The Black Keys - Turn Blue

Source: Wikimedia

The Black Keys, the one and only dynamic due of awesomeness, are back. Their latest album Turn Blue landed today, with the run up being a couple of singles and a whole lot of hype. The pair played on Jools Holland, David Letterman and Zane Lowe a few days before the release of Turn Blue, and NME have been fangirling over it for at least a month, leaving the rest of the human race, fed only on tidbits, to wait with baited breath for more. There's no doubt that it's incredibly different to anything they've ever done before, but the brilliant thing about The Black Keys is that they retain the essence of Black Keys-ness, no matter what they do with their music. If you trace their albums from the heavy blues rock of The Big Come Up all the way to the catchy riffs of 2011's El Camino, they've undeniably made giant steps; however, there's definitely a connecting thread through all of their music: the defiance to not do things the way they're expected to. It's something that's so intrinsically attractive about their music, and it's what's gained them several million fans worldwide.

Every music journalist who got their hands on a press copy of the CD has been raving about how "daring" Weight of Love, the first track on the album, is. Sure, it's daring only in that it's the longest song they've ever done (clocking in at 6.50) but apart from that, it feels like an utterly natural start to the album. Time passes without you noticing, because everything is just so well timed so as to create a seamless transition from one section into another. At it's core, though, the epic guitar solos and blues allusions are full of anguish and pain. Considering that the album was written when guitarist and vocalist Dan Auerbach was going through an apparently quite messy and public divorce, this isn't very surprising. There's so much behind that fuzzy guitar solo at the beginning that us as mere listeners can't even begin to access until you see the passion with which they perform live. That's when a whole other dimension is added on to their music, and my suspicion is that they will most certainly not disappoint with respect to Turn Blue.

Source: Wikipedia

Where El Camino was daring in its dive into the world of commercially viable and universally accessible music, Turn Blue is daring in its exploration of those individual and fleeting touches that instantly make a song miles better. Take Bullet In the Brain. The deep "waaaah" (for want of a better description) of the post-chorus section is transporting, and the hint of synthesiser during the second verse is just genius. Just for that, it's one of my favourite songs on the album, because these touches exhibit the musical awareness of The Black Keys and Danger Mouse (the producer who's worked with them since their album Attack & Release) both as listeners and artists, that allows them to make the songs intensely interesting, not just good sing-along material. The same is true for 10 Lovers, which gets the balance between introducing new elements and maintaining the old Black Keys feel just right. It's also a skill that Auerbach can make heartbreak (and lyrics like "when I hear them use your name/I get all choked up inside") seem like the sexiest and most manly emotion on earth.

I would very much like to talk about It's Up To You Now. Very very much. There's not much to say except this: it's a fucking tune and why are more people not enthusing about it. This is where Patrick Carney's skills as a drummer are exhibited, not through technical brilliance, but in instinctively knowing what kind of beat will make people want to dance. The shift from the heavily driven first section into the insistent second section and then back again is unexpected and beautiful. This song has achieved what every song wishes it could achieve: when it finishes, the listener is left gasping for more and wishing it was longer. That, my friends, is the mark of what those in the know call a tuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuune.

I had a very strange experience going from the piano-led In Our Prime to Gotta Get Away. Bearing in mind that In Our Prime is one of the few Keys songs that places such a big emphasis on the piano (and is thus by implication the most soulful and meaningful of the lot, naturally yah) it's quite a shock to suddenly go from that to Gotta Get Away, which I thought was a Rolling Stones song coming up on shuffle on my iPod. Auerbach seems to be channeling his inner Jagger (don't pretend you don't have one) with this one, especially with the opening guitar solo, a sound so typical of a lot of the songs on Exile On Main Street. It's a good old 60s influenced toe-tapper (excuse the word, I instantly feel 40 years older for having used it) that aims to please. More please.

At the end of this, I really don't know what to say. Turn Blue is an album that wears the band's experiences on its sleeve, and is consequently dripping with heart ache and deep, irreparable pain. Through this, they've kept in line with their general tendency to top whatever the previous album was by about a million. Despite the album's individuality, I can't help but hear Iggy Pop's Turn Blue whenever I see the title, no matter how hard I try. The struggles of the musically cultured *sigh*. Still, the contents itself couldn't be anything but Black Keys. Thank the lord.

Rating: 9/10

Recommended Tracks:
10 Lovers
It's Up To You Now
Weight of Love

Wild Beasts - Live at the O2 Academy Brixton

Given the hugely positive reception for Wild Beasts' fourth album, Present Tense, the bar was set high for the level of last Tuesday's performance. Present Tense made it onto NME's list of the best albums of 2014 so far, and it's been highly praised by all who've heard it. It's just praise indeed, but it takes a while to warm up to Present Tense, just because it's such a big step away from 2011's Smother. Anyone who claims to be a Wild Beasts aficionado (and there aren't many, but those who do are truly dedicated) will tell you that the shift isn't obvious, but more of a subtle move away from the insistent and yet artistic vulgarity of songs like Plaything. It's intelligent without being inaccessible; there are songs about sex that are less about fulfilling an animal desire and more about fulfilling an emotional deficit. In short, Wild Beasts have grown up. They'd probably resent that description quite a lot.

Psychedelic light show

With East India Youth supporting, and with the O2 Academy Brixton as the host for the festivities, it looks set to be an evening of intelligent music and heavy bass. For a one-man band, East India Youth's William Doyle is surprisingly captivating and bad-dance-moves inducing. Everything is achieved with his MacBook and a synth, all wired-up to amplify the noise by a billion. His sufficiently awkward refusal to make eye contact or interact with the audience made his absorbed and passionate performance even more interesting. A "hello" would've been nice, though.

When Wild Beasts come on, it's clear that all their hard graft to achieve some sort of notoriety has paid off; the screams are incessant throughout their set. They kick off with the beautiful Mecca, from their new album, which starts off in a languidly passionate way, giving them plenty of scope for the rest of the evening.

Some bands, when they've just released a new album, prefer to play that album from start to finish, maybe giving the audience a cover, or the staple old song that gets wheeled out at every gig they do. Not so with Wild Beasts. They gave a nod to their past by putting songs like the wonderfully vibrant Devil's Crayon, from their first album, next to Daughters, a slightly disturbingly gorgeous song from their fourth. Far from being a bit strange, the contrast only demonstrates how far the band has comes from the Limbo, Panto days.

What makes Wild Beasts stand out from many other bands is that they in fact have two lead singers: Hayden Thorpe and Tom Fleming. Both men have distinctly different voices; Thorpe favours a higher range, tending more to use a falsetto, whereas Fleming's voice is gorgeously rich and smooth. It's the vocal equivalent of a chocolate fondue. In their live performances, it's fascinating to see how shared vocals work in practice. With songs like All The King's Men, Thorpe leaves Fleming to do his thing, but in Reach A Bit Further, the two voices mix and complement each other perfectly. On the album, it's wonderful. Live, it's phenomenally phantasmagorical. Alliteration intended.

Wild Beasts

The band members themselves clearly adore what they do. Their performance is full of enthusiastic headbanging, arm-moving, piano-bashing, and, in Thorpe's case, a new method of wide-legged dancing whilst playing the bass. These guys ain't nothing if not inventive.

Wanderlust, the leading track from the new album, isn't revealed until the encore, but it gets everyone screaming "don't confuse me with someone who gives a fuck" with visible glee. The night ends on the epic End Come Too Soon, sending the crowd into hysterics when everything dies down in the middle. It provides the perfect farewell to what really couldn't have been a better performance.

All that show did was prove to me how undeserving Wild Beasts are of being called "pop". It's far too small a bracket for the wide-ranging styles and lyrics that they encompass across their four albums. Their songs are too good to be overexposed with too much airplay. Their albums deserve to be picked up and discovered quietly, and then listened to with awe and wonder. Reader, I call upon ye to love Wild Beasts, and aid me in my quest to love them quietly. I find that too much screaming and shouting only drowns out the music.

East India Youth - Total Strife Forever

William Doyle, or the one-man electronic act East India Youth, is a London-based artist who literally seems to have quietly inundated the music world with his entrancing and mesmerising songs. His debut album was released mid-January without much noise-making or pan-bashing, but those in the know have heralded it as a definite jewel.

His clever use of harmonies combined with a driving drum beat (and, in the case of Looking For Someone, sleigh bells) make his songs not too hardcore indie electronica, but just on the verge of being edgy without being white noise. The rate of change in each of the songs is chilled, relaxed, as though Doyle's ambling along Brick Lane of a Saturday afternoon. His songs seem to wear the same flowery shirts and mop of hair that he does.

Source: Wikimedia

Heaven, How Long is a particularly stand-out track, the opening of which makes it slightly cinematic, even orchestral. It's one example of how simple nuances, like the gradual shifting from soft to hard synth, creates the difference between something that's boring and something that's interesting as fuck. The soft blow of synth about two minutes in, to the lyrics "I scrape my head against the grey sky", lets us feel as though we're nearing a goal, we're getting out of the everyday synthesiser music that we're used to into something with a twist. As ever, the shift between this in the song is unassuming and modest, simply dropping the drums and adding some more harmonies recorded in Doyle's kinda nerdy, nasal voice. The changes are so minimal that they're almost undetectable until a minute later. Whatever it is he does on that computer of his, it's bloody working.

Everything is very clever with East India Youth. Even the name harks back to the East India Trading Company, made defunct in 1874; it adds him to the haul of Bright Young Things dominating the music industry, all of whom are very intellectually aware. For Doyle, it pays off. The subtlety and trickiness of his music is intensified as a result, which paradoxically makes it easier to access. He's not so overtly hipster as to be repelling, but the touch is just gentle enough to intrigue you. My advice? Let it.


Rating: 7/10

Recommended Tracks:
Dripping Down
Looking For Someone
Glitter Recession

London Grammar - If You Wait

Usually when the music world finds a band that they deem to be the "next big thing", there's a relative amount of hype surrounding the release of their debut record. Not so with London Grammar, a British trio who recently released their first album If You Wait after just one EP released in February 2013.

Source: Allmusic

It's slightly baffling to see how London Grammar, a fledgling band, have managed to leap from relative anonymity to reaching Number 2 on UK and Australian charts. It's no mean feat. Part of the success is down to the stripped-back instrumental backing, meaning they have a slightly ambiguous style, thus allowing them to appeal to any music fan. It does also mean, however, that they don't ever really allow the songs to grow at any point, and they remain on the same level for a lot of the time.

It's due to the problem that, like quite a few emerging artists who are scared of doing anything to jeopardise commercial success, they are too unsure of themselves and their sound, so they stick to what they know and are comfortable doing. It means that they never properly allow the songs to move anywhere else, anywhere different or surprising. As an emerging artist, it's their right to show off with what they can do. London Grammar seem too focused on catching the public eye to reveal the true extent of their talents. In their single Wasting My Young Years, vocalist Hannah Read sings beautiful, moving lyrics about her ex-boyfriend in a beautifully moving way, and the chorus builds up momentum gradually, although it then dies back down again straight afterwards, reverting to what it was before. Daughter, who have a similar style to London Grammar, manage to do both introspective and demonstrative at the same time, so it's not a question of whether or not it can be done. It's a question of whether or not they can do it.

That said, they are quietly insistent in their music, which is mainly due to Read's extraordinary talent as a vocalist. Her voice soars above the rest of the songs and really makes them complete. Nightcall is a very good example of this; it seems as though the rest of the band are there to provide a backdrop to Read's centre piece. Although it is a brilliant song, the lack of growth in the piano and guitar means that the song can't ever reach its full potential.

There's no denying that the basic structure of the songs and the band is good. But they're lacking in something other than their vocals to make them stand out. They need to flesh out other areas of the band in order to make them, not just good, but very good indeed.

Rating: 5-6

Recommended Tracks:
Nightcall
Hey Now
Strong

Peace - Live

Having been ranked 14th on NME's 50 Best Albums of 2013, nominated for the BBC's Sound of 2013 poll and doing several major headline tours both in the UK and USA, it's needless to say that 2013 seems to have been a pretty good year for Peace. Their debut album In Love, released in April this year, broke in at number 16 on the charts in its first week of release. Don't seem bad for a couple of rookies.

This may be why, on their first night of a double bill at the Shepherd's Bush Empire, the crowd outside are so keyed up and rearing to get in there. In fact, when they do, the lucky few were literally elbowing past each other, sprinting to get to the barriers. They seem to have attracted an unlikely bunch; obviously you've got your indie kids (only to be expected, it is a Peace gig after all) although there is a group of girls standing behind me, wearing nothing but crop tops, leggings and hoodies for warmth, enthusing over the greatness of helmet-haired You Me At Six. Brilliant. But no matter, everyone's equal in the fight for a front row view.

Superfood

This motley crew of fans started piling in very quickly, and even before Superfood, the first support act, came on they were piled at least 10 deep. By the time Peace actually do get on stage, all tiers of seating and all of the stalls were full to the brim with eager, sweaty fans, craning their necks to get a glimpse of the performance on stage.

Superfood acted as a sort of aperitif for the evening. Owing to their limited material, they lasted only half an hour, but it was everything you expect from them: awkward, brilliant, raw. Superfood preceded Drenge, the second support act for the evening. Drenge, two brothers from Derbyshire, were great. If the fervent nodding of Peace drummer Dom Boyce (who gave a cheeky look-in from the side of the stage) was anything to go by, it was going very well. As a band, their self-titled debut CD can't hold a candle to their live performance.

Drenge

As the stage is set for Peace, excitement gradually mounts. Then, the music drops, the lights go down and they swagger on stage with all the confidence their new-found success has given them. The opening number is Waste of Paint, which sets the tone nicely for the songs to come. Peace aren't very engaging as performers, preferring to shut their eyes, stare at their shoes and instruments and generally make as little eye contact with the screaming fans as possible. The between-song chatter is kept to a minimum, although as Harrison Koisser, lead singer and guitarist, attempts to throw a towel out to the crowd, he remarks in the most nonchalant way imaginable "I was born to throw. High." as said towel stops just short of the barrier.

However, all of that doesn't matter. The strength of their material makes up for their slightly self-conscious performance. As they bound through the tunes from the album (notably Follow Baby, Higher Than The Sun, Toxic, Float Forever, Lovesick and Wraith) they manage to stick in a few surprises as well: halfway through Harrison introduces one of their new songs, entitled Money; they end the main set on 10-minute trippy anthem 1998 and even stick in their recent cover of Wham!'s Last Christmas during the encore.

As the last notes of Bloodshake echo through the room, I can't help but think that they are truly a very, very, very good band. Not just good, but really rather brilliant. Well worth the sore feet and throbbing ears.

Check out this alternate review of the gig by my friend Georgia

Obituary for Lou Reed

Source: Allmusic

On Sunday 27th October, the world was greeted with the news that Lou Reed, frontman of The Velvet Underground and a brilliant solo artist in his own right, had died at the age of 71. Reed had had a liver transplant in May, and his literary agent confirmed his cause of death was "liver-related ailment". Having been a self-confessed drinker and drug user for many years, it may come as no surprise to some that this has happened. However, to the majority of the music world, it was a very sad day indeed.

Iggy Pop has said it was "devastating news". The Who tweeted "RIP Lou Reed. Walk on the peaceful side". John Cale, fellow member of The Velvet Underground, posted on his website that "the world has lost a fine songwriter and poet... I've lost my 'school-yard buddy'". David Bowie said of Reed, his old friend: "He was a master." For all of these musical legends to say such affectionate things about Reed shows his popular and widespread appeal to anyone and everyone who loved, and loves, music.

Indeed, Bowie, Pop and Reed became relatively close in the early 70s. The two American musicians met Bowie in 1971, when Bowie was just another British musician trying to make it in America. The friendship between the three musicians grew, and in 1972, Bowie ended up producing, along with his guitarist Mick Ronson, Lou Reed's epic first album Transformer. The collaboration of the two Brits on this album undoubtedly gave Reed's creative flow a new lease of life, and gave him a new direction in which to make pioneering tracks. From this album come Lou Reed's most famous singles: Perfect Day, Walk on the Wild Side and Satellite of Love.

Source: Allmusic

The Velvet Underground made headway into a difficult musical environment by producing guitar driven rock. It helped that they were the proteges of Andy Warhol, but even without his influence it's clear that The Velvet Underground would still have had the same lasting influence on music that they had at the time. In their heyday, the band never really had commercial success. Despite that, the impression they had on many people, musicians or otherwise, is evident and immortal. Their music is so accessible that you could come from any walk of life, pick up their self-titled third album and fall instantly in love. Brian Eno famously summed up their wide-reaching impact by saying "the first Velvet Underground album only sold 10,000 copies, but everyone who bought it formed a band." Hard to beat that, really.

Although Lou Reed then went on to have a long-lived solo career, it's his first album that sticks in one's mind as particularly brilliant/epic/influential/beautiful (please delete as applicable). With the aforementioned Big 3 Tunes on it, how could it not be? These three songs, Perfect Day, Satellite of Love and Walk on the Wild Side, sum up Lou Reed's career in a relatively succinct and lovely way. Each of them are tragically beautiful, like many of Reed's songs and like Reed's life itself. Take Perfect Day, for example. It starts off with what you might think was typical love song lyrics ("you make me forget myself", "it's such a perfect day, I'm glad I spent it with you") to then go into the hauntingly bitter repeated line of "you're going to reap just what you sow". That one line is enough to make me stop and think, any time and anywhere.

Source: Allmusic
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On the face of it, Lou Reed's music was, much like his life, rock and roll, baby. Delving deeper, it's plain to see that there's a whole other level of emotional intelligence that's lost upon the average listener. Like getting to know a person, it takes time to get to know Reed's music very, very well. Every time you re-listen to an album, you discover new things about it that you'd previously been unaware of. If you don't believe me, listen to Pale Blue Eyes over and over and I guarantee you'll find something each time.

 Discussing Lou Reed with a friend, we came upon the perfect way to describe him. It's like musical philosophy; one song is enough to make you ponder your entire existence.

Fidlar

Source: Allmusic

Fidlar, or for those in the know "fuck it dog, life's a risk", are the type of band that could not suit their name more perfectly if they tried. They just exude the sort of "look at the number of fucks I could not and would never give" vibe in every song they produce. It's all very skater dude, badass, fun in the sun. Their self-titled debut album almost smells like a dingy garage that's recently been made into a hotbox.

It has to be, then, a testimony to their determination that despite their chilled attitude, there is absolutely no lapse in the energy of the album; every song is charged to the max with an
almost pre-adolescent level of testosterone. It is absolutely perfect headbanging material. Each song is structured cleverly so that you get a small break inbetween the relentless charges of guitar riffs - the large amount of guitar feedback at the end of each song allows for a bit of a breather before the beginning of the next song, when I can guarantee you'll be dancing like a fool.

The lyrical content is generally a defense of their right to be free Stoked And Broke ("I just wanna get really high, smoke weed until I die. I don't ever want to get a job. I fucked up, hey, nothing's wrong"), No Waves ("I feel, feel like a cokehead, I feel, feel like I can't get drunk no more") and Cheap Beer (the chorus is simply "I DRINK CHEAP BEER SO WHAT FUCK YOU". Need I say more.) That's what Fidlar are all about, though: the traditional, simple sex and drugs and rock and roll (mainly drugs with a bit of alcohol thrown in for good measure); it's suitably fitting that their lyrics aren't overly complicated or unnecessarily poetic. How much poetry can you realistically make out of smoking weed?

Source: Allmusic

What I really love about Fidlar, though, is their music. That is going to sound incredibly obvious and a little bit stupid, but let me explain myself further. Their riffs are really, really good. The drum parts are really, really good. Everything about the music is really, really good. It's not as though the music is particularly original or outstandingly game-changing, but there's something about it that's quite vibrant in the way that they piece the music together. The shrieks in Cheap Beer, for example, suit it perfectly, and Whore feels complete with its two verses and a bridge on repeat. They've got just the right amount of whatever it is that makes their music rebellious enough to be cool, but have held back just as it tips over into the verge of extreme. Balance is certainly everything.

On first sight, Fidlar appear to be reckless pothead skaters who exude the sort of fuck-it vibe you could only dream of. That's what they are. There are no hidden meanings or secrets to Fidlar. What you see is what you get. Sort of refreshing in a way.

Rating: 7/10

Recommended Tracks:
No Waves
5 to 9
Blackout Stout