DaveAxbey is a minor character who became a series regular in season two. A London-based journalist and entertainment industry PR guy, he is depicted as a genre-savvy geek obsessed by videogames, anime and indie music. 
For the most part, I reckon bands nowadays make a better fist of 1980s music than the ‘80s bands did themselves. I’ll admit to being more into Miffy the Rabbit, Thomas the Tank Engine and Panini sticker albums at the time, but I do recall that most music I heard during my formative decade was pretty shit. So the electro revival that’s been kicking around these past few years is just dandy by me – it sounds like the ‘80s should have been; less Milli Vanilli, more industrial beats and luxuriant, wall-to-wall synth.
Which brings us, in a roundabout, rambling sort of way, to Sierra Maestra. When the south London five piece took to the Water Rats stage I was wilting visibly, a brewlicious afternoon in the pub followed by a long, hot gig having reduced me to a sad human dishcloth. So thank God for the electro ripples of opening number ‘You I Fear’ that presaged a refreshing shower of brooding poptronica. And cheers to the deity of your choice for the other tunes that made up rest of Sierra Maestra’s set, such as the rather excellent ‘If This Goes Right’ and closing number ‘When The Lights Go Down’.
The sincerest form of flattery it may be, but Sierra Maestra fortunately avoids the pitfall of slavish imitation – there’s a refreshingly contemporary sensibility to all these retro shenanigans. Fortunate also that frontman Richard Acosta has got the right voice for the job, flitting like a chamois of the Alps from detached downbeat to classic indie; on ‘Desert Waters’, for example, his voice takes on almost Gallagheresque tone (minus the overdone Salford accent, that is).
Hopefully it’s only a matter of time until some label lassoes Sierra Maestra – if this is what they sound like after a scant few months’ active service, it’ll be interesting to listen to them when they’ve got an album or two under their collective belt.
By all accounts, The Kissaway Trail’s ‘Sleep Mountain’ enjoyed a rather tempestuous gestation. After a couple of months in the recording studio working on the follow-up to their acclaimed 2007 debut album, the Danish five-piece ripped everything up and started from scratch, laying down the dozen tracks that make up ‘Sleep Mountain’ in a mere fortnight. Not that you’d guess from listening to it, mind – from six minute, church bell infused opener ‘SPD’ onwards, ‘Sleep Mountain’ is an album that scarcely puts a foot wrong.
Trudging to the Old Blue Last on a chilly, downright Dickensian evening, I would quite happily have chucked the whole shebang for a night in front of the TV, watching River Tam kick people balletically in the face. The wind was biting; the plus one stroppy. Add a smattering of raggedy chimney sweeps and tubercular flower girls, and the scene of misery would have been complete.
Better known as Badly Drawn Boy, singer/songwriter Damon Gough is no stranger to soundtracks, having worked on Nick Hornby adaptation ‘About A Boy’ back in 2002. So it’s perhaps not too surprising that the beanie-loving Manc. decided to break his three year release drought with ‘Is There Nothing We Could Do?’, an album of songs and incidental music taken from ‘The Fattest Man In Britain’, Caroline Ahern’s made-for-TV movie starring Timothy Spall. While Badly Drawn Boy fans will rightly rejoice, it’s worth bearing in mind that this album is very much a soundtrack first and an album second; expect frequently recurring themes and noodling instrumentals. That said, songs such as the swooning title track, the brass-tinged ‘Welcome Me To Your World’ and ‘Just Look At Us Now?’ are perfectly capable of standing on their own two feet – understated, gentle pieces chock full of empathy and melancholia. Classic Badly Drawn Boy, you might say. The occasional audio clip from the film also helps things along, in the case of ‘Big Brian Arrives’ by injecting a dose of much-needed humour (“You’re going to get on those scales a fat man, and you’re going to get off a legend”). And if you absolutely adored ‘The Hour of Bewilderbeast’, then go ahead, add another star to my rating. You weird person.
Anyone with a passing interest in the beautiful game knows that wearing golden boots is a bit of a statement. David Beckham could; Tomas Brolin not so much. So when Volcanoes frontman Sam Bedford rocked up on stage in aureate sneakers, the chunk of this reviewer’s brain that is forever football curled a metaphorical lip, as if to say ‘Think we’re good, do we? We’ll see about that’.
Gather round, kids! Cheery old Chef Stein is going to show you how to cook up some delicious tasting fun, simply by blending ‘60s melodic pop and breakneck garage punk. Throw in a few bars of raucous blues ‘n’ roll guitar, distil down to two and a half minutes and you’ll have ‘Naked With You’. The latest single from former Be Your Own Pet guitarist Jonas Stein’s group Turbo Fruit is a song that sports a wide idiot grin and bounces around like a hatful of frogs on a trampoline. Lyrically, ‘Naked With You’ is pure Ronseal Quick Drying Woodstain. If the song’s title doesn’t clue you in, then the verses leave even the dumbest of dumb bricks in no doubt that he (Jonas Stein) would very much appreciate disrobing with you (a hot chick). It is a fine sentiment and one that Turbo Fruit express with considerable verve and brio. Now let us play it again, use the term ‘brewski’ without irony and get our party on.
Well shit, is it 1993 already? Hammer No More The Fingers certainly think so, if new single ‘Shutterbug’ is anything to go by. The North Carolina trio wrote their first songs when they were in junior high together, and I guess they still like the All American college rock that the kids were digging back then. And hey, why not? I’m all for showering the nubile young electropop revival with burning kisses, but there’s room in the 2010 music boat for everyone. So come aboard, Hammer No More The Fingers – props for the name, by the way – and bring your chuggy guitars with ye. Guitarist Joe Hall and drummer Jeff Stickley back frontman Duncan Webster’s melancholy, autobiographical-sounding lyrics with a stripped-down energy that boasts enough changes in pace and volume to snare your interest for the three-minutes-and-spare-change it takes them to get from a to z. Plucked from HNMTF’s first full-length album ‘Looking For Bruce’, ‘Shutterbug’ is solid, unpretentious indie rock of the Old School – it may not set the world on fire, but my gosh it’s making me nostalgic.
Considering he’s on record as a self-confessed “grumpy, depressing sod when it comes to writing songs”, Liam Frost’s latest single sure is perky sounding. Taken from last year’s album ‘We Ain’t Got No Money, Honey, But We Got Rain’, ‘Your Hand In Mine’ sees the Mancunian sharing vocal duties with folk-rock princess Martha Wainwright, whose smoky sound goes well with Frost’s Gallagheresque tones. While the pair trade verses, the tune itself rattles along at a breakneck tempo, spurred on by exuberant drums, doo-wop backing and a toe-tappingly infectious piano hook that is still bouncing around my head trying to find the way out. This reviewer’s always been a sucker for a spot of ADHD in his music and ‘Your Hand In Mine’ is nothing if not genki, energetically bouncing up and down on the toes of its miserablist brother and sisters. Uncomplicated, catchy and fun – what’s not to like?
Now based in London, Lawrence Arabia – aka James Milne – has brought a boatload of indie cred over with him from his native Kiwiland. As well as being a former member of The Brunettes and The Ruby Suns, Milne also penned the score for geek love comedy ‘Eagle vs Shark’ and has spent much of last year touring round Europe with Feist. So you might expect good things from ‘Chant Darling’, the follow-up to eponymous debut album ‘Lawrence Arabia’. Rather anti-climactically, you’d be spot on, although it may take a few listens before ‘Chant Darling’ sinks its sugary hooks into you. Nods toward The Beatles, The Kinks and Beach Boys are inevitable, but it’s all viewed through a distinctly contemporary indie lens – a good example being opening track ‘Look Like a Fool’, a lush, swooping song. There are a few potential stumbling blocks, luckily though the wheat outweighs the chaff by a healthy margin; personal favourites include ‘The Beautiful Young Crew’, a catchy dissection of scene kids and hipsters; ‘I’ve Smoked Too Much’, a country-tinged tune whose lyrics sport a Belle & Sebastian vibe; and the sweetly serrated ‘Fine Old Friends’. Lawrence Arabia is proof that ‘Lord of the Rings’ isn’t the only good thing to come out of New Zealand, whatever the Aussies might say.
Halfway through The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart’s set, when the New York four piece were really getting into their groove, the tall guy in front of me – the tall guys always stand in front of you, it’s gig law – whipped out his iPhone and started texting furiously. Colour me nosy, but I accidentally just happened to peer straight over his shoulder and read: “I’m stuck at some indie bullshit surrounded by bouncing nerds and I can’t stand it any more.” Now, ‘indie’ I will most certainly grant you. And yes, the nerds were unmistakably bouncing; even this reviewer was vibrating gently in his Vans. ‘Bullshit’ though? This is where Mister Text and I part company, because along with the rest of the packed Scala crowd I was having a marine mammal of the order Cetacea of a time.
