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DaveAxbey 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.

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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.

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Rating: 9.0/10 (2 votes cast)

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Record Label: Bella Union
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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.

While it must be admitted that The Kissaway Trail’s synthpop/art rock shtick is slap bang in the middle of this reviewer’s wheelhouse, you don’t have to be a fanboy to fall for songs such as ‘Painter’; ‘New Year’; ‘Friendly Fire’ and the tender ‘Beat Your Heartbeat’. The rich, panoramic soundscapes that swell behind Søren Corneliussen’s melancholy, slightly off-kilter vocals give ‘Sleep Mountain’ the same euphoric quality that permeates ‘Funeral’ and ‘Neon Bible’. And that’s the elephant in The Kissaway Trail’s beautifully furnished room – it’s almost impossible to talk about ‘Sleep Mountain’ for any length of time without referencing Arcade Fire, while groups such as Grandaddy, The Flaming Lips and Mercury Rev spring almost as readily to mind. To label such a downright lovely album as this ‘derivative’ seems uncharitable, but there’s no denying that Danish quintet wear their influences on their collective sleeve. And, frankly, who cares?

‘Sleep Mountain’ may not be one of those wildly original albums that make you feel like some watcher of the skies when a new planet swims into his ken, as the chappie said, but it is more than capable of standing on its own two feet. The Kissaway Trail’s eponymous debut got them noticed by the critics; ‘Sleep Mountain’ could be the album that makes them household names. Not bad for two weeks’ work.

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Location: Old Blue Last, London
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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.

So it’s testament to the quality of the gig that the reviewer who emerged three bands later was a cheery, benevolent sort of reviewer, full to the brim with the milk of human kindness. Well, three-and-a-bit bands to be absolutely accurate; things got off to a cracking, albeit unexpected, start when Ross from folk pop four piece My First Tooth hopped onto the rather bijou stage to play a few tunes.

Then on to the first scheduled group in the shape of Surrey boys Stagecoach, who for me were the biggest and most welcome surprise of the evening. Songs such as ‘Hot Doggin’ and ‘Ice Ages’ showcased the group’s bouncy mix of power pop and post-grunge, topped by a sense of humour and the most rock ‘n’ roll application of the mandolin since Cobra Killers. However, Stagecoach’s stand-out moment was undoubtedly ‘We Got Tazers’, title track of their latest EP and possessor of an ear worm chorus that I’m still trying to shake off.

Next up were Screaming Maldini, a Sheffield sextet formed out of the remains of the Situationists. Eclectic, enthusiastic and frankly exhausting, ‘restraint’ wasn’t a word in SM’s vocabulary – each song being a witches’ brew of interesting noises. When it worked, it was heady, exciting stuff; when it didn’t, things got a touch overcrowded and busy. Fortunately, hits far outnumbered misses, with numbers like ‘Secret Sounds’, ‘The Extraordinary’ and the ‘The Albatross’ going over big with the many-headed.

The final act of the evening didn’t disappoint either; Stars And Sons’ consignment of feelgood summer pop proved the perfect antidote to a dreary February, with tunes such as ‘In The Ocean’ and upcoming single ‘If It’s Good For Me’ driving away the clouds with copious woo-hoos, shimmering keyboards and sunny guitars. Props also to the Brighton-based five piece for ‘4 Stars’, a catchy Eels-esque song about playing Grand Theft Auto. In short, three interesting groups; each different; all entertaining – and lucky old indie label Alcopop! has ‘em all.

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Rating: 9.5/10 (4 votes cast)

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Record Label: BDB Records
Download Album: Is There Nothing We Could Do?
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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.

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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’.

Which only goes to show how warped and cynical the f.f. part of my b. has become, because the Yorkshire four piece had class enough to spare. Bedford, guitarist Kevin Shirley, drummer Chris Hall and improbably-named bassist Boa Internationale gave Camden a set made of pure grade indie goodness, with songs such as ‘She’s On Me’, ‘What You Came For’ and the excellent ‘Temple’ showcasing their funky hooks, tight guitars and clear, Arctic-Monkeyesque vocals. There’s also more than a smidge of The Coral’s psychedelia in Volcanoes’ make-up, as the second song of the evening, ‘Lucy Lambado’, made evident.

However, none of this quite puts the finger on Volcanoes’ ingredient X, that nebulous quality that makes a group stand out from the good, but ultimately forgettable, bands that you can hear every night in pubs and clubs across the country. Perhaps it’s that Volcanoes have a breath of fresh air feel about them; a bunch of likeable guys playing catchy, inventive indie pop and having fun while doing it. At the risk of getting all hagiographical ‘n’ shit, Volcanoes gave us a full-length set that seemed over far too soon. Gentlemen, you can wear whatever shoes you like.

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Rating: 9.5/10 (4 votes cast)

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Record Label: Ark Recording
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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.

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Record Label: Inhaler Records
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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.

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Rating: 8.0/10 (1 vote cast)

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Record Label: Emperor Records
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liaConsidering 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?

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Rating: 9.3/10 (3 votes cast)

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Record Label: Bella Union
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lawNow 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.

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painHalfway 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.

Mind you, the omens were good from the start; Scala is probably my favourite venue – well-designed, good acoustics and, for whatever reason, attended by people who don’t act like total dicks. This feeling of fuzzy well-being was turned up to eleven thanks to the first band of the evening, Allo Darlin’. A chirpy tweecore quartet fronted by ukulele-wielding Aussie Elizabeth Morris (also in the new Tender Trap line-up, if memory serves), Allo Darlin’ got the crowd stoked with a bevy of excellent tunes including the downright lovely ‘Henry Rollins Don’t Dance’, which pictures the hardcore legend bopping happily to Abba.

Next up were Dalston trio Male Bonding, who sported a lo-fi punky/grunge sound, enthusiastic drumming and the world’s most echoey vocals mic. Sadly, I wasn’t massively impressed by these dudes – nice year zero guitar noise, but not much else – so I’ll pass on rapidly to the night’s main event; The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart, henceforth known as POBPAH.

For a New York group, POBPAH seem to have suckled long at the teat of UK indie – at times they sounded like the ‘roided up offspring of Morrissey and Belle & Sebastian, which conjures up a mental image that all the wire wool in the world won’t scrub clean. Looking like an inexplicably cool school science club, vocalists Kip Berman and Peggy Wang, bassist Alex Naidus, drummer Kurt Feldman and added-for-the-tour guitarist Christoph Hocheim kicked off with a feisty rendition of ‘This Love Is Fucking Right!’ and proceeded to step high, wide and handsome for the rest of their time on stage. Who knew that shoegaze indie could rock the fuck out? The nerds were bouncing indeed. Hell, a smattering of check-shirted geek girls and boys even threw up the horns in the approved let-us-drink-from-the-goblet-of-rock stylee.

It was that sort of a gig – I kinda dug POBPAH’s studio debut, but hearing the band rip into ‘Young Adult Friction’ and ‘The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart’ live warmed the cockles of my cold dead heart. I even passed up the chance to jump on the toes of friend texter, which just goes to show the healing power of song. Selah.

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