Track Reviews

Track Reviews: 9-15 May 2011



Our momma used to say that the tracks column is like a box of chocolates; you never know what you’re gonna get. But what do mommas know now that we’ve made it all the way to 2011? We know exactly what we’re gonna get: a few fillets of the good stuff, some questionable filler and a side of unnecessary – and frankly unattractive – sarcasm.

You can’t blame us for trying, though. All the cool kids scoff at our bright white Hi-Techs between glances at their Just Seventeens and what-have-you, and it’s the least we can do to pour scorn on the efforts of those damnably talented sods who cram more musical goodness into three minutes than we’ve exhibited in a lifetime of home-recorded radio shows.

But hey, sod it – we’re not so bitter and twisted that we can’t stamp our humble approval on tracks that deserve wider appreciation. So come on, you guys; let’s drop the sad act and storm this week’s selection by shooting it right in the eye.

Justice – Civilisation

We seem to remember Justice reassuring us that they were our friends, and that we’d “never be alone again”. But that wasn’t the case when we were caught short at the Camden Crawl and had to beg passers-by for a spare pair of slacks, was it? Less Justice, more Fairweather Friends.

We’re not averse to forgiving and forgetting, though, and it’s just as well: Civilisation is a full-blooded uppercut that channels early Daft Punk in delivering a knock-out blow to all and sundry. In your faces!

In fact, it may just be good enough for us to put the Camden incident behind us entirely. After all, it’s soundtracking Adidas ads at the moment, and we were certainly “all in” on that occasion. Ugly scenes best not repeated, as Wayne Rooney probably says all the time.

Bruno Mars The Lazy Song

Poor Bruno Mars. To be alive at the same time as Olly Murs. To be forced to live in the perpetual shadow of such a truly great star. Without Murs, Mars would be king.

He would rule the easy-listening, cod-reggae-loving, flip-flops-in inappropriate-situations-wearing, five-albums-a-year-purchasing, “oh yeah dude, I love surfing but the sand gets in my iPad”-saying numpty market, who just happen to be ruining music for everyone.

And this, this would be their national anthem. But it isn’t. Because circumstance has condemned Mars to a future of being little more than a poor man’s Olly Murs. Tragic.

Listen Here. Man.

Bravestation – White Wolves

It takes more than mere bravery to frequent some of the stations round our way: it takes a skinful of beer, faux bravado and an ill-advised shortcut. But if we had a pack of white wolves at our disposal… The bad lads would think again about poking fun at our cagoules, wouldn’t they?

Toronto’s Bravestation have clearly thought along the same lines. Nobody would dare ruffle their hair with impudence after hearing White Wolves, a New Wave-style number that dials up the scares but climaxes with a firm hug. Like a bad ass rozzer with a heart of gold. And serious emotional issues.

Other Lives For 12

Apparently Thom Yorke really likes this. Which given that it sounds not more than an ant’s fart away from a Desert Sessions version of How To Disappear Completely, drunk on tequila and sunburnt to all hell, suggests that either Yorke doesn’t get the point of listening to anything which doesn’t sound like his day job or that inside that small body there’s a massive egotist struggling to get out.

Actually, that’s hardly Hobson’s choice, is it.

But he’s not wrong, mind you, because the whole idea of a band of Mariachis wandering through the Cantinas of the Oaxacan plains doing Radiohead covers for Coronas is a beautiful one, and if this is the blissful, forlorn reality, then count us in.

Fitz & The Tantrums – Breakin’ The Chains Of Love

Look, Fitz, just bloody well leave us alone, right? We’ve had it up to here with your frankly excellent retro-stylings and catchy-as-hell pop tunes. Sling your sodding hook; we’re the only tantrum around here.

Actually, wait. Don’t go. We’ve been drinking, you see. Yes, again. Your joyful, “brand old” qualities really do it for us. No, honest. It’s like a black and white jam session with The Caesars, The Noisettes and Kula Shaker. Don’t leave us alone here.

Please, continue. We’ll switch this gin for Evian and sit here nicely. But we won’t promise not to flirt with your Andrew Stone-esque lead singer. He’s a real star, man.

Fucked Up Ship Of Fools

Punk rock opera? Are you the very model of a modern spitting antichrist? Gilbert and Sullivan would be spinning in their graves. In time. With a chorus line.

But yes, Fucked Up are now making punk-rock opera. Which is like normal opera except the lead vocal isn’t sang by a massive fat ma… Ah. Ok. So punk-rock opera, it’s like normal opera except the lyrics are intelligibl… Ah.

Hmm. So. Punk rock opera. It’s a bit like opera. But punky.

Get your punk on here



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