Seems like I spoke too soon...

Apologies once again, but an unfortunate mishap has lead to the backlight on my laptop dying on me. So I'm going to have to go on hiatus again until I get it fixed (or at least get regular access to a computer with a properly functioning screen). I'll try to update when I can, but don't expect anything for at least the next week or so. Sorry.

#17: Klaxons - Myths Of The Near Future (2007)

1. Two Receivers
2. Atlantis To Interzone
3. Golden Skans
4. Totem On The Timeline
5. As Above, So Below
6. Isle Of Her
7. Gravity's Rainbow
8. Forgotten Works
9. Magick
10. It's Not Over Yet
11. Four Horsemen Of 2012

(Yay for finishing reviews at 3 in the morning. Assignment? What assignment...)

What with all their award-winning and sold out tours, Klaxons probably don't need too much introduction, and there's no point in me blathering on about 'nu-rave' here: I do that enough in the actual review. Suffice to say that this is a great album with some (whisper it) unashamedly pop moments - if you haven't heard it yet, don't be put off by the hype.

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A lot of the noise surrounding Klaxons' debut album was concerned with the so-called genre of 'nu-rave': A supposed revival of the synth-fuelled, glowstick waving antics of the mid-90's. But the first song you hear doesn't sound like the sort of thing you'd hear in a rave at all. Building up from echoy drums into spooky keyboards, melodramatic pianos and a trio of haunting vocals, 'Two Receivers' is instead an ethereal slice of brilliance that not only serves as a fantastic opening gambit, but also as a direct challenge to those who thought that this album was going to be nothing more than a rave pastiche.

The bulk of the responsibility for such preconceptions must surely fall to 'Atlantis To Interzone': If there's one song that can be credited with the creation of 'nu-rave', then this is it. It's the sound of ridiculous sirens and synthetic 'oh-oh-oh's becoming cool again, a deranged three-minute thrill ride from sunken ruins to stateless cities and god-knows-where in between. 'Golden Skans' can also be considered to have had a hand in this, named as it is after a type of lighting projector. But it's actually a pop song through and through, from the breathy "Oooooooooh! Aaaah!"s that permeate the song to the fact that it's absolutely rammed with lyrical and musical hooks.

The band aren't afraid to getting a bit weird though, as they openly admit to being inspired by the likes of J.G. Ballard (indeed, the title of the album comes from a collection of short stories by the author). 'Totem On The Timeline' is some sort of bizarro-package holiday across time: "At club 18-30 I met Julius Caesar, Lady Diana and Mother Teresa!" go the lyrics, as buzzsaw guitars cut their way through the fourth dimension. 'As Above, So Below', on the other hand, sees the band gazing at the stars and contemplating cosmic movements, losing themselves in a space-age haze of inky blackness.

'Isle Of Her' could provide the soundtrack to a particularly post-modern production of Homer's Odyssey, methodical drums and a dirty bassline providing the backdrop to a ship of greek sailors rowing through some fanciful tale of myth. (Apparently it's based on a short story entitled 'Concerning The Cyclops And The Isle Of Her' by French absurdist writer Alfred Jarry. You learn something new every day.) Once again, the band follow this up with another complete contrast: 'Gravity's Rainbow' is the record's most shining pop moment, with notions of romance that transcend time and space - "Come with me, come with me, we'll travel to infinity... I'll always be there for you, my future love."

'Forgotten Works' is an aural adventure seemingly inspired by 80s adventure movies, or possibly The Legend Of Zelda: "Light the bridges with the lantern, you know something's going to happen..." warn the band in ethereal tones, as the music descends deeper and deeper into some mystical tomb. And if 'Forgotten Works' soundtracks the initial exploration, 'Magick' is the sound of the inevitable evil curse being unleashed: By the sound of it, it's the curse of nu-rave once again, with demented synths battering against your brain while the vocals are a possessed chant that increases in crazed fervour as the song reaches its climax.

'It's Not Over Yet', on the other hand, is the sound of old rave turned new (or should that be 'nu'?). Breathing fresh life into Grace's 1995 techno hit 'Not Over Yet', it turns the cheesy dance vibe of the original into something truly emotive and euphoric, with the band's guitars providing some much-needed weight to the tune as the synths blare out in one final fit of joy. And then after the song's fadeout, it really is over: 'Four Horsemen Of 2012' is the fully realised sound of nu-rave in its death throes, galloping through a cataclysmic nightmare before collapsing in a post-apocalyptic heap.

And so, with Myths Of The Near Future, Klaxons have invented, then killed off a genre in the space of 40 minutes. Not only that, but they've also provided a smattering of pop brilliance along the way, as well as demonstrating some more dynamically adventurous moments. So, while 'nu-rave' may just have been a frivolous joke that got taken far further than the band ever intended, the band have proven that they can transcend the hype: This is a collection of varied ideas that somehow fit together as a cohesive whole to create an excellent debut album. The concrete proof will come with the second record, but on this evidence, Klaxons should have the ability to stick around far longer than the genre they ironically spawned.

#16: The Kills - Midnight Boom (2008)

1. U.R.A. Fever
2. Cheap And Cheerful
3. Tape Song
4. Getting Down
5. Last Day Of Magic
6. Hook And Line
7. Black Balloon
8. M.E.X.I.C.O.C.U.
9. Sour Cherry
10. Alphabet Pony
11. What New York Used To Be
12. Goodnight Bad Morning

It was with some reticence that I approached The Kills' third album, for reasons that were entirely non-musical (I won't bother going into them, you can probably work it out if you know me). I did eventually buy the album a few weeks after its release, but it still took a while before I actually got round to writing this review. So here it is.

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Long before the tabloid press cared to know the names of Jamie 'Hotel' Vince and Alison 'VV' Mosshart, The Kills set out their stall as a sexually-charged, DIY garage-rock twosome back in 2003 with Keep On Your Mean Side. Thankfully, Midnight Boom doesn't see them stray too far from their roots: But don't worry, they're certainly not stagnating either.

The album starts strongly with an arresting pair of songs that served well as the record's first two singles. 'U.R.A. Fever' sounds like a shady phonebox conversation spoken entirely in riddles before giving way to a convulsing, seductive chorus hook and searing stabs of guitar. The equally punchy 'Cheap And Cheerful' revels in its own minimalism, its biggest extravagances being the occasional military drumroll and the handclaps that punctuate Mosshart's lyrics as the guitar fuzzes along in the background.

While the lyrics of the first two songs are frivolously nonsensical, yet still oddly seductive, the band do also show some more coherent themes. On 'Tape Song', Mosshart turns matter-of-fact agony aunt: First she advises against the 'fix it with duct tape' strategy for a broken heart ("Tape ain't gonna fix it honey, it ain't gonna stick.") before dropping the bombshell that "Time ain't gonna cure you honey, time don't give a shit." Her only advice seems somehow cryptic despite its apparent simplicity: "You've got to go straight ahead." 'Black Balloon' continues this theme with more cold-hearted advice for a former lover: "You can hold on but I wouldn't waste your time," Mossheart deadpans, and there's barely even the slightest hint of sadness as she casts her lover aside with a sigh of "let the weather have its way with you."

The band aren't always the ones dishing out broken hearts to other people though. 'Last Day Of Magic' should surely go down as one of The Kills' best songs to date, with its discordant (yet still oddly tuneful) opening riff giving way to jagged, staccato bursts of guitar, while the dual vocals of Hince and Mosshart breathe a sense of upbeat melancholy into the song: "Last day of magic: Where are you?" they lament to one another as the guitars switch to an understated drive. It's a stripped-down garage rock take on the perfect summer pop song, and it sounds superb.

Elsewhere, 'Getting Down' sounds like LCD Soundsystem stripped bare and making suggestive eyes across the room, while on 'Hook And Line' Mosshart does her best PJ Harvey impression as Hince summons up a squall of guitar that also recalls PJ's rockier moments. 'M.E.X.I.C.O.C.U' pins a hastily scrawled 'see you later' note to a ramshackle take on the riff from Joy Division's 'No Love Lost' to create an effortless sub-two minute thrill ride, and 'Sour Cherry' follows this up with another engaging proposition, falling somewhere between the handclap-laden minimalism of 'Cheap And Cheerful' and the pop sensibilities of 'Last Day Of Magic'.

'Alphabet Pony' contrasts a menacing guitar line with some of the most bizarre lyrics on the album ("Pink plastic Jesus on the dashboard," anyone?), and 'What New York Used To Be' continues the sense of menace as Mosshart nonchalantly reels off a list of "What [x] used to be" like she's casually discarding stale memories.

The album ends on a comedown note, with 'Goodnight Bad Morning' sounding a little bit like The Velvet Underground's 'Sunday Morning' updated for the 21st century: Speed instead of Heroin, hazy but oddly tender declarations of love ("I love you so much, never forget") replacing paranoia. It's an uncharacteristically pretty way to end the album, but it works rather well as a contrast to the intensity displayed elsewhere.

Overall, Midnight Boom can be considered a success on the band's own terms: They stick firmly to their DIY guns and there's still evidence of that dangerously sexy vibe on display. While the record doesn't quite manage to replicate the dirty thrills of the opening two tracks or the ramshackle brilliance of 'Last Day Of Magic', there's still enough going on to keep the album moving. Even when it threatens to tail off towards the end, 'Goodnight Bad Morning' comes along just in time to wrap things up nicely. It's not going to convince the band's detractors and will probably leave vapid, name-dropping red-top/Heat readers scratching their heads, but for everyone else, this is a convincing return for The Kills and a fine addition to their back catalogue.

#15: Daft Punk - Discovery (2001)

1. One More Time
2. Aerodynamic
3. Digital Love
4. Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger
5. Crescendolls
6. Nightvision
7. Superheroes
8. High Life
9. Something About Us
10. Voyager
11. Veridis Quo
12. Short Circuit
13. Face To Face
14. Too Long

(As promised, back from hiatus - and with uni drawing to a close, hopefully I shouldn't have to take another one for a good while.)

I figured that if I was going to waste all my dance-related adjectives on one album, it might as well be one by French House pioneers Daft Punk. You could argue that I should've done my Homework first, but this blog is all about Discovery...

Ok, that was terrible.

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Daft Punk are the kind of band (for lack of a better term) who have had a huge influence on their respective genre: It's one that can still be felt today, most pointedly if you look at a certain other French duo of recent times. Homework set the ball rolling in the mid-90's with the likes of 'Da Funk' and 'Around The World', but Discovery is probably the record that contains their most easily recognisable anthems.

In fact, at first glance, the album might seem incredibly front-loaded, with its singles lined up neatly in chronological order as the first four tracks. But then again, if you're going to create an album with the intention of making people dance, you want them to get moving right from the start, no? The hands in the air, feel-good vibe of 'One More Time' is palpable from the very first second, although the duo pull the trick of keeping the first 30 seconds or so a little muted, almost recreating that moment where you're walking up to the door of a party in full swing, the sound of the music straining to escape through the walls. Then you open the door and BAM, it's on like Donkey Kong - "Don't stop the dancing".

'Aerodynamic' keeps things moving with a funky synth loop before whacking out the kind of earnestly excessive guitar solo that demands furious air guitaring. Suddenly, a bell tolls, and then the opening loop repeats - except this time it sounds like it's being played on a synth that's slowly sinking to the bottom of a lake. 'Digital Love', on the other hand, appears to be the result of the world's most endearingly naïve android creating the perfect soundtrack to the tentative advances of coy teenagers. Finally, the robo-powered electro-house-funk of 'Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger' rounds out the record's opening salvo in a fit of warped vocals and jerky danceability.

Thankfully, the band's creativity extends beyond their most obvious hits: The cheerleader shouts and handclaps of 'Crescendolls' sound like someone laying the foundations for The Go! Team, while 'Nightvision' proves that there's more than banging house anthems to the band, with a sub-two minute swathe of soothing ambience and occasionally ominous minor-key tones.

'Superheroes' thumps it's way into existence with a pounding drumbeat and looped vocals before arpeggiated synths skitter across the foreground, and follow up 'High Life' doesn't stray too far from this formula either. 'Something About Us', however, is a different beast entirely: The simple sentiment of 'Digital Love' returns, but this time it's set to a laid-back lounge beat that provides the record with a moment that's both a little bit romantic and also oddly chilled out.

It's only a brief break from the dancing though, as 'Voyager' begins with a space-age synth before the thumping drums return along with an understated yet incessantly funky bassline, with an electric harp-like sound gliding effortlessly over its closing stages. They then see fit to try another experiment for a couple of tracks. 'Veridis Quo' starts out sounding like something from a Final Fantasy soundtrack, and this opening riff continues throughout the song as the main character wanders into a club, then out onto the balcony to stare at the stars for a while - there's even a bit where the reedy synth riff drops out long enough for some tasty plot exposition to be revealed. Moving on to a different genre of game entirely, the glitchy, in-your-face electro of 'Short Circuit' wouldn't sound out of place in a Sonic The Hedgehog level - the song's breakdown even sounds like a Mega Drive's sound chip laboriously malfunctioning.

After briefly considering a career as video game composers, the duo return to their more usual house style on 'Face To Face', with the cut-up vocals of earlier tracks making their return before (gasp), a coherent, untreated vocal appears for the first time on the record, giving the song a touch of electro-pop cheesiness that isn't entirely a bad thing. And while it's tempting to make the obvious joke about 10-minute album closer 'Too Long', it maintains its groove well enough to prove a godsend for lazy DJs who need to nip out for a quick fag or two, leaving the crowd to ironically mock the song's title while still shaking their arses to it - even if it does sound naggingly like UK Garage types Artful Dodger (although saying that, I did like their album...).

The record doesn't really end with any sort of sense of closure, but in this context that's not so important: In my eyes, Daft Punk aren't particularly an 'album' band, although in fairness the record's tracklisting certainly doesn't feel haphazardly thrown together. So yeah, this is the kind of record you can carelessly throw on at a party to make people dance with the minimum of effort, but you're more likely to hear these tracks worked into DJ sets and cropping up on houseparty playlists, where they'll fit in seamlessly with just about anything else you care to play. The album is at its best when it's trying something a little different, but even the more straightforward house tracks do enough to keep you moving. Overall, while Discovery is perfectly listenable as a purely aural experience, it isn't necessarily the sort of album you'll just want to sit down and listen to. Rather, its greatest strength lies in the fact that it's a collection of great songs to make you dance: And that's the point of dance music, right?

Hiatus.

Well, I almost managed a whole month.

As you may have noticed, my last review was a day or so late. Unfortunately, as I'm already behind schedule and things are going to get increasingly busy for me in the next few weeks, I'm going to have to take a bit of a break from updating this blog. However, I hope to keep writing intermittently, so hopefully I'll be able to at least write one or two new reviews within the next couple of weeks. If all goes well, I plan to resume updates on Monday 19th May, with the schedule continuing as normal from that point onwards.

Apologies to those who've been following this regularly (yes, all three of you :P). For those who haven't, feel free to peruse the archives at your leisure while I'm 'away'. See you in two weeks time, hopefully.

#14: Battles - Mirrored (2007)

1. Race: In
2. Atlas
3. Ddiamondd
4. Tonto
5. Leyendecker
6. Rainbow
7. Bad Trails
8. Prismism
9. Snare Hanger
10. Tij
11. Race: Out

Yes, yes: This is deliberate.

(Yes, it's also a day or so late, sorry.)

I spent the latter half of 2007 banging on about this band to anyone who cared (and probably lots of people who didn't), and so I thought I'd foolishly attempt to convey in words just how brilliant a record this is. It was my favourite of last year by a long shot, and will probably rank highly among my favourites of all time for years to come.

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Battles are a band who've seen much critical acclaim for their debut full-length, Mirrored: But when it comes to the perception of the general public, it was perhaps inevitable they would not fair so well. If you're one of those who only knows the band for 'that smurf song', then my ramblings probably aren't going to change your mind. But if you're willing to take a chance on them then your reward will be some of the richest, most interesting music being produced today.

'Race: In' is the perfect introduction to the band: Based on a skittering, infectious drumbeat, cascades of guitars and synths wash over each other to create a rich musical tapestry. It's like one of those paintings you might regard with an "I could do that..." attitude when browsing a modern art gallery - at first glance, it might seem slapdash and meaningless, but then you realise you're kidding yourself: You couldn't have created this in your wildest dreams. The effortless tempo changes, the way that contrasting ideas somehow fit so seamlessly together, the fact that this is the sound of four brilliant musical minds working as one: This is not your average band.

And then there's 'Atlas': The record's defining moment, it's a 7-minute romp through futurist sea-shanty beats, squelchy, gurgling synths, noisy guitar stabs, and the most infectiously twisted vocal heard throughout the whole of 2007. This is the kind of song that just makes you want to dance, oblivious as to whether or not everyone else is dancing along to the same rhythm as you (and given the complexity on display here, it's quite possible that they're not). The only thing that could possibly make this track better is if Tyondai was, in fact, singing "Sing this hook!" as the record's warped chorus vocal, like some sort of ironic commentary on lyric writing (it's actually "The singer is a crook," according to the band). Although the phrase "The chorus doesn't matter," does feature in the song and neatly sums up an essential truth about Battles: Namely, that the voice is used here like any other instrument, to be moulded and shaped as part of a wider vision, however the band see fit. 

Indeed, we see this idea return on 'Ddiamondd'. This time, the vocals are sped up to match the song's frenetic pace as it barrels furiously towards its conclusion, creating a relentless pace without ever descending into total chaos. Then 'Tonto' returns things to 'epic' mode, with drums that drive steadily as guitars and synths weave an intricate web across an imaginary musical canvas, with an implacable bassline as the backdrop.

'Leyendecker', meanwhile, is a three-minute slice of post-hip-hop, with a killer drumbeat that's almost begging to be sampled by the Timbalands and Neptunes of the world. Once again demonstrating the 'voice as an instrument' concept, Tyondai's vocal is twisted into a helium-inflicted diva wail, while guitars echo menacingly in the background. Album centerpoint 'Rainbow', on the other hand, tumbles thrillingly over itself, almost like the band is slowly gathering speed after being pushed down a hill. The momentum builds and builds, and then suddenly the song hits a fake-ending comedown halfway through, before picking itself up, dusting itself down, battering the hell out of what's left of its instruments, and then staggering away in a woozy, incomprehensible daze.

It's not quite all killer, with 'Bad Trails' being the album's only slight mis-step: While its brooding guitar line and ambient rainforest noises do just enough to keep it interesting, it lacks the progressive inventiveness demonstrated on so many other tracks. Happily, it's followed by the album's snappiest two numbers: 'Prismism' sees the record stumble out of the rainforest of the previous track and into some sort of futuristic tribal ritual, while 'Snare Hanger' is a two-minute blast of taut, intense drumming, jerky guitars and spiralling synths.

'Tij' is the last of the band's epic moments, crunching into existence with looped synth feedback before piling on riff after riff, constantly moving on to new ideas in a giddy fit of self-discovery. There's so much going on, and yet the track never threatens to buckle under the weight of its own ideas, which is testament to the sheer quality of musicianship on display here. Finally, 'Race: Out' provides closure as only Battles know how: Relentless drumming and question/answer guitar riffs slowly fade out in a way that seems to lead perfectly back to 'Race: In', subconsciously demanding that you press the repeat button.

I couldn't help but laugh when NME described Mirrored as "music to offend boring people" in their end-of-year top 50 last year, and yet I'm also a little saddened by the fact there might actually be a shred of truth in that statement. It might just be me wanting to project my tastes on others, but it does upset me when people don't 'get' this record: It isn't supposed to be offensive, it's supposed to be fun. Battles are a band who make music journalism feel like a futile effort in the best way possible: No amount of words can adequately convey the raw thrill of listening to their music, whether it be for the first time or the hundredth. All that's left to say is that you should at the very least give this album a listen - and if you find yourself even the tiniest bit interested enough to go back and give it another play, then it's entirely possible that you'll find yourself hooked very soon.

#13: Buzzcocks - Another Music In A Different Kitchen (1978)

1. Fast Cars
2. No Reply
3. You Tear Me Up
4. Get On Your Own
5. Love Battery
6. Sixteen
7. I Don't Mind
8. Fiction Romance
9. Autonomy
10. I Need
11. Moving Away From The Pulsebeat
12. Orgasm Addict*
13. Whatever Happened To...?*
14. What Do I Get?*
15. Oh Shit*

(Note: Tracks marked with a * only appeared on the CD re-issue of the album.)

I saw a reformed (well, sort of - only two of the members were in the original lineup) Buzzcocks live supporting Maxïmo Park at the end of 2007 and really wasn't very impressed. This lead me to get into a rather stupid argument with someone about the band, in which I claimed that they only had one memorable song (hint: It's not on this record) and that I'd rather go watch Battles any day. This review is, in essence, an attempt to challenge my preconceptions about the band - or, perhaps, see them justified...

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The word Buzzcocks, much to the band's chagrin, is perhaps just as likely to recall the music-based BBC gameshow as the band themselves. A sign, perhaps, that the band failed to leave as much of a lasting impression on the punk scene as some of their contemporaries? On this evidence, I'm beginning to think that may well be the case.

Things actually start out reasonably promisingly with 'Fast Cars', with the kind of trademark punk guitar thrash and raw intensity that could almost take you back to a riotous show in some dive in 1978, while Shelly sneers "I hate fast cars!" his voice a mixture of distaste and envy. Follow-up 'No Reply' buzzes along pleasingly enough, but then things start to go downhill from there. The songs feel like more and more like they're only based on a singular riff that quickly becomes repetitive, and they begin to outstay their welcome despite lasting less than two and a half minutes each. This comes to a head on 'Sixteen', where the band's decision to stretch the song's turgid riff out to nearly four minutes seems utterly ill-advised: I couldn't help but end up agreeing with Shelley's when he says "They go on and on and on and on, oh I wish they would stop!"... but for all the wrong reasons.

Ironically, just as the album threatens to spin itself into sickening repetition, 'I Don't Mind' comes along to save some face by injecting some poppy sensibilities, almost acting as a precursor to their most famous hit. But then it goes and shoots itself in the foot again with 'Fiction Romance', which starts out promisingly with a driving riff but again feels at least a minute longer than it needs to be. And then, like the musical equivalent of a guinea pig, it repeats its own mistake on the very next track, 'Autonomy'.

But let's step away from the limitations of the punk sound and have a listen to what the band are actually saying. Unfortunately, unlike their more politically-charged peers, their message is a little more shallow. Not that that's necessarily a bad thing, and there are certainly some sentiments that are easy to relate to (not least "I wish I was sixteen again!"), but the album sometimes feels like little more than brattish moaning, with Shelly's half-sung, half-spoken vocals veering haphazardly between searing wit and a grating whine.

After 'I Need' speeds by with little consequence, the band unleash their final attempt at a song longer than three minutes on us: The seven-minute running time of 'Moving Away From The Pulsebeat' looks like a nightmare on paper, but turns out not to be too bad... for the first three and a half minutes or so, and then the song once again starts to drag. Mercifully, it cuts out into silence after about five minutes... and then starts up again with what sounds like a reprise of 'Fast Cars', before disappearing up its own arse in a series of echoey beeps in a truly bizarre moment.

Taking the tracks from the re-issue into account almost feels a little bit like cheating, but regardless there's a little bit of face saved in the forms of 'Orgasm Addict' and 'Oh Shit' - with the latter feeling like a belated realisation from the band that they're at their best when their songs clock in at less than two minutes.

I tried to like this album, and I'll be honest, I really wanted to hate it too. But I ended up being able to do neither, with the album inspiring little more than the very same boredom that it feels like it was conceived as an escape from. These are the kind of songs that get stuck in your head - but in an annoying way that means you end up with the same 5 seconds looping maddeningly around your brain, over and over again. These songs probably sounded amazing in some sweaty basement club in the late 70's, but now they feel mostly dated and forgettable - not what you'd hope for from an ostensibly 'legendary' band. So when punk becomes boring and the 'legends' are all too easily forgotten, all that's left is the overwhelming question: What's the point?