AlanAshtonSmith is from Liverpool and now lives in London, across the street from Johnny Rotten’s childhood home. He writes voraciously about all manner of cultural commodities, though much of his time is currently taken up with a project on Gypsy Punk. 
It’s arguable that you can best judge whether a song is any good by stripping it back to its rawest elements; removing the rhythm section and any clever production techniques and leaving behind only unplugged guitar and vocals. Gothic-tinged punk rock trio Monsters In The Attic are therefore taking a brave risk by releasing this acoustic EP, which leaves their songwriting exposed, unprotected by volume and distortion. While the acoustic sound doesn’t feel entirely natural – the rhythms seem to be hankering for the confirmation of a bassline and a beat – they do succeed with this release; the songs included here are robust enough to stand up unadorned. There are three reworkings here, and a new track, ‘Get To The Border’. While this song has the advantages of no original version to compare it to, and a string section, it’s not the best track on the EP. The acoustic version of ‘Zombie Girl’, with harmonica licks and more soulful vocals, is the standout here. While it’s not an ideal introduction to the usual sound of Monsters In The Attic, this chilled-out bunch of songs nonetheless has much to offer fans and newcomers alike.
Radiohead fans will find much to enjoy about their drummer’s solo album, since in places it sounds quite a lot like some of their recent material. On tracks like ‘By Some Miracle’, which opens Familial, and ‘The Ties That Bind Us’ we find the same meandering guitars and fuzzy qualities that formed the glue that held ‘In Rainbows’ together. This is all good stuff, but the stronger material here comes in the form of songs that feel more like Selway’s own. ‘Patron Saint’, for example, is a tender, delicate song that introduces feelings of unease in its chorus, where a lilting melody line spars with creaking sound effects. ‘Broken Promises’ is perhaps the strongest track, a sparse song carried by the vocals and narrative. Here the album’s themes, of family and the shared love and loss that binds generations together, start to coalesce and it becomes apparent that ‘Familial’s coherence as a record is one of its strengths. ‘Once the hurt is faded only the love will remain’, Selway sings here; while the final song, ‘The Witching Hour’, ends with the refrain ‘and those I love will carry me home’. The combination of lyrics like these and the delicate instrumentation makes ‘Familial’ a soothing, almost cathartic, record.
Shortly after David Cameron became Prime Minister, we were told that we could expect an eruption of creativity in this country. Apparently the mass anger generated by the Conservatives lends itself well to artistic endeavour. Cameron’s only been in Downing Street 100 days, but Leeds rockers Whole Sky Monitor have already penned an anti-Tory tirade. ‘Sold’ blames the Thatcher legacy for our current woes, and, appropriately, it’s a big, angry song that builds up huge swathes of tension in its frantic guitar parts, and then releases them in a protracted solo. Also on this disc is the more mellow ‘La Mouche’, a slightly trippy track that acts as a counterpart to ‘Sold’. It’s a weaker song though; the full-on haze that WSM seem to trying to build up here appears as only a light mist. Punchy closer ‘Church of Love-In’ picks up the pace, generating a melee of riffs and loops that lasts little more than two minutes. It’s the A-side that’s most successful here though; the message and the music of ‘Sold’ are equally strong.
Presumably The Revellions chose the 100 Club for the launch of their new single ‘Sigh’s’ because of its legendary status as a space for live music. But while the famous Oxford Street venue has a rich history that spans jazz and punk, and a lengthy list of illustrious names who have plugged their gear into its sound system, it wasn’t really rocking at this show.
Tom Jones, now seventy years old, appears to have taken something of a spiritual turn. ‘Praise & Blame’, his thirty-ninth album, finds him moving away from the somewhat garish pop that made his name, and entering the more contemplative territory of gospel and blues. The material is a mixture of traditional spirituals and a selection of covers; the album opens with a version of Bob Dylan’s ‘What Good Am I’ and also includes songs by John Lee Hooker and Billy Joe Shaver. For someone like Jones, a project like this can either go very well or very badly. Happily, ‘Praise & Blame’ is a success; the song choices, production and, most importantly, the nuances of Jones’ vocals are all spot on. Comparisons with the final recordings of Johnny Cash seem inevitable, even though he and Jones are rather different figures. But in both cases we find legendary singers reflecting on spirituality later in their lives, and releasing some of the finest music of their careers. If Tom Jones follows the same trajectory as Cash and puts out a few more records like this, then we have much to look forward to.
Ash tend to get a pretty raw deal. They seem to have spent the past few years taking criticism for not sounding like they did when they were eighteen. Although they’ve clearly tried to evolve their sound, many people have just ignored their new work and gone back to listening to 1977. ‘Carnal Love’, the latest release in their A-Z singles series, is likely to generate pretty much the same reaction – and I can’t quite figure out if it deserves that or not. It certainly has its flaws; the verses are far too saccharine, both musically and lyrically, with Tim Wheeler opening the song by crooning, ‘Sweet thing, graceful beauty of a seraphim.’ But this leads into the pleasing sing-along chorus: ‘It’s carnal love that I’m thinking of; I’m addicted to your sweet stuff’. This might also sound cheesy, but it works nicely in what is essentially a power ballad; it’s reminiscent of the more tongue in cheek material from The Darkness’ first album. While it’s not clear whether Ash intend it to be taken seriously or not, this song should definitely be treated as a joke; embrace the silliness and it’s really quite enjoyable.
A piano is a very versatile thing. You can use it to play jaunty tunes or gentle ballads; intricate sonatas or simple nursery rhymes. Sadly, Stuart Robertson, has neglected to make use the piano’s full potential with this album, and instead uses it simply as an instrument with which to examine and express his angst. This is a collection of stolid piano driven songs that find him primarily in a self-pitying or, at best, self-reflective mood. Despite this, some evidence of Robertson’s talent as a songwriter can be found. The album closes with an alternate version of one track, ‘Slipping’. While the original take is clunky and staid, this mix, which is called the ‘piano version’, is a significant improvement. It’s far more delicate; the plodding piano chords are replaced by more intricate arpeggios and riffs, which offset the vocals far more successfully. It’s a pity that this track is only half the length of the duller original, and even more of the pity that there isn’t a ‘piano version’ of the whole of ‘Years Between Us’.
There are several reasons why Tom Jones’ decision to release a double A-side single makes a lot of sense. Firstly, it proves how different his new album, ‘Praise & Blame’, is from his previous work. Released in isolation, either of these songs might seem like a fluke gospel single taken from a typical Tom Jones record, but in fact this is the style of the whole album. Secondly, it showcases the album’s range: ‘Did Trouble Me’, originally recorded by Susan Werner, is a rich, languorous song, while the rendition of the Staple Singers’ ‘Don’t Knock’ is more upbeat and immediate. The former is the stronger track here. Skilfully produced and beautifully sung, this is the kind of cover that quickly becomes the definitive version. That’s not to say that ‘Don’t Knock’ misfires. Although it doesn’t have quite the punch of the original version, Jones proves with this track that he has a hitherto unknown knack for working with this style of music. Which leads me to the third reason why putting out a double A-side was a wise move: because when something is this good, it always makes sense to have more than one.
Twin Atlantic are surely aware that Daft Punk beat them to the title ‘Human After All’ a few years back, but obviously haven’t let that bother them. At any rate, this single is clearly not intended to mimic the sounds of French electronica; it’s an unashamedly rock-driven song. It begins with two guitars bouncing jerky riffs off each other at acute angles, while vocalist Sam McTrusty sings breathy half-sentences replete with repetition. This makes for a claustrophobic sound that is relieved by the arrival of the arcing chorus. The first half of this song is actually pretty unexciting, but after two rounds of verse-chorus it becomes a bit more interesting. At this point, we come across a quiet refrain that is almost acoustic sounding, broken up now and then by bursts of distortion. This extended middle eight goes on for about a minute and while this may sound like it might quickly become monotonous, it’s actually a welcome break from the far less striking verse and chorus. All in all, there’s nothing too special going on here, but in defence of ‘Human After All’, it at least manages to hold your interest for the whole four minutes.
