TV reviews: Fringe 505-510

505: 'An Origin Story'
Another intense episode and one that takes the show, and particularly Joshua Jackson's character, to some decidedly dark places. Fringe once again provides its stellar cast with the opportunity to flex their acting muscles and they do not disappoint; Noble, Torv and Jackson knocking home-run after home-run out of the park. (9)

506: 'Through the Looking Glass and What Walter Found There'
What initially feels rather like an unnecessary curveball looks likely to be one of the most pivotal episodes of this final season. Through the Looking Glass and What Walter Found There has come under some criticism for failing to convey the same sense of urgency as the episodes surrounding it and for taking its time with its storytelling but to be honest, it's all the better for it. There's an otherworldly quality to the hour, magnified largely by Jon Cassar's sublime direction, which makes for compelling viewing, and it's intriguing to see some of the pieces of the overall plan come together. Plus, there's fan-squee moments galore. Refreshingly different. (8)

507: 'Five-Twenty-Ten'
That John Noble and Joshua Jackson have yet to even be nominated for Emmys for their work in Fringe is just mindboggling. For the umpteenth time this season, and indeed, the last five years, they provide some of the finest character acting you'll see on contemporary television in Five-Twenty-Ten and they do so without overshadowing the gravitas of the plot that surrounds them. Jackson in particular is just too good as Observer Peter, perfectly capturing the mannerisms of our favourite baldies. And let's take a moment to commend Anna Torv too, particularly for that crushing scene in which she realises what Peter has become. Keep going like this Fringe and you might just survive your entire run without jumping the shark... (9)

508: 'The Human Kind'
Possibly spoke too soon there, guys. Okay, so The Human Kind doesn't exactly constitute a jumping of the shark but it is, certainly, the weakest episode of the season thus far. The quintessential problem is the flimsiness of the plot; Olivia's story, while containing a few nice dialogue exchanges, amounts to little more than 'pick up a truck, get kidnapped and escape', Peter's cat-and-mouse game with Windmark feels too slow and Walter and Astrid are a little under-served. That being said, Torv and Jackson are superb in the final scene, perfectly selling what is ultimately a rather crass means of getting around the whole 'Peterver' problem. (6)

509: 'Black Blotter'
Where season two's Brown Betty failed, so our final season's Black Blotter triumphs by striking the perfect balance between leftfield kookiness and, you know, moving the story along. With superb production values and brilliant writing, the production staff manage to realistically convey Walter's acid trip without veering too far into the ridiculous; using Nina and Carla as the 'good' and 'bad' angels on Dr. Bishop's shoulder is a neat touch and of course, the Monty Python homage is just fantastic. Crucially, we actually make logical and fulfilling progress in the development of the season arc and, on top of all this, John Noble gets to act his socks off. Again. Brilliant stuff. (9)

510: 'Anomaly XB-678346'
With only four episodes to go, Fringe feels a little like it's treading water in Anomaly XB-678346, withholding vital pieces of the puzzle where it could perhaps be teasing us a little further, but this is ultimately a minor quibble. Once again, the narrative is well structured, there are a slue of sublime character moments to get our teeth into and there's Anomaly XB-678346 who, despite having no lines of dialogue, manages to tug at all of our well-worn heartstrings. Nina's death is expertly handled and the team's reactions, particularly Walter's, eminently satisfying. And hell, even if the fact that Donald is September was fairly obvious many moons ago, it still makes for a pleasing cliffhanger. (8)

TV reviews: Supernatural 805 - 809

Okay, okay, so I've been somewhat neglectful of the ol' television reviews of late. Sue me, I relocated to a new city, a little under 300 miles from where I used to live. That's London from Newcastle, for anyone that doesn't know. I'm making a promise to myself (I'm not calling this a New Year's Resolution, such things are dangerous) to keep Screenaged Kicks regularly updated in 2013 so hopefully, I'll be a bit more... on the ball, shall we say. And you'll actually get some comprehensive reviews as opposed to one or two sentences. Which is what I'm about to throw at you now. Yes, it isn't ideal; sure, it's a bit lazy but whatever, I don't have the time to catch up in the manner to which you may be accustomed. So here's the remaining episodes of the various TV shows that I watch, rated out of 10, with a few words on each. Deal.

Supernatural

805: 'Blood Brother'
From the sublime to the redundant in a matter of minutes, Blood Brother has the unfortunate task of marrying a compelling, character-building storyline (Benny's back story and how Dean deals with it) to a monotonous one (Sam's year of retirement). Fortunately, the good generally outweighs the bad and the episode as a whole comes out as mainly satisfying, but if Carver continues down this cliche-fest path with Sam, he may obliterate our interest in the character entirely. (7)

806: 'Southern Comfort'
To put it bluntly, the inclusion of Garth saves this episode from crushing mediocrity. DJ Qualls is once again superb as the ultimate foil for Sam and Dean and his positioning as 'the new Bobby' is both entertaining and logical. The main thrust of the narrative is passable and has a nice twist towards the end (ballsy of Supernatural to use the Unknown Soldier) but the continued punctuation of the present day story with Sam's woozy, and shockingly lame, flashbacks is just tiresome. Drop 'em already. No one cares. (6)

807: 'A Little Slice of Kevin'
For the first time in weeks, Supernatural switches to fifth gear, ditches (most) of the Sam/Amelia plotline and actually bothers itself about Kevin Tran and it's mostly better for it. There's a real sense of urgency about A Little Slice of Kevin that's been sorely lacking in weeks past... and of course, Castiel makes his triumphant return, which automatically bumps up the score by a point, and Mark Sheppard's in the mix, which makes that two. The only disappointing aspect is the whole 'Kevin's mom makes a deal with a witch' thread which, as well as containing some extremely hamfisted acting, is utterly nonsensical and completely out of character. (8) 

808: 'Hunteri Heroici'
A nice concept, undermined somewhat by the inclusion of yet another shockingly predictable (and depressingly dull) strand of the Sam/Amelia storyline. While we appreciate Carver's attempt to prioritise character development, the show needs to do so in an interesting way; and having Sam meet the disapproving Dad really doesn't achieve that. There are some nice set pieces among the 'monster of the week' (if you can call it that) storyline and Misha Collins gets some brilliant one-liners as hunter wannabe Cas but there's nothing here that really stands out. (5)

809: 'Citizen Fang'
A horribly lacklustre mid-season finale that's woefully thin on plot and depressingly high on flogging a dead horse. Benny's story is a lame retread of Blood Brother, his pivotal character moments are ruined by an appalling performance from Jon Gries as Martin, and Sam's thread is so asinine, I'm beating my head against a brick wall in an effort to forget about it. Sorely lacking. (2)

13 for 2013

13 albums to be super-excited about in the new year (in no particular order...)

1. THE NATIONAL (release: TBC)

2. FRIGHTENED RABBIT: Pedestrian Verse (release: 11/02)

3. BIFFY CLYRO: Opposites (release: 28/01)

4. EVERYTHING EVERYTHING: Arc (release: 14/01)

5. ARCADE FIRE (release: TBC)

6. CHVRCHES (release: TBC)

7. YEAH YEAH YEAHS (release: Spring)

8. BRITISH SEA POWER (release: April)

9. FOALS: Holy Fire (release: 11/02)

10. FRANK TURNER AND THE SLEEPING SOULS (release: Spring)

11. THE 1975 (release: Spring)

12. THE KISSAWAY TRAIL (release: TBC)

13. VILLAGERS: Awayland (release: 14/01)

 

Worst 10 Singles of 2012

Forget Taylor Swift and that 'Gangnam Style' rubbish, THESE are the real atrocities of 2012, the 10 tracks that took themselves seriously despite their distinct lack of redeeming features. Read on and listen at your peril...

10. JESSIE WARE: Wildest Moments

Every music critic and his mother appeared to go inexplicably ape-shit for Jessie Ware in 2012; heralded as 'the saviour of R 'n' B' by NME, Pitchfork, Drowned in Sound and Arselicker's Monthly, the London-born soulstress was promptly propped up on a pedestal so high you'd need a thirty foot crane to knock her off. This particular nugget of super-saccharine cowshit was typically singled out as proof that she's the next Whitney Houston (or something) when in fact, she isn't even the next Des'ree. Chocked to the brim with useless cliches and irritating in the extreme, 'Wildest Moments' deserves nothing other than your unwavering contempt. No offense.

9. SPECTOR: Friday Night, Don't Ever Let It End

Okay, so this isn't actually a terrible song in itself. Taken on its own, set apart from everything else about the band and excluding all social and cultural context, 'Friday Night, Don't Ever Let It End' is a fairly passable, if disappointingly inoffensive, indie tune. It earns its place in the list, however, by being such an unashamed attempt to replicate the success of The Vaccines. Everything about Spector just reeks of record industry desperation: the slightly oddball look, the meaningless lyrics, the half-arsed hooks. This is the sound of a label, and a band, who've eyed up the competition and decided they want a quick and easy slice of the pie. Instead of carving out their own place in the weird and wonderful world of pop music, Spector try too hard to occupy everyone else's, and in so doing, fall hopelessly flat. If they bothered to write some halfway decent songs (actually, you know, PUTTING SOME EFFORT IN), then perhaps we'd all wake up to their charms. As it is, their woeful laziness is sending us to sleep. Wake us up when they disappear off the face of the planet in a year or so, okay?

8. AWOLNATION: Kill Your Heroes

While Spector yearn to be The Vaccines, the members of the appallingly-named AWOLNATION pray to their respective Gods each and every night that they'll wake up in the morning and be 30 Seconds to Mars. Thankfully, God or time or whatever's controlling this messy ol' world we know and love has better sense than to elevate these guys (although whether Jared and co deserved global success in the first place is a debatable point for another time). No, AWOLNATION will forever meander along at their own turgid, bloated pace, recording unlistenable tripe that doesn't quite know what it wants to be and consequently ends up sounding like nothing at all. 'Kill Your Heroes' is a perfect illustration of the validity of that age old adage 'too many cooks spoil the broth'. Everything is thrown into the pot and barely stirred, resulting, frankly, in a colossally unpleasant mess. Another one to consign to the bargain bin in, oh, six months.

7. BLACK VEIL BRIDES: The End

Oh, how we all wish it were, pfnar, pfnar. All joking aside though, isn't it about time that Black Veil Brides stopped punishing us all for whatever terrible offense we've clearly committed to be deserving of having this garbage rammed down our throats and just retired to those mansions they've (probably) bought in Pacific Palisades? We just can't take much more.

6. NO DOUBT: Settle Down

Eleven years, guys. ELEVEN GOD DAMN YEARS. That's over four thousand days, 96,000 hours... and this is the best you could come up with? Really? Look, no one's denying the fact that bands change, their sound evolves, and that you can't really expect them to churn out the same sort of urgently anthemic ska-punk tunes that they did when they were wee 'uns. What we can (and do) expect is that this 'progression' is not equal parts inane and vomit-inducing. 'Settle Down', sadly, is exactly that; a track so achingly monotonous, it wasn't even a D-side to Rock Steady. Unsurprising, then, that the follow-up single only managed to shift 680 copies in its first week. Exit No Doubt, stage left, with tumbleweed.

5. LMFAO: Sorry For Party Rockin'

They're not though, are they? LMFAO really do not want to apologise for their penchant for 'partying' and 'rocking'. In reality, they're rubbing it in our faces... and not in a good, Andrew W.K.-type way. No, these walking toilet bowls of diarrhetic human excrement take great pride in making music so unremittingly awful that even your 3 year old nephew would rather chew his own face off than listen to it. They want you to squirm at those auto-tuned vocals; they want your skin to crawl when those meaningless grunts, gargles and various other bizarre noises kick in; and they want your head to explode whenever the lazy beat begins. LMFAO take pride in their shittiness, so the best thing we can do is ignore them and, like an irritating six-year-old repeating everything you say, hope they tire and just go away. Probably best not to write too many missives on how terrible they are then... whoops.

4. NICKI MINAJ: Stupid Hoe

While Nicki straddles the line between bubblegum pop and super serious artiste (she was on the bill for T in the Park after all, but there again, so were The Proclaimers), this particular crapfest was just so unbearable that we simply couldn't ignore it. A song with virtually no redeeming features whatsoever, 'Stupid Hoe' careers along on a trajectory of ever-increasing awfulness, using THE WORLD'S WORST BACKBEAT to catastrophic effect while Nicki whines on about someone or other being a 'stupid hoe'. You spend the first minute of the song hoping, praying for a change of direction, for the music to do something else, the next 30 seconds awash in a sea of despair as you realise IT ISN'T GOING TO CHANGE and then next 2 minutes vomiting up your insides while desperately clamouring for the 'off' switch. But hey, at least it gave us Tranny Minaj...

3. KID ROCK: Cucci Galore

Oh come on, Kid. You can do better than this, surely? Where previous efforts have made their mark on the Worst Singles of the Year list by virtue of their mind-boggling awfulness, 'Cucci Galore' is here because, well, it's just so damn half-arsed. And that's not something we ever imagined we'd write about the former American Bad Ass. Even during his 'All Summer Long' phase, at least Kid was making music so painful that you longed for a full-frontal lobotomy right after listening to it. Whether he was murdering Lynyrd Skynyrd with a chainsaw or rhyming 'punk rock' with 'hip hop' with 'Fort Knox' with 'Kid Rock', at least there was a desire there to be the absolute worst. With 'Cucci Galore', it feels like Kid just can't be bothered; the ingredients are there - the lyrics about himself and, er, nothing else, the bland mix of tired rock riffs with outdated hip-hop beats, hell, he's even wearing his cowboy hat and, um, cowboy bling in the video, but there's something desperately, desperately lacking. The rhymes just aren't as laughable, and if anything, this makes the whole thing that much worse. Instead of a hilariously bad Kid Rock, we have a boring Kid Rock... and that's something too horrible to contemplate. It's probably time to hang up your hat, guy. You can't be a Kid Rock forever... oh wait...

2. THE OFFSPRING: Cruisin' California

Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. Clearly reeling from the relative indifference that met 2008's 'Rise and Fall, Rage and Grace' (notably, their best record in years), The Offspring decided that, instead of being content with the millions they've accumulated over the years from their impressive back catalogue, they would throw their artistic integrity right out of the nearest window and record something so hopelessly, laughably desperate that it would ruin their reputations forever. All in the name of hoping to make a quick buck. 'Cruisin' California' is a textbook lesson in selling your soul and will doubtless be used as a prime example of when not to listen to your record company in years to come. The lyrics falling vacuously out of Dexter Holland's mouth are asinine, hollow, empty, striving for some sort of 'instant party vibe' (perhaps a la later Weezer) but actually sounding like your Dad, nay, your Grandad, trying to talk in text-speak. The rapping (Heaven help us, I actually typed that) is unlistenable, the 'party girl' backing vocals woeful, the music a turgid trawl through all of the cliches that 'Pretty Fly (For A White Guy)' so expertly parodied. If 'Cruisin' California' was an attempt to replicate the successes of that particular gem, it got just about everything wrong. A misfire so bad, The Offspring's career may never recover. Truly, truly shocking.

1. MUSE: Madness

It pains us to write these words, it really, truly does, but 2012, among other things, will forever be remembered as the year in which Muse completely lost the plot. Not content with writing just the one painfully embarrassing cliche-fest for the Olympics (stand up 'Survival', you so very nearly made this list), Matt, Chris and Dom proceeded to pen 12 more gargantuan shitfests and released them all as one diabolical album. September's 'The 2nd Law' was the biggest disappointment since The Stone Roses's 'The Second Coming' (or, for fans of controversy, Radiohead's 'Kid A'), for a whole variety of reasons, not the least of which was its oh-so-depressing blandness. Never before had Muse sounded quite so MOR and 'Madness', the first single proper, was the perfect encapsulation of that. Sounding not unlike something you might be subjected to on an early Sunday afternoon on Radio 2, the song saunters along on the back of a terrible Craig David beat, Matt warbling about 'memories' in 'his mind', while Dom and Chris quite literally do nothing for the majority of the song's four minutes. Oh wait, no, Chris gets to make that fingernails-down-chalkboard 'warb warb' noise with some hipster instrument or other. The whole thing is an exercise in mundanity and not even the all-too-temporary mid-song guitar riff can save it. And while 'Cruisin' California' and even 'Cucci Galore' may be worse songs in themselves, 'Madness' tops the list because Muse can do so, so, so much better than this. This is the band who gave us 'Stockholm Syndrome', 'Knights of Cydonia', 'New Born', 'Uprising', 'Sunburn', 'Plug-In Baby', 'Hysteria', 'Time Is Running Out', 'Starlight'... the list is endless. The band who made us believe in British rock again, whose music threatened to rip our faces off with its sheer intensity. In 2012, they could barely make us shrug a shoulder. What happened, guys? What happened?
 

Top 10 Gigs of 2012

10. ANDREW W.K., HMV Forum, London (12/04/12)

9. THE FUTUREHEADS (ACOUSTIC AND ACAPELLA), Shepherd's Bush Empire, London (19/09/12)

8. DRY THE RIVER, Fibbers, York (26/10/12)

7. STARS, Relentless Garage, London (07/12/12)

6.  BLOC PARTY, KOKO, London (21/06/12)

5. LOS CAMPESINOS!, Islington Assembly Hall, London (15/12/12)

4. METRIC, The Ritz, Manchester (07/07/12)

3. FRIGHTENED RABBIT, 93 Feet East, London (18/09/12)

No one recorded the 93 Feet East gig, apparently. Shame.

2. FRANK TURNER AND THE SLEEPING SOULS, 02 Academy Newcastle (17/11/12)

1. BRAND NEW, Camden Roundhouse, London (11 and 12/02/12)

Top 50 Albums of 2012

List-lovers, calm your passions...

50. EUGENE McGUINNESS: The Invitation to the Voyage
49. BENJAMIN GIBBARD: Former Lives
48. DJANGO DJANGO: Django Django
47. THE CRIBS: In the Belly of the Brazen Bull
46. PAUL BANKS: Banks
45. DIRTY PROJECTORS: Swing Lo Magellan
44. BETH JEANS HOUGHTON & THE HOOVES OF DESTINY: Yours Truly, Cellophane Nose
43. PROPAGANDHI: Failed States
42. BLOOD RED SHOES: In Time to Voices
41. MINUS THE BEAR: Infinty Overhead
40. CAT POWER: Sun
39. THE MOUNTAIN GOATS: Transcendental Youth
38. CLOUD NOTHINGS: Attack on Memory
37. STARS: The North
36. OFF: Off!
35. BAND OF SKULLS: Sweet Sour
34. GRAHAM COXON: A+E
33. SLEIGH BELLS: Reign of Terror
32. MAPS AND ATLASES: Beware and Be Grateful
31. THE MAGNETIC FIELDS: Love at the Bottom of the Sea
30. HERE WE GO MAGIC: A Different Ship
29. THE MENZINGERS: On the Impossible Past
28. GRIZZLY BEAR: Shields
27. BILLY TALENT: Dead Silence
26. TAME IMPALA: Lonerism
25. ALABAMA SHAKES: Boys and Girls
24. JACK WHITE: Blunderbuss
23. FANFARLO: Rooms Filled with Light
22. HOT WATER MUSIC: Exister
21. TOY: Toy
20. TWO DOOR CINEMA CLUB: Beacon
19. FUTURE OF THE LEFT: The Plot Against Common Sense
18. SUCIOPERRO: Fused
17. GODSPEED YOU! BLACK EMPEROR: Allelujah! Don't Bend! Ascend!
16. THE CAST OF CHEERS: Family
15. SILVERSUN PICKUPS: Neck of the Woods
14. THE VACCINES: Come of Age
13. BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN: Wrecking Ball
12. MARK LANEGAN BAND: Blues Funeral
11. PERFUME GENIUS: Put Your Back N 2 It
10. TITUS ANDRONICUS: Local Business
 9. JIM LOCKEY AND THE SOLEMN SUN: Death
 8. METRIC: Synthetica
 7. PULLED APART BY HORSES: Tough Love
 6. DRY THE RIVER: Shallow Bed

 5. JAPANDROIDS: Celebration Rock

Certainly the shortest record of the bunch, Japandroids' 'Celebration Rock' could well be their magnum opus, an unforgiving beast of an album that pummels away at your eardrums and worms its way ever-so-pleasantly into your subconscious before you've really had time to let it all sink in. A thrilling listen and one that firmly cements the band as masters of their deliciously visceral art.

 4. BLOC PARTY: 4

And the award for 'Most Pleasant Surprise of the Year' goes to the return of Bloc Party, who pulled the wool over everyone's eyes and released a record that's more Biffy Clyro than Bearstronaut. While 2009's 'Intimacy' veered more towards half-arsed electronica, and Kele's solo album even more so, '4' takes its influences primarily from Gordy and Russell's between-album projects (Young Legionnaire and, um, Ash respectively) and just fucking rocks. While it retains the angular indie sensibilities of their earlier records - particularly evident on first single 'Octopus' and 'V.A.L.I.S' - it also offers heady treats like 'Kettling', '3x3' and the really bloody mad 'We Are Not Good People'. Thank the Lord they got 'Mercury' out of their system, eh?

 3. ADMIRAL FALLOW: Tree Bursts In Snow

Containing both the most uplifting song of the year - stand up 'Isn't This World Enough?' - and probably the most beautiful (the title track will make you cry, promise), Admiral Fallow's second full length is a treasure trove of greats that just improves with each and every listen. Yet another incredible Scottish band to add to your collection.

 2. THE GASLIGHT ANTHEM: Handwritten

 Brian Fallon and the Gaslight Anthems prove, once again, that they just cannot write a bad song; 'Handwritten' contains some of the finest music and lyrics of their career. The influences of The Horrible Crowes are felt throughout the record, Fallon adopting a more reflective, soulful stance... and, crucially, he gets his anger back. There are delectable hooks ('45', 'Handwritten'), powerful ballads ('National Anthem') and crushing rock behemoths (the 'Keepsake'/'Too Much Blood' duo is probably the best combination of songs in their arsenal). A tremendous record by any standards.

 1. THE MACCABEES: Given to the Wild

Talk about a game changer. 'Given to the Wild' doesn't just prove that The Maccabees are more than a first rate indie outfit with a knack for a good hook, it rewrites their own personal rulebook and forces you to completely re-evaluate your preconceptions about this most quietly brilliant of bands. The catchy melodies are still there, of course, but they're steeped in gorgeous instrumentation, couched in cascading guitar riffs and ethereal piano solos, reworked in ways you never quite expect. There's a delicate beauty about this LP, a lush melancholy that burrows its way into every track and transforms the album into something gorgeous. More than any other release this year, 'Given to the Wild' is a record made to be listened to in one sitting; while it is possible to dip in and out and the tracks stand proudly alone (just listen to 'Forever I've Known', 'Go' or 'Grew Up At Midnight' and tell me this isn't stupendous), it's the whole that makes for the most rewarding experience, the journey that reveals the greatest riches. In years to come, 'Given to the Wild' will be considered a pivotal turning point in The Maccabees' career, and we'll all still be trying to figure out exactly how they managed to make something so darn beautiful.

Gig review: Rock Sound Riot Tour (w/Billy Talent, AWOLNATION, Don Bronco), Newcastle O2 Academy, 13/11/12

With every passing year, the string-pullers at the ever-bourgeoning Rock Sound magazine (we say bourgeoning, it's been a formidable force in the industry for eons now) manage to outdo themselves in the Winter tour stakes. Their annual showcase soirée is rapidly becoming as much of a staple of the alt calendar as NME's February tour or, ahem, Kerrang's regular rotation of EXACTLY THE SAME BANDS EVERY FOUR YEARS. Fitting, then, that this time around, the blighters have only gone and nabbed one of the finest live acts the genre currently has to offer, and one with a pretty darn stonking new record to boot, and thrown them straight to the top of the bill.

Canada's Billy Talent have been decimating rabid audiences the world over for nearly twenty years now, honing their craft, so the fact that they're bloody brilliant tonight virtually goes without saying. The support, on the other hand, are another matter entirely. Regrettably, due to some highly inconvenient transport hiccups, we don't get to experience the purportedly bonkers Don Bronco but reports from various elated sources speak of 'shredding', 'tunes galore' and, curiously, 'choreography'. Smart money's on these guys being catapulted to stardom in the next two years; catch 'em at a shoebox near you while you still can.

Sadly, Stagecoach North East were not kind enough to allow us to miss AWOLNATION, however. With their delusions of 30 Seconds to Mars-esque grandeur (they even have a logo that reeks of Jared Leto), tuneless guitar thrash-outs, liberal injections of ill-advised keyboard wankery and, Heavens to Betsy, an 80s power ballad the likes of which would make Foreigner cringe (seriously, they even try to make the crowd put their arms around one another and SWAY FROM SIDE TO SIDE... wasn't this kind of ultra-saccharine codswollop outlawed in 1991?), the band sound a complete and utter mess, as if all the ingredients were thrown into the pot and no one bothered to do anything with them. It doesn't help that the sound guy seems equally nonplussed, not really bothering to even try to make anything listenable out of this garbage. The lead singer gets hopelessly lost in the dirge... so much so, in fact, that his between-song attempts at rousing some semblance of interest, or engaging with his audience (man), fall utterly and embarrassingly flat. Hopefully, if tonight is any sign, AWOLNATION will disappear off the face of the Earth before the next Riot Tour rolls around.

In fact, if we didn't have Billy Talent to rescue the show from the depths of mundanity, the future of Rock Sound's showcase may well have been in serious doubt. As it is, we're pretty certain we'll be back here same time, same place next year. It only takes one measly strum of Ian's guitar, signaling the arrival of 'Lonely Road to Absolution', arguably the new LP's best track, to send shivers down every spine in the building and whip the expectant masses into a jubilant frenzy. The band sound EPIC tonight; the hooks catchier, the riffs dirtier and the between-song banter, well... it seems like Ben's been taking a leaf out of the late Freddie Mercury's book, addressing the crowd with a lavish, lovable flamboyance, climbing atop the speakers and surveying the scene before him, strutting, posing and, at the most appropriate times, losing himself in those delectable, guttural screams (never is this more prominent than in debut album classic 'Line and Sinker', during which we start to wonder whether he has any vocal chords left at all).

The set, for the most part, is spot on. There's a smattering of new tracks, all of which are met with open arms by the adoring crowd, a healthy selection from Billy Talent II, including a riotous 'Devil in a Midnight Mass' and, of course, the anthemic 'Red Flag' to close and the still-sodding-astonishing 'Try Honesty' and, get this, 'This Is How It Goes' from the early days. The only real gripe is the (un)healthy injection of Billy Talent III numbers; sure, we can live with 'Devil on my Shoulder' and even 'Rusted from the Rain' but 'Saint Veronica'? 'Diamond on a Landmine'? Filler tracks from a filler-heavy record, certainly their weakest to date, and ones that bring the mood down just a smidgeon. Undoubtedly, the band would've been better served by a few more older tracks but hey, it's hardly as if it kills the show dead. The Newcastle contingent still bay for more and, by the end, leave sweat-drenched, sated and utterly knackered. And that's all we can really hope for, right?

In the main, then, a successful evening from our Rock Sound hosts. With a band of Billy Talent's might and experience, it's hard to go far wrong and tonight's headline performance is a corker of a show. It's a shame we have to endure the appalling AWOLNATION but there's no point in pleasure without a little pain, right? Right.

The world's worst noise

Following a hook-laden half hour at Bar Loco this evening courtesy of Australia's finest power popsters The Wellingtons, this happened. 'Improvised guitar voice conversation. Through sound.' Quite. One man, his guitar, a bow and a woman wailing. Loudly. And continuously.

The world's WORST noise.

TV review: Homeland 205: 'Q+A'

205: 'Q+A'

Written by Henry Bromell
Directed by Lesli Linka Glatter

Synopsis: Carrie and Saul try to get the truth from Brody for once and for all as they are holding him captive. Meanwhile Dana gets involved in a messy situation as she goes joyriding with Finn Walden.

Review: And who said television shows needed big budgets, lavish special effects and ambitious action sequences to be successful? Proof positive, if any were needed, that dialogue and chemistry are the cornerstones of any drama, 'Q+A' is an astonishing episode, built almost exclusively around the interplay between Claire Danes and Damien Lewis. While they may have scratched the surface of what made them Emmy winners in last week's 'New Car Smell', here they essentially give a warts-and-all presentation, turning one super-long, extraordinarily well written scene into, and I'll say it without any semblance of hyperbole (okay, maybe a little), a modern masterpiece. Carrie's systemic deconstruction of the self-built walls around Brody is an absolute delight to watch and crucially, it never drags for a second, despite being one of the longest scenes in the show's history. There are other sublime moments in the interrogation room: Carrie picking Brody up from the fetal position after she's broken him down, his phone conversation with Jess, the 'bad cop' moments from a prickly Peter Quinn (Rupert Friend is a superb addition, by the way: give him an Emmy too!) and, of course, the opening shots of a clearly terrified Brody, his legs shaking, his lips quivering, telling us all we need to know about his state of mind. If it weren't for the unfortunate intrusion of Dana and Finn's utterly reckless road trip, which, frankly, strains believability somewhat given what we know about these characters, this would most likely be the best hour of television we're likely to see all year. Unfortunately, these scenes have the undesired effect of wrenching us away from the real meat of the drama, distracting rather than entertaining. For all this is an extremely brave episode in many ways, if only the production crew had been that little bit braver and given us an entire hour set in that one room (Babylon 5's magnum opus, 'Intersections in Real Time', springs to mind here), then maybe we would've seen a perfect score. As it is, Homeland will have to make do with another (9).

TV review: Homeland 204: 'New Car Smell'

204: 'New Car Smell'

Written by Meredith Stiehm
Directed by David Semel

Synopsis: Following a secret debrief from Saul, a stunned Estes authorizes a covert operation to pursue intel recovered in Beirut - but not without putting his own trusted operative in charge. Brody, still reeling from his misadventures, gets another shock when he runs into Carrie at Langley. A casual invitation to bury the hatchet turns into an encounter neither of them could have foreseen. And Dana discovers she has something in common with Finn Walden, the Vice President's son.

Review: Well. As if the show-altering revelation at the climax of 'Beirut Is Back' wasn't enough, the Homeland scriptwriting staff manage to one-up themselves this week with the closing moments of 'New Car Smell', which surely must rank amongst the Top 5 'WTF?!' moments in the show's history, if not number one with a bullet. Instead of tip-toeing around the colossal Brody reveal and keeping us in a perpetual state of frustration for the next half of the season, gnawing at our nails, desperate to see the shit hit Nick's fan, so to speak, Homeland actually pulls the trigger only four episodes into its sophomore season, following some stellar scenes which reunite Carrie and Brody's characters and give Claire Danes and Damien Lewis further opportunities to demonstrate to all and sundry exactly why they won those Emmys. It's a brilliantly underplayed scene, totally out of leftfield, and it catches the viewer completely unawares; kudos to everyone involved for resisting the temptation to indulge in a lil' bit o' foreshadowing. What this means for the show is anyone's guess; to be honest, the story could go in any number of different directions at this point, not all of which are detrimental to the preservation of the Carrie/Brody relationship and hence, the backbone of the series. But let's not dwell on that too much for the time being... fact is, we have another top notch episode here, neatly paced and cleverly plotted. It's good to see decent use made of the perpetually drunk veteran too. The only real gripe is the burgeoning romance between Dana and Finn which, while undoubtedly important from a narrative perspective for future episodes (of course someone, somewhere, will take advantage of this development), feels a little underwhelming when taken in conjunction with all that surrounds it. It's difficult to care, to be honest, when you're faced with the prospect of an explosive Carrie/Brody reunion, and yeah right, as if the Secret Service would allow the VP's son to just go traipsing around A CONSTRUCTION SITE unsupervised with a girl. Uh and huh. (8)

TV review: Homeland 203: 'State of Independence'

203: 'State of Independence'

Written by Alexander Cary
Directed by Lodge Kerrigan

Synopsis: Jessica (Morena Baccarin) is given a chance to impress D.C. high society with her fundraiser for veterans. In spite of an earlier argument, her husband Brody (Damian Lewis) plans to give a speech until Roya (Zuleikha Robinson) sends him to Pennsylvania. Carrie (Claire Danes) returns from Beirut and prepares to deliver her report at Langley

Review: A far quieter episode than its predecessors, 'State of Independence' is, nevertheless, another strong hour, benefiting from a taut, well-structured script and some considered, naturalistic direction (well, in places at any rate). The contrast between Carrie's crushing disappointment at not being welcomed back into the CIA with open arms and Brody's WORST. DAY. EVER could not be more pointed and it's played brilliantly. Claire Danes is simply superb in her scene with Estes and again in the horrifying suicide attempt that follows. In a shrewd move, Homeland's production crew eschew amateur dramatics during the sequence, abandoning underscore and camera trickery to present something painfully believable and, oft-times, difficult to watch. Importantly, it isn't so much Carrie's actual act of pill-popping that forces you to turn away; it's the sadness of all that has come before it, that she would dress up as if to go out on the town, hoping to find someone, something, anything to fill the void, but that she ultimately realises how fruitless it all is. That all of this can be successfully conveyed without the need for a single line of dialogue is testament to the strength of the overall production. By comparison, Brody's sequences don't quite satisfy the appetite as much, if only because of the utter implausibility of it all (and his ineptitude... seriously, offing the guy while you're on the phone to your wife? Really?!) but Monica Baccarin's speech and her scenes with Mike are first rate. And then there's that final, triumphant, moment... the pay-off to end all pay-offs, and it's magnificent. (8)

TV review: Homeland 202: 'Beirut Is Back'

202: 'Beirut Is Back'

Written by Chip Johannessen
Directed by Michael Cuesta

Synopsis: CIA agent Carrie Mathison (Claire Danes) takes a risky position. An informant tells her that Abu Nazir (Navid Negahban) will be in Beirut the next day, but David Estes (David Harewood) does not believe the intel. Meanwhile, Brody (Damian Lewis) receives an invitation to the Pentagon.

Review: An episode that fires on all cylinders and pulls no punches. Picking up the gauntlet thrown down by last week's 'The Smile', 'Beirut is Back' offers more thrills, spills and squeaky bum time clenchers than you can shake a proverbial at, throwing Carrie and Saul smack bang in the middle of the action and wasting no time in reuniting Brody's agenda with that of our favourite ex-CIA agent. The juxtaposition between the scenes involving Abu Nazir in Beirut and Brody in the Pentagon is superb, chock full of dramatic tension. And just when you think it can't get any better... the production crew only go and unleash one hell of a battle sequence on us as Carrie loses her mind (well, maybe) and goes scurrying around her informant's apartment. On top of all this, there's another fuck-tonne of scintillating character moments, including Carrie's heart-to-heart with Saul on the rooftop, and that ending, which is, right now, the biggest 'holy shit!' moment since Lost's infamous first flash-forward. A cracking hour of television. (9)
 

TV review: Homeland 201: 'The Smile'

201: 'The Smile'

Written by Alex Gansa & Howard Gordon
Directed by Michael Cuesta

Synopsis: Carrie Mathison is making progress with her mental health after her Electroconvulsive Therapy. A former asset threatens Carrie's peace. Brody learns Nazir may not be happy with a nonviolent approach. Dana lets a secret slip.

Review: And Homeland comes racing out of the block like there's no tomorrow. 'The Smile' kickstarts year two with one hell of a jolt, putting the pieces firmly in place and positioning the key players in order to set up what will inevitably be a roller-coaster ride of a season. After the insular personal politics of the first year, it's good to see a whole different side to the work of our favourite CIA operatives; the production crew do some stellar work in making the sequences on the ground in Beirut seem believable, engaging and, above all, nail-bitingly tense. None of this detracts from the show's penchant for character, however, and once again, we're treated to some truly beautifully written scenes, particularly between Brody and Jess (the Islam revelation is a long time coming and it doesn't disappoint) and, importantly, Carrie and Esties. While the expediency with which Carrie is back in play does leave something of a sour taste in mouth (and it's why the episode scores an 8 when it could so easily have been a 9), the dialogue and interaction between the two characters in the sequence in which he asks for her help is absolutely top drawer stuff. This is a show at the top of its game with a cast and crew who are deservedly confident in their abilities. Hell, even Dana's material is pretty gosh darn enjoyable. A great start. (8)

Live review: Twin Atlantic (w/Charlie Simpson), Newcastle O2 Academy, 01/11/12

Oh, what a difference the Radio 1 playlist makes. It's surprising to think it in this super-selective day and age, where new music is available at the touch of a button and we can filter any tracks, artists and genres we don't like out of our lives for good, but the airwaves still hold significant sway over the success of our much-loved bands. Get a track A-listed on a major radio station and suddenly, it's everywhere; not only are the musos blasting it through their over-sized headphones on the way to Rough Trade, but now 'the man in the street', the one who 'likes a bit of everything', is whistling it on his way to work and, even more importantly than that, the teenyboppers have taken it to their hearts and plastered posters of the lead singer all over their bedroom walls. Glasgow's Twin Atlantic have recently had the good fortune to discover all of this (working in tandem with a support slot on Blink 182's arena tour which will undoubtedly have helped matters), and now, instead of playing in shoeboxes to 100 or so sweat-drenched devotees, they're selling out Academy venues across the country and receiving singalongs the likes of which would've made Liam Gallagher jealous in Oasis's heyday.

It's a heart-warming experience to see a band who have slugged their guts out over the last few years get rewarded for their hard work with such a raucous reception as they receive tonight. In a set that's 20 songs in length, which is, in itself, highly commendable for a band with one full-length, one mini-album and an EP, there's nary a moment's silence; the crowd bellows back every last word of each of the 12 tracks from 'Free' and, during the lesser-known 'Vivarium' songs, the majority continue to slam face-first into one another, forming moshpits galore and occasionally diving stagewards with reckless abandon.

Twin Atlantic seem genuinely bemused by all of this activity; while their fanbase has been steadily growing in Scotland for some time, this is the first English show they've played to such a large, adoring crowd, and it shows. Sam plays off the audience's seemingly endless energy throughout, slaying his guitar from the onset (he breaks one set of strings during the first song, a blistering 'Time for You to Stand Up') and flitting around the stage constantly; one moment, he's on his knees, unleashing a filthy riff on us, the next, he's atop the drumkit, throwing triumphant poses. And of course, at show's end, following an almighty 'Make A Beast of Myself' (complete with giant balloons! Who doesn't love giant balloons?!), he's in the crowd, having completed a successful dive from the stage, and is shaking all of our hands and lapping up the adoration.

All of this may be an altogether different experience to previous Twin Atlantic shows in Newcastle - Academy 2 last year and the phenomenally manic, sweaty Digital show in 2010 - but it is no less spine-tingling. 'Lightspeed' still sounds gigantic, 'Yes, I Was Drunk' is effortlessly epic, 'What Is Light? Where Is Laughter?' threatens to tear all of our faces off and the mudhole being stomped in the Academy floor during 'The Ghost of Eddie' causes several concerned looks to spread over the faces of the poor, helpless security staff. Inevitably, though, it's 'Crash Land' that provides the evening's most memorable moment, thanks to a beautiful chorus of voices from the crowd which prompt Sam to keep silent for over 50% of the song. It's testament to just how far they've come in the last 18 months and frankly, it's fucking fantastic.

There are plenty other moments we could mention - the tender reworking of 'You're Turning Into John Wayne', the monstrous 'Free', 'A Guidance From Colour'! - but frankly, we're running out of space. Suffice to say, Twin Atlantic were on fire tonight, playing off an energetic, adrenalin-fueled crowd to provide one beast of a show. If this is what Radio 1 playlisting can do for the band, then get the entire album on there pronto. Just, let's leave Charlie Simpson at home next time, all right guys? Sorted.

TV review: Supernatural 804: 'Bitten'

804: 'Bitten'

Written by Robbie Thompson
Directed by Thomas J. Wright

Synopsis: The Winchesters track down a killer and the investigation leads them to found footage of three college students investigating mysterious animal attacks.
 
Verdict: In a move that will undoubtedly divide fans, Supernatural eschews its regular format this week in favour of a home-movie style point-of-view episode that presents a typical monster-of-the-week tale from an entirely different set of perspectives. Sure, the use of 'amateur footage' to tell a story is nothing new (in fact, it's one of the most conventional horror tropes out there), but it is definitely refreshing to lose the usual procedural, investigative structure and see a paranormal event unfold before the eyes of three college friends. Of course, that means less Jensen and Jared but hey, if it means we get no doggy flashbacks and a tonne of homoerotic undertones, I'll take it.

The key to the success of this piece is the strength of the leads. The three actors are brilliant and play their parts straight, refusing, at least initially, to succumb to hyperbole. This, combined with some cracking, organic dialogue, helps ground the episode in reality, lending events a believability that can often be lacking in the show (and that's understandable when faced with such outrageous circumstances). There's a healthy amount of horror in all of this too, aided by the jerky, off-kilter camera angles and use of handheld, and as for that opening sequence... well, I thought I'd started up American Horror Story by mistake.

It's a shame that the episode becomes a victim of its own success in places: there's obviously a complete lack of logic in the characters' continued use of cameras, even in the most dire of circumstances, and things do get a little OTT towards the end, particularly when Brian says he doesn't want to be Piggy any more but wants a shot at being Ralph; euck, we really did not need the heavy-handed Lord of the Flies reference, thanks. Still, 'Bitten' is certainly a major improvement on 'Heartache' and, for all it is a side-step from the main arc, it stands well enough on its own merits to warrant a repeat viewing. (7)

TV review: Fringe 504: 'The Bullet That Saved the World'

504: 'The Bullet That Saved the World'

Written by Alison Schapker
Directed by David Straiton

Synopsis: After infiltrating a subway station to recover a vital piece of Walter's plan, the Fringe team meet up with an old friend... and must determine if he can be trusted.
 
Verdict: Wait. Hold up. Pause that and rewind a second, would ya? They killed Etta? ETTA? Olivia and Peter's progeny? The child upon whose shoulders the fate of the world seems to rest? The symbol of hope (see 501)? Well, if the Fringe writers are trying to one-up Homeland's production crew in the 'WTF?' stakes then they're doing a mighty fine job. The impact of that suckerpunch is pretty damn intense and the ripple effects will doubtless be felt throughout the rest of the season. Kudos to everyone involved for keeping foreshadowing to a minimum, thereby making the scene all the more shocking, and also to Anna Torv and Josh Jackson for some absolutely stellar acting in both their final moments with their daughter and the aftermath at hour's end.

For all this will undoubtedly be the episode's major talking point for weeks to come, there's still a whole 35 other minutes worthy of our attention and Alison Schapker does a fine job of keeping up the pace and generating a whole whack-load of tension to keep us on the edge of our seats. The concept of Walter retaining evidence of previous Fringe events is an absolutely brilliant one, completely in keeping with his character (if a little out of the blue), and the decision to have the team create events of their own is a nice nod to continuity. It's also somewhat disturbing, taking the actions of the team into questionable territory (using deadly poison gas against guards? Some might cry terrorism), further blurring the fine line between hero and villain.

If there are flaws, they're to be found in some of the more unusual decisions made this week: Peter's trip to the pawn shop is sweet and everything but would he really risk throwing everything away for a necklace? How inept can the Loyalists be to miss every single shot at, and chance of capturing, the Fringe agents? And while things remain enjoyable for now, how much longer can the game of cat and mouse with the Observers (chase, capture, rescue, chase etc) endure? But let's not dwell too much on those right now... poor Etta! Poor Olivia! And Peter! Oh, and Broyles is back! Man, oh man. (8)

TV review: Fringe 503: 'The Recordist'

503: 'The Recordist'

Written by Graham Roland
Directed by Jeff Bennett

Synopsis: The Fringe team meets with a group of humans who have taken refuge in the forest and seek to preserve humanity's history any way they can.
 
Verdict: After the whizz-bam suckerpunches of the season's first two hours, you'd be forgiven for thinking that 'The Recordist' is a bit of a slow-burner. Graham Roland's script is, at times, more akin to one of last year's 'case of the week as metaphor for the arc' episodes, wherein a standalone menace (or, in this case, infection) ties into the on-going narrative and moves it on a few paces, albeit cautiously. And this isn't necessarily a bad thing: the tree people, as I'm going to have to call them, are a pleasant touch, further establishing the extent to which the Observers' invasion has decimated the planet and thereby intensifying their credibility as a threat. The relationship between the group's leader and his son is also rather touching (the kid, notably, is excellent) and the knock-on impact this has on Olivia and Etta is much welcome.

There are a few niggling plot points, however: it seems a little implausible that the meticulous Observer horde would overlook this particular area of woodland for so long, however remote it is. The leader's sacrifice is also a little stilted and feels less akin to his character than the moments in which he professes to being scared. And then there's the risk of infection to the Fringe team which rears its head for a minute or two to give us a nifty mid-episode cliffhanger and is then effectively resolved, with no further mention for the rest of the hour. With a little tightening of the script, these problems could've been ironed out but as it is, they detract a little from the overall quality of the episode. Still, by no means a bad effort and quite possibly a breath of fresh air from the frenetic pace of the rest of the season. (7)

TV review: Fringe 502: 'In Absentia'

502: 'In Absentia'

Written by J.H. Wyman & David Fury
Directed by Jeannot Szwarc

Synopsis: After Walter's mind is damaged by Windmark's telepathic probe, the team goes to Walter's old Harvard lab to find the information they need to defeat the Observers.
 
Verdict: While it's certainly sad to see this show on its last hurrah, there's definitely something to be said for having a planned end date; just as with that other J.J. Abrams stalwart (oh, you know the one), Fringe feels tauter, better plotted and, crucially, more focused than ever in its final season, setting out its trajectory and sticking firmly to it, losing any potential wastage along the way (monster-of-the-week episodes are fine when executed deftly but these are the last days and we need no distractions, thank you very much).

So 'In Absentia' moves the arc plot along another twenty or so paces, bringing Harvard back into the mix (but without Daisy... or did Walter amber her too?) And carving out the basic structure for the hours to come in the form of the tapes that contain Walter's master plan. While this could become tiresome and repetitive, in the hands of Fringe's executive producers, it will doubtless be a thrilling ride. And if they continue to expertly marry the movement of the central narrative with considered character establishment, all the better. There are some wonderfully quiet moments here, from Olivia's disappointment at Etta's tactics to Etta's justifications to just about every line given to the guard. Lost's Radzinsky is absolutely superb as a man broken by the system, quietly searching for redemption. Wyman and Fury's shades of grey give these sequences extra clout, refusing to become bogged down in traditional tropes of good and evil, making everything all the more human. Another excellent episode then... even with Walter's somewhat cheesy final speech. (9)

TV review: Fringe 501: 'Transilience Thought Unifier Model-11'

501: 'Transilience Thought Unifier Model-11'

Written by J.H. Wyman
Directed by Jeannot Szwarc & Miguel Sapochnik

Synopsis: In the year 2036, Peter, Astrid, Walter, and Etta set out to find Olivia and free her from amber. Once they do, they discover she holds the key to finding the plans for a weapon to defeat the Observers... but Walter is captured and interrogated for the same information.

Verdict: With a measly 13 episodes until the end of the line, Fringe ups the ante tenfold with an action-packed rollercoaster of a season opener that neatly establishes the template for weeks to come, jostling simultaneously between crazy, plot-fueled chase sequences and tender, often crushing, character moments. There's a notable sense of urgency about the whole hour, intensified by the magnificent duel directorial abilities of Szwarc and Sapochnik, who do an absolutely cracking job of making the decimated landscape of 2034 come to life. Of course, we've had a taster of this season's delights already - last year's superb 'Letters in Transit' - so it should come as no surprise that the production crew are a dab hand at these things but still, what they manage to achieve on such a tight budget is nothing short of astonishing. There are moments of genuine horror - Windmark's interrogation of Walter is gut-wrenching (he's one hell of a villain, ain't he?) - as well as punch-the-air euphoria (Etta reunited with her mother), but let's give credit where credit's due and talk about that final scene, eh? While it may seem like something of a cop-out to have Walter lose some of his memories again, the moment of poignancy that results more than makes up for it. John Noble is absolutely fantastic here, doing so much with so little, and the direction, lighting, camerawork and soundtrack all combine to produce a striking two minutes of television that will doubtless be talked about for months to come. And all to a Yazoo song... who'd have thunk it? (9)

Live review: Dry the River (w/Arcane Roots, Last Winter Dance Party), York Fibbers, 26/10/12

Okay, listen. Being the unashamedly crass hacks that we are, it's all too tempting to draw parallels between the conditions inside tonight's pressure cooker of a venue and those outside; to make the oh-so-cliched observation that, while the first, really rather heavy, snows of the season are tumbling down upon a bitterly cold York city centre, within these four walls, the atmosphere couldn't be any warmer (and that's not just because the heating's been cranked up to the max). And yeah, it's painful just typing that, but you know what? It's bloody true. The sold out crowd packing themselves into Fibbers treat tonight's headliners like long-lost family, welcoming the band with open arms, lovingly embracing each track with their vocal chords and, crucially, hanging on every word they say.

Dry the River are probably used to all of this by now; playing sold out shows up and down the country (and across the oceans, natch) to ever-increasing audiences may make the reverence on display this evening seem par for the course. The supports may not be accustomed to such reactions, however; and while the standing ovations and passionate singalongs may be reserved for later in the evening, there is, nevertheless, a politely attentive, and appreciative, mood in the air during both Last Winter Dance Party's half hour of wonderfully epic alt folk (check out the addictive 'Dawn Chorus' now... free download on their Facebook!) and the abrasive guitar assaults of Kingston's brilliant Arcane Roots who almost, almost, upstage their successors tonight in the intensity stakes. It's certainly refreshing to be part of a crowd that's genuinely interested in the music as opposed to chugging down the next pint while chatting idly to one another, and when this filters through to the support slots too, well, everyone's a winner.

To be fair to DtR, mind, it's virtually impossible not to keep your eyes permanently glued to the stage during their suitably colossal 60 minutes. Naturally, there's the much-touted audio-visual dichotomy of five relatively scrawny, tattooed-to-fuck former hardcore kids making such heartwrenchingly tender and beautiful music which, in itself, is enough to send a dozen or more jaws dropping to the floor every time Peter opens his mouth and THAT angelic voice comes spilling out... but that's only part of the story. Fact is, these guys know how to put on a show, when to let the tunes speak for themselves and when to let loose and unleash holy hell on their instruments.

So there are moments of unrelenting beauty: an achingly expansive 'Demons', the acapella opening to 'Weights and Measures', doused with enough melancholy to make even the most steadfast among us shed a tear or two, every solitary second of 'Bible Belt' and, lest we forget, the inspired decision to close the encore with an acapella rendition of 'Shaker Hymns'... in the middle of the crowd. And then there are the gargantuan numbers: the impassioned choruses of 'No Rest', the anthemic 'New Ceremony' and the piece da resistance, the six minute behemoth that is 'Lion's Den', which builds and builds into a climax of unfathomable proportions, each member of the band drawing deep to give us every ounce of energy they can possibly muster. It's a thrilling experience, leaving lumps the size of golfballs in the throats of every stunned spectator in the building.

And that's pretty much the go-to response for tonight's performance. With only 9 songs, no shoes and a few Maryland cookies (no, we don't know either), Dry the River blow every expectation out of the water, demonstrating their consummate skills as musicians but, more importantly than that, delivering something genuinely emotive and real. The passion, energy and intensity on display tonight is what live music was made for and it's brilliantly invigorating. Hats off to DtR then; there's absolutely nothing cold about this evening's show. Sorry... couldn't resist.

Live review: Muse, Glasgow SECC, 24/10/12

Let's get one important point out of the way before we begin: Muse are an incredible live band. There is simply no denying the fact that Matt, Chris and Dom are masters of their craft, perhaps THE masters, expertly amalgamating extravagance, spectacle, technical wizardry, bone-crunching guitar riffs and spine-tingling singalongs to produce a  heady five course musical meal that has crowds devouring the palms of their hands throughout. It almost goes without saying that Muse shows are like no other, and that the extortionate amount you undoubtedly paid for it will be repaid tenfold by at least SOME of the 120 minute rollercoaster ride unfolding before your eyes (and ears).

And so it is tonight at Glasgow's cavernous SECC, when the ivories tinkle the opening refrain of 'The Resistance'; when Matt launches into a heart-wrenchingly beautiful - and most unexpected - 'Ruled by Secrecy'; when Dom's thunderous drums drive a militaristic 'Uprising'; when Chris straps on the ol' harmonica, signalling the arrival of a brutal, pounding 'Knights of Cydonia';  and of course, when Matt slays seven shades of the proverbial out of 'Plug-In Baby' and 'Stockholm Syndrome', perhaps the finest, messiest, certainly noisiest headfuck of a closing duo you are ever likely to experience. These are the moments that stick with you, that send shivers careering down your spine, that thrill, that excite, that re-affirm your belief in this most colossal of bands.

It's a shame, then, that these moments are getting fewer and further between, that Muse seem hell-bent on abandoning the very things that make them such a delight to watch. Doubtless Matt, Dom and Chris are extremely proud of their latest effort, 'The 2nd Law', and that they, quite understandably, want to take any opportunity they can to share their new-born with the world. It's just unfortunate that it also happens to be something of a dud; unquestionably their worst record to date and quite frankly, hopeless in a live setting. Disappointing, then, that they choose to air no fewer than TEN - count 'em! - songs from it this evening which leaves a lot less room for those that are far likelier to elicit a positive reaction.

Muse could be forgiven, perhaps, if the lazy, almost parodic, sound of the album was given a complete make-over live, confounding expectations and forcing you to re-evaluate the record. Sadly, this is not the case: the flat songs still sound flat and, worse still, they kill the jubilant mood created by anthems like 'Time Is Running Out' and 'Starlight'. Five or six tracks might have been forgivable; 'Supremacy' does sound mega, 'Survival' was the Olympic song after all (though there is no way in hell it should close the show... talk about a Radio 2 ending), 'Madness' IS a single, though God only knows why, and at least 'Panic Station' makes people dance, but 'Animals'? 'Explorers'? Opening with 'Unsustainable'? Making us wait through ALL of 'Isolated System' before we return for the encore? Matt running around like Bono on steroids during 'Follow Me'? 'LIQUID STATE'? There really is no need for such an excessive amount of new material, particularly when the songs bleed into one another in the setlist ('Liquid State' into 'Madness' into 'Follow Me' into 'Undisclosed Desires' has got to be the worst run of Muse tracks EVER). Oh sure, we're all grateful for a toilet/bar break every now and again but not when it makes up approximately 50% of the show.

Of course, the biggest casualty of this over-reliance on new material is the loss of space for the old. Gone are any tracks from 'Showbiz', with the one concession, the first verse of 1997's 'Host', welcome but insufficient to remedy the loss of 'Unintended', 'Muscle Museum' or indeed, anything else from that record. Unforgivably, 'Hysteria' is nowhere to be found, despite the baying of the crowd and the fact that it contains the finest guitar solo to have ever wormed its way out of Matt's fingertips; a decent but hardly special 'Map of the Problematique' takes its place.

And then there's the 'New Born'/Stockholm Syndrome' thing. The two finest songs in their arsenal, both phenomenal live, and they'll only play one each night. They've even made a thing of it, notifying fans beforehand and, worse still, using a roulette graphic on-stage just before playing which of the two has been selected for that night, with the two songs as the only options; as if, you know, they haven't already decided beforehand. While this is undoubtedly supposed to manufacture some excitement, all it does is remind us of what we're NOT going to get. It's almost insulting, as if Muse are having a good laugh at our expense; "hah, yeah, we know you love 'em both but you know what, fucking TOUGH. We're gonna do what we like."

Frankly, we expect more from the UK's finest live performers. All the extravagant visuals, elaborate sets (the pyramid IS nifty), ludicrous suits, Star Trek onesies (Dom, you are a cad) and flash shades in the world cannot make up for the loss of the very thing that made Muse such a thrilling experience in the first place: the tunes. Sure, this is by no means a car crash of a performance; there are plenty astonishing moments, more than enough to justify the ticket price probably, and to make any first-time gig-goers think they've probably just witnessed the best show on Earth. It's just... we expect, no, we NEED, more from Muse. If they're to retain their reputation, Matt, Dom and Chris need to strip the '2nd Law' portion of the set to its bare bones, restore the tracks that got them to this point and cut back heavily on the Mercury and the Bono. Oh, and quit playing drum and bass jams too, you're too good for that shit. Disappointingly, then, the verdict is a resounding must try harder.

Live review: Little Comets (w/General Fiasco, Natasha Haws), Newcastle O2 Academy, 20/10/12

It wasn't so long ago that Jarrow's finest songsmiths were barely troubling the claustrophobic shoebox that is Newcastle Academy's second room. A year or two on from those halcyon days and with a sophomore album under their collective belts, Little Comets are now packing out the former Bingo Hall itself, drawing in  delirious youngsters (and by young, golly do we mean young) by the truckload and whipping every last one of 'em into a frenzy with their unique brand of spiky kitchen sink indie. And okay, so the venue isn't actually sold out tonight but with the noise this lot make, and the mudhole stomped into the floor by the end, you'd certainly be forgiven for thinking so.

In an inspired move, support this evening comes in two equally delicious flavours: first, soaring acoustic melancholia courtesy of South Shields' Natasha Haws, whose all-too-brief five song set is a lesson in how to pull heartstrings (mark our words, this girl will go far); second, hook-laden pop rock from Northern Ireland's General Fiasco who mainly showcase their latest release 'Unfaithfully Yours' (a real step up; buy it now, kids) but offer a veritable treasure trove of killer riffs and irresistible choruses ('Don't You Ever' and 'We Are The Foolish' are the main highlights) that get the hands clapping and the feet... well, you get the gist.

There's no mistaking the stars of tonight's soiree, however, and as the obligatory clothesline is draped with the requisite percussion instruments and the lights begin to dim, the atmosphere is positively electric. The 75 minute Greatest Hits (and then some) that follows is just about the perfect recipe to satisfy the rabid hordes, careering from one gigantic indie pop gem to another, only occasionally interrupted by lesser-known material from current record 'Life Is Elsewhere'.

And if, at times, the new tracks sound a little stifled, hinting perhaps that they could use a little bedding in, they're few enough to be forgiven. Before long, we're recklessly slamming into one another again as another 'In Search of Elusive...' classic erupts or one of the more recent singles gets an airing. Indeed, one of the night's foremost highlights is the delirium that greets 'Worry'; the corresponding singalong is almost enough to stun the band into silence. And five minutes later, this actually happens as the crowd bellow back the RIFF to 'One Night in October' and then engage in the greatest hand-clap/woo-woo/bounce-bounce combination this side of a Green Day concert during the frankly bonkers 'Dancing Song'.

Little Comets are humbled by all of this; at show's end, they seem genuinely stunned at the warmth of the reception, telling us that their 'silly little songs' were written in bedrooms in Jarrow for their own amusement and that they never expected that they would connect with so many. It's a typically British, and perhaps North Eastern, trait, downplaying one's talent, but it only increases the poignancy of the situation, hammering home the fact that tonight is something particularly special. The local boys done good, guys... now let's give 'em a hundred more nights as memorable as this one.