The usual disclaimers apply: we can't pretend to have heard every single new album released in the UK between January 1 and December 31 of 2009, but of those we did, these were the best, and in this precise order.
1. SILENCE IS WILD - FRIDA HYVONEN 2. Fever Ray - Fever Ray 3. Bitte Orca - Dirty Projectors 4. I Had The Blues But I Shook Them Loose - Bombay Bicycle Club 5. Thunderheist - Thunderheist 6. Veckatimest - Grizzly Bear 7. The xx - The xx 8. Union - The Boxer Rebellion 9. Bird-Brains - Tune-Yards 10. It's Blitz! - Yeah Yeah Yeahs 11. Guns Don't Kill People, Lazers Do - Major Lazer 12. 'Em Are I - Jeffrey Lewis and the Junkyard 13. See Mystery Lights - YACHT 14. Logos - Atlas Sound 15. If You Were Fruit - The Lovely Eggs 16. Farm - Dinosaur Jr 17. Hospice - The Antlers 18. Post-Apocalyptic Love - The Very Sexuals 19. My Maudlin Career - Camera Obscura 20. Still Night Still Light - Au Revoir Simone 21. Blue Roses - Blue Roses 22. The Floodlight Collective - Lotus Plaza 23. Tear Ourselves Away - LoveLikeFire 24. Get Guilty - AC Newman 25. Face Control - Handsome Furs 26. Varshons - The Lemonheads 27. A Man, A Woman Walked By - PJ Harvey and John Parish 28. Survival Strategies In A Modern World - Liechtenstein 29. Me Oh My - Cate Le Bon 30. I'm Going Away - The Fiery Furnaces 31. Embryonic - The Flaming Lips 32. I Feel Cream - Peaches 33. Dance Mother - Telepathe 34. The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart - The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart 35. Julian Plenti is...Skyscraper - Julian Plenti 36. II - Desire 37. Fight Like Apes And The Mysteries Of The Golden Medallion - Fight Like Apes 38. Polly Scattergood - Polly Scattergood 39. Fine Fascination - Red Light Company 40. Fantasies - Metric
Use the comments box for any gripes, observations and linklove for your own year-end lists. Happy New Year to all our readers, hopefully this site will be slightly more active in 2010!
The new Name The Pet single is a bouncy pop choon more viral than YouTube embeds, while the promo admirably promotes the healthy benefits of physical exercise, although the sheer cheerleader chic of it makes it slightly dubious safety for work.
December is usually tragic in terms of PV updates, but hawk-eyed followers can expect a humongous gig review compendium, a long linkdump and the usual end-of-year lists before 2010 hits!
Ick. Should have been at an indiepop all-dayer but spent all day suspended upside down in a huge vat of Lemsip* instead. Talking of all things medicinal, in case you haven't noticed former PV blogroller Dr Brooke Magnanti has outed herself as Belle de Jour.
During the media storm in the early years of BDJ your bemused blogger was often emailed asking for an opinion on her true identity. In truth, I didn't know for sure, but I did once give a clue to check which blog first linked to BDJ and where they got their lead. The first blog to link to BDJ was in fact this humble blog, Parallax View. And the lead? An email from a fellow blogger casually asking whether I'd noticed on the UK Blogs aggregator a blog by a prostitute. The blogger? Oh, you're ahead of me...Dr Brooke Magnanti.
See? Sometimes Dead Kenny does know how to keep his gob shut (well, just about). Who knew?
Indietracks Festival, Midland Butterly Railway nr. Ripley, Derbyshire, July 24-26 2009.
This was Parallax View's first visit to Indietracks, now in its third year of bringing the best of indiepop to the grounds of a vintage railway station at Midland Railway, Butterly, near Ripley in Derbyshire. It was a sign of the weekend to come that the person we end up sharing a taxi with from Alfreton train station was Ian who runs the How Does If Feel To Be Loved? disco in the marquee at the event. Everything, and indeed, everyone, seemed to be connected.
Even, to some degree, our good selves, as we make re-acquaintance with Dunc from The Autumn Store and badge-bestowing Simon of Sweeping The Nation fame in fairly quick order on entering the grounds, and bump into Liz from The School not long after. And who should we be following on our way to the bar but the unmistakeable derrieres of the girls from Au Revoir Simone? It was very much that kind of festival.
Friday night's fare was entirely on the outdoor stage, with the synths of Modular washing over us pleasantly before Rosay Pipette (hitherto to be referred to, of course, as Rose Elinor Dougall) strutted her new solo stuff to mostly impressive effect. There wasn't too much on show that screamed out 'hit record' but it was all engaging enough to foster the belief that if anyone can sell Stereolab-lite to the masses it's RED.
While waiting for ARS to get into gear, we managed to catch a few words with Alice Hubley from Arthur and Martha as she chatted to Dunc, consoling her on the rather snide NME review of A&M's new album which was excessively sniping with regards to her own vocal contributions. Heads turned immediately with the arrival of Au Revoir Simone, who put on a confident and mesmering show featuring the best from their three albums. There are those that bemoan their lack of stagecraft but with presence like theirs craft is made redundant and superflous, and latest album 'Still Night, Still Light' is arguably their most consistent disc to date.
Thus followed some dancing with Dunc, his gf Debbie, and the rest of the Autumn Store posse in the Lipstick On Your Collar! disco, during which Dead Kenny may or may not have been jumping up and down rather rigorously to The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart's 'Young Adult Friction' chanting 'don't check me out! don't check me out!' to anyone without an option but to listen. All in all, was a Good Friday, if not THE Good Friday, if you see what we mean.
Saturday sees our bleary blogging eyes facing the serious business of catching as many indiepop acts as possible while still remembering to cover the basics of eating, drinking and breathing. We catch the sun somewhat while waiting for Sucrette, who make up for their late appearance with some top-notch breathy J-Pop which would appeal in particular to fans of Annie's 'Anniemal'. We were less seduced by Tender Trap, whose harmonies only really tugged at our heartstrings during their newest number, but at least that means they're heading in the right direction. Also failed to be engaged by Friends on the Indoor Stage (otherwise known as The Loco Shed), while One Happy Island won us over with the sheer persistence of their energy and charm during their set in the same arena.
Danish troubadour Labrador was late finding the festival but provided soothing electro-folk to calm our savage breasts on a hot Saturday evening in The Church (a case of Pew! What A Scorcher! anyone?). This proved the calm before the storm of The Specific Heats at the same location, whose reverb mechanism blew up during the first song, amongst other technical mishaps, which did nothing but add to the feeling that this was one of the festival landmark events, with scorching surf guitar and sun-kissed melodies providing a perversely devilish good time in the 'sanctity' of The Church.
Some fresh air was certainly needed at that point, but a look at the long snaking queue of people waiting to see The Lovely Eggs suggested that we wouldn't be able to get back in a hurry. And so it proved, as we were left to paw at the Church window like poor little orphan boys on Christmas Day, to get a glimpse of the hotly-tipped popsters. From our disadvantaged vantage point, The Lovely Eggs looked and sounded un-beatable, before we whisked ourselves off to see The Frank And Walters, who were still playing mostly the same songs and (if memory serves us correctly) telling mostly the same jokes that they used to back in 1992. Pretty entertaining and endearing stuff, nevertheless.
We only really know one Speedmarket Avenue song, the pretty fantastic 'Way Better Now' so wasn't quite sure what to expect of the Stockholm collective. Perhaps the most surprising aspect was that the vocal duties were fairly evenly shared between the male and female singer, the latter's sheer blue tights certainly scorching themselves on our retinas. It was all rather lovely, much lovelier than the fact that the main toilets were in need of plumbing attention, which certainly challenged punters' temperaments in what was supposed to be the friendliest of festivals.
Our underpants tension was somewhat eased by the always comforting presence of Camera Obscura, with lead singer Tracyann Campbell looking never more glam as the band dispensed a crowd-pleasing set of gems like 'Let's Get Out Of This Country'; 'French Navy' and 'If Looks Could Kill', climaxing beautifully as usual with 'Razzle Dazzle Rose' as the sun set. Met back up with Dunc and Debbie at this stage who pass on the tidbit that Marisa from The Besties is about to do a debut solo set in the Marquee. Right on cue the lead singer from The Specific Heats then pops his head out of said tent and hollers to anything within earshot the very same headline news.
Although your bluffing blogger is aware of The Besties' cult status in indiepop circles, Marisa seems more recently and vividly familiar to us, until it clicks she played keys for The Specific Heats earlier. We just have time to congratulate The Specific Heats singer on his set (he's philosophical about the equipment blowing up as it's the last day of their European tour) before he was required to act as a human mic stand for the slightly embarrassed but genuinely endearing Marisa, who ran through some old Besties tunes and other stuff even though at least one of her keys wasn't working. The whole shebang had so much impromptu charm and bonhomie we swear if we were any more full of ourselves at this point we'd have had to empty ourselves out just for the pleasure of filling ourselves back up again.
This also served to fill the gap while (reputedly) Emmy The Great had to be rescued from some sort of motorway-related fiasco before her set at The Indoor Stage. Better late than never, as we always say here on Parallax View, and while we can't quite re-create the flush of love at first sight we initially felt for Emmy, it's a bold and entertaining show with an impressive cover of The Pixies' 'Where Is My Mind?' thrown into the mix for good measure. Outside, La Casa Azul are in turns bemusing and bewitching with an undeniably odd combination of pigeon English, dancepop and balladry, to a visual backdrop of Mario Brothers, 'virtual backing band' and other random bytes and bobs. It's hit and miss for our tastes, but there's no doubt his version of John Paul Young's 'Love Is In The Air' provides one of the truly joyously unifying moments of the festival weekend.
Night-time saw Ian's 'How Does It Feel To be Loved?' pop-disco ramming the Marquee to its rafters, so we had our hearts and feet stolen by Barcelona's Bonnie & Clyde in the Loco Shed instead. TPOBPAH's 'Young Adult Friction' again gets a showing, and thus also does our crap dancing in a session of hot, sweaty fun. Rumours of ex-NME journo Tim Jonze being on site to do a piece for The Guardian permeated the night air as the contented crowds dispersed.
Sunday morning started with a call from our friend Keef to say he's coming up for the day to catch up with the evening's headliners Teenage Fanclub. After watching the entrancing (but startlingly young) Bonne Idee in the Loco Shed, we meet up with Keef on the steam train where we're completely out of earshot of the drum-and-bass from The Manhattan Love Suicides announcing the band's split. We're back on solid ground in time for The School's afternoon slot on The Outdoor Stage, where Simon from The Loves does his best to steal the show from a stunning set of stellar choons new and old, with his drunken wit and repartee and blatant-lack-of-socks appeal, but it's the impression of a band truly starting to find its feet live that's the lingering impression.
It then began to rain, which probably suited Denmark's Northern Portrait as their efficient Scandinavian remodelling of The Smiths would suggest they're more than comfortable with all things Northern Miserabilism. Happily they're not short of decent tunes and the material seems grounded and heartfelt enough to resonate more deeply than mere pastiche, and they appeared to go down well with a visibly impressed Emma from Pocketbooks who was stood next to us throughout. We wished her well with her set later that day, to which she summarily dismissed us to the merchandise stand. Still, as Confucious might have said, better a girl who only brings her business head to the party than one who doesn't bring any head at all.
Was well and truly chucking it down by this time, but it didn't stop us from heading to see Lucky Soul on the Outdoor Stage to gawp at the singer in her short little mini-dress and to remark on how one of the LS geezers is indecently rocking the Blake Fielder-Civil look, as well as sway about a bit and tap our feet to their pretty fetching pop-soul sound. Meanwhile, it wasn't just the rain that saw people scampering into the merchandise tent, as there was a bit of a Talulah Gosh reunion going on, which was nice, even though we found ourselves distracted by congratulating Liz on her set and introducing Dunc and Simon to each other (the indiepop equivalent of Frost:Nixon, we're sure you'll agree).
Sunday became a bit of a rainy blur from this point on, catching 20 minutes of the always-entertaining The Smittens here and 20 minutes of Hong Kong In The 60s ambient pop there, and a set by the aforementioned Pocketbooks that became increasingly compelling as the show went on, and we're sure Emma (who sports a haircut that makes her look a bit like Helen Marnie from Ladytron) would thank us for pointing out that their excellent album 'Flight Paths' is available for retail and download from all the usual outlets, now.
What else? Ah yes, Stereo Total were something of a rowdy revelation, featuring an impromptu performance from Birmingham's very own David Leach on harmonising, and a vaguely riotous stage invasion providing a feelgood finale. One-man NZ act Disasteradio gurned his way gloriously through a frenetic set of electronic gloopy loopiness, keeping Keef's son Joe suitably fascinated throughout. Some fishcake and chips in Johnson's Cafe later, Art Brut are their usual entertaining selves, even though their rockstar shapes and boisterous, slightly shambolic wit does lose its novelty value after a while. Nice of them to namecheck MJ Hibbett, though.
Which just left us with the minor details of your hustling hack falling flat on his back on the wet grass and a mighty, mighty closing performance from Teenage Fanclub which included a couple of new songs (one was called 'The Falls', we think) and plenty of the best from what we sometimes forget is a splendidly impressive back catalogue. Not only is everything and everybody connected, but, as TFC remind us to a cavalcade of chiming guitars, Everything Flows.
This week's Single Of The Week is on a totally topical tip, so as Britain swelters away in a welcome heatwave, Swedish stunner Name The Pet offers a hymn to sunshine, shimmering pop loveliness given suntan motion by some delightful disco propulsion.
Bombay Bicycle Club/Tantrums, The Rainbow, Digbeth, Birmingham, Saturday April 18 2009, 8.45pm.
In the interests of fairness and accuracy we should report that we attended this gig after a steady day's drinking before and after attendance at the Hammers' valiant draw at Villa Park and thus witnessed the event through an attendant fug of post-match euphoria and stealthily enveloping stupour. So if you're looking for a detailed analysis of chord changes and other such muso musings this review isn't likely to be particularly enlightening. But we enjoyed both bands so some sort of mention of this fact should be recorded, if only to enable the dear reader to look out for the aforementioned groups next time they're in town.
Tantrums are a local Birmingham band and in fact play the This Is Tomorrow all-dayer at The Victoria tomorrow (3rd). They helped stamp out tunelessness with a set drenched in harmonies, sounding a bit Britpop here and there but with vocal stylings perhaps more in keeping with the more radio-friendly end of emo. And yet, as desperate as that reads, it somehow worked, mainly thanks to some better-than-average choons and a healthy down-to-earth attitude ensuring there was no tears before bedtime on this occasion.
Crouch End's Bombay Bicycle Club looked impossibly young for a band who've been knocking around for long enough to be one of our top tips from the beginning of 2008. If theirs has been a slow progress to the point where they're headlining gigs like this, we witnessed first-hand from our unfamiliar stage-front positioning the frenzied excitement they've started eliciting from their peer-group following.
While you couldn't argue that the (lazy acronym alert!) BBC bring anything startlingly original to the table, you can't help but admire the way they mix the ingredients with such confident dexterity they can present a finished product that still feels fresh, vibrant and feelgood. Jack Steadman has the studied cool and easy arrogance to give Alex Turner a run for his money as the bookish fresher's heart-throb of choice, with tremulous vocals that occasionally recall the likes of Brett Anderson and Peter Perrett, while the band even get away with dropping in PV's pet hate (the token laboured ska-inflected song) and just about pulling it off without looking like prats.
Aside from the singles Always Like This and Evening/Morning, our favourites on the night were Ghost and Cancel On Me, and there certainly seemed enough strength in depth to suggest their debut album (due soon, we reckon) will be an impressive calling card. Although future records seemed the last thing on the audience's mind as they lost themselves in the here and now of crowd surges and stage invasions that saw your wobbling webmaster adopt the Bristol Jeff pose of shaking his mane while steadying one hand on the sound monitor throughout. And fashion pundits wouldn't forgive us for not mentioning the drummer's top-notch shiny parka, because surface coating is important, dontcha know.
You can download the debut album by Eindhoven indiepop/shoegaze outfit The Very Sexuals, 'Post-Apocalyptic Love', from the band's website for free, so we'd recommend you do this, not just because it's gratis, but also because it's one of our favourite records of the year to date. Check out their promo to 'Carla' below if you still need convincing not to look a gift horse down its' gobhole!
With light snow forecast for the next 24 hours, the above lyrics are good enough excuse to make Ladytron's 'Tomorrow' Parallax View Single Of The Week. Not that we need an excuse, as the song is ace, the video is beautiful, and 'sides which, it's our website and we rule!
Some gig reviews and a match report imminent, 'til then, keep it PV!
Happy New Year to all our readers, amazingly there's still a few of you out there, despite the sparsity of updates in the last few months. Unsure to what sort of degree that will change in 2009, but here's a few links to get things kickstarted and see where it takes us.
853 describes Ladytron's Velocifero (our favourite album of 2008 lest ye forget) as a damb squib, but gets most other things right reporting from the frontline of south-east London.
I Am The Crime is a cool Swedish music blog run by hot Swedish music blogger Cecilia.
Further apologies for the recent gap in transmission, but to get things moving again here's our rundown of the best albums released in the UK for the first time in 2008. We can't pretend to have heard all of the albums released in the time period, but of those we did these were the best, and in this precise order.
1. VELOCIFERO - LADYTRON 2. Stainless Style - Neon Neon 3. Santogold -Santogold 4. Fed - Plush 5. Stay Positive - The Hold Steady 6. Youth Novels - Lykke Li 7. Alas I Cannot Swim - Laura Marling 8. Hold On Now Youngster - Los Campesinos! 9. Dear Science - TV On The Radio 10. You & Me - The Walkmen 11. Fleet Foxes - Fleet Foxes 12. Seventh Tree - Goldfrapp 13. Alpinisms - School Of Seven Bells 14. Crystal Castles - Crystal Castles 15. We Are Beautiful We Are Doomed - Los Campesinos! 16. Only By The Night - Kings Of Leon 17. Friendly Fires - Friendly Fires 18. In Our Spacehero Suits - Those Dancing Days 19. "Couples" - The Long Blondes 20. Kensington Heights - Constantines 21. Neptune - The Duke Spirit 22. Ladyhawke - Ladyhawke 23. Fortress Around My Heart - Ida Maria 24. For Emma Forever Ago - Bon Iver 25. Box Of Secrets - Blood Red Shoes 26. El Rey - The Wedding Present 27. Knowle West Boy - Tricky 28. Blood Looms and Blooms - Leila 29. Thomas Tantrum - Thomas Tantrum 30. Oceans Will Rise - The Stills 31. Dig, Lazarus, Dig!!! - Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds 32. Oracular Spectacular - MGMT 33. Reality Check - The Teenagers 34. Chemical Chords - Stereolab 35. Waited Up 'Til It Was Light - Johnny Foreigner 36. X Marks Destination - The Whip 37. Nouns - No Age 38. HLLLH - The Mae Shi 39. Rosie and the Goldbug - Rosie and the Goldbug 40. Falling Off The Lavender Bridge - Lightspeed Champion
Feel free to use the comments facility below to vent your spleen or link to your own list(s).
Ladytron/Asobi Seksu, Kasbah, Primrose Hill Street, Coventry, Saturday November 15 2008, 7.30pm.
And so Dead Kenny sent himself to Coventry at the weekend, despite dire warnings of what your electropoppin' eejit might find there, and discovered that twenty-seven years on from The Specials No.1 hit single, this town's still comin' like a Ghost Town. But luckily also found that the Kasbah was a cool, funky oasis cunningly hidden therein, and kept the Aegean theme continuous with a cheeky chow-down beforehand at nearby World Kebab.
Being used to Birmingham's sweltering Academy venues where the bands regularly ruminate on the ghastly heat, it came as something of a cultural shock to see the guitarist from support act Asobi Seksu having to repeatedly blow into his hands before getting the set started. Reassuring that even glacial popsters don't like the air-conditioning set at antarctic levels, don't you think?
Fortunately things warmed up soon enough with Yuki Chikudate's sweet, ethereal but surprisingly robust singing melting hearts while the rest of the band contributed significant power surges to provide the shoegazing post-rock equivalent to global warming. Entrancing stuff, mainly taken from last year's bittersweet confection 'Citrus', given a light dusting of catharsis when Chikudate whipped off her plaid overshirt, muscled the drummer out of the way and pounded the skins for the set coda. Fans of Cocteau Twins and Lush who haven't yet explored Asobi Seksu (Japanese for playful sex, if you believe Wikipedia) should make amends with immediate effect.
By the time headliners, and lest ye forget, Britain's Best Pop Band (Ever?)(TM), Ladytron made the stage, the Turkish-themed club was filling out and a warm glow was starting to radiate amongst the expectant crowd. The girls were dressed in tasteful black satin as they joined Danny and Reuben on stage to the instrumental intro from third album 'Witching Hour', and two distinctive trends emerged very quickly as the set developed. Firstly, it is Mira Aroyo who takes on the role of talking (albeit in soft, quiet tones) between songs, and also the set (perhaps reflecting the balance of latest album Velocifero) sees a much more equal share of vocal chores between her and Helen Marnie than on the 'Witching Hour' shows.
Ladytron even had the confidence to drop in the superlative 'Seventeen' midway through the show rather than saving it for once-inevitable encore (the majestic 'Destroy Everything You Touch' got that honour). 'Seventeen' is still (rightly) a highlight of the show but it blended in better with the entire oeuvre in its central slot, with recent singles Ghosts and Runaway meeting equivalent approval from the mostly sharp and stylish crowd. Not all of the live interpretations particularly worked for your sceptical scribe however, the intricate melody and sentiment of 'International Dateline' near drowned in a drum-heavy treatment, and 'Deep Blue' making a late recovery from a muted, murky intro.
But Mira, Mira, as Dead Kenny is the fairest blogger of 'em all, he'll conclude on the hugely positive note that the snaky hypnotics of 'Black Cat' and 'Season Of Illusions' were the biggest revelations of the night, both in terms of their rendition and reception. The otherness of these songs may be a more difficult sell commercially, but perversely give them an edge over their rivals. Nobody's ever done better what Ladytron do, and doubtless no-one ever will, and how many of their contemporaries can you say that about?
That's The Last Time We Use The Phrase 'Honest, Guv'
Goldfrapp/Eugene McGuinness, Civic Hall, Wolverhampton, Saturday October 25 2008, 8pm. Fleet Foxes, Space2, Custard Factory, Digbeth, Birmingham, Friday October 31 2008, 9pm. Aurora Plastic Monster/StRANGEtIME/The Sweethearts/Sweet Talk, 444 Club downstairs at The Sunflower Lounge, off Queensway, Birmingham, Saturday November 8 2008, 8.30pm. Neon Neon/Yo! Majesty, Glee Club, Hurst Street, Birmingham, Monday November 10 2008, 8.30pm.
Apologies for the recent gap in Parallax View transmission. To get things back started here's a whistlestop runthrough of a few gigs we've been to recently. Starting with Goldfrapp in Wolves, who were supported by Eugene McGuinness who was as personable as his songs were unremarkable, an adequate stopgap mebbe for folk awaiting the new Jeremy Warmsley album, but what's that? There's a new Jeremy Warmsley out? Ah well, Eugene, there's always reality TV. A less modest return is reaped by headliners Goldfrapp, ostensibly here to promote the lovely 'Seventh Tree' collection but mostly getting more reward live from the squelchier dance numbers from their glam stomping mid-period, although 'Caravan Girl' from their latest also travels exceptionally well.
Hallowe'en saw your feeble freak looking pale and ghastly, but we'd left our mask at home, we were just feeling ever so faint from the deadly combination of heavy coat, hot lights and a packed crowd. Bottled water and some fresh air at the back restored our spirits, along with a performance from Fleet Foxes that manage to move less through energy than through a certain transcendence. Overall, they're a bit more jammy, noodly and loquacious compared to their recorded output, but when things click they're genuinely spellbinding.
A week later, a hastily-rearranged line-up sees frequent Parallax View picks StRANGEtIME in lively, rattling form despite arriving with a cymbal short of a drumkit and brandishing some intriguing new songs. Also on the bill were Norwegian rock trio Aurora Plastic Monster who were bold, bruising and Brit-baiting, and The Sweethearts, who perhaps put more effort in their make-up and clothing than in finding genuine musical inspiration. In contrast, local teenagers Sweet Talk were raw and revelatory, with lead singer Amelia proving compulsively watchable working through her range between sex-kitten purr and death-rattle roar, providing perhaps the missing link between Poly Styrene and Courtney Love on songs like 'Pin-Up Girl'.
Two days later, Yo! Majesty nearly have us call the bar staff to get ready with the defribilators when their electronic bass threatens to jumpstart our hearts into the next lifetime. The energy doesn't let up throughout a breakneck set in which they realise their stated intention to get the crowd sweaty and stinky, giving due props to President Elect Obama and exhorting the crowd of anoraked geeks to 'Fuck Dat Shit' to surprisingly little resistance. If they'd have rocked our boat any more we'd have been overboard and swallowing fish.
Main act Neon Neon were relatively sedate, with Gruff Rhys' laconic charm and deadpan placard prompts for 'Applause' easing the audience through a near-chronological rendition of brilliant retro-futurist concept album 'Stainless Style'. Back-projected images of Raquel Welch and cameos from Har Mar Superstar and Yo! Majesty add some kinetic propulsion to the kitsch, with 'Sweat Shop' perhaps working best of all on the night.
In the few months since we last saw Lykke Li at Glee, the seated-only studio has made way for a packed standing-room-only show in the bigger room, the crowd here less through curiousity and more from conviction, and the conversion sees the Swede in noticably more relaxed and engaging form. But before all that, we have Yoav, a tidy, bookish young man born in Israel but brought up in South Africa and New York. His music takes on a similarly hybrid form, folk, blues and R&B fused into intriguing songs enhanced by the singer-songwriter fully utilising plentiful effects pedals to create an atmospheric soundscape high on intrigue but a little short on memorable melody.
There a few people who could get away with making an entrance in a Freddy Parrot hat and shapeless outfit, but Lykke Li is one of the number who can, and it's safe to assume she knows it. The set opens with 'Dance, Dance, Dance' given a louder, squelchier, more 'electro' feel than the recorded version, paving the way for a lively performance aimed at dusting off the 'depression' she senses from the audience. 'I'm Good I'm Gone' and 'Breaking It Up' offer predictably giddy thrills, the soon-to-be-re-released 'Little Bit' is already treated like a greatest hit, the dubby, hypnotic pull of 'Complaints Department' is another winner on the night, and there's even room for a tongue-in-cheek cameo of Duffy's 'Mercy' sneaked into closing cover of 'Can I Kick It?'. There are officially no more excuses left not to invest in her debut album 'Youth Novels'.
Next night, head over to The Rainbow in Digbeth for a special 444 Club gig which sees three local hopefuls supporting touring Kiwi star Pip Brown aka Ladyhawke, here to promote her self-titled debut released the previous week. The cunningly-curated cabaret begins with The Electrilickers who operate at the exact intersection between the homespun lo-fi charm of Kate Nash and the harder-partying nu rave aesthetic, a formula which works on the night for two simple reasons: their tunes are cool and the singer's hot. The ecstasy throes of 'Constant Disco' are a suitable climax to a set that provides more fizz and tingle than licking your way through a battery factory.
Meet up with Kate and Chris from newly-rejuvanated StRANGEtIME as Death Ohh Eff make their entrance. Your crumbling correspondent may be getting old, but do bands have to look so young? These guys don't even look old enough to be policemen, but somewhere along the line they've obviously crammed in some intensive education on how to work a crowd with an energetic, keyboard-led set full of bounce, attitude and harmonies. Tremendous fun, although it was all 'a little bit Nathan Barley' for some.
We haven't seen Deluka for a couple of years, since when they've developed some extra balls, a tune on the soundtrack to Grand Theft Auto IV, and much tippin' and toutin' among the music press. They're tighter and rockier than the preceding acts with a stronger drive towards an anthemic punch, although they only hotwire into our hearts during the closing two numbers before leaving the crowd panting for more.
Headliner Ladyhawke has a different problem, and it's one that similarly affects her debut album. Her songs are consistently strong in terms of memorable tunes and anthemic power, but she operates within such a tight formula and poodle-permed 80s mindset, you feel like you've seen and heard enough about halfway through, even though she saves belters like 'Paris Is Burning' and 'My Delirium' for the concluding double-whammy. Maybe a little more personality in the performance and more depth in the lyrics would help develop a higher-level of emotional engagement to undertow the undoubted heft of the choonage.
With many thanks to Shakeypix for kind permission to use some of his brilliant shots from the night in this review.
How cool would it be for the mighty Moshi Moshi Records to score a really, really big hit single? That weird prospect has become a greater possibility than ever before with the news that Radio One have playlisted 'Beat Control' by Tilly and the Wall (out in stores this week, including on heavy 7" vinyl).
We'd kinda forgotten about TATW and their tap-dancing percussionist since seeing them in quick succession a few years back, but new album O is receiving the best reviews of their career, and Beat Control finds them sufficiently focused on the business of producing a Proper Pop Single to ease them into a position where mainstream recognition is a viable target.
The end result is so delirious with melody it could be Gloria Estefan and the Miami Sound Machine resurrecting a neglected Monkees classic, a veritable Wall of Sound that fully deserves the accolade of Parallax View Single Of The Week.
Because the internet would just be boryn without a bit of Robyn, we start off this Monday mini-mitherpiece with some self-styled self-regarding nonsense from the suddenly big and bossy Ms Wilder. Titbits include revelations about wandering through London with her blouse undone to the waist, but it's not just blogging ninja divas who suffer from wardrobe malfunctions, as Rihanna shows in this set of dubious-safety-for-work photos, proving that not even an umbrella (ella, ella, ella) could hide your blushes when it's that nippy out.
Bloggers don't so much fade away as they do diversify, a case in point being Creepy Lesbo's Slash Media (NOT SAFE FOR WORK) in which she samples some of modern pop culture's gashtronomic delights. Skin Flicks is much more safe for work, although as he considers himself to be a very angry man and is found pleading for fallen women to be shown to him, maybe due caution should be shown after all.
Savage Grace, Electric Cinema, Birmingham, Saturday July 26 2008, 4.30pm.
CAUTION: CONTAINS MAJOR PLOT SPOILERS.
This is your intrepid inquisitor's first visit to the Electric Cinema since it was re-opened to much blogging hullabuloo a few years back. It's now touted as the oldest operating cinema in the UK, and it is a grand building, although your long-in-the-tooth loafer remembers it rather differently in its' Tivoli guise in the 80s, when it was considered something of a sleazepit where we made furtive forays to see B-movies like James B Harris' Cop and Craig R Baxley's criminally-under-rated Action Jackson. Visiting the cinema now feels a much more welcoming, middle-brow experience, with plush sofas; pretty, friendly box-office staff and a silver spoon to go with your white chocolate and raspberry ice-cream.
Tom Kalin's Savage Grace is the cinematic fare this afternoon, a film that is apparently attempting to re-construct the events leading up to the savage murder of a socialite by her troubled young son in 1972 London. The film is pretty to look at and mostly watchable, contains some strong performances (notably Moore as the doomed diva) but has too many serious flaws to be considered a success. Any film of such relatively short length is going to suffer from the episodic structure imposed on it here, leaving the viewer to struggle to get their teeth into the filletted fare on offer, and as a psychological study it's a non-starter as we're left none the wiser at the end of the film why the son takes the knife to his mother then calmly orders a Chinese.
Wikipedia's references to the real-life case would suggest that the film has played fast-and-loose with many of the facts of the case, something that would have made more sense if it had made the story more interesting not less. As it is, Kalin has made a film that brings to mind past movies like Mommie Dearest; Who's Afraid Of Virginia Woolf?; The Sheltering Sky and Ma Mere, but only serves to highlight their relative superiority to the shallow showboating on offer here. Although any film that reacquaints us with elfin curveball Elena Anaya from Sex and Lucia ain't all bad so gracias for that.
The Autumn Store Presents A Pre-Indietracks Special: The Smittens/The Zebras/Red Pony Clock, The Sunflower Lounge, off Queensway, Birmingham, Tuesday July 22 2008, 9.30pm.
Just get into the venue in time as Red Pony Clock start limbering up, a Tijuana-based octet who sound like a mix between Calexico and all-out chaos. Their van exploded on the way to the venue, but they seem in surprisingly good spirits about it, perhaps because on the plus-side it means you're not short of things to talk about between songs. You know those pictures that look like random dots but if you stare at them for long enough all of a sudden this brilliant 3-D image pops up before your eyes and makes sense of it all? Red Pony Clock are the sonic equivalent, as their seemingly ramshackle material develops into something clever, organic and fun to fully reward the patient, open-minded listener. There's still not enough dancing going on for the band's liking, though, until The Smittens' drummer Holly shows how it's done, leaping around like a frisky kitten ricocheting from furniture, to hugely engaging effect.
The Zebras aren't from South Yorkshire, they're from Rotherham - Rotherham, in Australia, that is, although Northern English influences like The Smiths and The Wedding Present would seem evident in a band with a much more immediate, accessible appeal to an indie crowd than Red Pony Clock. The Zebras are more than the sum of their influences, however, with songs that swoop and soar and stir, destined to go down well with Weddoes fans at this weekend's Indietracks, we feel. Their stage banter needs some work, however, maybe they need to emerge unscathed from a tour vehicle inferno to put some fire in their bellies?
With things running later than planned, your harassed hack needs to make a Last Train to Larksville exit halfway through the headline set from Burlington, Vermont's The Smittens, but what we see/hear is confident, breezy and tuneful, and fully in line with all the good things we've heard about/from them, and we'll look out for them next time they're jingling their jangle back on these shores.
All in all, another fine evening of high-quality indie gathering courtesy of those friendly folk from The Autumn Store!
All three bands featured will be playing at Indietracks this weekend (July 26-27, festival fact fans) in deepest Derbyshire.
To celebrate our beloved West Ham finally making their first major signing of the summer in Valon Behrami, a Kosovan-born Swiss international right back, whose crazy hair and tats should see him fit in well with our long history of 'eccentric' full-backs, Parallax View sees fit to empty our favourites folder for you to pick 'n' mix -
And finally, we did get to a gig last night, review to follow shortly, but here as a taster is one of the bands, Red Pony Clock, and their silly promo for My New Best Friends. If you like what you see/hear, they'll be playing the Indietracks festival in Ripley, Derbyshire this weekend -
The School/Flicklisten/The Puncture Repair Kit, Swiss Concrete @ The Bullingdon Arms, Oxford, Thursday June 19 2008, 8.45pm.
The Bullingdon Arms is a short taxi ride away from Oxford's main rail station, a smallish pub with friendly, fetching bar staff and a big backroom area where the bands play. Ben and your long-distance lurker meet up with a couple of the SWSLer's charming co-workers, and get waylaid watching Germany beat Portugal in the Euro2008 Q-F so only catch the last few songs from The Puncture Repair Kit. Their boisterous, slightly ramshackle take on indie-pop reminds your comparison-crazed correspondent of The Strange Death Of Liberal England, but we hope the rest of the set was less impressive because a) we hate to have missed out on anything and b) we'd just lurve to be able to say The Puncture Repair Kit flat-tyred to deceive.
Flicklisten is a guy who comes from Ohio but has lived in Oxford for four years, a singer/guitarist occasionally accompanied by a young lady who plays a violin shaped like a pair of scissors (a cut above the usual instrument, natch). He has a good voice, knows how to get a meaningful, sombre strum from his guitar, and has a droll line in tinder-dry banter, but his songs, on first listen anyway, are more interesting than truly memorable.
This last charge is certainly something you could never level at our learned friends The School, who've happily mastered the knack of catchy tunes addressing bold sentiments, embellished with 60s girl-pop stylings yet undertowed by savvy indie knowingness. They seem to be a Rosie and at least one Ryan short of the line-up when we last saw them, but Liz is in good, giggly form, describing Oxford as very pretty once you've found it, a reference to the maybe-Multimap-induced mayhem of their journey into the city. Of tonight's set, the songs from last week's Single Of The Week 'Let It Slip' ep prominently feature, there's a mystery cover version that no one gets, and the small matter of a dedication to their 'longest-travelling fan - Ken!' for their closing number 'All I Wanna Do'.
Your marathon-man mitherer hides his blushes for just long enough to grab a few words with Liz at the end of the show, as the band pack away their equipment in readiness for a trip to Spain for a festival performance. She insists the recent departures were amicable and not the result of a Mark E Smith-like hire-em-fire-em ethos, and reveals a new band member is forthcoming who will cover both instruments. Talking of covered instruments, we don't have to get our twelve-inch ruler out as Liz very kindly autographs our copy of the 'Let It Slip' ep before we wave her off to Spain. But not before she reveals an addition to The School timetable: a debut album due early next year!
Ida Maria/Dan Whitehouse, Glee Club, Birmingham, Tuesday May 27 2008, 8.30pm.
There's an urban legend that if you wander the streets of Birmingham for long enough you will invariably chance upon an encounter with the Prykemeister. On the way to Birmingham's Glee Club tonight, our peripheral vision reveals everyone's favourite AI boffin rushing towards your confused correspondent with a bunch of flowers. Fortunately for all concerned, Prykemeister isn't acting on any kind of backcrack-fuelled impulse, and is in fact on his way to present said petals and stems to his girlfriend Huma.
Don't have time to go into detail with him about what he might have done wrong to require flowers (oh come on, they're always a guilt-edged gift, aren't they?) as need to get into Glee before their curfew. Support again tonight comes from Wolverhampton troubadour-type Dan Whitehouse, although unlike his turn before Lykke Li, this time he's unaccompanied by pianist June Mori. Whether it's this, or the fact that, unusually for Glee, it's a standing gig, Dan is strangely subdued between the first few numbers, despite confidently starting the set with his best song 'Somewhere I Don't Want To Go'. Halfway through the set, however, he becomes less preoccupied and refinds his mojo, getting, by the end of the performance, the best crowd reception we've heard for him yet, and plenty of interest at the merch stand after the show, where he's selling sampler CDs ahead of an upcoming album release.
Swedish-based Norwegian Ida Maria acts pretty much the rock star from the outset, wearing a top hat, leather micro-jacket and lairy expression as she wraps her distinctively rasping larynx over a collection of songs that include her three singles to date plus other tasters from her upcoming album (due to ship late June). The standing-only format suits Ida well, because the music is essentially bluesy rock designed to get people moving and having a good time. Few blues-rock outfits have tunes as consistently good as these, however, and the presence and voice of Ida Maria helps the material transcend its' roots in the same way Rod Stewart elevated The Faces four decades ago.
The singles stand out, if on terms of familiarity alone, with the singer giving her all on the desperate denouement to former Parallax View Single Of The Week 'Stella', the feelgood folk fuzz of 'Queen Of The World' ratcheted up a few notches live, and the most punk-rock number 'Oh My God' seeing Ida dive in amongst the moshers for some sweaty catharsis. Of the other songs '(I Like You Better When You're) Naked' may yet be her breakthough hit, given its' catchy refrain complete with saucy sentiment seems destined to be chanted at student discos from here until at least Xmas.
No nearer to clearing the blogging backlog than before, but we interrupt this prevarication to advise that our very favourite Pipette, Rosay by any other name, has left the group to start her own solo career. She's now going by her full name of Rose Elinor Dougall and the first fruits from this venture can be found by having a Rosy Nosey over on her MySpace page which reveals an intriguing new direction of atmospheric, smoky moodpop a la Stereolab, Broadcast and Mazzy Star. Worth keeping an eye on this brand new Rose in town!
Have a bumper batch of gig reviews to catch up with, and some essential computer maintenance issues to contend with, so progress here at Parallax View will be steady and relentless but possibly not at the pell-mell pace you'd prefer. Just time tonight for a quick consideration of the Premiership season just gone, an exciting one for the neutral, and stuck in neutral was exactly how it felt to us West Ham fans, with the Irons forged to tenth spot for the last three months of the season. A term of stability was what was required after last season's legal turmoils and close-run relegation scrapes, but we'd forgotten just how tedious stability can be.
Still, we finished two places ahead of where Parallax View predicted at the beginning of the season, and finished above 'bigger' clubs like the Tottscum and the Toon Army. To see how well we fared in terms of predictions compare the final table with our pre-season punditry. We got the top two wrong way around, slightly underestimated Wigan and Villa and overestimated Spurs and Newcastle, but got two out of three relegated clubs right (Reading and Derby) and overall we were more right than wrong (particularly regarding the more things change the more they stay the same mantra regarding the likes of Spurs, Newcastle, Citeh and West Ham).
Which begs the question, is the Premiership getting all too predictable?
Dean Harrison v Gary Reid, Civic Hall, Wolverhampton, Wednesday April 30 2008, 8.30pm.
Ever determined to expand his entertainment horizons, your sometimes squeamish scribbler went with Russ to check out some live boxing in Wolverhampton's Civic Hall. Russ had warned that a lot of these fight nights include local scrappers duking it out against jaded journeymen there for the taking, but advised me the main event, Dean Harrison v Gary Reid, looked a tastily-matched bout.
Local light-welterweight prospect Harrison was unbeaten going into the fight, but his opponent Gary Reid, formerly based in Wolverhampton himself although now trained in Stoke, is known as The Body Snatcher due to his trademark body punches, and looked to be no pushover. As indeed it proved during a tense tussle over eight three-minute rounds with both boxers receiving vociferous support from their respective fans. Harrison, the taller and leaner of the two, took time to settle into his style and impose himself on the shorter, stockier Reid, but by the end of the fight had just done enough to justifiably win a points verdict over an opponent who was compact and busy but perhaps didn't show quite enough ambition over the contest as a whole.
A much more knowledgeable account of the fight (with detailed descriptions of the other bouts on the bill) can be found here, which includes some florid Roy Of The Rovers style descriptions which afficionados of Dead Kenny's more overcooked moments will surely enjoy, but the other fight that stood out for your nosy novice on the night was in fact between two girl boxers, another local slugger by the name of Lyndsey Scragg pitted against a Ukrainian girl called Victoria Oleynik.
Must admit wasn't too sure about the prospect of watching two women punching each other's lights out, but for sheer spectacle to the untrained eye this was the best scrap of the night. Scragg's numerous and noisy supporters were clearly expecting an easy victory but before long technical advice on jabs etc. soon gave way to impatient exhortations to 'just fuckin' knock her out!' as Oleynik's combative combination of feral intensity and provocative showboating seemed to fluster Scragg out of her normal comfort zone. Luckily for your careworn correspondent's lugholes the local lass finally won through on points although to the casual observer Oleynik's pluck was admirable and she can feel a little hard done by with the outcome.
As a whole, the event seemed very efficiently run, the crowd were quite intimidating at times although there was only one skirmish (going on underneath our balcony) that troubled the security staff, and Russ and myself had easily enough hair between us than the rest of the male audience members put together, prompting at least one quip within earshot about us being 'like Wayne's World'. Although there weren't really any upsets to report most of the fights seemed quite closely matched and competitive on the night, even though a lumbering heavyweight encounter nearly lost our will to live. Personally, would have preferred fewer fights and bigger intervals between the bouts to allow some liquid refreshment (drinks couldn't be taken into the auditorium) and anticipation, but overall it was a fascinating evening, with many thanks to Russ for the good company and technical input.
New Ladytron material gives us goosebumps at the best of times, so finding that the opening single from new album Velocifero is called Ghosts and can be downloaded right now via the Perpetua inspiration that is Fluxblog has us more than pleasantly spooked. The Liverpool-based foursome, Britain's Best Pop Band Ever? (TM), have had something like three songs make 41 in the charts, so will this spine-tingler have the phantom power to finally break them in to the Top 40?
Not being Nostredamus, we're not sure. But what we do know is that the gorgeous Ghosts has possessed us to enough to earn Parallax View Single Of The Week a good while ahead of its retail release.
StrangeTime, The Rainbow, Digbeth, Birmingham, Friday March 14 2008, 9pm.
This is your bashful blogger's first venture into The Rainbow since staggering in for some much needed grub during the Supersonic Festival back in 2005. It's a longer walk from New Street than remembered, so just as well there's long-suffering Toon Army trouper Ben along for company during the hefty stride to the venue. It's a big sprawling pub that's had something of a makeover in the intervening three years, and the bands play in what clearly used to be a backyard with a new roof, with an adjoining can bar and an open-plan kitchen area where burgers and other hot sundries are being cooked.
It is, of course, not just the beef patties and onion strips sizzling once Kate Finch and StrangeTime arrive on stage in bold, if slightly belated, fashion. Technical issues with distortion pedals are brushed to one side as they launch into 'Profile' (aka their 'MySpace song' with the lines 'so you've guessed/I'm self-obsessed') from their new ep, and yet as technically impressive as some of their new songs are, it's one of their oldest tunes, 'Ex-Boyfriend', given an extra roar of feeling tonight that someone's ears must be burning (and we don't mean from the barbecue smoke, either) that seems to get the neutrals right behind them. Our normally reliable source, the good General Hubbub, advises us the band have won quite a few new friends tonight with no prisoners taken (including John's drumstick at one point) during a feisty, fiery set.
Ben and your hurrying hack then need to make a fairly hasty exit to Wok'n'Roll, a cosy, boutique Chinese restaurant with a karaoke adjunct, to say a boisterous bon voyage to Alison who's escaping her role as occasional gig-going companion to your socially-challenged so-and-so for a new life in Bristol. We hope the local shops have had advance warning to stock up on Haribo!
Now we know what you're thinking, it's all very well for Dead Kenny to go on hobnobbing hi-jinks in intimate, fashionable ethnic eateries, but what about the other bands on the StrangeTime bill that we've casually left in the lurch of potential internet obscurity? Luckily then for your unreliable uberpundit the good Baron has swooped into view to review the whole fandangle and ensure the completists aren't hard up for comprehensive content. Huzzah!
Blood Red Shoes/Lovvers, Little Civic, Wolverhampton, Monday February 4 2008, 8.30pm. Betty & The Id/Liechtenstein/Horowitz , The Autumn Store, Sunflower Lounge, Birmingham, Thursday February 7 2008, 9pm. Los Campesinos!/Johnny Foreigner, Carling Academy 2, Birmingham, Wednesday February 13 2008, 8.45pm.
Worcester-sourced Lovvers offer a grunge-flavoured brand of post-punk with plenty of energy, noise, attitude and charisma, but not much in the way of memorable tunes, though their champions would no doubt argue melodies aren't exactly their point. As for the main band, it's a case of Blood Red A-tishoos rather than Blood Red Shoes as Laura-Mary has a terrible cold and has lost her voice, leaving the drummer Steven to carry out all the vocal chores. Given that a large part of the bands' appeal is the vocal interplay between the two it says a lot for the quality of their pop hooks that the gig remains a success despite this aspect being muted. And rumours that your cold remedy-carrying correspondent was found wandering the backstage area looking for Laura-Mary while lugging a lorryload of Vicks will remain unconfirmed.
Another band who've taken so long to get their debut album out that a backlash has started before it comes out (common factor: the stewardship of V2 Records) are Cardiff's Los Campesinos!. Said record Hold On Now, Youngster! has been slated in some parts for it's one (helter-skelter) pace, but live, that's a big part of the fun, and that criticism seems as harsh as Gareth's new haircut. 'You! Me! Dancing!' remains as exhilarating as ever, although perhaps it's a sign of our increasing old age that as we look on at all the crowdsurfing (Gareth, at one point, included) the security guy looks so much cooler in his disaffected manner than the giddy youths he's trying to control and protect.
Earlier, Johnny Foreigner hardly put a foot wrong musically with scorching guitar and rat-a-tat vocal interplay we've become accustomed to from their brilliant 'Arcs Across The City' mini-album, tonight's show also including the currently-fashionable Pavement cover. But as The Prykemeister has noted, their banter needs a bit of work, with the entreaty to buy enough merchandise to help get them out of Birmingham destined to work anywhere but the Second City itself. Then again, maybe that was their joke.
In between these gigs, ventured into a packed-out Autumn Store night at the Sunflower Lounge. Stoke-On-Trent's Horowitz are a little odd-looking and have their technical difficulties, but neither factor can detract from the simple pop beauty of their tunes, with an extra layer of guitar fuzz live adding to the lovely warmth of gems like 'Pop Kids Of The World Unite!'. Sweden's Liechtenstein were one of our Music Tips of 2008, and the all-girl group from Gothenburg don't disappoint, entrancing the audience with their shiny-eyed charm and intricate, engaging songcraft. We recommend that you track down debut single 'Stalking Skills' with immediate and stealthy effect. Local band Betty & The Id were late additions to the bill, and not what you might call traditional Autumn Store fayre, but with the drinks starting to kick in, their driven brand of drone-rock gave the evening a happy head-nodding finish.
In which we empty our pockets of loose change. Spend it wisely, readers!
In response to a request from Ben as to where you can get hands on a copy of David Byrne's cover of The Fiery Furnaces' 'Ex-Guru' here's a link to the mp3 and also details on how you can buy a copy of this goofy goodness.
Chris Cleave's excellent novel Incendiary which features a troubled young woman learning to cope with losing her husband and child in a terrorist atrocity at an Arsenal game, has been made into a feature film starring Michelle Williams and Ewan McGregor that premiered at last month's Sundance Film Festival.
Birmingham-based circus artiste Emilia Arata (picture borderline safe for work) supplied the eye candy for last month's Big Brother Celebrity Takeover yawnfest.
A cautious recommendation to What I Killed Today, in which a vet eulogises the animals he's euthanised. (via LMG)
On a much happier note it's full speed ahead for a new Ladytron album, entitled Velocifero, due out on Nettwerks Records on June 3.
And finally, a new music tip for 2008, in the shape of Laura Groves. Missed the 20-year-old Shipley lass's show last night at the Bearded Magazine launch party in Birmingham's Sunflower Lounge, but these songs on her MySpace page are striking and distinctive. The Kate Bush comparisons are inevitable, but, for once, pertinent.
Just as Paul Schrader's tricksy political thriller The Walker (2007, out as of last week on DVD) begins with a genteel game of cards, Ang Lee's erotically-charged spy story Lust, Caution has a lengthy opening scene featuring a game of Mahjong, an inscrutable pastime which seems to be a kind of combination of Yahtzee and Dungeons and Dragons played with small slabs that resemble white chocolate Bendick's Mingles.
Set in Japanese-occupied Shangai during World War Two, nothing is quite what it seems underneath the civilised veneer of small-talk and drawing-room games. The importer's wife introduced to the gentleman of the house Mr Yee (played by Tony Leung) is a poor player of Mahjong for the reason she's too busy concentrating on keeping up her cover to study the nuances of the game, as the film's flashback structure reveals her to be a young actress hired to seduce the high-ranking collaborator and lead him towards his assassination.
Mr Yee, however, is an understandably cautious man, and there's plenty of human chess moves, not to mention betrayal and bloodshed, before the film's well-publicised explicit sex scenes explode upon the screen. The result is a slow-burning pot-boiler with plenty to reward the patient viewer, not least the two lead performances. Relative unknown Tang Wei is bewitching both as the radical student and troubled spy lost in lust with her smouldering prey, while Tony Leung impressively conveys the brooding passion beneath his character's buttoned-up exterior with a quiet, dignified subtlety that helps raise the material above mere melodrama.
On a similar UNSAFE FOR WORK tip here's the list you've really been waiting for: The Top 20 Nude Scenes of 2007 with pictures and movie clips attached to get your boss hot under the collar.
And finally, the first of our music tips for 2008: Ida Maria a Swedish-based Norwegian with a distinctive rockchick rawr, who's playing a couple of gigs in London later this month.
Kings Of Leon become the first act to get the coveted nod of Parallax View Album Of The Year twice (following on from Aha Shake Heartbreak in 2004) in a year which, on reflection, was of pretty solid vintage.
1. Because Of The Times - Kings Of Leon 2. Under The Blacklight - Rilo Kiley 3. Mens Needs, Womens Needs, Whatever - The Cribs 4. In Rainbows - Radiohead 5. Our Love To Admire - Interpol 6. Let's Stay Friends - Les Savy Fav 7. We Can Create - Maps 8. Neon Bible - Arcade Fire 9. The Dreamer Evasive - Apartment 10. The Deep Blue - Charlotte Hatherley 11. The Besnard Lakes Are The Dark Horse - The Besnard Lakes 12. Grinderman - Grinderman 13. Icky Thump - The White Stripes 14. Knives Will Have Your Back - Emily Haines And The Soft Skeleton 15. Without Feathers - The Stills 16. Widow City - The Fiery Furnaces 17. Citrus - Asobi Seksu 18. A Weekend In The City - Bloc Party 19. The Kissaway Trail - The Kissaway Trail 20. An End Has A Start - Editors 21. I'll Sleep When You're Dead - El-P 22. A Brighter Beat - Malcolm Middleton 23. Myths Of The Near Future - Klaxons 24. White Chalk - P J Harvey 25. The Fragile Army - The Polyphonic Spree 26. Love's Miracle - Qui 27. Watch The Fireworks - Emma Pollock 28. Person Pitch - Panda Bear 29. The Bird Of Music - Au Revoir Simone 30. Wincing The Night Away - The Shins 31. Magic - Bruce Springsteen 32. Hey Trouble - The Concretes 33. Cheap Demo Bad Science - Serafina Steer 34. No Shouts No Calls - Electrelane 35. The Body, The Blood, The Machine - The Thermals 36. Sermon From Exposition Boulevard - Rickie Lee Jones 37. Made Of Bricks - Kate Nash 38. Wait For Me - The Pigeon Detectives 39. Late December - Maria McKee 40. The Secret Sickliness - Piskie Sits
Best compilation: Weirdo Rippers by No Age.
Best re-issues: Dead Men Tell No Tales by Monarch! and Eat To The Beat CD/DVD by Blondie.
As ever, use the comments box to vent your spleen, point out the glaring omissions and/or hawk your blog. Then it starts all over again in 2008 with the release of the new British Sea Power record in the second week of the New Year.
The Duke Spirit/Creepy Morons, Barfly, Birmingham, Friday November 16 2007, 8.45pm.
So whatever happened to The Beatings? Seems like some of 'em, at any rate, turned out to be Creepy Morons. But Creepy Morons, nonetheless, who know how to thrash a decent tune from a fashionable two-piece unit of guitar and drums. It's a raw blend of blues and folk infused with a give-a-shit attitude and an instinctive feel for a pleasing groove. Definitely worth checking out.
Headliners The Duke Spirit are also old friends of Parallax View back on the scene, a band we've reviewed and reported on many an occasion since catching them support The Shins three and a half years ago. 'Fret not' advises singer Liela Moss, 'we're back and we've brought some new songs with us' and the band don't look back for the rest of the set, introducing a whole raft of new material (generally more melodic and of more varied pace than debut album Cuts Across The Land) as well as the usual live favourites like 'Red Weather' and 'Love Is An Unfamiliar Name'.
Sometimes you need to meet someone again to realise how much you've missed them, and that's the over-riding sensation your cheerful correspondent feels during a lively and enlivening set ring-led by the shamanic Moss cutting a cool and confident figure upfront to increasing appreciation from the sizeable crowd. 'We'll be back in the spring' advises Moss as they finally depart from the stage, which is yet another reason to wish the winter over with godspeed.
The Fiery Furnaces, Barfly, Birmingham, Friday November 9 2007, 9.15pm.
The last time your crocked correspondent saw The Fiery Furnaces his arm was in a sling in what was then a fashionable wrist fracture. Tonight the limbs are all cosily correct and present, and have the added company of Ben, Jenni, Alison and The Prykemeister, for a gig that's perhaps not been as hotly-anticipated as expected given the sparse attendance which gives the Barfly tonight a cold, cavernous feel.
So maybe there's a touch of sarcasm in singer Eleanor Friedberger's voice when she advises that this could be the best night of her life, though there seems genuine warmth when she invites the collected audience to get right close to the stage so she can see our smiles. Thus the thrill of a packed house is replaced by the sensation of implied intimacy, something that no doubt would appeal to the average Fiery Furnaces fan given their cultish allure.
Eleanor and brother/songwriter/keyboard player Matthew are accompanied by Jason Lohwenstein on guitars and Bob D'Amico on drums and between them they manage a phat and feisty groove that helps propel their perverse and skittish material into the live arena. Eleanor's vocals are a large part of the band's appeal on record even if that isn't always reflected in the production mix, but in the flesh she dominates attention from the word go. All fringe, nose and jaw she's physically a curious combo of Zelda, Ringo Starr and Patti Smith and yet so much more compellingly attractive than that hotch-potch collage might sound. If she's pissed at the turnout it doesn't show in a performance where she seems at once lost in the music and yet passionately embracing every opportunity to connect with the audience through her smiling eyes and bewitching enthusiasm.
The first half of the set is almost exclusively taken from this autumn's Widow City collection, arguably their most consistently pleasing effort since their barnstorming debut Gallowsbird's Bark. Album opener 'The Philadelphia Grand Jury' is also used here to get things going, slowly but surely weaving the listener into their weird and twisted world, while there's also strong showings from 'Navy Nurse', 'Right By Conquest' and 'Restorative Beer'. 'My Egyptian Grammar' puts the high into hieroglyphics, while even the curious omission of the keyboard motif can't put your home-loving hack off his favourite 'Japanese Slippers'. Further into the set there's room for a couple of tracks from the unfairly-neglected 'Rehearsing My Choir', 'Single Again' morphs in and out of 'Don't Dance Me Down' (or is it the other way around?) while a call for requests elicits perhaps their best-known song 'Tropical Iceland' to be extracted from 'Gallowsbird's Bark'.
After the show, Eleanor is in engaging form with the fans that hang by. The Prykemeister tells her she's going to be a big star one day and gets his photo taken with her like the prime schmoozer he is. This just leaves time for a quick pint in The Anchor before catching the train, a brief but memorable Eruption* courtesy of the buxom barmaid giving full and satisfying meaning to the term 'restorative beer'...
*calm down, dear reader, this is simply a guest real ale courtesy of the Salopian Brewery!
StrangeTime/Cellardoor/Sub Rosa, Actress and Bishop, Ludgate Hill, Birmingham, Saturday October 27 2007, 9pm.
Deep into the Jewellery Quarter and just off St Paul's Square, the upstairs venue at the Actress & Bishop is packed with people in various sorts of fancy dress for this hotly-anticipated three-act Hallowe'en show curated by those fine StrangeTime folk. Your discreet diarist decides against fancy dress as such, but dressed in black and with mad, staring eyes intact if fairly boggled, opts for the scary blogger guise that has served him so well over the years.
With Prykemeister and the lovely Bex also in attendance amongst an attractive, knowledgeable crowd, it's a decent turnout for Leicester's Sub Rosa's inaugural live show in the Second City. Bedecked in assorted blood-splattered gear that gives them the appearance of Re-Animator extras the lead singer is at pains to stress that they don't normally look like this. But when they summon a steady succession of blood-curdling riffs savage enough to waken the dead from an eternity of spiritual slumber maybe they protest too much. Very impressive stuff indeed.
There's something a bit different about Andrew from Cellar Door since last time our paths crossed, but your clueless correspondent can't quite put his finger on it. Ah yes, it'll be the wig, glasses, fake boobs and skirt, of course! But it's a quick change from Doubtfire to Surefire as the group's early pretty Mogwai-isms make way for something a little more fluid, woozy and dare we say it, funky, as comparisons to Tortoise and Krautrock become more apparent. The crowd are starting to sway, anyway, and it can't be the alcohol given the under-resourced bar. Andrew's clearly a man who knows how to catch the eye of the barman, however, as he cheerfully announces that he's so drunk he's forgotten the outro to their penultimate number.
Head downstairs in search of readier alcohol and emerge back upstairs to find have just missed the first song in StrangeTime's set. Guitarist/vocalist Kate Finch has her pageboy cut submerged underneath a Cleopatra wig that's fetching enough to tempt your lamebrained lothario to make a damn silly asp of himself, while bassist Chris and drummer John settle for a subtly blood-splattered look. But then the band once described as the scariest in the West Midlands clearly don't need to try too hard to terrify, particularly with songs like 'Personality Disorder' and new song 'Profile' sinister enough to psych out the most laid-back of listeners.
There's something slightly different about the band tonight - maybe it's the fancy dress liberating them from self-consciousness, the headline status at a packed show giving them greater self-esteem, or simply the confidence that comes from playing regularly and the burgeoning inter-band chemistry thus generated - but perhaps it's only appropriate that at a Hallowe'en ball StrangeTime have genuinely arrived.
Maps/Jeremy Warmsley, Carling Academy 2, Birmingham, Saturday October 6 2007, 7.30pm.
In what is becoming something of an increasingly self-referential Parallax View trend your chaotic correspondent arrives at the venue just as the first support act finish the last song of their set. All we can relate is that there are quite a few of them and they made a pleasing post-rock din but due to the on-the-go demands of the weekend (the gig is sandwiched in between the Villa v West Ham game and going to see the Ian Curtis biopic) don't get the chance to do the research to find out who they are. Parallax View is very, very sorry.
There's something naggingly familiar about the second act as he makes his meek but quietly assured way to the stage, and your hapless hack lets his face drop slightly on the realisation it's Jeremy Warmsley again, who we've seen twice before (at Summer Sundae and supporting I'm From Barcelona) in the last seven weeks. Now the problem with the fact that there's a sparse attendance so far at the venue is that you're a little exposed to the artist and embarrassingly Jez seems to clock my aghast expression and keeps a close eye on me for the rest of the show.
If this ensures your busted blogger remains on his best behaviour the same can't be said for a young man at the front who'd obviously started the pre-gig celebrations a little earlier than perhaps he should, and is sadly making a bit of a dickhead of himself. Warmsley asks him to behave himself and then heads to the barrier and has a quiet word in his ear while keeping an eagle eye on your studious scribe at the same time. We called on our lip-reading expertise and can advise with no degree of certainty whatsoever that what he said to the unfortunate young man in question was 'see that bloke over there, you're going to end up in his blog if you're not careful'. These wise words don't appear to do the trick, however, and Jez justifiably drops his calm reasonableness for a marvellously stroppy 'oh, just FUCK OFF!' instead, before finally security takes the matter out of his hands and escorts the nuisance off the premises.
Perhaps it's the distracting circumstances making us more pre-disposed to giving Jezza a fair hearing, but we find ourselves enjoying his show a bit more at the third time of asking. He seems to get the balance right between the slower and jauntier numbers, but does frustrate us with telling us there's a good joke hidden in the lyrics of one of his songs, because your attention-deficited amateur just can't concentrate for long enough to get it.
Troubling eye contact isn't an issue with main act Maps as they make the sort of symphonies that induce your blissed-out blogger to close his eyes and wig-out to the pulsating waves of sonic splendour. There are people who get paid decent money for writing about music who'd have you believe that Maps can't cut it in the relatively uncharted uncharted territories of the live arena, but take it as read from this Parallax Viewer these idiots don't know what they're talking about. If tunes like 'Eloise' and 'It Will Find You' can inspire this unco-ordinated upstart to shake a limb then these rhythms are chancers that will prove that fortune always favours the brave. Top marks for the roadie wearing a Medium 21 t-shirt as well - further proof that not everything coming out of Northampton is cobblers.
Resident Evil: Extinction, Odeon Telford, Wednesday October 31 2007, 6.10pm.
Whatever you might think about zombie movies, it's the genre that refuses to stay dead. Despite the critical kicking the first two films in the Resident Evil computer game spin-off series received, the third installment is now upon us, with Highlander director Russell Mulcahy jumping aboard to try to breathe new life into his own stalling career.
While Mulcahy's films aren't often remembered for their intelligence, cultural significance and socio-political insight, one thing he can normally be relied upon is to deliver retina-scorching cinematic sweep, and true to form he delivers with the shit-kicking action taking place in post-apocalyptic desert vistas that sometimes recall the Mad Max pictures (although in place of Tina Turner, we get Ashanti - progress of sorts, we guess).
The result is a bright, glossy, sexy piece of entertainment which eschews pretension in favour of the superficial thrills of Milla Jovovich slicing and dicing zombies while wearing a wide range of wet and clingy outfits. For once, we have a zombie film that's quite happy to admit it's mindless fun, and this refreshing change allied to the stunning visuals gives more enjoyment than the hipper, edgier stylings of 28 Weeks Later. Milla's tale's worth following.
Let's get the trivia out of the way first: Eastern Promises is the first film that David Cronenberg has directed outside of his home country Canada. It also re-unites him with his A History Of Violence leading man Viggo Mortensen in a tale set amongst the bloc-rocking beasts of Russian mobsters running amok in a gangland war in London.
Brummie Steven Knight's screenplay eschews potential topical twists of football-club takeovers and atomic dust cappuccino sprinklings for the more old-school thrills of knives, tattoos and family loyalty. The use of set-pieces such as barber-shop throat-slittings and bath-house brawls threaten to plunge the project into mundane, anachronistic territory but the film is salvaged by the usual stylistic sang-froid Cronenberg delivers to the gory violence, and another iconic performance from Mortensen. The latter relishes a role which gives him the opportunity to display both physical and moral superiority while beating and stabbing the shit out of everyone who dares cross his path, recalling the stoic splendour of a Charles Bronson or Burt Lancaster in their pomp as he does so.
Naomi Watts, on the other hand, is an actress you'd consider destined to play a memorable role in a Cronenberg film, but this isn't it as she tries hard but gets lost in a thankless role of a curious and compassionate midwife that's the kind of one-dimensional ingenue turn she should by rights have left behind her after Mulholland Dr.. This under-written role and the sparsity of memorable whip-smart dialogue works against a film which manages to keep the interest going throughout, sparks into genuine excitement here and there, but lacks the clean, formal brilliance of its predecessor A History Of Violence.
The Cribs/Bobby Conn, Carling Academy, Birmingham, Friday October 5 2007, 7.30pm.
Hmm...we're having difficulty relating to The Cribs' audience. Here at Parallax View we're used to rough business, heck in our pugnacious youth we even occasionally started some, but it's the squealing, squabbling and tag-team stampeding up and down the staircases that's leaving your hassled hack yearning for the days when ADHD was just plain cheatin' at scrabble. So seek solace in support act Bobby Conn whose lively set of pseudo-glam stomp is entertaining without providing much in the way of memorable tunage. Instead it's their matching bleached-denim jackets and the female violinist (the delightfully-named Monica BouBou) who seems to have a smile for each and every one of the massed crowd which stick in the mind.
Don't mind admitting that, prior to 2007, Parallax View paid scant attention to Wakefield's The Cribs but triumphant third album 'Mens Needs, Womens Needs, Whatever' shrugged our ambivalence aside with its cocksure combination of catchy tunes, rough charm, US alt. influences and indie insularity sweeping all aside to be our favourite new album of the year at the half-term point. It seems like we've been waiting all our lives for a band to come along and confirm the previously-unspoken truth that the essence of evil is revealed in the continuing worldwide success of Razorlight.
For all their louche demeanour The Cribs put on a pretty tight set, getting on with the business of provoking the crowd to jump up and down as often and as quickly as possible, with 'I'm A Realist'; 'Moving Pictures' and an awesome 'Ancient History' particularly standing out on the night. Towards the end Ryan Jarman moves to the back of the stage, removes his shirt and then takes a huge running jump right over the barricades, launching himself like the loon he is into the moshing masses. Before you can say 'aw, that's gotta hurt!' the security staff are leading his limp, lifeless frame back stage, although somewhat predictably a mere minute later a lazarus-like recovery sees him back on stage for 'Shoot The Poets'. The bad news, then, is that Kate Nash is still taken...
The Departure/The Brite Lites/Guile, Barfly, Birmingham, Tuesday October 2 2007, 8pm.
As your garrulous guide makes his way to the Barfly venue his thoughts are occupied with one question: does anyone remember The Departure anymore, let alone care? Their debut 2005 platter 'Dirty Words' garnered many a play on our mp3 player, so much so it made Parallax View's Top 30 for that year, but it was a notable commercial flop which led to the sudden exit of the band's lead guitarist and questions asked as to whether they'd be dropped by their label.
Surprisingly, then, find that the venue is fairly heaving, possibly tempted by the fact that the first 50 punters through the door got themselves a free 7", or maybe drawn in by two local bands playing in support. Cannock's Guile make a pleasing drone-rock racket as we weave our way to the bar, but sadly this is the last track of their set so we make a mental note to be Guile-d in more detail at a later date. Birmingham's The Brite Lites immediately get your lank-locked layabout worrying - to wit, surely it's not time again so soon for crew cuts to be back in fashion? There's something short-back-and-sides about their radio-friendly sound too, sounding like Ryan Adams attempting to plagiarise the Radiohead back catalogue, and the result is intermittently interesting and foot-tapping but towards the end you sense the interest around you starting to dim.
The Departure bound on stage in confident mood, and the new, almost impossibly fresh-faced, guitarist seems to settle down well enough in a set that is liberally sprinkled with tasters from their new album (due early 2008) plus the best stuff from 'Dirty Words' like 'Lump In My Throat' and 'Talk Show'. The new material sounds interesting and immediate, and there may yet be commercial mileage in their more accessible take on regurgitating the early 80s sound - in truth, they probably owe more to Depeche Mode than they do Joy Division and that could be an important distinction when trying to find their niche. The show seems to go down well with the crowd, anyway, so all the more curious that the group dispense with an encore despite hoarse entreaties to get themselves back on stage. Curfew or fuck-you issues? We're not entirely sure.
Still, have a bit of time to spare before the last train to sink down another pint as the Barfly club night slowly but surely whirrs into a flurry of activity. Upon leaving, however, your conscientious correspondent finds himself walking behind the band as they lug their equipment up stairs. It's clearly your helpful hack's seasoned roadie reflexes he falls back upon when one of their cases slips off and he picks it up in one fell swoop with a cheery 'whoops!'. Clearly overwhelmed by their evening's performance the band don't skip a beat, presumably having lost count of their number and mistaken your nonchalant nincompoop for a fifth member. At the top of the stairs, the singer turns with some bewilderment to find the said case handed over to him by a bemused blogger rather than a recognised compadre. Congratulating him on a good gig, we return his changed expression of utter disdain with our own practised shrug as we pace off in to the distance. We may have only been a member of The Departure for about seven seconds but we still know how to make a sharp exit.
iLiKETRAiNS/Shady Bard, Barfly, Birmingham, Monday September 17 2007, 8pm.
This isn't the first time Dead Kenny has seen the improbably capitalized iLiKETRAiNS but it *is* the first time your timetable-troubled tinker has ended up reviewing them. Saw them last year playing alongside London's The Early Years and Birmingham's own Grandscope and your wondering writer did start a review in his head along the lines of how the bands all sounded great but it couldn't be classed as a great gig because of the palpable lack of atmosphere and crowd interaction, musing further about whether this was due to a lacking from the bands or the audience's own shortcomings - to wit, do post-rock groups get the distant, aloof crowds they deserve? Sounds a bit pretentious, we guess, so perhaps it's just as well it never saw light of push-button publishing.
But anyway, we're getting ahead of ourselves here, as there's the not inconsiderable matter of support band Shady Bard to contemplate. Due to scheduling difficulties your dopey diarist only managed to catch one of their songs at this year's Supersonic but it was enough to pique our interest, and knowing that they're a local band astutely guessed it wouldn't be too long before we'd get the chance to study them at greater length and closer detail. Just two months on we were proved right as here they are providing intense and intriguing support on the Barfly stage. The lead singer is a strange sort, oscillating wildly between cockiness and awkwardness, but with a deep rich voice not unlike the lead vox from the main act. The musical palette is much more varied, however, with SB being another project making fulsome use of classical instrumentation and folk-ish stylings, touches here and there recalling Arcade Fire, British Sea Power and Tindersticks, but the resulting mix proving suitably dark and distinctive. They could yet prove to be Best Midlands' most beguiling prospect.
A good year on from the release of 2006's often astonishing mini-LP 'Progress Reform' things seem to have derailed slightly for iLiKETRAiNS, despite the imminent release of their first full-length proper (out on Monday October 1st, record release fact fans). They're again technically impressive, mixing up material well between familiar stuff from 'Progress Reform' and tasters off the new record but it all leaves your chin-stroking correspondent strangely cold and uninvolved. The group have ditched their British Rail uniforms but do still provide a visual backdrop to their elegiac efforts as if in acknowledgement to the fact their earnest endeavours otherwise lack for visual spectacle, while the new songs all seem to have their moments but lack the hooks (on first listening, at least) to compel purchase of their latest offering.
So on the whole found the experience mildly depressing and decided I liked trains enough to catch the next one home rather than waiting for the encore.
Andy Parsons, Shrewsbury Music Hall, Shrewsbury, Sunday September 16 2007, 8pm.
Being a comedian is hard work, so Dead Kenny took the day off and went to see Andy Parsons live at The Music Hall, in the company of Gisbourne and Neal. Parsons is the balding guy with a high-pitched southern accent who's a regular on late-night comedy panel show Mock The Week and he's a professional comedian for the very good reason he's rather effective at making people laugh.
Reviewing comedy gigs is not a Parallax View forte also for a good reason - we're usually too busy careering from chuckling to chortling to take down notes of which gags worked or didn't, and your crap correspondent can never remember jokes at the best of times, unless they've been directly aimed at his friends. And while Parsons gets mucho mileage from the front row (a lady in a woollen beret with unfortunate toilet timing, a crisp-chombling chap and a fat bloke called Fred and his teacher wife coming in for particular attention) as well as singling out the bloke behind us who shouted 'Woo!' at the beginning, my companions for the night survived unscathed.
So as we can't remember specific gags you'll have to take your hoho-ing hack's word for it that Parsons represents good value-for-money in terms of solid quickfire material that, while remaining topical, should appeal to a broad audience range. Gordon Brown and David Cameron came in for roughly equal amounts of stick with defensive teachers ('I've got marking, you know!') and the good folk of Telford (always goes down well in Shrewsbury!) also heavily targeted. Unlike the likes of Richard Herring though, there were no surreal elements as such in the material so your concluding correspondent will contribute by saying that throughout he laughed like a train.
StrangeTime/The Elements/Reverie, Artsfest, Birmingham, Saturday September 15 2007, 2pm.
We don't know much about Artsfest but this much we like: free culture in a city near us, so who's complaining? While there's justifiable grumbles about poor organisation and inadequate communications we do get a second chance to see Reverie on the Kerrang FM stage after getting our first taste of them supporting The Kissaway Trial in Shrewsbury back in July. Perhaps it's the sun on our backs but we enjoy their mellow take on acoustic folk with a classical twist much more this time, even though they do seem to be puzzling the tourists somewhat.
On to the Custard Factory to catch up with StrangeTime who are playing the main stage there. Every StrangeTime live experience appears to have a distinctive element and this is no exception with the swimming pool filled in post-Supersonic giving an added water feature. Add in the baking sun and sound guys who look like acid-fried casualties and we could almost be in Ibiza, with Kate Finch & Co. supplying the rocks. There's another cock-up start to the rather ace new song they debuted at the Barfly gig and a girl on the pool edge only just manages to get the lens cap off in time to get the video footage rolling. We also get a brand new song about narcissistic Mitherspace fiends which features the rather excellent couplet 'So you guessed/I'm self-obsessed' while 'Personality Disorder' manages the seemingly impossible by sounding even better than last time we heard it.
Hang around a bit afterwards to glug Guinness and cappuccinos while chatting to Kate, John, Chris, Sarah Accident from Violet Beauregarde and aspiring stand-up comedian/poet Henry while listening to The Elements' slightly-better-than-competent-but-slightly-less-than-exciting back-to-basics Britpop. Also learn a valuable lesson in post-gig ligging - never volunteer for helping shift the band's kit, you'll always end up lugging the most awkward bag, but we get our reward with a pint in Scruffy's and the discovery that your correspondent's beloved Hammers have whelped the 'Boro 3-0 to register our first home victory of the season!
Part Two of a Set of Three reviews from the Summer Sundae Weekender 2007.
Summer Sundae Weekender, DeMontfort Halls And Gardens, Leicester, Saturday August 11 2007.
Meander back onto the site about lunchtime feeling a little dehydrated after the previous night's alcohol consumption, so crack open a thirst-quenching but credibility-crushing can of Tango in the belief that there's no-one around to see and tell. On turning around, however, immediately bump into Simon who talks intelligently about music while your hoarse hack tries to avert his gaze from my childish choice of soft drink.
Manage to chug it all down before Ray and Deb arrive on site, and we stroll off to see The Falling Leaves on the Indoor Stage, who have their moments, and recall The Kissaway Trial here and there, but in general are as familiar and slightly depressing as the season of autumn itself. Some sunshine is in order then (have we mentioned yet this is the best festival weather of the year so far?) to catch the first few songs of teenage prodigies Kitty Daisy and Lewis who play with (and indeed, in the style of) their parents. It's pastiche, but done with style and gusto, and in the light of Amy Winehouse's success, you can't argue there's not a market for this sort of thing. Even so, your wandering writer slopes off to see whether The Lea Shores have finally started their slot over on The Rising stage. They hadn't (a last-minute switch to the Indoor Stage on Sunday, we later learn) so console ourselves with the warblings of Jeremy Warmsley a personable young man in search of that singularly defining tune, whose new material betrays a vaguely alarming ambition to be the British Rufus Wainwright. Jez, leave it.
Grab some food at this point and bump into The Prykemeister, but can't hear a lot of what he's saying because Jazz Jamaica are proving to be the loudest band on the main stage we can ever remember. Turn it down, grandads, or the overflying pigeons will be history! Peek back into the Indoor Stage to see recently-reformed indie veterans Cud try manfully to cope with the absence of their lead singer on premature parental leave by seeking volunteers from the crowd to take turns to sing ditties like 'Rich and Strange'. Simon Cowell, if he was here, would no doubt call it a shambles, and maybe it is, but it's an entertaining one nonetheless which seems to help bond the watching crowd.
Enjoy a quick pint with Ray and Deb before wandering down near the front of the Main Stage where former Arab Strap-ling Malcolm Middleton has just started his set. At our first Summer Sundae two years ago, Malcolm was one of the big hits on the Indoor Stage and, with the usual sizeable Scottish contingent present, it's a deserved elevation to the Main Stage to help promote his third (rather good) album 'A Brighter Beat'. Middleton breaks off at one point to say 'I didn't realise I swore so much...fuckin 'ell!' before eventually revealing the title of the next track, the rather-sweet-actually 'Fuck It I Love You'. Post-rock tinged celtic folk never sounded so good!
Back up to the Rising Stage to catch latest Mancunian hopefuls The Whip here to represent the Nu Rave movement for Summer Sundae. Not entirely sure about Nu Rave over at Parallax View although the Klaxons cover of 'It's Not Over' may be the thing that tips us over the edge into its favour in a kind of indie kerplunk fashion. Early doors The Whip seem a bit drippy but a steady swirl of sauce soon permeates proceedings and by the tremendous last number it's the moment the Summer Sundae turned DayGlo. Later find out they've been tipped as the new New Order, if had been aware of this before seeing them would have been disappointed, but taken on their own terms they're one of the revelations of the weekend. Indeed, the drummer seems so pleased with the crowd response she apparently flashes the bassist in celebration - it's good to see a rhythm section getting on so well.
The two big choices of the night were Maps vs Wild Beasts and Sophie Ellis Bextor vs Low. Dead Kenny opts for the co-ordinated ones and (sorry, No.1 Low fan Ben) S-E-B. Had heard reports that Maps were struggling to recreate the excellent debut We Can Create in the live arena, but on the contrary this was one of the highlights of the weekend for PV, genuinely mesmerising stuff with Eloise and It Will Find You the most vivid highlights. Sophie Ellis-Bextor divides the crowd in terms of how much is pre-recorded or not, but nobody could deny her entertainment value, alternating between chic and gauche with amusing regularity, and she can still twitch her tush to devastating effect. Enough anyway, to district your starstruck scribe from the sight of Kitty and Daisy of Kitty, Daisy and Lewis sat directly to our right.
Watch the first few numbers from The Magic Numbers but once they've performed 'Forever Lost' we make a move towards the Indoor Stage to see !!!, meeting the gaze of Kitty and Daisy again as they sit on the steps looking on (later discover they join The Magic Numbers for some of their encores). !!! have the cocky fucker from OutHud (remember them?) as their lead singer and he's in typically extrovert form during a frenetic show during which many people seem to be enjoying themselves immensely, even if we're not sure how many of 'em will remember much about it in the morning.
Try to meet up again with Ray and Deb in the Cocktail Bar, where your confused correspondent thinks he spies the DJ Trevor Nelson. The doppelganger mistakes my perusal for some other enquiry and sidles over to me and says 'everyone seems to be having a good time, brother, whaddaya reckon?'. Not sure whether he thought your harmless hack was after a fight, a fuck or a score, but time for an f. sharp exit, a timeous text message leading the way to a rendezvous at the indie disco in The Charlotte. A couple of hours of twisting and shouting to the latest indie faves later, your duracell dunderhead still hasn't had enough and heads for the hotel bar for a double whisky and to check the football highlights.
My dazed reverie is however interrupted by a familiar cackle. Who should be lounging in the hotel with friends but the esteemed Mancunian punk-poet John Cooper-Clarke! If seeing him once meant we'd done good, and seeing him twice meant we'd done very very bad, what does seeing him three times mean? On that inscrutable enigma, retire to bed.
Part One of a Set of Three reviews from the Summer Sundae Weekender 2007.
Summer Sundae Weekender, DeMontfort Hall and Gardens, Leicester, Friday August 10th 2007.
Mebbe your cine-literate correspondent has seen Mulholland Dr. too many times but the night afore Summer Sundae Weekender starts, have a dream in which Mancunian punk-poet John Cooper-Clarke advises that if we see him over the weekend once we'll know we've done good, but if we see him twice we'll know we've done very very bad. Things continue in an ominous vein next day with a freight train derailment between Birmingham and Leicester cancelling all trains in that direction, the replacement coach passes a caravan that has just exploded into fire, and the driver and guard for the connecting train at Nuneaton get held up in the resulting jam.
So arrive in Leicester approximately 90 minutes behind schedule, but still with enough time for a quick shower at the hotel before heading on to the site, where we catch the tail end of some plinkety-plonkety synth-pop from Palladium another band seemingly convinced that what the world needs now is another Kajagoogoo, or in their better moments, another Flock Of Seagulls. Thankfully, some real proper chart pop stuff is about to start off on the main stage in the form of Kate Nash. With Kate's album due to top the album charts later this weekend, there's a backlash brewing for the bespoke boho brunette for sure, but it's one your balanced blogger won't be joining, because we still think she's lovely. Claims that she's just a Lily Allen knock-off are lazy and misguided, although 'Mariella' does sound like the Regina Spektor schtick given an EC1 lick of dayglo paint. It's a good show, not a great one (in the same way her album's entertaining but not fabulous) equal parts sweary and playful, and each generation deserves a break-up(?) song delivered to them in their own language and this year that's 'Foundations' and we don't begrudge her those fifteen minutes of dodging the paps.
A new innovation this year on site is a 'Hub Stage' next to the 6Music caravan, and we're treated to a couple of poems from John Cooper-Clarke and a brief but amusing interview between him and Steve Lamacq, where they stick to a 'script' to eliminate the swearing risk, and JCC advises with mock-weariness that he's been 'supporting The Fall all my life'. Your post-Britop pen-pusher always had a bit of a soft spot for The Beta Band but is afraid to report that spin-off satellite band The Aliens are nothing out of this world, so drift back to the 6Music caravan where your garrulous guide distracts Simon from getting an autograph from Kate Nash with the usual blogging blether.
Simon suggests a trip up to the Musician Stage to see the full John Cooper-Clarke set, and caught up in blogging bonhomie follow him in to the packed tent for an entertaining half-hour of the same jokes he always tells, interspersed with a few poems here and there. Take a call on the Parallax Phone towards the end of the set, so regrettably have to leave the marquee and so miss his Beasley Street remix. Fortunately, however, it does get me down to the Main Stage in time to see The Concretes your hopeful hack's first experience of seeing them in the flesh since Victoria Bergsman's exit. Erstwhile drummer Lisa Millberg has taken up the lead vocal reins, her singing is a dusky, drowsy, acquired taste (she'd have made a great foil for Serge Gainsbourg) but she makes an effort with bright red knee-length stockings and copious flirting with guitarist Maria Eriksson, despite a mixed response from a crowd seemingly expecting a 'best of' set rather than a platform for promoting new record 'Hey Trouble'. Lisa wants us all to move on from the Bergsman period, and that may well prove a struggle but if they continue writing songs of the calibre of 'Oh Boy' and 'Keep Yours' it may yet prove a worthwhile campaign, with 'Hey Trouble' for our money their most consistently rewarding record to date.
Shoot quickly off to the Indoor Stage to see Candie Payne who kindly plays all our favourites from debut platter 'I Wish I could Have Loved You More' (including the rather swish title track) during the first half of her set, allowing the opportunity to hotfoot it to the Rising stage to catch the last few songs from The Modified Toy Orchestra still bedecked in the same Primark suits as Supersonic, and with plentiful supply of banter, Toy Orchestra conductor Brian Duffy inviting one member of the audience to an anal sex experience after the show to show him/her how forbidden it wasn't. Bump into The Prykemeister after the performance, and a minute later get a call from Ray and Deb to say they've finally made it on site. Beers and banter ensue, with our last musical memories of the night involving Dead Kenny doing a spot of pole dancing - no, not what you're thinking, just your clumsy correspondent doing his best to co-ordinate shifting one foot to the other during a surprisingly funky latenight set from German experimentalists Pole in The Rising Stage.
In no way a method of prevaricating further before delivering our Summer Sundae Weekender review, and in no particular order, let the linkdumping commence -
Page2RSS.com will create an RSS feed for this site so Dead Kenny won't have to. It's not hard work, just put the URL in the box provided and they will let you know whenever PV is updated. (info kindly provided by Pete Ashton.)
When Michele decided to desert us to travel to the end of the earth known as New Zealand one thing we made absolutely clear was that we'd never ever forget her birth-D'OH! Erm, happy birthday Michele for Monday just gone. And to Dave and Nadean for earlier this month, too. Also, if we remember correctly it's also birthday week this week for Phill and Robyn. If there's anyone not mentioned, don't think of it that I've forgotten, just consider it an opportunity to be proactive and give yourself a good old shout-out in the comments box below.
Sheesh, I know too many Leos. Going to have to put a lion bar on future acquaintances, for sure.
Interpol, Carling Academy, Birmingham, Monday August 20 2007.
With the autumn of 2007 nibbling at our ankles and chafing our necks, it's perhaps time for those of us with nothing more productive to do to consider who is likeliest to emerge as the finest rock band of the decade. In which case, looking further than Interpol may prove futile. Almost exactly five years on from when their debut was released in the UK, they have now released three albums unrivalled by contemporaries in terms of dark, rich musical textures and lyrical loopiness combining to compelling, addictive effect.
So unless tonight support act The Maccabees decide to arrest their chemistry, Interpol look set to handcuff themselves to destiny and leave British contenders like Arctic Monkeys looking like feeble chancers in comparison. In defence of The Maccabees your chaotic correspondent arrives late in the venue and spends time chatting to the StrangeTime ensemble and Andrew from post-rock outfit Cellar Door rather than visually checking them out, but from what we hear their best songs sound like Interpol but just not quite as good, while their other songs rarely ascend above generic post-britpop indie. In further defence, however, the crowd seem to love 'em.
And what an assembled crowd it it is. Last time your hopeful hack saw Interpol at this very same venue some three years ago it was reasonably easy to get near-ish to the stage albeit from the sides but tonight we're rammed right at the back. Further away we may be, but it has to be said that the sound quality is much improved upon from that 2004 gig when the band finally hit the stage after what seems an interminable wait.
The set, when it comes, has a fairly even spread of material across the three albums, although the bulk of material from the debut is saved for the three closing songs. It's perhaps surprising that only five tracks from the newie 'Our Love To Admire' make the setlist (There's No I In Threesome, All Fired Up and Wrecking Ball all missing the cut), but this could be explained by the fact that it's effectively a warm-up gig before the Carling Festivals shows in Reading and Leeds this upcoming weekend.
What's left, however, sounds tremendous, from the tense opener 'Pioneer To The Falls' through the ominous coda of 'Mammoth' to the now-anthemic brace of 'Antics' favourites - 'Slow Hands'; 'Evil' and 'Not Even Jail'. It's slightly disconcerting to see these troubled and troubling songs being accompanied by a stunning striplight show and greeted with terrace-style chanting and partytime handclaps, and for sure if they continue at this rate of progress Interpol are heading for the (gulp) arena circuit for too long. Perhaps that's a fate befitting the decade's best rock band, however, and there's no doubt they're a group on top of their form right now, with a sound as hard, precise and powerful as titanium thunderbolts to the heart.
The effects of the show linger on long after the lights go up, as an hour later at New Street Station a radiant redhead fan is heard to gasp that her 'knickers are still wet'. Given that they apparently reduced Kate to tears the first time she saw them, it's clear that Carlos D & Co. have developed a surefire knack for distantly stimulating feminine fluids that your befuddled blogger and other mere mortals can only dream of.
FYI: Both Chris Maher from StrangeTime and Andrew from Cellar Door went to school with the bass player from Beestung Lips! (recently signed to Southern Recordings, no doubt encouraged by our rave review of their Supersonic show). So now Papa's Got A Brand New Gig Blag, just say on the door that you were in the same class as the Beestung Lips! bassist and you too will be able to enter the possibly sinister world of the Second City's secret musical society. Our investigations into these matters to be continued...
StrangeTime/Mono, Barfly, Birmingham, Tuesday July 31 2007.
As your tired tyro heads down the stairs into the cavernous Barfly he is greeted by a convivial Phill who advises that the bands won't be playing on the main stage tonight but in the 'back room' instead. Any sense of disappointment that we won't be seeing StrangeTime grace the same arena as we've seen the likes of Metric, iLiKETRAiNS and Archie Bronson Outfit, gives way to the excitement your curious correspondent gleans from the knowledge that there is a secret area at this venue hitherto unknown to your gullible gig-goer.
The 'backroom' is a dark, narrow area but with decent sound and enough space for up to a 100 people to pack into at a push. Tonight, there's roughly half that amount gathering in anticipation, enough to create a stirring of atmosphere while still preserving some degree of personal space. StrangeTime have the confidence to drop in favourites like 'Lust' and former Parallax View Single Of The Week 'Personality Disorder' early into the show, reflecting an increasing belief that is building within and from outside the band. There's a slight hitch when they try out a new number (on Donna's excited encouragement) and John elects to abandon the drum intro but the resulting spark of anarchy throws some light relief into a set that's otherwise as hard, taut and glistening as a hanged man's cock.
Only catch about half of Mono's set, a comparatively straightforward outfit presenting a competent and toe-tapping take on blues rock. They're not exactly re-writing the rule-book but then neither were Moseley's Ocean Colour Scene but that didn't seem to do them any harm, did it? Worth checking on a full set soon, Dead Kenny reckons.
With their gently punning moniker and 'tongue-in-cheek power pop' tunage you could easily see Stone, Staffs. boy girl duo Tesco Chainstore Mascara making the Peel playlist. But with Peel sadly long gone, it's up to websites like this to point them in your direction. Their debut single 'Writer's Block' is set for release on August 17, when it's sure to clear the shelves faster than a b0mb scare. And no doubt prompt some copycat doppelgangers - The Waitroses? Sainsbury's Etienne? The Gym Morrisons even?
Elsewhere, Liz from love-em-or-loathe-em Cardiff cult band The Loves, not content with one magnificent side-project (The School, who have just signed to Elefant records, home to Camera Obscura, never forget) has popped up with another - The Jerks whose 'Happiest To Be With You' is available to download on their MySpace page which we suggest you do because it's fantastic. The Jerks' first live appearance is set to be at the Indietracks festival in Derbyshire at the end of this month.
Supersonic Festival, Custard Factory Complex, Digbeth, Birmingham, July 13th/14th 2007.
With the festival running until 3am both nights, a hotel stop is required for your decadent correspondent, and a good deal via laterooms secures a berth at the newly refurbished Paragon Hotel in Alcester Street. The room is small with a barely functioning toilet but has a funky 'boutique' feel, plasma TV, chocolate brown blankets, thick curtains and, most importantly, members of Wolf Eyes queueing behind your quaking hack at check-in. The devil is truly in the details.
Queue in the rain with Cardiff scenester Ben for about twenty minutes but get to The Medicine Bar just in time to catch the beginning of Monarch!'s reign. Their music builds slowly and intriguingly, interspersed with stunning surges of guitar squall and an elfin chanteuse releasing her demons with growls that seem to come from somebody else's body entirely. The result is as dramatic and startling a live performance as Dead Kenny has witnessed during his Parallax View years and a hell of a start to any festival.
Elsewhere on Friday, Fuck Buttons are let loose in The Kitchen, resulting in cacophany, samples, hiss and beats. Some of their songs seem to go on for way too long but they leave more of an impression than Kling Klang back at The Medicine Bar, who seem like Mogwai only less so. Feeling frazzled and sleepy-eyed by the time Wolf Eyes hit the stage, which may possibly account for the fact that your pooped penpusher finds them neither as scary or interesting as had been led to believe. There's a lot of noise, plenty of attitude, an overload of pantomime but an apparent loss of point now the novelty's worn off.
Monarch! having blown your woozy webslinger's socks off the night before, Saturday afternoon is spent trudging the streets of the suddenly sunny Second City for replenishments. A bumper pack from Gap or Next would have been sensible and good value, so inevitably end up in House of Fraser's sale emerging with a Paul Smith pair in West Ham colours instead. Perhaps, though, this indulgence is just reward for earlier escorting a visiting Japanese academic to New Street Station (yes, you're right, she was hot, your garrulous guide may be virtuous but he ain't dull...).
Retail therapy thus completed, head back to the Custard Factory where catch the last quarter-hour or so of Crippled Black Phoenix underneath The Arches, who sound like Mogwai playing tiddlywinks with mid-period Manic Streets Preachers, umpired in a slightly officious manner by Soundgarden, and the result is as intermittently interesting and bombastic as that sounds. Meet up with Ben again to watch Voice Of The Seven Woods who are a bit dull until your bored blogger says so out loud, at which point they buck their ideas up somewhat and start giving it some overdue bollocks.
Back in The Arches, three people are staring at their laptops in deadly seriousness to apparent disinterest from the audience. These are Migrant, who make some nice noises here and there, but perhaps need to lighten up. Back over at The Medicine Bar, Calvados Beam Trio contrive a brand of math-rock considerably less than the sum of their constituent influences, so your fickle furtler leaves Ben with his calculator to make acquaintance with a lovely lady with a harp, namely Serafina Steer who can be simplistically described as an entertaining collision between Kate Nash and Joanna Newsom, so we'll leave the intellectual descriptions to others with more time on their hands.
Back at The Medicine Bar, Beestung Lips are doing what had hoped Wolf Eyes might be capable of: they're tearing your discombobulated dimwit a new arsehole with their terrifying and genuinely confrontational brand of jagged-bottle-up-your-rear-end rock'n'roll. An excited young woman is pushing and pulling your stunned scribe as he tries to make some sense of it all. Little change there, then.
It's back to kids stuff over on the Main Stage as The Modified Toy Orchestra make like Hot Chip let loose in the kindergarten wearing Primark suits. Diverting enough, but the lure of Qui (a band recently joined by David Yow from The Jesus Lizard) underneath The Arches, not to mention the need for some nutritional supplement, pulls us away. Yow's lost his passport but none of his balls during an entertaining and uncompromising set which augurs well for the new album due out in stores imminently.
Chrome Hoof's novelty factor proves popular with the crowd, but strip away their party attitude, silver-foil costumes, erotic dancers and multi-genre fusion feel and you're left with a band who could be playing until Supersonic 2017 and they'd still never hit on anything remotely resembling a proper tune. Back out to The Arches, then, but find Om a bit um, so queue to get back in for Mogwai, watch Serafina Steer being interviewed in a room opposite and spectacularly fail to get her attention (stopping just short of singing 'Hey Serafina!' to the tune of Macarena) while everyone wants a piece of Qui's spaced out guitarist Matt Cronk who always seems to be lumbering nearby.
Headliners Mogwai were Mogwai and if they're not careful they could turn into Mog-why???!!!. The music is pretty enough in parts, but there's not enough genuine substance and epiphany to bolster a set of this length, leaving even hardcore fans feeling a little underwhelmed. Maybe, like Wolf Eyes, they're just a band that's run its course, ending not with a bang but a tinker. Do bump into Pete Ashton at this point, however, who is in engaging and informed form in his official blogging capacity and flickring presence, and advises of a rare prior sighting of the owner of the Russ L brand on the festival site.
It's now getting quite late, have bid Ben adieu, but it's not over until the mad French bloke stops banging the drums, so circle in on Duracell a one-man act who programs his drums to generate old-skool game beats in a brilliantly barmy fashion, sweaty lunatic bravado that deserves a hearty bravo! But it's now 3am, there's no sign of Eternal, so your dazed dunderhead heads his satiated way home...
The Kissaway Trail/Envy And Other Sins, The Buttermarket, Shrewsbury, Thursday July 12 2007.
We don't often get decent gigs down Shropshire way, so perhaps we shouldn't complain too much when things don't start off on time. But when the posters advertise 8pm doors, it's not unreasonable to ask questions when you turn up at 8.25pm to be told they're not ready yet and could you pop round the Britannia for 15mins while they set things up? Still, not being the complaining sort(!) your correspondent does indeed investigate said pub, settle down with a pint of Youngs's, and sample the best of the pub jukebox to while away the quarter-hour experiment -
Parallax Real-Life Jukebox, The Britannia, Shrewsbury, 12/07/07
Golden Skans - Klaxons Country Girl - Primal Scream Pacific State - 808 State All Around The World - The Jam Dakota - Stereophonics
Do the best of a bad job there, reckon, so duck and dive past postal workers drifting in off the picket line to wet their whistle and head back to The Buttermarket where the KT standstill is over, the doors are now open but the Caffreys casks are empty so Guinness it is. First band don't make it on stage until 9.10pm and your blackstuff-imbibing hack doesn't quite catch their name but they're from Birmingham, the lead singer is trying his best to sound like Ray LaMontagne, they have a cute cellist and that's about as much as can think of to say about them at this point.
Next up is another Brum-based band, Envy And Other Sins, a stylish quartet picking up a fair amount of momentum at the moment it seems, and the group members seem to have very distinct looks/personalities which may help them in the long run. They peddle a polite form of keyboard driven pop-rock, which while occasionally diverting, only really comes to life in the more rousing numbers that bookend the set. That said, they have the potential to be moulded into a chart-troubling post-emo pop act with the right guidance, and, after all, the green-eyed monster is never far away, n'est-ce pas?
By the time The Kissaway Trail find the route onstage your timetable-consulting scribe is already having concerns about making the last train home, but such anxieties are nearly immediately allayed by the impressively dark pop noise they create. Imagine Interpol and The Monkees exchanging secret sonic handshakes at a mountainside spa resort while The Wannadies tend the bar under the watchful gaze of Wayne Coyne as Maitre'D and you've at the very least taken a mazy meander inside Dead Kenny's imagination if not been given an exact aural interpretation of the wares on offer. If you require something less verbose it's bloody good stuff to bounce up and down to after a few pints of Guinness, with 'Smother+Hurt=Evil'; 'Tracy' and 'La La Song' amongst the standouts. XXX marks your hack's spot sufficiently that he doesn't buy the company as such (relatively old and greying compared to our last Salop gig) but instead resolves to purchase the band's self-titled debut with appropriate speed and elan.
First up, congratulations to my brother Mark and his wife Gabrielle on the birth of their daughter, making Dead Kenny an Uncle for the very first time, as Madonna might once have sung. In honour of this occasion, here are some other pressing deliveries...
West Ham Till I Die is Iain Dale's West Ham diary, getting a reputation for reliable pre-press scoop. This close season has been a little too close for comfort, if you ask me.
The Tiger's Tail, Cineworld, Broad Street, Birmingham, Sunday June 10 2007, 3.50pm.
One of those films that have stuck in your correspondent's mind from his youth, as much for the premise as the execution, is Basil Dearden's The Man Who Haunted Himself(1970) in which Roger Moore plays a man who becomes drawn into a cat-and-mouse game with an identical double following a high-speed car crash. The doppelganger steadily infiltrates himself into the man's life, impersonating him at home and at work, infuriatingly becoming more popular and charismatic than his victim before ultimately displacing his alter ego.
It's an idea which veteran director John Boorman has returned to in The Tiger's Tail (2006), opting to play for laughs rather than search for thrills by using the premise as a broad satire on contemporary Dublin, which as well as being the home of Twenty and Arseblogger, has the biggest divide between rich and poor in Europe. The film is bookended by two huge traffic jams, and it's in the first of these where Brendan Gleeson's avaricious business developer gets the initial glimpse of his double. Troubled by thoughts that this vision is a portend of imminent death, his life and sanity steadily unravel as the usual comic complications lead to him trading places with his doppelganger, sending him on a quest to get to the bottom of the mystery and in the process uncovering the lies, hypocrisy, peccadillos and corruption of modern Dublin.
Notionally a comedy, The Tiger's Tail works hard to incorporate some serious themes but present them in a likeable, inclusive manner. This ambition ultimately works against the film, however, as the breezy pace dictates a lack of subtlety which will leave some viewers feeling patronised, and indeed, in the case of the ill-conceived scene where Kim Cattrall's character joyfully acquiesces to the usurper's 'rape', mortally offended. A shame, because there's much to like about the film, and with a straighter telling and more thoughtful plotting there would have been potential for a something near to Boorman at his best. As it is, though, Dead Kenny is afraid to report the arrival of nothing more significant than an interesting misfire.
Various fashion, music, multimedia retail outlets, Birmingham, Saturday June 2 2007, 11am-4pm. Lisa Milroy/Steven Shearer, Ikon Gallery, Birmingham, Saturday June 2 2007, 4.15pm approx. Zodiac, Cineworld, Broad Street, Birmingham, Saturday June 2 2007, 5.15pm. Actress and Bishop, Birmingham, Saturday June 2 2007, 9.30pm-2am.
Having stopped overnight in Brum following the Emily Haines gig and with only the vaguest plans for meeting up with people this evening, your correspondent finds himself in the unusual but not unwelcome situation of having some time to spare to mooch around the Second City at leisure. With payday just having passed, this inevitably means checking out record shops, in this case picking up the debut album by The Pigeon Detectives (as big, dumb, and fun as you'd ever want a big dumb fun record to be) and the latest by The Cribs (better than we'd ever have given them credit for being capable of achieving) and searching for that perfect pair of trainers that probably only exist inside our own twisted imaginations.
Then take a stroll alongside the canals in the glorious sunshine before popping into the always civilised prospect of the Ikon Gallery. Lisa Milroy's exhibition is pleasant enough but in your philistine hack's view her art would be better suited to posh greetings cards than prestigious galleryspace. Canadian Steven Shearer's exhibition on the top floor was more involving, kind of like Tracy Emin had she been brought up an androgynous metalhead in 70s Canada with a Lief Garret fixation. The photocollages are a bit like browsing a schizoid's scrapbook, which is probably what all modern art should be like, don't you think?
Head to the Cineworld with a bit of time to spare for a drink but find the bar upstairs closed, so have to queue up for half an hour for an ice-cream while a disorientated woman gets personal tuition from the bemused attendant on how to write a cheque before discovering she doesn't have a relevant bankcard. This for £12's worth of chocolates and fizzy drink! So end up only just getting into the auditorium on time to see David Fincher's Zodiac which follows the investigations by detectives Mark Ruffalo and Anthony Edwards plus maverick journalist Robert Downey Jr and geeky cartoonist Jake Gylenhaal into the identity of a serial killer in the late 60s/early 70s. Fincher makes an avowed point of not exploring the motivations of these clearly obsessed individuals in favour of meticulous attention to the details of this fascinating case that was never properly resolved. His direction is less self-consciously edgy than previous efforts like Fight Club and Se7eN but this more straightforward mise-en-scene only accentuates the creepy and cold-blooded nature of the murders, making for an utterly engrossing thriller that'll keep you properly gripped throughout the epic length.
Get some food on the go before heading back to the hotel to freshen up then meet up with Ben, Jenni, Alison, Kirsten, Jim, Adam and several other fine people, for drinks outside the Actress and Bishop, during which time your swaying hack gets everybody's names mixed up (even inventing a few) and stabs a hole right through Jenni's foot with a metal chair. Then most of us head chez Kirsten for drunken karaoke, at which point Dead Kenny would like to say if you were woken up near Birmingham in the wee small hours by some berk bellowing Chesney Hawkes' 'The One And Only' and/or Rick Astley's 'Never Gonna Give You Up' he's really very, very sorry.
Mitherspace bulletins can be the blight of your life, that band you agreed to add as a friend in a moment of weakness reminding you 4 or 5 times a day about a gig the other side of the country you've never had any intention of going to, that sort of thing. But now and again, you get something that leads somewhere interesting, that actually adds some kind of value to your day.
This happened to your correspondent recently, when Liam Dullaghan, formerly of The Havenots, sent out a bulletin about a friend of his, who's about to embark on an extraordinary journey. Dan Fowler works at The Musician venue in Leicester, and is looking to raise money for ProstAid by walking from John O'Groats to Land's End. There's nowt so extraordinary about that, these days, I hear you protest. Mebbe not, but Dan, being a dab hand beating the sticks, is going to be banging a marching drum as he walks, in the fine art of dralking. You can find out more details about the chance encounter that inspired this venture, how to help and/or donate and follow his progress as he pounds his beat on the official MySpace page (tag: "One Man, One Drum, 1,000 miles").
Try to help as much as you can, 'cos think how many ASBO fines he's gonna pick up, and research into the silent killer that is Prostate Cancer is a fine cause indeed. Will stop bangin' on about this now and let you go to the One Man One Drum Myspace page to befriend and support...
Thursday night (May 3, calendar fact fans) sees the first episode aired of Radio 2's new sitcom starring Caroline Quentin, On The Blog. As you might have gathered by what they did there, the premise revolves around blogging, which, according to the official blurb, is 'really just a jamboree for the kind of people who write round-robins at Christmas and also a massive repository of staircase wit.' We trust the actual show makes a bit more sense than that soundbite, but in any case, as the central character is a sex-starved blogger, Dead Kenny has put the Parallax View legal dept. on red alert...
And in other, entirely unrelated, news, happy birthday Creepy Lesbo!
Robyn Wilder: some might say the very epitome of self-regarding, self-styled blogging iconoclasts exploring an online fantastic voyage inside their own amiotic fluids. Which may or may not be true, but she *is* well fit so we still like her and continue to keep her on our Christmas Card list for that merest whisker of reflected glamour she shines upon our lives. Which is all but a clumsy bumble in the way of introducing her shiny new blog, which includes (frolicing follicles!) a rather fetching picture of our heroine with hair in her teeth.
We'll be sure to bookmark Wilder's reunion to the internet, if only 'cos we can't be RSS'd to subscribe to the feed.
Nothing much going on here tonight, but over in Dublin the irascible Twenty Major has lumbered his ruddy arsecheeks from one barstool to another. Tall tales, rapidly emptying beerglasses and huge amounts of puerile swearing can be expected as a result. Sounds like business as usual, then.
But if you should find yourself between blogging stools then stumbleupon may give you a helping hand towards some new options, as well as giving you the chance to recommend your favourite sites to similarly lost souls.
Clearly the way to get invited to swanky and select film previews on the basis of being a highly influential blogger is just to stop updating for 8 months. We're referring, bien sur, to the inimitable Robyn Wilder, who promised she would be less invisible in 2006 before promptly disappearing (oh, how very Murakami of her), but is now back andreviewing the film adaptation of Frank Miller's 300.
Right then, we're downing tools until Xmas when we'll be back with a video exclusive of a cosy fireside chat between your highly-under-the-influence blogger and Thomas Pynchon. Possibly.
We begin with some sombre news that left us feeling flatter than Beirut as Victoria Bergsman has left The Concretes to concentrate on a solo career. We know that The Concretes are a solid unit containing multiple songwriters and vocalists, but Bergsman has a unique delivery and dry stage banter that will be difficult for the Swedes to replace. It does though kinda explain Bergsman's recent diversification - as well as singing on Peter Bjorn and John's recent PV Single Of The Week 'Young Folks', she's credited with providing Camera Obscura with haircuts on their latest long-player 'Let's Get Out Of This Country'...
Simon Sweeping The Nation went to the Truck Festival at the weekend but all we've got to show for it so far is this blurry but still fantastic photo of Dead Kenny's summer crush Emmy The Great in a seriously short skirt. It has to be said we'd have had difficulty finding our focus in the circumstances, too.
In theatre news, a new Terry Johnson play is always something of an event (eg. Insignificance; Hitchcock Blonde) so book early for a limited four-week run of Piano/Forte at the Royal Court Theatre. Sopranos star Alicia Witt and Kelly (Mrs Henderson Presents) Reilly head the cast.
This year's Big Brother we can take or leave, but what is certain is that contestant Imogen Thomas's ex-squeeze is a dastardly dick for releasing a home sex video purporting to feature the purrty Welsh miss in a rarebit of graphic action. But we admit we still looked at the NOT SAFE FOR WORK evidence (purely to identify the culprit concerned, 'course). Time and motion students can download the EXTREMELY UN-WORKSAFE full video from here.
First up, Parallax View is a personal site, and the views expressed herein (unless stated otherwise) solely belong to the webmaster (see below) and do not represent the views of past, present or future employers, or that of the web hosting company.
This site shares nothing but its title with the 1974 paranoid thriller The Parallax View. This is NOT the official site for that film and the views expressed herein do not represent the views of Warren Beatty or anyone involved in producing the film. Neither does this site have any connection with the electronic group The Parallax Corporation.
What Parallax View is:
It's a weblog, updated invariably daily, with links and references to music; film; pop culture; pub culture; football (or soccer, if you will); sports; TV/Radio; modern art; sex and gossip. Preferably, all of them at the same time.
That list isn't exclusive though. This is a personal site, so I reserve the right to talk shit about anything/everything I want. Just try stop me.
This page refers on an occasional basis to adult material, and contains some use of strong language. I don't set out to offend but if you don't like it, I won't be offended if you don't come back.
About the boy
Although this is a personal site, the point of the project isn't me, it's to refer you to sites/stories/pictures/games etc. of interest. Occasionally, there will be references to my private life but this isn't a diary page. I can't stop you making assumptions about me based on the content of this page, as long as you don't mistake those assumptions for anything remotely resembling fact.
Parallax View is the work of a shadowy, mysterious character by the name of Dead Kenny. That's me. Am I really dead? Take a guess. Why use a pseudonym? I have my reasons. Let's just say that using a doppelganger allows me optimum flexibility in expressing myself.
Pip Matters
Next night, head over to The Rainbow in Digbeth for a special 
