Albums of 2010: 40-31
Here’s your first batch for the week – numbers 40-31 of the albums of 2010, as chosen by our writers. Enjoy! Check back tomorrow for 30-21. … Continue Reading
Here’s your first batch for the week – numbers 40-31 of the albums of 2010, as chosen by our writers. Enjoy! Check back tomorrow for 30-21. … Continue Reading
Frightened Rabbit
November 22, 2010
As the scene of my ‘education’, Northumbria University will always hold a special place in my heart, primarily because of the many sweaty, boozy hours I spent in its Student Union watching bands good, bad, and fucking terrible. However, as I have gradually degenerated from a hip ‘n’ happenin’ snake-hipped teen to a doughy late twenties office drone, so too did Northumbria fall from its pedestal as a regular fixture in Newcastle’s gig scene. Today, after a major refit which has included reducing the capacity of the upstairs room (and in the process massively improving its atmosphere), it appears that the place is slowly trying to claw its way back into favour, having recently nabbed a couple of gigs which would usually be shoe-ins for one of the Academy venues. If you’ve ever been to the Academy, you’ll agree this is undoubtedly no bad thing. … Continue Reading
Frightened Rabbit - The Winter Of Mixed Drinks
There is every reason for Frightened Rabbit to be triumphant. After two critically well received albums they teeter on the edge of the mainstream, while Glasvegas, the band they are likely to be erroneously compared to have proven themselves exactly as good as you would expect of a group hyped by today’s Alan McGee and today’s NME; right up there with date-rape and bowel cancer.
Adding members at such a rate they should be approaching Los Campesinos! in terms of stage-filling ability this time next year, Frightened Rabbit’s sound has been expanding appropriately. Their new LP, The Winter of Mixed Drinks kicks off with ‘Things,’ a thudding behemoth of a song which swells and reaches upward ad infinitum like an ancient stone fist. … Continue Reading
Frightened Rabbit
December 2, 2009
Out in that big ol’ world there are a great many bands that split opinions, and here at MG, we’re no exception – to see proof of this just look for the editor’s dissenting opinion in the staff vote on albums of the year. However, perennial favourites Frightened Rabbit are one of the few bands that enjoy near-universal popularity here [Ed - true, see this live review for starters]; and judging by the crowd at The Warehouse, we’re not alone in our love of their Scottish indie-cum-folk.
The impact of the packed venue is not lost on singer Scott Hutchinson, who appears speechless at the scale of the following his band had amassed, during opener ‘The Modern Leper’, and a fact that eventually creates the highlight of the night. The band play the majority of their 2008 album, The Midnight Organ Fight, alongside a couple of tracks from their forthcoming album, The Winter Of Mixed Drinks. However, even with a setlist of respectable length, the set seems short. The feeling of brevity is a by-product of the energy poured into the show by a band that seem, after a year with an impressive tour diary, to have genuinely maintained a sense of excitement when playing their songs. … Continue Reading
Cymbals Eat Guitars
And so our hot, new, overly-innovative series continues! This week, we’ve employed one of our favourite bands of 2009, Cymbals Eat Guitars, to review the week’s singles releases. We’ve caught them on camera (as filmed by the ever-talented Tim Boddy) reviewing ‘Swim Until You Can’t See Land’ by Scottish amazings Frightened Rabbit, ‘Little Secrets’ by ball-squeeze-at-the-disco’ers Passion Pit and ‘Russian Roulette’ by seems-to-be-2009′s-Aaliyah, Rihanna. And without even a prompt, they invent an impromptu (and very un-Muso’s Guide) rating system quantified in peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches.
If you’ve been following this series, you’ll have noticed that we’ve been picking our very favourite bands to take part, and it’s a great honour to have Cymbals Eat Guitars in with us this week. Their debut album Why There Are Mountains wraps wild experimentation around a core of bombastic indie rock, and is certainly in my personal favourites of the year. Album-opener ‘… And The Hazy Sea’ is the finest opening track I’ve heard all year, drawing me all the way into Cymbals Eat Guitars’ passages of crashing guitars, noisy brass and quietly shimmering jangle. The mastery comes in the way they combine these sounds so fluently without ever sounding awkward, brash or ungrounded; very rarely has a debut album sounded so intense and bouncy at the same time. … Continue Reading
Frightened Rabbit
That’s all we know. And believe us, we’re excited.
Remember we love Frightened Rabbit <————————THIS————————————— &c.> much.
Here’re some reminders of how, why, who, where and when our collective love for them perpetuated itself.
Now don’t question the newsworthiness of this, it is news. Come on! The Midnight Organ Fight is probably the album most loved by the most amount of us here at MG Towers so we’re in a bit of a froth about this.
It’s going to be released in, er, early 2010. Ah, specificity! More precisely, there’ll be an as-yet-unknown single in November. This was revealed via Facebook by a very trusty source. … Continue Reading
Of Montreal
2009′s been a corker, and we’ve only just entered its second half. And what better way to mark its passing than by a quick, chronological rundown of the best live moments thus far…
Of Montreal at Manchester University Students Union – January 29
Men dressed as pigs sprayed the crowd with pink feathers during the final, euphoric chorus of ‘A Sentence of Sorts in Kongsvinger’. A man dressed as a tiger held another man upside down whilst he bit his crotch (meanwhile, ninjas infiltrated the dance floor). Barnes underwent three costume changes; one of which left him naked except for shaving foam. These, and countless other relentlessly mental antics, felt like the perfect visual manifestation of the smile-inducing schizophrenia of last year’s Skeletal Lamping. And, luckily, the musicianship suffered nothing for the band’s visual ambitions. From the opener ‘She’s A Rejector’, the crowd were instantly energised and dancing right up until Barnes and company closed their encore with a fun and well-earned cover of ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’ (punctuated by Barnes launching himself into the crowd and trashing gear with his guitar). I left the gig smeared with shaving foam and pink feathers. Surely you must agree that any gig which allows me to use the sentence “I left the gig smeared with shaving foam and pink feathers” deserves an honourable mention as one of the best of the year? … Continue Reading
We Were Promised Jetpacks
I’ve totally taken We Were Promised Jetpacks to my heart – ever since back in February when they played The Borderline, they’ve carved a little path in my left ventricle. And now I’m at 2009’s halfway mark, I can safely say that These Four Walls is my favourite debut LP of the past six months; it’s an album so exciting that the only way in is to listen and listen to it until you’re essentially inside it. The melodies give me the impression they’re alive and on fire and the lyrics have this enormous, irreparable vigour. And yes, I’m using first person here because it’s my love for the band that counts. I’m not speaking on behalf of anyone else, ‘Jetpacks can do that well enough for themselves.
Comprising Adam (vocals), Michael (guitar), Sean (bass) and Lackie (drums), they’re balanced, entirely enthralled by the lives they’re leading and extremely lovely to boot. They share a love of Dr Dre‘s 2001, Wetherspoon’s pubs, early Kings of Leon and Biffy Clyro. Though entirely without realising it, they have produced an album all of their own.
Having formed in Glasgow at school many years ago, the four-piece have all just graduated (apart from the band’s drummer, who’s been working for the past year), and can hardly believe they’re a few months away from a coast-to-coast US tour with Fat Cat compatriots (and nigh-on idols) The Twilight Sad and Frightened Rabbit: “It’s a scary thought,” offers drummer Lackie. “We knew it was planned but didn’t know it was gonnae happen – we found out in the last couple of weeks.” It’s all part of the fact that We Were Promised Jetpacks somehow fail to realise their own power. I tell them how diverse I find their album, the fact that ‘This Is My House This Is My Home’ is an entirely distinct offering from ‘Quiet Little Voices’, and bassist Sean’s instinctive reaction is an honest, immediate “really?”. … Continue Reading
Friday June 12, 2009
Having arrived at the pretty amazing looking campsite at a pitiful 9pm, despite a fairly traffic-free journey, I erect my tent in record time, hope I don’t regret my rushed job come a downpour and fire off to the main stage. The backdrop is awe-inspiring behind the main stage; Loch Ness reaches to meet the sky and both mimic each others colour as best they can. Either side hills yawn into the distance and I would say that Inverary’s Connect (RIP) is the only festival in my experience that could rival Rockness‘ simply stunning setting.
On stage, Friday’s main stage headliner The Flaming Lips are playing to a puzzlingly diminished crowd. As I look around I swear I can see one of the Family Ness jump up to grab a note or two for lunch, then realise I’m being silly. However, literally nothing would seem to bizarre to believe possible, for a band who are flanked by an army of dancing tellytubbies and what looks like the very hungry caterpillar. Just before the encore, there’s enough time for the now seemingly obligatory American musician speech about what a dick Bush was and the fellatio for Obama. They wrap up with the stunning ‘Do You Realise’ and as they do I conclude that it may have been questionable to put The Flaming Lips on as a Friday headliner, particularly at this sort of festival. Do you realise, as epic and beautiful as it is, perhaps would have been more suited to bring Rockness to a close.
A wee wander later and we find ourselves in the Wrongness tent for the Ceilidh, fully expecting a bit of dashing white sergeants and traditional frivolity. Disappoint lies in wait as this is less strip the willow, more stripped down acid jazz with a violin playing lines vaguely reminiscent of the original tunes. Bemused as to how anyone could mess with such a winning formula as highland country dancing, I am shocked to discover that a human being exists who can make this worse. A skinny feller saunters up to a microphone and starts delivering apparently free styled rhymes based loosely on the names of dances. To label it cringeworthy would sell cringing short, though I sincerely hope he enjoyed his day out and was returned to his cell in Raigmore psychiatric ward promptly.
Saturday June 13
I bum around the campsite enjoying the frankly implausibly stunning weather and try to correct my spine after the abysmal chiropractic job my badly constructed tent did during the night. At some point, I heard the pitter-patter of tiny raindrops but thankfully the rain has held off. Full of pride for inventing a new drink called a Rocktail (Jack, coke, lime, blackcurrant, white wine, velvet, vodka), I ponder what I’m going to do to the idiot whose scheduling error means I have to choose between the stupendous Frightened Rabbit and my beloved French Wives. But arriving at the desolate Fat Sam Tent, I make a snap decision and run back up the hill made all the more insurmountable by my newly acquired wellies and the sweltering heat. I arrive at the Black Isle Pub in time to see the majority of a storming set by the newly reunited French Wives, all the richer for guitarist Scott’s presence.
I arrive back at the now packed Fat Sam Tent to witness a troubled set from Selkirk’s favourite sons Frightened Rabbit. Technical difficulties are probably to blame but in the short set is littered with time and tuning slips. Though towards the tail end during anthems ‘Keep Yourself Warm’ and ‘Head Rolls Off’, it seems to be forgotten – mass singalongs ensue. Festivalgoers with an iota of sense wait in Fat Sam’s for the downpour of Noah’s Arc proportions to finish, and I bask in the warm glow of my own smug self-satisfaction at having already swapped my moth bitten four-year-old trainers for a shiny new pair of wellies.
Frightened Rabbit - photo by Euan Anderson
The weather stops almost on cue for Dizzee Rascal, who entertains a bumper crowd with a selection of hits ranging from recent collaborative effort ‘Dance With Me’ to first single ‘Fix Up, Look Sharp. There’s just enough time to trek up the hill to catch half an hour of recently reformed dance giants Orbital who, I am pleased to report, still wear those glasses with lights on the side, making them look like the softest Dr. Who villains of all time.
Dizzee Rascal - photo by Euan Anderson
Sadly headliner time must be split and it’s time for Basement Jaxx who play a super greatest hits set, which really ticks every box that you want in a festival headliner. The tracks are feel good pop songs considerably improved in the live arena, the warmth emanating from the stage and the atmosphere as good as you experience at any other festival in the UK; ‘Romeo’ and ‘Bingo Bango’ are particular highlights.
Basement Jaxx - photo by Euan Anderson
Sunday June 14
The oppressive warmth of my tent is made all the more unbearable as I discover my arms are brutally sunburnt. Upon inspection of my face, burning is present there too, though not as apparent. I think I must be the only person ever to get burned by the Invernesshire sun, particularly to this level, I am such a bright red you could have put an antenna on my head and had me dancing by the side of Wayne Coyne. Down to what can only be an administrative error of the highest order, the sun is in scorching form again and campers litter the ground as though war wounded.
To the music, and having endured 10 minutes of the finest unredeemable slurry that The Wombats could offer, the members of our group with taste hit the Clash arena for some breakbeat genius in the form of Soulwax, the crowd lap it up. Shapes are thrown. Biffy Clyro rounds off a musically chalk and cheese hour, with a perfectly balanced set mercifully ranging their entire career from the brutal 57 to the heartbreaking Machines. This is something that is to be expected, though, of a band with enough experience to easily be labelled festival veterans, particularly in their homeland. Sadly I can only manage to watch the hero that is James Murphy spin some classic disco tunes for 10 minutes, before I have to hot foot it back to the main stage for festival closers, The Prodigy.
It’s a set that’s almost as brutal as Biffy Clyro’s, which has barely died on the air yet, and contrary to popular belief it’s the set of a band who still have the energy and the tunes to cut it at this level. Though sparsely scattered throughout, the new songs mark a return to the former glories of their early rave-influenced albums, an inspiration certainly less apparent on Always Outnumbered… Many of the tracks feel as fresh as the day I first heard them, and seem to have more life breathed into them with every pace Keith Flint makes on the spot, as though he’s jumping on a set of bellows.
I am relieved to report that though Flint is mere weeks from the big 4-0, and has put on a few pounds, he still looks and conducts himself like an absolute nutjob. This is not a band merely going through the motions 20 years before bursting onto the scene to give Britpop a kick in the stones. This band still believe in these songs and the set is delivered with refreshing conviction. And why not? ‘Firestarter’, ‘Breathe’ and ‘Out of Space’ are all, from the crowd’s reaction, timeless classics and certainly tunes I’d rather define my generation than ‘Live Forever’.
All too briefly, the fireworks are blooming in the sky and again the loch does its best job at recreating the beauty that the sky is claiming. All pour into the last tent playing music for the last few tunes of Erol Alkan, and when calls of “wan mair tune!” go unheeded, with explosive remnants still hanging in the overcast sky, it’s all over.
Hopefully the withdrawals of Zane Lowe and Brodinski will have saved the organisers enough money to feasibly host this festival next year, despite turbulent economic conditions which have seen so many festivals cancelled this year. This was Rockness’ fourth year however, with this weekend as evidence, this festival appears to be well established enough to ride the storm. This reporter certainly hopes so.
More photos by Euan Anderson were taken, have a gander: Alabama 3, Biffy Clyro, Placebo, Sneaky Sound System, Soulwax,
Selkirk's Frightened Rabbit
May 23, 2009
Following on from successful legs in London and Leeds, with better line-ups than Glasgow, some might have you believe Stag and Dagger’s final UK stop was Glasgow (another review can be found here). With acts like Wintersleep, Evan Dando and King Creosote at both Leeds and London, you’d be forgiven for thinking they had a point. But as I briskly stride uphill to collect my wristband, I decide that anything Leeds or London can do, Glasgow can do just as well. Armed with my schedule, notepad and ink-filled vessel, the saga begins.
First stop, NME Stage at the Captain’s Rest, and I indulge in some 5pm drinking, as I will do many times before my student status is cruelly rescinded in July. I catch the last song of Over the Wall, whose mix of electronic drums, keyboards and guitar has attracted a bumper crowd despite it being early in the day.
Next up is Glasgow’s very own French Wives who since I reviewed them eight days ago, leave little new to report. Stuart’s had a haircut, they still sadly don’t count Sarkozy’s missus or that one out of the Clio ad among their number- though they are still undeniably brilliant. Deliberately detaching myself from what I generally look for in their performance, I notice drummer Jonny’s exemplary bass pedal work and Stuart’s superb lyrics. The lyrics really speak as a snapshot for the city which shaped him. Each song stands as an image as iconic as the Clyde tower, The University of Glasgow or the Kelvingrove art museum, they speak for the city, almost as well as Alex Kapranos did on Franz Ferdinand’s debut. … Continue Reading
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