's extensive comic book catalogue. Voiced by fan-favourite Kevin Conroy and dressed in the classic black and grey suit, the bulked-up Batman character model looks and sounds exactly how he should, heroic and intimidating. But where the London-based game developers have excelled is with their representation of the game’s arch-antagonist. When looking back at the more memorable screen portrayals of the purple-suited one, Jack Nicholson’s corpulent clowning can induce cringing, the hunched and lank haired Ledger looks a little too frumpy and the Joker from the stylish, early 1990s Saturday morning show Batman: The Animated Series was understandably neutered by the networks, unable to actually commit his gaseous mass murders. In Arkham Asylum, however, he definitely follows through on his threats. Lithe and lean with razor sharp cheekbones and a wicked sense of humour coupled with veteran voice actor Mark Hamill’s deliciously evil delivery, Rocksteady have truly captured the essence of the Joker.

What really strikes the player is the amount of extra effort put into the game, especially when tracking down items that unlock bonus content. The developers have gone to the trouble of creating intriguing asylum chronicles and highly entertaining patient interview tapes. Some of the cryptic clues to the Riddler’s hidden secrets genuinely test the grey matter. Rocksteady force the player to use brains as well as brawn to succeed and the results are very rewarding.

But the most fun part is, of course, when the player gets to use brawn. Hand to hand combat is thrilling and the freeflow mechanics are revolutionary. Hapless thugs wail and moan, their bones cracking as they receive effortless strings of punches, flying kicks, head butts, throws, and some very painful looking leg-twistin' takedowns from the caped crusader. Batman’s beautifully animated dance moves are all triggered by the simplest of button combinations and given the sheer amount of foes you’ll often face at one time it is just as well. The wide range of fighting skills, stealth tactics and Wayne-tech gadgets at your disposal gives the player a sense of power and control and for the first time ever in a video game you’ll really get a taste of what it feels like to be the Dark Knight.

Movie Review: Where The Wild Things Are

This film tells the story of Max, a frustrated young boy who is at ‘that difficult age’. He sails away to a fantasy island populated by small group of equally complex monsters who each represent one of his character traits or a fixture in his life. Like Max, this group of beautifully rendered bi-polar bears are looking for someone or something to blame for their feelings and the situation they are in.

This film eschews traditional plot structure in favour of raw emotion. It follows the basic narrative of Maurice Sendak’s 13-page book and fleshes it out with the sub-texts as identified and interpreted by director Spike Jonze and screenwriter David Egger.

The level of enjoyment for adults here will depend on how in touch you are with your inner child. If you vividly recall the emotions you endured at seven years old, this film will be a very gratifying experience – even more so if your home life was in some way disrupted.

For parents wondering whether it is appropriate to take young children to see this movie, the short answer is yes. Wild Things is no more disturbing than an episode of The Moomins and while it deals with themes they may not yet fully grasp, the film’s beguiling effects, bewitching score and lush cinematography ensure it will be an adventure they never forget.

Movie Review: The Twilight Saga - New Moon

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,

you might be dead.

Book Review: Chris Burton & Gary Thompson - Art & Sound of the Bristol Underground

Bristolian bad bwoy culture recounted.

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.

Album Review: Collapse Under The Empire - Find A Place To Be Safe

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.

Album Review: The Horrors - Primary Colours

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.

Album Review: The xx - xx

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.

Album Review: The Cribs - Ignore The Ignorant

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 Review: The Big Pink - A Brief History of Love

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.