Breaking news, ex-Placebo-drummer Steve Hewitt has only gone and done a Grohl! Only, as to be expected, it appears that the quality of the originating band of your Grohlite frontman is relative to how much the subsequent project is worth listening to. But why not let a few perpetually inconspicuous has-beens take advantage of the resources and contacts that being signed to EMI has bestowed upon them? Surely the end result won’t be an earful of bland, overproduced fodder for impressionable adolescent rockers and aging Placebo fanboys! Oh wait… Nevertheless, regardless of any ‘It’s-Not-What-You-Know-But-Who-You-Know’-style criticisms of the feudal music industry that would allow this project to exist, it remains inevitable that Hewitt’s experience (with, like, guitars and stuff) has granted him a decent rock sensibility and the ability to pull some decent musicians together to, like, rock. Which it does do, with lashings of grease and angst. The punchy production expertly weaves the positively gurning guitar riff together with an oddly basic drum beat (arrogant drummer syndrome?) in a way that satisfactorily distracts from Hewitt’s predictably amateur vocals and lyricism (‘it’s so sad to see you fade from me’ – chorus material? Really?) comprising something inoffensive, superficially pleasing but altogether pointless.
London based singer-songwriter Conil’s new single ‘Devil Leaving’, the opening track of his critically acclaimed album ‘Strange Part of the Country’, is a potent fusion of rock and urban statement. Backed by legendary double bass player Danny Thompson (John Martyn, Tim Buckley) and Peter Gabriel’s band, Conil combines his rousing vocal with a rough edged guitar riff. Produced by Tchad Blake (Tom Waits, Black Keys) the song swells from slow flowing verse to the soaring verve of the chorus, carrying the listener within its meanderings. In a time of frequent over-production, in which a distinct rock voice can be refined out of existence, Conil’s unique voice retains true grit and gravel, yet handles melodies with ease, carrying distinct mellow echoes of Cobain. When Conil’s voice is coupled with his strong writing ability, he emerges as an artist who deserves attention, distinguishing himself with quality songs. Through the lyrics themselves, which render experiences reaped from London night wanderings, but also through the emotive power which his vocal infuses within the words, giving ‘Devil Leaving’ a charge which lingers after the track fades.
Grace Potter’s aggressive soulful voice presents itself immediately in this 21st century rock and roll anthem. Her energy and physicality is matched by the blood-pumping rock guitar and the humungous hook. There’s no denying that the song isn’t particularly deep, and listeners searching for a profound meaning will be looking for a while. However, that’s the entire point of the track, Potter admits herself that when writing ‘Paris’ she deliberately avoided telling a story, or communicating a specific emotion; the song’s message is simple, it says “I want to have sex right now”. Certainly, few would refuse such an invitation as Potter is equally as equipped as a sex symbol as she is an indisputably great singer. While writing the track, she had been listening to The Kinks non-stop and ‘You Really Got Me’ has clearly influenced the massive primal riff that surges throughout. Now on their third album, the band are not easily placed in any genre, but they’ve stopped caring about that now and, as a result, are making some pretty awesome music. With shades of The Band fused with modern-day Janis Joplin, there’s certainly good reason for recent plaudits hailed on the Vermont based five-piece with the tantalisingly raw sound.
The second single from the new album of the same name—the band’s seventh—‘Renegades’ finds Feeder in a furious and turbo-charged mood. The song begins slowly, atmospherically, Grant Nicholas’ clear, precise vocals restrained but crackling with something between pent-up rage and tenderness, as reverb floods the soundscape. And then the song launches into an urgent charge, all fire and electric guitars—no acoustics in sight here. With a lyric list that’s perhaps a little clichéd, Nicholas simultaneously berates the listener while seeking to uplift, firing hack-eyed but no less potent lines about the general state of society, singing ‘Things could be better, we could belong’ and ‘don’t hate…we’re not the problem’ like a cross between a hip, modern rock star and a protest singer. The song has an energized, ‘devil-may-care’ attitude to it, while still offering, between the frantic vocals and punchy guitars, a sense of poignancy.
Our ‘Sound Boy’ has quite a time of it. Proudly, Max “Happy” Sedgley sends him on his merry way; loosely draping nondescript beats and vague synth-ripples over his burdened shoulders of spunky ‘Ahs’ and ‘Ums’ (Princess Superstar’s Perfect, anyone?). He is ill-prepared and badly dressed for the world that awaits him. Strutting onwards obliviously, Kraak & Smaak slyly squeeze him into velour hot pants, unbutton his paisley shirt and punch him in the face. Bloodied, Parker skanks him right open with a sinusoidal interrogation. Finally, Max’s Afrodub flips him a filth-wobble, administers a bass enema and leaves him broken like a burst suitcase. Our poor abused ‘Sound Boy’; essentially a play-thing come clothes-horse for bored producers it would seem.
The new single from self-professed new-wave four-piece Rubicks seems to perpetuate their apparent determination to resemble a specific time capsule of musical history. Having said that, the band are not entirely lost to irrelevant nostalgia, and manage to retain an infectious energy despite the slightly dated psychedelia emanated by the arm-flailing that so often accompanies Redd’s mystical delivery. The single’s more dynamic moments encapsulate this perfectly – the propulsive piano riff bolstering Redd’s retro-echoed vocal could have been taken straight from The Stooges’ ‘I Wanna Be Your Dog’. The vocals themselves reveal a lyricism whose heartfelt frankness would have been better off un-shrouded by the new wave production – the affectingly contrasting parallel chants of ‘is there any way out?’ and ‘is this love?’ in the chorus comprise the most audible lyrics, and perfectly demonstrate the potential of more clarity in the mix. Overall, it seems that it would take merely a distraction from trying to channel the spirit of Debbie Harry on the part of Redd and perhaps the added production of a third party with more imaginative arrangements to propel the already punchy melodies of these clearly talented musicians to being more than revival tunes.
You know the PABH formula by now, yeah? Brutal rhythm, with Tom Hudson’s vocal and James Brown’s lead guitar engaged in a competition of who can scream the loudest? Lyrics that wouldn’t make any sense even if you could decipher them? Think again. Sort of. Although all these elements are hugely prevalent in 2nd single ‘High Five, Swan Dive, Nose Dive’, it’s perhaps the most experimental track on their (wonderful) debut LP. We get 3 x one verse, then 4 x the next verse, (I’m not sure if one is meant to be a chorus); played in differing time structures; all the singing’s done after 90 seconds, and then the rest of the track descends into guitar pyrotechnics – it’s almost structured like a Dinosaur Jr track, albeit half the length, and without the epic solos. Are PABH being deliberately clever, or has their attention-span dropped to the level of a hyperactive 5 year old? Christ knows. Either way, it’s quite awesome to behold. If ‘High Five’ isn’t quite as good as debut single ‘Back To The Fuck Yeah’, then that’s only saying that it’s not a potential Single of The Year; that effort’s overdriven scabrousness being the high point (so far) of a band that must be destined for huge huge things.
