Well hello, Band of Horses. It's been a while. Too long for some, if the deafening round of applause that greets the arrival of the Seattle six piece is anything to judge by. Newcastle's prestigious O2 Academy may not be sold out this evening but it certainly feels like it and there's little doubt that our favourite alt-rock-cum-Americana-folksters (okay, so perhaps that's a bit over the top) are rather stoked about this fact. Cheesy grins and awestruck exclamations are the order of the day for the snazzily-dressed noisemakers and consequently, the ninety minutes we share in their company are characterised by one thing only: the determination to have some fun.
Yes, Band of Horses are here to have a gosh-darned-it good time and they want you to share the experience. Sure, their music may lapse more often than not into melancholia and it's not as if any of the songs they deign to unleash on us this evening would go down particularly well at parties, but what the hey, let's stamp our feet, shake our heads and bellow the words like this is Muse at Wembley Stadium. Or something equally as spine-tingling. How hard can it be? Too hard for Newcastle, apparently. For all this is a resolutely attentive and considerably devoted crowd, there's barely a hint of movement for the majority of the set. Instead, the good folk of this most acclaimed of 'party cities' prefer to keep their feet firmly on the ground, their eyes focused squarely on the stage and their minds free of anything that might allow the music to animate them. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, of course; there's no question that everyone here is having a wail of a time, but it does leave the whole experience feeling a little staid. The general ignorance doesn't help matters: if it isn't from 'Cease To Begin', the Geordies haven't a clue, which leads Ben to request that 'if anyone knows the words to any of these, just let us know' around six songs in.
This disappointment is only momentary, however. Band of Horses's skillful command of the stage quickly allows all thoughts of the audience's failings to fitter away to nothing and attention turns to the powerful depth of emotion inherent in their performance. The 'Infinite Arms' numbers nail introspection, Ben joining Tyler for an achingly tender run through 'Evening Kitchen' (pity some 'dildo', as Ben describes him, almost ruins it by shouting throughout the song). 'Cigarettes, Wedding Bands' and 'The Funeral' rock like absolute bastards, building and building to their inevitable crescendos and exploding in a shower of deliciously fuzzy guitar haze, the likes of which were last seen when The Arcade Fire shot their load all over the main stage at Glastonbury.
And then, of course, there's 'Is There A Ghost?' - met with the loudest singalong of the evening and matching all our expectations, glistening with intensity - and 'No One's Gonna Love You', cracked, broken, imperfect and just plain brilliant. Eyes are shut, fists are clenched, arms are flung around lovers and tears fall down the faces of the broken hearted as Newcastle finally allows itself a moment of untempered enjoyment. If Band of Horses have a legacy, it will surely be the remarkable honesty and resonance of this song, their 'It's My Own Cheating Heart...', their 'Don't Look Back In Anger', their 'Hallelujah'. The gig is much more than these three minutes but they encapsulate the band's genius more effectively than any two bit cliche we could hope to muster up.
There's little doubt that tonight's 23 song soiree is a resounding success (and yes, that even takes into account the static shots of trees, animals and suburban vistas that make up the visuals) but then, when you're presented with a group of individuals with the depth of talent on display here, it would be churlish to expect anything less. The jury's still out on the audience - attentiveness is great sure, but a little animation wouldn't go amiss - but then, that's Newcastle's problem. Band of Horses gave this city every last weapon in their impressive arsenal and that, my friends, is all we really need.
Saturday 29 January 2011
Review: This Familiar Smile (Head of Steam, Newcastle, 24/01/11)
The Head of Steam isn't exactly the most forgiving of venues. Crammed into the back of an all-too-minute shoebox of a room, bands tend to find themselves faced with one of two less than desirable situations: overbearing indifference, wherein a handful of punters stand so far away from the makeshift stage area that they're invisible to the naked eye, or, as is the case on this most bitter of January evenings, the considerable crowd shoves its way to the front enthusiastically, and you're forced to play in their faces, making direct contact, looking into the whites of their eyes and realising that, yup, your fuck-ups are sodding unmissable. It's a terrifying thought and one that would perturb even the most consummate of professionals. It's testament to the steadfast brilliance of This Familiar Smile's blistering live show that it doesn't faze them one bit.
Tonight, the Ayrshire four piece are positively gargantuan; in the face of unprecedented, demanding devotion (check out the hecklers, howlers and the downright insane boys and girls who make up the first few rows), they harness as much energy as their youthful bodies can muster, launching themselves and their instruments head-first into a thrillingly chaotic haze of distortion, aggression and mind-boggingly sporadic tempo changes. Passion seems to ooze from every pore in lead singer David Samson's diminutive body; he screams, snarls and throws shapes throughout the blink-and-you'll-miss-it thirty minute set, taking out all his frustration on the venue's poor microphone and his own battered and bruised guitar. More often than not, he's bent double over the well-worn instrument, thrashing relentlessly at a speed previously unbeknownst to man, letting the music swallow him whole.
And what music. This evening's performance is cut primarily from debut release 'Ribbons, Regards and the More Machine', one of 2010's independent highlights, and consequently, there is a distinctly edgy undercurrent to events. Opener 'How The Conversation Started' sets the tone perfectly, amalgamating shards of scattershot post-punk, prototypical Scottish rock 'n' roll (think Twin Atlantic), early noughties/late nineties emo - you know, the kind that's actually listenable, a la 'Your Favorite Weapon' - and, most importantly, both the ethos and the sound of math rock. Yes, you read that right folks: the genre most commonly associated with such indie luminaries as Foals and Battles is right here, mixed suitably well into This Familiar Smile's delicious melting pot, giving them the extra ingredient needed to set them apart from their peers. Songs change rhythm without warning; tempo adjusts so often, you lose the ability to keep any sort of time; and the conventional 'quiet-loud-quiet-loud' formula is reshaped into something far, far more invigorating.
And while this is undoubtedly the band's greatest strength, it is their ability to juxtapose such frantic unpredictability with moments of the most tender beauty that ensures they'll go far. 'More Machine's wonderful bonus track, the untitled end to '...And Other Short Stories', is two minutes and thirty seconds of paradoxically delectable heartbreak, a song positively drippimg with melancholy. David is left alone to pour his heart out, wrenching each line from the deep, dark denizens of his gut, loading the lyrics with meaning. There's a rapturous round of applause once he's finished - almost a standing ovation - and it's undeniably well deserved.
Don't let the moniker fool you: there's very little familiar about This Familiar Smile. Their music draws from myriad influences, sure, and you might be able to catch a snippet of Brand New here and a glimpse of Biffy Clyro there but for the most part, these guys make their curious blend of punk, thrash, emo and math rock their own, and do so with style, panache and a healthy dose of impassioned aggression. The Head of Steam may be unforgiving but TFS are unrelenting and at the end of the day, that makes them pretty darn unforgettable.
Tonight, the Ayrshire four piece are positively gargantuan; in the face of unprecedented, demanding devotion (check out the hecklers, howlers and the downright insane boys and girls who make up the first few rows), they harness as much energy as their youthful bodies can muster, launching themselves and their instruments head-first into a thrillingly chaotic haze of distortion, aggression and mind-boggingly sporadic tempo changes. Passion seems to ooze from every pore in lead singer David Samson's diminutive body; he screams, snarls and throws shapes throughout the blink-and-you'll-miss-it thirty minute set, taking out all his frustration on the venue's poor microphone and his own battered and bruised guitar. More often than not, he's bent double over the well-worn instrument, thrashing relentlessly at a speed previously unbeknownst to man, letting the music swallow him whole.
And what music. This evening's performance is cut primarily from debut release 'Ribbons, Regards and the More Machine', one of 2010's independent highlights, and consequently, there is a distinctly edgy undercurrent to events. Opener 'How The Conversation Started' sets the tone perfectly, amalgamating shards of scattershot post-punk, prototypical Scottish rock 'n' roll (think Twin Atlantic), early noughties/late nineties emo - you know, the kind that's actually listenable, a la 'Your Favorite Weapon' - and, most importantly, both the ethos and the sound of math rock. Yes, you read that right folks: the genre most commonly associated with such indie luminaries as Foals and Battles is right here, mixed suitably well into This Familiar Smile's delicious melting pot, giving them the extra ingredient needed to set them apart from their peers. Songs change rhythm without warning; tempo adjusts so often, you lose the ability to keep any sort of time; and the conventional 'quiet-loud-quiet-loud' formula is reshaped into something far, far more invigorating.
And while this is undoubtedly the band's greatest strength, it is their ability to juxtapose such frantic unpredictability with moments of the most tender beauty that ensures they'll go far. 'More Machine's wonderful bonus track, the untitled end to '...And Other Short Stories', is two minutes and thirty seconds of paradoxically delectable heartbreak, a song positively drippimg with melancholy. David is left alone to pour his heart out, wrenching each line from the deep, dark denizens of his gut, loading the lyrics with meaning. There's a rapturous round of applause once he's finished - almost a standing ovation - and it's undeniably well deserved.
Don't let the moniker fool you: there's very little familiar about This Familiar Smile. Their music draws from myriad influences, sure, and you might be able to catch a snippet of Brand New here and a glimpse of Biffy Clyro there but for the most part, these guys make their curious blend of punk, thrash, emo and math rock their own, and do so with style, panache and a healthy dose of impassioned aggression. The Head of Steam may be unforgiving but TFS are unrelenting and at the end of the day, that makes them pretty darn unforgettable.
Sunday 23 January 2011
Review: Twin Atlantic (w/Stagecoach, Live Lounge, Durham, 21/01/11)
Compare and contrast: roughly one year ago - give or take a few weeks - Twin Atlantic were sweating their internal organs out in The Other Rooms, just up the road in neighbouring (well, sorta) Newcastle, watching 200-or-so rabid punters hurling themselves at the world's smallest stage, not giving a rat's ass about the well being of themselves or anyone else around them. The resultant melee was thrilling, a cyclone of untethered, erratic energy that you just couldn't help but get swept up in.
Tonight, however, there's an altogether different story being told. Rather than some intimate pressure cooker, we have a cavernous, imposing former theatre; in place of the piss-stained, flaking walls, there are overpowering video screens and instead of 200 sweaty lunatics looking for a good time, we have 150 casual observers (wrapped comfortably in their coats and scarves to fight off the unfathomable draft that sweeps through the venue), content to let the music wash over them rather than drum up any sort of response to it. There are pockets of resistance to this indifference: a handful of devotees, determined to attack the discordant guitars and sporadic rhythms with every muscle in their scrawny bodies, but they number few and in this former Walkabout (yes, you read that right), their power is seriously diminished.
It's a shame really, as both Twin Atlantic and refreshingly bizarre support Stagecoach (terrible name mind, guys) are on fire this evening, making every conceivable effort to whip their audience into some semblance of activity. Stagecoach's preference is to leap from the elevated stage into the pit, forcing Durham to sit up and pay attention. They're a decidedly curious bunch, decked out in Diana Vickers T-shirts and all-too-short short shorts, playing a peculiar brand of off-kilter power pop, and while there are some questionable lyrical moments - the song that rhymes 'freezer' with 'pizza' is of particular note - their arresting eccentricity carries them through. Unfortunately, they're a little kooky for the cool kids in the crowd, and Durham remains steadfastly perplexed when they hand their mandolin to one check-shirted punter at the end of the set, who promptly does absolutely nothing with it. Give that thing to the lunatics in Newcastle and it would've been smashed into a hundred pieces in five minutes.
Perhaps agitated by this indifference, Twin Atlantic try their damnedest to provoke a reaction, coming out with all guns blazing, tearing current single 'Edit Me' a new one, turning up the volume and obliterating everyone's eardrums in the process. To be fair, a few are won over, prompting the occasional flurry of activity, but for the most part, folded arms and politely nodding heads are the order of the day; yes, even when Sam McTrusty implores Durham to do better than this on a Friday night, insulting us all in a semi-sorta-round-about-kinda way. Still, there comes a point at which even the most ardent and wizened of showmen must admit defeat and just let the music speak for itself which, thankfully, even in this all-too-gargantuan venue, it does expertly.
Sensibly, this is a 'Vivarium'-heavy set, punctuated with the occasional newbie - all deliciously loud and frighteningly aggressive - and the requisite ancient tracks for the dedicated (you probably know the drill by now: the intense 'A Guidance From Colour', the beautiful 'Crashland'). The singles are all here in earnest: 'Lightspeed' stands tall, its cascade of mighty guitars towering over our heads; 'You're Turning Into John Wayne' is full of bile, hissing and spitting at a nameless target; 'Audience and Audio' is a behemoth of punk aggression and 'Human After All' and 'What Is Light? Where Is Laughter?' rock like a couple of drunken bastards at a Slayer after-show. 'Caribbean War Syndrome' is the unquestionable highlight, however, managing to sound even more epic than on record, taking Durham on a roller coaster ride of thrills, spills and juxtapositions, careering along at a breakneck pace, ready to fall apart one minute and offering moments of tenderest beauty the next. It's a work of unquestionable genius, a song so ridiculously amazing that you want to crawl inside it and set up home, and tonight, Twin Atlantic do every last millisecond justice.
There's little doubt, therefore, that these guys are now absolute masters of their craft, having transformed into a well-oiled, highly accomplished live act. It's just a shame that Durham couldn't get itself a little more excited by that fact. Throw 'em in the Fishtank next time and let the devotees show 'em how it's done.
Tonight, however, there's an altogether different story being told. Rather than some intimate pressure cooker, we have a cavernous, imposing former theatre; in place of the piss-stained, flaking walls, there are overpowering video screens and instead of 200 sweaty lunatics looking for a good time, we have 150 casual observers (wrapped comfortably in their coats and scarves to fight off the unfathomable draft that sweeps through the venue), content to let the music wash over them rather than drum up any sort of response to it. There are pockets of resistance to this indifference: a handful of devotees, determined to attack the discordant guitars and sporadic rhythms with every muscle in their scrawny bodies, but they number few and in this former Walkabout (yes, you read that right), their power is seriously diminished.
It's a shame really, as both Twin Atlantic and refreshingly bizarre support Stagecoach (terrible name mind, guys) are on fire this evening, making every conceivable effort to whip their audience into some semblance of activity. Stagecoach's preference is to leap from the elevated stage into the pit, forcing Durham to sit up and pay attention. They're a decidedly curious bunch, decked out in Diana Vickers T-shirts and all-too-short short shorts, playing a peculiar brand of off-kilter power pop, and while there are some questionable lyrical moments - the song that rhymes 'freezer' with 'pizza' is of particular note - their arresting eccentricity carries them through. Unfortunately, they're a little kooky for the cool kids in the crowd, and Durham remains steadfastly perplexed when they hand their mandolin to one check-shirted punter at the end of the set, who promptly does absolutely nothing with it. Give that thing to the lunatics in Newcastle and it would've been smashed into a hundred pieces in five minutes.
Perhaps agitated by this indifference, Twin Atlantic try their damnedest to provoke a reaction, coming out with all guns blazing, tearing current single 'Edit Me' a new one, turning up the volume and obliterating everyone's eardrums in the process. To be fair, a few are won over, prompting the occasional flurry of activity, but for the most part, folded arms and politely nodding heads are the order of the day; yes, even when Sam McTrusty implores Durham to do better than this on a Friday night, insulting us all in a semi-sorta-round-about-kinda way. Still, there comes a point at which even the most ardent and wizened of showmen must admit defeat and just let the music speak for itself which, thankfully, even in this all-too-gargantuan venue, it does expertly.
Sensibly, this is a 'Vivarium'-heavy set, punctuated with the occasional newbie - all deliciously loud and frighteningly aggressive - and the requisite ancient tracks for the dedicated (you probably know the drill by now: the intense 'A Guidance From Colour', the beautiful 'Crashland'). The singles are all here in earnest: 'Lightspeed' stands tall, its cascade of mighty guitars towering over our heads; 'You're Turning Into John Wayne' is full of bile, hissing and spitting at a nameless target; 'Audience and Audio' is a behemoth of punk aggression and 'Human After All' and 'What Is Light? Where Is Laughter?' rock like a couple of drunken bastards at a Slayer after-show. 'Caribbean War Syndrome' is the unquestionable highlight, however, managing to sound even more epic than on record, taking Durham on a roller coaster ride of thrills, spills and juxtapositions, careering along at a breakneck pace, ready to fall apart one minute and offering moments of tenderest beauty the next. It's a work of unquestionable genius, a song so ridiculously amazing that you want to crawl inside it and set up home, and tonight, Twin Atlantic do every last millisecond justice.
There's little doubt, therefore, that these guys are now absolute masters of their craft, having transformed into a well-oiled, highly accomplished live act. It's just a shame that Durham couldn't get itself a little more excited by that fact. Throw 'em in the Fishtank next time and let the devotees show 'em how it's done.
Saturday 15 January 2011
Review: Pulled Apart By Horses (w/These Monsters and Young Legionnaire), The Cluny, 11/01/11
This isn't a gig, it's a bloc party in a lunatic asylum. Burly, balding blokes in skin-tight H&M T-shirts slam recklessly into scarf-wearing scene kids, sending their skinny asses flying into the Cluny's quaint Victorian brick walls or over the dangerously unprotected monitors at the foot of the stage, bruising a fair few ribcages and doubtless causing the put-upon sound guy to have a heart attack. And this, ladies and gents, is just during the support acts. Fellow Leeds noiseniks These Monsters set the tone for the evening, firing wave after wave of barbed, incomprehensible speed rock at an already agitated audience. Lead singer Samuel Pryor spits and snarls his way through a brusque set, making absolutely no sense whatsoever and flitting around the stage like a caged animal, full of nervous energy.
It's a thrilling ride, and is one that continues apace during semi-sorta-super-group (Gordon from Bloc Party's in 'em!) Young Legionnaire, whose weirdly sporadic sound - think Future of the Left fucking Minus the Bear's brains out - is intriguingly obtuse. Drums, guitar and bass rarely seem to work in tandem, instead playing off one another, keeping separate time, working to a different beat. The human anatomy doesn't really know how to respond to such schizophrenia; consequently, everyone just jumps around recklessly, keeping no discernable time, which in turn spurs the Legionnaires to up the ante and give Newcastle their all.
And so to Pulled Apart By Horses. Having been forced to cancel their November show at the last minute due to illness, the Leeds four piece are in high spirits this evening, making screwball wisecracks about 79p condoms made of sheepskin and remarking on the philosophical delights to be found in the Cluny toilets. None of this detracts from the music, however, as tonight Matthew, the Horses make just about the most invigorating angry white boy noise that it is possible to create with two guitars, one bass, a hefty drumkit and a few larynxes. The onslaught is unforgiving: 'Hey Buddy', 'Back to the Fuck Yeah', 'I Punched A Lion In The Throat'... one by one, they slay the hungry masses, belted out with unrelenting fury and unparalleled passion.
Newcastle responds in kind: bodies fly across the room, over-enthusiastic teens climb from floor to balcony and leap off, T-shirts, sweaters and hats are torn to pieces in a whirlwind of aggression, and around a third of the crowd manage to share the stage with the band, making it a clusterfuck of blood, sweat and adrenalin. To the latter, the Horses respond by pushing unsuspecting audience members floorwards, to make room for lead singer Tom Hudson's own foray into the crowd. It isn't long before he makes his escape, however, and soon enough, he's clambering over the balcony, falling onto tables while hammering his guitar, subjecting our ears to howls of violent feedback.
And if this isn't sufficiently thrilling, try out a prolonged 'High Five, Swan Dive, Nose Dive' in which guitarist James Brown abandons his instrument and swings from the ceiling immediately above the stage onto the lighting rig that hangs over the pit, hovering there for minutes, threatening to bring the whole structure crashing down onto his audience. The sound guy has his head in his hands (probably) and doubtless health and safety would have a field day with this naughty scamp but fact is, if the 300 or so punters found their young lives cut short this evening, they'd probably think it was an appropriate way to go. Newcastle and Pulled Apart by Horses get along like a house on fire; kicking the shit out of each other and loving every bloody minute.
It's a thrilling ride, and is one that continues apace during semi-sorta-super-group (Gordon from Bloc Party's in 'em!) Young Legionnaire, whose weirdly sporadic sound - think Future of the Left fucking Minus the Bear's brains out - is intriguingly obtuse. Drums, guitar and bass rarely seem to work in tandem, instead playing off one another, keeping separate time, working to a different beat. The human anatomy doesn't really know how to respond to such schizophrenia; consequently, everyone just jumps around recklessly, keeping no discernable time, which in turn spurs the Legionnaires to up the ante and give Newcastle their all.
And so to Pulled Apart By Horses. Having been forced to cancel their November show at the last minute due to illness, the Leeds four piece are in high spirits this evening, making screwball wisecracks about 79p condoms made of sheepskin and remarking on the philosophical delights to be found in the Cluny toilets. None of this detracts from the music, however, as tonight Matthew, the Horses make just about the most invigorating angry white boy noise that it is possible to create with two guitars, one bass, a hefty drumkit and a few larynxes. The onslaught is unforgiving: 'Hey Buddy', 'Back to the Fuck Yeah', 'I Punched A Lion In The Throat'... one by one, they slay the hungry masses, belted out with unrelenting fury and unparalleled passion.
Newcastle responds in kind: bodies fly across the room, over-enthusiastic teens climb from floor to balcony and leap off, T-shirts, sweaters and hats are torn to pieces in a whirlwind of aggression, and around a third of the crowd manage to share the stage with the band, making it a clusterfuck of blood, sweat and adrenalin. To the latter, the Horses respond by pushing unsuspecting audience members floorwards, to make room for lead singer Tom Hudson's own foray into the crowd. It isn't long before he makes his escape, however, and soon enough, he's clambering over the balcony, falling onto tables while hammering his guitar, subjecting our ears to howls of violent feedback.
And if this isn't sufficiently thrilling, try out a prolonged 'High Five, Swan Dive, Nose Dive' in which guitarist James Brown abandons his instrument and swings from the ceiling immediately above the stage onto the lighting rig that hangs over the pit, hovering there for minutes, threatening to bring the whole structure crashing down onto his audience. The sound guy has his head in his hands (probably) and doubtless health and safety would have a field day with this naughty scamp but fact is, if the 300 or so punters found their young lives cut short this evening, they'd probably think it was an appropriate way to go. Newcastle and Pulled Apart by Horses get along like a house on fire; kicking the shit out of each other and loving every bloody minute.
Monday 10 January 2011
Comment is free
Fellow blogger Dan.Eliot was clearly moved by my Week in Bullshit Music News post yesterday. So moved, in fact, that after intricately reading every single word, he felt moved to provide the following, considered comment:
Blogger Dan.Eliot said...
Divorce is the end of a happy life. Divorce is certainly an end, but it can also be a beginning to a new and fulfilling life being a singledad or mom. It is possible to build a better life post-divorce than the one you had before. Figure out what it is that you want out of life, and what you need to do to get there. For advice and help Visit:
single Dads
Well thanks Dan for that insightful and enlightening comment. I see you really took your time to absorb everything that was said and provide a measured and thought-provoking response. Mr. Eliot, it's considerate people like you that restore my faith in both the Internet and humanity. Please, call again.
I wouldn't recommend clicking the link to 'Single Dad Financial Help dot com' mind you. Probably for the best.
Blogger Dan.Eliot said...
Divorce is the end of a happy life. Divorce is certainly an end, but it can also be a beginning to a new and fulfilling life being a singledad or mom. It is possible to build a better life post-divorce than the one you had before. Figure out what it is that you want out of life, and what you need to do to get there. For advice and help Visit:
single Dads
Well thanks Dan for that insightful and enlightening comment. I see you really took your time to absorb everything that was said and provide a measured and thought-provoking response. Mr. Eliot, it's considerate people like you that restore my faith in both the Internet and humanity. Please, call again.
I wouldn't recommend clicking the link to 'Single Dad Financial Help dot com' mind you. Probably for the best.
Sunday 9 January 2011
The week in bullshit music news. And music.
In the most odious item of music news to come spewing from the bowels of the industry this week, it was revealed that Peter Andre has been named the 'hardest working artist of 2010' in the PRS For Music poll, whose criteria have to be the most ludicrous ever invented. It's based on the number of arena gigs that bands and artists play in a single year. So you know, someone like Frank Turner, who's on the road VIRTUALLY EVERY SINGLE DAY OF THE YEAR, while recording new material, dueting with other artists, appearing in Dive Dive videos, blogging and reinventing the wheel, wouldn't even get a look in. Play 120 arena gigs though and wham, you're worthy of an accolade. Bull and shit.
Let's have a look at few videos/songs that caught our attention this week, shall we?
JESSIE J
She's the BBC's 'Choice for 2011' and the latest 'sensation set to rock the music world' (thanks, Vevo). Here she is getting her autotuned-lesbo on in the garishly awful 'Do It Like A Dude'. The feminist in me really wants to like this too... but I just can't. Sorry.
BROTHER
It's not Britpop, apparently. It's Gritpop. It's fucking shite, is what it is. Plodding dad-rock/indie bollocks with the obligatory Union Jack backdrops for added cuntishness. They want to be 'the biggest band in the world'. They'll be fish and chip shop staff by September.
BEADY EYE
'You didn't know what to saaaaaay/It all came at you todaaaay/Can't get out your own waaaaaaay.' More inspired lyricism from the man behind 'Little James' on Beady Eye's 'first single proper' (what does that even mean? Why are we being force-fed false starts, lads? Were 'Bring The Light' and that other one not deemed good enough? Actually yeah, that's probably about right...) Sounding not too unlike around 46 Oasis songs you could name off the top of your head ('Lyla' certainly springs to mind), 'The Roller' is, well... a big ol' steaming pile of meh. Bland doesn't even begin to describe this plodder. Come on Noel, get crackin' with that solo record...
In other hugely exciting news, John Lydon has confirmed that he may potentially sorta kinda possibly be gonna think about recording new material with the Sex Pistols. Let's hope the new record is as anti-establishment and revolutionary as those butter adverts. However good the geriatric reunion record might be, it will obviously pale into insignificance, however, when placed next to THE RELEASE OF THE YEAR, coming to a record store near you on January 31st. That's right folks, I'm talking about the long-awaited release of Good Charlotte's Greatest Hits, a record so bereft of redeeming features that not even brokENCYDE would admit to owning a copy. Probably.
Evanescence have revealed that they are going to change the shape of the music industry as we know it with their new album. Is there a human being alive that believes this shit?
A Cheeky Girl (what, they have names?) was cautioned for supposed shoplifting. I'm sure Sainsbury's were reeling over the potential loss of £8.99 on the 'moisteuriser, salad and large bottle of water' that Ms. Irimia almost walked out with.
Chris Martin has given an intricate, in-depth account of the major themes, concepts and ideas set to astound the world when Coldplay's seven millionth record is unleashed, sorry, released, on a, um, fairly disinterested world in 2011. Martin really gets down to the nitty gritty in this interview, revealing that "[the record]'s supposed to be about life, the good stuff and the bad stuff. Everything." Yeah, bet you didn't see that coming, huh? What a concept!
Travis Barker revealed he's releasing a solo record in February. A solo drumming record. Songs united solely by the fact that he DRUMS ON THEM. Um.
Dani Filth's delightful face has been removed from a poll that attempts to find the photograph that best represents the wonderful county of Suffolk, despite having received 13,000 votes. An official explained that, "While some of the images on the site may have gained a larger proportion of visitors' votes, the panel felt their list of finalists displays the required credentials to act as representative iconic images of Suffolk." Uh huh. So you've jury-rigged the poll so it fits your middle-England tinged view of what best represents Suffolk. Wouldn't want to offend those Mail readers with something like this, eh?
Oh yeah and HMV are closing 60 stores across the UK. Well, actually, 20 of those are Waterstones outlets but no one seems to give a damn about that little fact. Anyhow, Popjustice offer an interesting theory, with supplemental evidence, as to why this may be here.
Let's have a look at few videos/songs that caught our attention this week, shall we?
JESSIE J
She's the BBC's 'Choice for 2011' and the latest 'sensation set to rock the music world' (thanks, Vevo). Here she is getting her autotuned-lesbo on in the garishly awful 'Do It Like A Dude'. The feminist in me really wants to like this too... but I just can't. Sorry.
BROTHER
It's not Britpop, apparently. It's Gritpop. It's fucking shite, is what it is. Plodding dad-rock/indie bollocks with the obligatory Union Jack backdrops for added cuntishness. They want to be 'the biggest band in the world'. They'll be fish and chip shop staff by September.
BEADY EYE
'You didn't know what to saaaaaay/It all came at you todaaaay/Can't get out your own waaaaaaay.' More inspired lyricism from the man behind 'Little James' on Beady Eye's 'first single proper' (what does that even mean? Why are we being force-fed false starts, lads? Were 'Bring The Light' and that other one not deemed good enough? Actually yeah, that's probably about right...) Sounding not too unlike around 46 Oasis songs you could name off the top of your head ('Lyla' certainly springs to mind), 'The Roller' is, well... a big ol' steaming pile of meh. Bland doesn't even begin to describe this plodder. Come on Noel, get crackin' with that solo record...
In other hugely exciting news, John Lydon has confirmed that he may potentially sorta kinda possibly be gonna think about recording new material with the Sex Pistols. Let's hope the new record is as anti-establishment and revolutionary as those butter adverts. However good the geriatric reunion record might be, it will obviously pale into insignificance, however, when placed next to THE RELEASE OF THE YEAR, coming to a record store near you on January 31st. That's right folks, I'm talking about the long-awaited release of Good Charlotte's Greatest Hits, a record so bereft of redeeming features that not even brokENCYDE would admit to owning a copy. Probably.
Evanescence have revealed that they are going to change the shape of the music industry as we know it with their new album. Is there a human being alive that believes this shit?
A Cheeky Girl (what, they have names?) was cautioned for supposed shoplifting. I'm sure Sainsbury's were reeling over the potential loss of £8.99 on the 'moisteuriser, salad and large bottle of water' that Ms. Irimia almost walked out with.
Chris Martin has given an intricate, in-depth account of the major themes, concepts and ideas set to astound the world when Coldplay's seven millionth record is unleashed, sorry, released, on a, um, fairly disinterested world in 2011. Martin really gets down to the nitty gritty in this interview, revealing that "[the record]'s supposed to be about life, the good stuff and the bad stuff. Everything." Yeah, bet you didn't see that coming, huh? What a concept!
Travis Barker revealed he's releasing a solo record in February. A solo drumming record. Songs united solely by the fact that he DRUMS ON THEM. Um.
Dani Filth's delightful face has been removed from a poll that attempts to find the photograph that best represents the wonderful county of Suffolk, despite having received 13,000 votes. An official explained that, "While some of the images on the site may have gained a larger proportion of visitors' votes, the panel felt their list of finalists displays the required credentials to act as representative iconic images of Suffolk." Uh huh. So you've jury-rigged the poll so it fits your middle-England tinged view of what best represents Suffolk. Wouldn't want to offend those Mail readers with something like this, eh?
Oh yeah and HMV are closing 60 stores across the UK. Well, actually, 20 of those are Waterstones outlets but no one seems to give a damn about that little fact. Anyhow, Popjustice offer an interesting theory, with supplemental evidence, as to why this may be here.
And you call yourselves music journalists?
So much music news to comment on this week but before I write something lengthier, I'd like to quickly draw your attention to a little article currently splashed across the front page of NME.com, which claims that Amy Winehouse covered Green Day's 'Boulevard of Broken Dreams' at her comeback show in Brazil last night.
One swift, ten second Youtube search reveals that actually, the reality is somewhat different:
Yes, that'll be the Al Dubin/Harry Warren 30s classic, NME. You know, this one.
And no, I care not that it is actually the good old Sun website that originally made the greivous error. They seem to have retracted all reference to the supposed cover . NME should know better than to source their material from two bit right wing arserags with the reading age of a nine year old.
And they call themselves music journalists.
One swift, ten second Youtube search reveals that actually, the reality is somewhat different:
Yes, that'll be the Al Dubin/Harry Warren 30s classic, NME. You know, this one.
And no, I care not that it is actually the good old Sun website that originally made the greivous error. They seem to have retracted all reference to the supposed cover . NME should know better than to source their material from two bit right wing arserags with the reading age of a nine year old.
And they call themselves music journalists.
Thursday 6 January 2011
Naming your band after a Ryan Adams song automatically makes you awesome
Manchester's superbly-punned City Reign know the score. Check out their particular brand of Americana-tinged indie rock with the video for new single 'Out in the Cold', below.
Wednesday 5 January 2011
Oh My Heart
Another track from the new R.E.M. album, 'Collapse Into Now', can be heard here. Little more gentle, this one.
Tuesday 4 January 2011
New Twin Atlantic track
As well as a whole host of other interesting material (including the new ...And You Will Know Us By The Trail of Dead single), there's an ace new Twin Atlantic track - 'Edit Me' - to be found at around 1hr 42mins on the Radio 1 Rock Show, which you can have a wee listen to here.
Sunday 2 January 2011
11 for 2011 (part two)
DIVE DIVE
If three quarters of this Oxford art rock outfit seem familiar, that's probably because you've seen them adding a touch of oomph to a Frank Turner live show near you. Yes, nowadays, bassist Tarrant, guitarist Ben and drummer Nigel make up the majority of the ex-Million Dead singer's backing band, but waaaay back in the halcyon days of 2001, they got together with vocalist Jamie Stuart to make music as Dive Dive. While their free time is currently very sparse thanks to Turner's relentless touring and recording schedule, they still found a few hours in 2010 to record brilliant third album 'Potential', which is available online now, with physical copies on sale in late January. Definitely ones to look out for.
MAX RAPTOR
There's something refreshingly visceral about Max Raptor's four-to-the-floor punk 'n' roll racket, characterised most potently by their riproaringly intense live shows. Thus far, they've managed to rack up support slots for Billy Talent, The Stranglers and, um, The Zutons, and if there's any justice, there'll be no end in sight during 2011. With a lead singer whose gravelly, gutteral voice is a match for Tom Gabel's and an uncanny knack for a catchy, yet aggressive, chorus - stand up and be counted 'Ghosts' and 'The Great and the Good' - these guys should most certainly go far. Public, make it happen.
RAMONA
Up-tempo, jangly guitars, lush, melodic choruses, sugar sweet female vocals... yes, ladies and gentlemen, Ramona are a Blondie for the twenty-teens (do you have a better name for the decade? Huh?) and they're not afraid to admit it. Well, if you could write delicious pop songs as effortlessly as these guys, you'd be happy to let the comparison stick too. Listen to 'How Long' now and irritate your co-workers with it for days.
THE WELLINGTONS
Criminally overlooked by the UK music scene for years, Melbourne-based power popsters The Wellingtons have an uncanny knack for putting a gigantic smile on your face with their shiny happy melodies and bright, sparkly choruses, sounding somewhat reminiscent of Motion City Soundtrack, Fountains of Wayne and post-'Green Album' Weezer. They're releasing their fourth - yes, fourth! - record this year and it's about time the good folk of these hallowed Isles cosied on up to their irresistible charms. Go on... you won't be able to resist, we promise.
SKETCHES
Leeds boys Sketches marry delicate, lilting vocals with the angular indie theatrics of Bloc Party and Editors, driving each sumptuous track with the kind of wiry, high-pitched riffs that Russell Lissack has wet dreams about. Having recently finished a mini-tour of the UK supporting US luminaries Minus the Bear, and also featured on the BBC Introducing stage at 2010's Reading and Leeds Festivals, these guys look set to be the new dah-lings on every industry jobber's lips in 2011. But don't let that put you off. They're ace. Believe.
If three quarters of this Oxford art rock outfit seem familiar, that's probably because you've seen them adding a touch of oomph to a Frank Turner live show near you. Yes, nowadays, bassist Tarrant, guitarist Ben and drummer Nigel make up the majority of the ex-Million Dead singer's backing band, but waaaay back in the halcyon days of 2001, they got together with vocalist Jamie Stuart to make music as Dive Dive. While their free time is currently very sparse thanks to Turner's relentless touring and recording schedule, they still found a few hours in 2010 to record brilliant third album 'Potential', which is available online now, with physical copies on sale in late January. Definitely ones to look out for.
MAX RAPTOR
There's something refreshingly visceral about Max Raptor's four-to-the-floor punk 'n' roll racket, characterised most potently by their riproaringly intense live shows. Thus far, they've managed to rack up support slots for Billy Talent, The Stranglers and, um, The Zutons, and if there's any justice, there'll be no end in sight during 2011. With a lead singer whose gravelly, gutteral voice is a match for Tom Gabel's and an uncanny knack for a catchy, yet aggressive, chorus - stand up and be counted 'Ghosts' and 'The Great and the Good' - these guys should most certainly go far. Public, make it happen.
RAMONA
Up-tempo, jangly guitars, lush, melodic choruses, sugar sweet female vocals... yes, ladies and gentlemen, Ramona are a Blondie for the twenty-teens (do you have a better name for the decade? Huh?) and they're not afraid to admit it. Well, if you could write delicious pop songs as effortlessly as these guys, you'd be happy to let the comparison stick too. Listen to 'How Long' now and irritate your co-workers with it for days.
THE WELLINGTONS
Criminally overlooked by the UK music scene for years, Melbourne-based power popsters The Wellingtons have an uncanny knack for putting a gigantic smile on your face with their shiny happy melodies and bright, sparkly choruses, sounding somewhat reminiscent of Motion City Soundtrack, Fountains of Wayne and post-'Green Album' Weezer. They're releasing their fourth - yes, fourth! - record this year and it's about time the good folk of these hallowed Isles cosied on up to their irresistible charms. Go on... you won't be able to resist, we promise.
SKETCHES
Leeds boys Sketches marry delicate, lilting vocals with the angular indie theatrics of Bloc Party and Editors, driving each sumptuous track with the kind of wiry, high-pitched riffs that Russell Lissack has wet dreams about. Having recently finished a mini-tour of the UK supporting US luminaries Minus the Bear, and also featured on the BBC Introducing stage at 2010's Reading and Leeds Festivals, these guys look set to be the new dah-lings on every industry jobber's lips in 2011. But don't let that put you off. They're ace. Believe.
Saturday 1 January 2011
11 for 2011 (part one)
Wherein Screenaged Kicks introduces you to eleven bands/artists you really should investigate this year. You'll feel better for it, honestly. Part two coming tomorrow.
JAPANESE VOYEURS
Promising to 'bring you a bag of rot gathered from the festering cesspools of the human psyche', Japanese Voyeurs make the kind of breathtakingly ferocious, intensely schziophrenic grunge-punk noise that gave Sonic Youth their edge circa 'Death Valley '69'. Only louder. And a thousand times more sinister. Check them out on the Rock Sound Exposure Tour, coming to an Academy 2 near you in February.
THISFAMILIARSMILE
Glasgow's best kept secret for years, Thisfamiliarsmile sit somewhere between The Get Up Kids and Flood of Red, amalgamating a quintessentially Scottish brand of scattershot punk rock with a more introspective and, dare we say it, emo(tive) palatte. Once the kids tire of the sugar sweet pop punk that currently dominates the alternative scene - and they soon will, - this is where they'll turn to next.
FATHERSON
Another Scottish three piece, Kilmarnock's Fatherson are currently making some considerable waves as a result of a series of high profile support slots, opening for such luminaries as The Xcerts, Feeder and, most recently, the superlative Idlewild. The attention is well deserved: the band's sound is both intricate and epic, marrying the stop-start sporadicisms of Twin Atlantic and Biffy Clyro with the soaring sonic intensity of Manchester Orchestra's 'Mean Everything to Nothing' and 'Devil and God'-era Brand New. Spend your pocket money on their 'Where The Water Meets The Land' EP now and prepare for the inevitable debut masterpiece later in the year.
THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY
It is a truth universally acknowledged that Scotland produces some of the most interesting, diverse and downright amazing bands that this crazy old beast called the music industry has to offer. This Glaswegian five piece sound quite unlike anything currently worming its way through the Zeitgeist, with the possible exception of British Sea Power, and therein lies their strength: the mournful trombones, melancholic violins, colossal vocals and unique harmonics create something captivatingly ethereal and breathtakingly cathartic. And they bloody rock live, too.
EVER SINCE THE LAKE CAUGHT FIRE
Circling the edges of Newcastle's alternative scene for some time now, Ever Since The Lake Caught Fire seem to have finally caught the attention of the all-important industry bigwigs - resulting in their single 'The Sea' being playlisted on BBC Introducing - and with the right promo and marketing, could skyrocket to superstardom in 2011. Or at the very least, get themselves a record deal. This is spiky, post-punk indie topped off with a healthy dose of eccentricity and it's bloody marvellous. Check out 'Warden Rock' on Spotify and subject your subconscious to one of the hooks of the year.
LANTERNS ON THE LAKE
Fellow BBC Introducing stalwarts Lanterns on the Lake are a somewhat more subdued listening experience than Ever Since The Lake Caught Fire but that does not make their music any less powerful. The North Eastern six piece are the masters of sonic crescendo, building from delicate beginnings to epic, soaring highs courtesy of guitars played with violin bows and, um, violins played with, er, violin bows. Yeah. If you like The Arcade Fire - and you should - then you won't be able to resist being swept along for the ride.
JAPANESE VOYEURS
Promising to 'bring you a bag of rot gathered from the festering cesspools of the human psyche', Japanese Voyeurs make the kind of breathtakingly ferocious, intensely schziophrenic grunge-punk noise that gave Sonic Youth their edge circa 'Death Valley '69'. Only louder. And a thousand times more sinister. Check them out on the Rock Sound Exposure Tour, coming to an Academy 2 near you in February.
THISFAMILIARSMILE
Glasgow's best kept secret for years, Thisfamiliarsmile sit somewhere between The Get Up Kids and Flood of Red, amalgamating a quintessentially Scottish brand of scattershot punk rock with a more introspective and, dare we say it, emo(tive) palatte. Once the kids tire of the sugar sweet pop punk that currently dominates the alternative scene - and they soon will, - this is where they'll turn to next.
FATHERSON
Where The Water Meets The Land EP Promo - Fatherson from Joshua Porter on Vimeo.
Another Scottish three piece, Kilmarnock's Fatherson are currently making some considerable waves as a result of a series of high profile support slots, opening for such luminaries as The Xcerts, Feeder and, most recently, the superlative Idlewild. The attention is well deserved: the band's sound is both intricate and epic, marrying the stop-start sporadicisms of Twin Atlantic and Biffy Clyro with the soaring sonic intensity of Manchester Orchestra's 'Mean Everything to Nothing' and 'Devil and God'-era Brand New. Spend your pocket money on their 'Where The Water Meets The Land' EP now and prepare for the inevitable debut masterpiece later in the year.
THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY
It is a truth universally acknowledged that Scotland produces some of the most interesting, diverse and downright amazing bands that this crazy old beast called the music industry has to offer. This Glaswegian five piece sound quite unlike anything currently worming its way through the Zeitgeist, with the possible exception of British Sea Power, and therein lies their strength: the mournful trombones, melancholic violins, colossal vocals and unique harmonics create something captivatingly ethereal and breathtakingly cathartic. And they bloody rock live, too.
EVER SINCE THE LAKE CAUGHT FIRE
Circling the edges of Newcastle's alternative scene for some time now, Ever Since The Lake Caught Fire seem to have finally caught the attention of the all-important industry bigwigs - resulting in their single 'The Sea' being playlisted on BBC Introducing - and with the right promo and marketing, could skyrocket to superstardom in 2011. Or at the very least, get themselves a record deal. This is spiky, post-punk indie topped off with a healthy dose of eccentricity and it's bloody marvellous. Check out 'Warden Rock' on Spotify and subject your subconscious to one of the hooks of the year.
LANTERNS ON THE LAKE
Fellow BBC Introducing stalwarts Lanterns on the Lake are a somewhat more subdued listening experience than Ever Since The Lake Caught Fire but that does not make their music any less powerful. The North Eastern six piece are the masters of sonic crescendo, building from delicate beginnings to epic, soaring highs courtesy of guitars played with violin bows and, um, violins played with, er, violin bows. Yeah. If you like The Arcade Fire - and you should - then you won't be able to resist being swept along for the ride.
POKE NYE 2010 Room 1 setlist
What we played to see in 2011...
Little Comets: Isles
The Kissaway Trail: New Lipstick
Stars: Fixed
The Pains of Being Pure at Heart: Heart in Your Heartbreak
The Divine Comedy: Gin Soaked Boy
We Are Scientists: Nice Guys
These New Puritans: Elvis
Sleigh Bells: Tell Em
Les Savy Fav: Disco Drive
Sonic Youth: My Friend Goo
Units: High Pressure Days (Rory Phillips Mix)
Underworld: Cups (Salt City Orchestra Mix)
Caribou: Odessa
Two Bears: Church
Throbbing Gristle: Hot on the Heels of Love
Free Association: Sugar Man
Ruth: Polaroid/Roman/Photo
Bow Wow Wow: I Want Candy
Richard Hell and the Voidoids: Blank Generation
The White Stripes: The Hardest Button to Button
Hole: Celebrity Skin
Boy George: Funtime
Nina Hagen: The News
Grace Jones: Warm Leatherette
Dandy Livingstone: Rudy (A Message To You)
Blondie: Dreaming
X-Ray Spex: The Day The World Turned Day-Glo
The Clash: Spanish Bombs
Beck: The New Pollution
Bjork: Army of Me
Bloc Party: Banquet
Radiohead: Bodysnatchers
Goldfrapp: Ride A White Horse
Friendly Fires: Paris
Robyn: Indestructable
Yeasayer: O.N.E.
Foals: Total Life Forever
Talking Heads: Wild Wild Life
Joy Division: Transmission
The Pixies: Monkey Gone To Heaven
Suede: Filmstar
Pulp: Mis-Shapes
The Arcade Fire: Rebellion (Lies)
Wild Beasts: All The King's Men
Interpol: Slow Hands
The Gossip: Heavy Cross (Yuksek Mix)
The Prodigy: Girls (Rex The Dog Mix)
Mark Ronson: Somebody To Love Me (Holy Ghost Mix)
Baby Oliver: Feelings 2
Lil Louis: French Kiss
New Order: Blue Monday
S-Express: Stupid Little Girls (J'bag Mix)
Does It Offend You, Yeah?: Let's Make Out
PJ Harvey: This Is Love
And... it's 2011!
Jesus Loves You: Generations of Love
The Slits: I Heard It Through The Grapevine
Salt n Pepa: Push It
Peaches: Boys Wanna Be Her
Yeah Yeah Yeahs: Date With The Night
Siouxsie and the Banshees: Cities In Dust
David Bowie: Jean Genie
Super Furry Animals: Golden Retriever
Ike and Tina Turner: Nutbush City Limits
Missy Elliot: Get Ur Freak On
Fun Lovin' Criminals: The Fun Lovin' Criminal
Justin Timberlake: Lovestoned
Moloko: Pure Pleasure Seeker
Neon Neon: Told Her on Alderaan
Ladytron: Destroy Everything You Touch
The Chemical Brothers: Do It Again
Depeche Mode: Personal Jesus
Scissor Sisters: Laura
The Smiths: Ask
The Cure: Friday I'm In Love
Blondie: Hangin' on the Telephone
Ramones: Sheena Is A Punk Rocker
Buzzcocks: Ever Fallen In Love (With Someone You Shouldn't've?)
The Undertones: Teenage Kicks
The Jam: Start!
Iggy Pop: The Passenger
The Knack: My Sharona
Prince: Cream
Soul II Soul: Back To Life
Peaches: Why Don't You Talk To Me?
Yeah Yeah Yeahs: Heads Will Roll
Primal Scream: Moving On Up
Pulp: Common People
Friendly Fires: Jump In The Pool (Thin White Duke Mix)
Justice: D.V.N.O. (Surkin Mix)
Orbital: Nothing Left (Les Rhythmes Digitales Mix)
Mystery Jets: Two Doors Down
The Fog: Been a Long Time
Mark Ronson: Bang Bang
Basement Jaxx: Red Alert
Nouvelle Vague: Too Drunk to Fuck
Eurythmics: Sweet Dreams
Frankmusik: Better Off As Two
Deee-Lite: Groove Is In The Heart
Blur: For Tomorrow
Girls Aloud: Biology
Passion Pit: The Reeling
Jonathan Richman: I Was Dancing In A Lesbian Bar
Little Comets: Isles
The Kissaway Trail: New Lipstick
Stars: Fixed
The Pains of Being Pure at Heart: Heart in Your Heartbreak
The Divine Comedy: Gin Soaked Boy
We Are Scientists: Nice Guys
These New Puritans: Elvis
Sleigh Bells: Tell Em
Les Savy Fav: Disco Drive
Sonic Youth: My Friend Goo
Units: High Pressure Days (Rory Phillips Mix)
Underworld: Cups (Salt City Orchestra Mix)
Caribou: Odessa
Two Bears: Church
Throbbing Gristle: Hot on the Heels of Love
Free Association: Sugar Man
Ruth: Polaroid/Roman/Photo
Bow Wow Wow: I Want Candy
Richard Hell and the Voidoids: Blank Generation
The White Stripes: The Hardest Button to Button
Hole: Celebrity Skin
Boy George: Funtime
Nina Hagen: The News
Grace Jones: Warm Leatherette
Dandy Livingstone: Rudy (A Message To You)
Blondie: Dreaming
X-Ray Spex: The Day The World Turned Day-Glo
The Clash: Spanish Bombs
Beck: The New Pollution
Bjork: Army of Me
Bloc Party: Banquet
Radiohead: Bodysnatchers
Goldfrapp: Ride A White Horse
Friendly Fires: Paris
Robyn: Indestructable
Yeasayer: O.N.E.
Foals: Total Life Forever
Talking Heads: Wild Wild Life
Joy Division: Transmission
The Pixies: Monkey Gone To Heaven
Suede: Filmstar
Pulp: Mis-Shapes
The Arcade Fire: Rebellion (Lies)
Wild Beasts: All The King's Men
Interpol: Slow Hands
The Gossip: Heavy Cross (Yuksek Mix)
The Prodigy: Girls (Rex The Dog Mix)
Mark Ronson: Somebody To Love Me (Holy Ghost Mix)
Baby Oliver: Feelings 2
Lil Louis: French Kiss
New Order: Blue Monday
S-Express: Stupid Little Girls (J'bag Mix)
Does It Offend You, Yeah?: Let's Make Out
PJ Harvey: This Is Love
And... it's 2011!
Jesus Loves You: Generations of Love
The Slits: I Heard It Through The Grapevine
Salt n Pepa: Push It
Peaches: Boys Wanna Be Her
Yeah Yeah Yeahs: Date With The Night
Siouxsie and the Banshees: Cities In Dust
David Bowie: Jean Genie
Super Furry Animals: Golden Retriever
Ike and Tina Turner: Nutbush City Limits
Missy Elliot: Get Ur Freak On
Fun Lovin' Criminals: The Fun Lovin' Criminal
Justin Timberlake: Lovestoned
Moloko: Pure Pleasure Seeker
Neon Neon: Told Her on Alderaan
Ladytron: Destroy Everything You Touch
The Chemical Brothers: Do It Again
Depeche Mode: Personal Jesus
Scissor Sisters: Laura
The Smiths: Ask
The Cure: Friday I'm In Love
Blondie: Hangin' on the Telephone
Ramones: Sheena Is A Punk Rocker
Buzzcocks: Ever Fallen In Love (With Someone You Shouldn't've?)
The Undertones: Teenage Kicks
The Jam: Start!
Iggy Pop: The Passenger
The Knack: My Sharona
Prince: Cream
Soul II Soul: Back To Life
Peaches: Why Don't You Talk To Me?
Yeah Yeah Yeahs: Heads Will Roll
Primal Scream: Moving On Up
Pulp: Common People
Friendly Fires: Jump In The Pool (Thin White Duke Mix)
Justice: D.V.N.O. (Surkin Mix)
Orbital: Nothing Left (Les Rhythmes Digitales Mix)
Mystery Jets: Two Doors Down
The Fog: Been a Long Time
Mark Ronson: Bang Bang
Basement Jaxx: Red Alert
Nouvelle Vague: Too Drunk to Fuck
Eurythmics: Sweet Dreams
Frankmusik: Better Off As Two
Deee-Lite: Groove Is In The Heart
Blur: For Tomorrow
Girls Aloud: Biology
Passion Pit: The Reeling
Jonathan Richman: I Was Dancing In A Lesbian Bar
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