#22: Mark Ronson - Version (2007)

1. God Put A Smile Upon Your Face (Coldplay)
2. Oh My God (Kaiser Chiefs)
3. Stop Me (The Smiths)
4. Toxic (Britney Spears)
5. Valerie (The Zutons)
6. Apply Some Pressure (Maxïmo Park)
7. Inversion
8. Pretty Green (The Jam)
9. Just (Radiohead)
10. AMY (Ryan Adams)
11. The Only One I Know (The Charlatans)
12. Diversion
13. L.S.F. (Kasabian)
14. Outversion

(Note: All songs except tracks 7, 12 and 14 are cover versions: Original artists in brackets.)

STOP ME, OH OH OH STOP ME: STOP ME IF YOU THINK THAT YOU'VE HEARD THIS ONE BEFORE.

Honestly, I never thought I'd review this album in a million years: This is one of those that I just started writing in my head and then felt the need to get out of bed and commit it to the internet. Turn back now, Ronson fans...

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Producer du jour Mark Ronson has a lot to answer for in many people's minds, and I'd count myself among them. An album of covers is a little fishy to begin with, and the swathe of guest vocalists only adds to the suspicion. "But he was working with Lily Allen and Santogold before they were cool, and Amy Winehouse before she was a total fuckup!" I hear you cry. "So what?" would be my response: Regardless of when and where its celebrity collaborations came about, an album lives and dies on its songs, or in this case, what it does to other people's.

Some tracks sound fine initially but don't hold up so well after you've listened to them for a while: Taking Coldplay's 'God Put A Smile Upon Your Face' and rearranging it for a brass band is admittedly charming at first, but grows less so with repeated listens. Similarly, the now infamous Amy Winehouse-featuring cover of The Zutons' 'Valerie' gave the plodding, overplayed original a much-needed kick up the arse, but would eventually suffer the same fate as its source material, with overexposure breeding contempt.

On the other hand, some of Version's covers are almost offensive in their pointlessness, seemingly based on half-baked ideas: "I know, let's take Radiohead's 'Just', replace some of the guitars with horns and add some 'soulful' crooning to it!" or even worse "Let's take Maxïmo Park's 'Apply Some Pressure' and turn it into an aimless piece of lounge jazz!" Ronson mercilessly strips these songs of every last ounce of impact they have, leaving them bland and lifeless - clearly the Radiohead cover only happened because EMI likes money, and what Paul Smith was thinking allowing his name to feature on the back of the album sleeve I'll never know. Kasabian suffer a similar ignominy later on in the record, and while 'L.S.F.' at least manages to maintain a sense of pace by leaving Tom Meighan's vocal largely untouched, it still feels tempered slightly, reaching for the anthemic status of the original only to end up falling short.

The album is rife with such terrible decisions - 'Toxic' doesn't, and never needed to be twice as long as it was, especially when the lengthening of the song is achieved by playing the song at half speed and adding superfluous rap sections - it makes the song feel like it's on tranquillisers. Equally criminal is Ronson's treatment of 'AMY', which takes the affecting simplicity of Ryan Adams' original and turns it into something that can only be described as 'generic'.

Sometimes the album comes up with a semi-interesting idea that falls flat in its execution: 'The Only One I Know' sees Robbie Williams attempting his best Tim Burgess impression, but the cover as a whole fails to add anything more than the slightest injection of pace to the song. Elsewhere, the Santogold-featuring 'Pretty Green' takes the raw energy of The Jam's original and bizarrely transforms it into some sort of Caribbean playground chant, which doesn't quite work.

The three original tracks don't really add much to the record either, merely providing some brief filler as a respite from the other atrocities on offer, as well as possibly serving as handy instrumental beds for DJs all over the country. Even these sound slightly derivative though - in particular, 'Diversion' somewhat reminds me of Bill Wither's 'Lovely Day'.

It's not all horrible, and the album does actually feature a couple of tracks that do what a good cover should - actually add something to the original, or at least provide a different take on it. Lily Allen's southern sass on 'Oh My God' provides a worthwhile counterpoint to Ricky Wilson's original northern wit, but the album's greatest triumph (well, relatively speaking) is Ronson's take on 'Stop Me': While it had fans of The Smiths sharpening their knives, it provided a decent alternative take on the moody pace of the original, turning it into a dark and echoy slice of soul. (The silver lining for Smiths fans is that it soon became 100% more credible to play the original when DJing.)

As a whole though, Version comes off as a limp effort, with the covers it offers being at best watered down and at worst mercilessly butchered in cold blood. But the true tragedy of this album is that, because of its accessibility, it's all too likely that these are the versions that many people will associate the song names with: And the thought that this record contains the only versions of 'Apply Some Pressure' or 'Just' that some people may ever have heard breaks my heart.

(P.S: Wikipedia reveals that Ronson has also recorded versions of 'Pistol Of Fire' by Kings Of Leon and 'No One Knows' by Queens Of The Stone Age. And I'm quite sure that I never, ever want to hear either of them.)

#21: Arctic Monkeys - Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not (2006)

1. The View From The Afternoon
2. I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor
3. Fake Tales Of San Francisco
4. Dancing Shoes
5. You Probably Couldn't See For The Lights But You Were Staring Straight At Me
6. Still Take You Home
7. Riot Van
8. Red Light Indicates Doors Are Secured
9. Mardy Bum
10. Perhaps Vampires Is A Bit Strong But...
11. When The Sun Goes Down
12. From The Ritz To The Rubble
13. A Certain Romance

I think this speaks for itself really.

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Ah, 2005. I was lucky enough to catch Arctic Monkeys when their shows used to sell out in days rather than minutes, shortly before a little song called 'I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor' ram-raided the British public's consciousness and saw four guys from Sheffield become British music's next great hope. It's still ubiquitous on dancefloors throughout the country (and probably the world), the combination of guitar-thrashing intensity and pop-culture referencing lyrics making it both an instant and lasting hit. By the time January 2006 had rolled round, the hype had built to ridiculous levels, and with it came a massive weight of expectation on the band's debut album, Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not.

But let's step back from that a little. Opening the album is 'The View From The Afternoon', a song that would eventually become a pseudo-single as the lead track of the Who The Fuck Are Arctic Monkeys? EP. Beginning with a blast of guitar that's as raw as its lyrics are razor sharp, it serves well as a statement of intent and an introduction to the band's world. Not that a statement of intent was necessary: That had come even before 'Dancefloor' with the one-two punch of limited early release Five Minutes With Arctic Monkeys. The first hit was the scenester-baiting 'Fake Tales Of San Francisco', mixing a funky bounce with scathing put-downs of sub-par wannabes. The follow-up was 'From The Ritz To The Rubble': Positioned brilliantly here as the penultimate track, it sees Turner spitting lines like some hyperactive Yorkshire MC railing against cuntish bouncers.

Indeed, many of the songs here were already familiar to legions of loyal fans who'd downloaded demos of them that were freely available on the internet. But the raw potential of those demos was fully realised on the album. 'Dancing Shoes' and 'Still Take You Home' get additional sonic punch, while 'When The Sun Goes Down' was beefed up into the form that would see it become the band's second number one hit. For me, however, perennial fan favourite 'Mardy Bum' has lost a little of its lustre due to overexposure: But try telling that to everyone who's still chanting along to the song before Turner's even started singing.

The band weren't so caught up in the whirlwind of hype that they didn't have time to write a riposte to the sneering naysayers who never thought they'd get off the ground: 'Perhaps Vampires Is A Bit Strong But...' sees Turner's barbed lyrics matched with weighty, distorted guitars to provide one of the album's darker moments. There were other new tracks too: 'You Probably Couldn't See For The Lights But You Were Staring Straight At Me' barrels through a tale of a girl who's got the whole club wrapped around her finger, while 'Red Light Indicates Doors Are Secured' details the recollections and regrets of a night out during the taxi ride home.

And it's the snappy, observational lyricism of Arctic Monkeys that's the real draw. Turner speaks simply but poetically in words that everyone can related to: Drunken texts in 'The View From The Afternoon' ("...and there's verse and chapter sat in her inbox, and all that it says is that you drank a lot."), extortionate taxi fares in 'Red Light Indicates Doors Are Secured' ("How come it's already two pound fifty? We've only gone about a yard."),  the blurred haze of the morning after in 'From The Ritz To The Rubble' ("Last night what we talked about, it made so much sense... but now the haze has ascended it don't make no sense anymore.") -  even on 'Riot Van', the album's sole 'slow' number, the lyricism holds up (And up rolled the riot van, and these lads just wind the coppers up... they ask why they don't catch proper crooks). It's all wrapped up neatly on final track and perennial set-closer 'A Certain Romance': It's a neat summation of the world the band live in, and unsurprisingly it's a world that's familiar to anyone who's lived in (or even just visited) the streets of Britain in recent years. I could go on and on about the lines that bring out a smile, a laugh, or an appreciative wince in me, but I'll spare you - you can listen to the album yourself for that. 

Some fail to see the appeal of Arctic Monkeys, or struggle to understand what makes them stand out from the crop of observational indie bands that seem to permeate the genre, while others decry them as 'overhyped NME bollocks'. And as the demo swappers and early gig goers will tell you, it's simply the following: Witty lyrics that are both well written and well delivered, and songs that hook you from the first listen with an undeniable catchiness. It's not rocket science, and it never claimed to be - Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not is just a fantastic debut record by a really fucking good band - and that's what they are, even if you say they're not.

#20: Crystal Castles - Crystal Castles (2008)

1. Untrust Us
2. Alice Practice
3. Crimewave (Crystal Castles VS Health)
4. Magic Spells
5. Xxzxcuzx Me
6. Air War
7. Courtship Dating
8. Good Time
9. 1991
10. Vanished
11. Knights
12. Love And Caring
13. Through The Hosiery
14. Reckless
15. Black Panther
16. Tell Me What To Swallow

HEY GUYS I JUST DISCOVERED THIS REALLY COOL BAND CALLED CRYSTAL CASTLES oh wait what.

Joking about the hilarious belatedness of this review aside, this album took a while to grow on me, but I like it more every time I listen to it. For all the hype and controversy that's surrounded them, they've produced a damn good record.

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Although Crystal Castles have tended to distance themselves from the chiptune scene in interviews, there's no denying that their sound recalls those classic Atari/Nintendo/Sega blips and bleeps. 'Untrust Us' sounds like an epic journey across an 8-bit landscape, narrated in infectious gibberish - complete with an incongruous 2-second guitar thrash at the end to throw off inattentive DJs. Elsewhere, 'Courtship Dating' features menacing synths that sound like the haunted house level from your favourite 80's video game, while Alice threatens to "Make you cry tears of pain" like some sort of sadistic cheerleader - 'Through The Hosiery' thinks along similar lines, with Alice's echoy vocals questioning "How does it feel when you can't feel nothing?". Appropriately enough, '1991' and 'Reckless' would slot neatly into the soundtrack of many a Mega Drive game (I'm thinking Streets Of Rage in particular).

Of course, the band are renowned for their incendiary live shows, which is where their vicious streak comes into play. After the soothing intro of 'Untrust Us', 'Alice Practice' is a shock to the system, an abrasive mix of distorted yelps, thumping beats and malfunctioning Gameboy sounds, while 'Xxzxcuzx Me' sees Alice screaming garbled death threats over the sound of an arcade machine having an epileptic fit. Also fitting into this category is the controversial 'Love And Caring', with its drumbeats apparently stolen from a chiptune artist named Covox - regardless, it's another assault on the senses that once again sees Alice shrieking viciously.

The band do, however, make more relaxed sounds too: 'Magic Spells' is 6 minutes of spaced-out, 8-bit chillout, 'Air War' burbles along pleasantly with Alice's vocals distorted in an almost babyish manner, and 'Good Time' almost makes the synths sound... happy?

Crystal Castles have also gained a reputation as remixers, and their version of 'Crimewave' appears on the record, masterfully transforming the raw intensity of labelmates Health into a glassy-eyed stare before spiraling off into the pounding drumbeats of the original. Elsewhere, 'Vanished' samples the vocals Van She's 'Sex City', layering them over cold, lonely sounding synths to sublime effect. It's the closest they come to a standard dance track - albeit one that sounds like Pong being played in an echo chamber, and one that's light years ahead of your average Saturday night floor-filler.

The album ends strongly, with some of the best tracks saved until last: 'Black Panther' takes us on a heady rush through a twilit cityscape, like the soundtrack to some lonely, desperate attempt to escape from... something. Finally, 'Tell Me What To Swallow' eschews the synths that permeate the rest of the record entirely, consisting of Alice singing a creepy, ethereal lullaby over a fragile acoustic guitar strum. It's an indication that the band don't want to be put in an Atari-shaped box, and in my opinion it's also one of the best tracks on the album.

The genius of Crystal Castles is how they somehow conjure up emotion from the most artificial of sounds. The vocals lend a human edge to the even the coldest of computerised beats, but at their best ('Untrust Us', 'Vanished', 'Black Panther') the blips and bleeps take on a life of their own. Sure, as an album it's perhaps a little overloaded - it could be a couple of tracks shorter and few would bat an eyelid, and the more abrasive moments can begin to grate after a while. But that shouldn't put a downer on the high points, so just pick and choose your favourite moments and leave it at that: The band are probably already in search of new ways to make unexpectedly emotional noise, so where they go from here is anyone's guess.

#19: Coldplay - Viva La Vida or Death And All His Friends (2008)

1. Life In Technicolor
2. Cemeteries Of London
3. Lost!
4. 42
5. Lovers In Japan/Reign Of Love
6. Yes
7. Viva La Vida
8. Violet Hill
9. Strawberry Swing
10. Death And All His Friends

Someone suggested that I rename this blog ‘An Album Every (Update) Day’. I’m seriously considering it. Anyway, here’s a month-late review of the new Coldplay record – I don’t really need to elaborate on that one do I?

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Coldplay are arguably a band with little to lose – with household-name status already well assured, their EMI bankrollers declared their fourth album ‘the most important record of the year’ (and I don’t think they mean musically). With the record’s success almost guaranteed, it only seemed reasonable for the band to take the opportunity to experiment with their sound a little.

From the upbeat opening bars of ‘Life In Technicolor’ it’s clear that Coldplay want to do things differently: After being told it would be perfect single material, the band stripped the vocals from it, leaving it as their very own stadium show introduction piece. From there, the album delves into more expansive territory, with ‘Cemeteries Of London’ contrasting shimmering guitars and echoy vocals with tribal beats, the overall sound being haunting while still maintaining a sense of drive. ‘Lost!’ meanwhile, sees the band continuing to think ‘stadium-sized’, re-imagining the beat from Queen’s ‘We Will Rock You’ and layering it with grandiose organs, ghostly choral sounds and an ever so slightly distorted guitar solo.

The band then demonstrate that they aren’t afraid to mix the old with the new. At first, ‘42’ seems like a return to classic Coldplay ballad form a la ‘Trouble’, albeit fleshed out with luscious strings. But then it changes to the sound Coldplay… rocking out? Granted, it’s probably the politest rock-out you’ll ever hear, but the guitars have the kind of edge we haven’t really heard from the band since ‘Shiver’.

In some sort of attempt to subvert the music industry (read: iTunes), the band have taken to combining two songs into one track. The only one of these that’s listed as such is ‘Lovers In Japan/Reign Of Love’, and unfortunately as a value for money proposition it’s fairly poor: While the upbeat piano of ‘Lovers In Japan’ is pleasantly satisfying, ‘Reign Of Love’ falls a little flat by contrast, consisting largely of Martin’s vocals being washed over by piano that’s watery even by Coldplay’s standards.

Much better is ‘Yes’, which sees Martin challenging himself by tackling the lower reaches of his vocal range, while the track is laced with strings that dart between Middle-Eastern influenced dramatics and the kind of atonal sounds that John Cale would be proud of. But then, four minutes in, the track seamlessly changes to a mini shoegaze-lite anthem that’s awash with harmonious guitars and ethereal vocals. And so in the space of eight minutes, the band have touched on both My Bloody Valentine and The Velvet Underground – remember that this is Coldplay we’re talking about, and it’s clear we’ve come a long way since ‘Yellow’.

For me, no track demonstrates this more than the titular ‘Viva La Vida’. Essentially, it’s the sound of modern dance music if someone had invented it during the renaissance: Stabbing strings instead of synths, church bells instead of cowbells, lyrics about kings and revolutionaries – ‘Rhythm Is A Dancer’ this ain’t (it is, however, utterly huge and easily the album’s biggest standout). Following this up is ‘Violet Hill’, which features guitars with the kind of distorted crunch that we’ve never heard from the band before, brilliantly combined with the sort of simply affecting sentiment that got them here in the first place: “If you love me, why’d you let me go?”

From here, the album threatens to go out with a whimper rather than a bang, with ‘Strawberry Swing’ being a hazy, doe-eyed hippy jaunt that seems to want to bring back Flower Power more than anything else. And so it’s up to ‘Death And All His Friends’ to provide the ‘bang’, and after a couple of minutes of sleepy balladry and piano buildup it finally decides to reappropriate the guitars from ‘Fix You’ and make a leap for ‘life-affirming anthem’ status, succeeding admirably with a chant of “I don’t wanna follow death and all of his friends!”

…but then the band decide they should end on a calmer note after all, reprising the shimmering synths from the start of ‘Life In Technicolor’ while Martin sings gently over the top. Either they’re trying to get their fans to subconsciously press repeat, or they’ve already accepted that a lot of people who are going to buy this record are going to have it on repeat for weeks anyway – so they might as well make it flow effortlessly from end to beginning (as well as from beginning to end).

However, for all the band’s attempts to push their sonic template in new directions, Viva La Vida or Death And All His Friends still sounds undeniably like a Coldplay record. This can largely be attributed to Martin’s distinctive vocals, which have been a defining feature of the band from day one: Whether or not this is a positive or a negative for you depends on what you thought of the band’s previous material. Indeed, it’s probably already separated those who eagerly bought the record on the day it came out from those who regarded it with a disdainful sneer and wouldn’t touch it with a barge pole. Which is a shame really: Whether or not this is the band’s ‘best’ record is up for debate, but it’s certainly their most interesting in terms of new ideas – perhaps Coldplay’s critics ought to give the band another chance.