If you haven’t heard of French imprint Kuskus, it might be because you’re like me, and you’re a sad old anorak that hangs around record shops, checks the spine of albums to see who they’re on, and could name you their favourite labels based on their physical collection. Kuskus are somewhat different – they sign young acts to a hybrid recording/publishing contract, and allow them to work on music for films/ads/corporates whilst building them up, experience and confidence-wise to get to the LP recording stage.
Whilst this may sound like anathema to those of us who believe music shouldn’t be sullied by using it to promote product; I guess now that LP sales yield NO MONEY to artists, and the majors will drop acts after (or even before) single 1, then this business model may show a way forward. If a band make a royalty from an ad, they can use that to buy new kit, or get a tour on the road that’ll get them in front of us, and hopefully yield more money, hopefully start a career. We’re down to our last few pioneering indies (Chemikal, Warp, Ninja, Hyperdub) that’ll sign, promote and grow an artist simply because they believe in them. While this was the norm 20 years ago, if we take Creation as an example – they could recoup the vast sums My Bloody Valentine spunked in the studio thru the sales of more commercial acts like Ride, Teenage Fanclub, and then McGee’s cash cow to end all cash cows, Oasis. Has anyone heard a peep out of Rawkus since their hugely-fanfared relaunch?
Whether we like it or not, the industry has changed so much that for new bands to launch and become the bands we pick up on and take to our hearts is harder than ever, given the lack of resources (read cold hard cash) to do it. Peely’s not here any more, and if we have to entrust talent-spotting to goons like Zane Lowe, then, to use a Scottish football-ism, then ‘the ba’s oan the slates’. (trans; ‘Our football has got stuck upon the roof of this building. Our game is effectively fucked.’) If we leave the last word to Bill Hicks – which we always should because he got it spot on every time – he did opine that ‘if you’re a struggling young actor, I’ll let it go’, in the skit where he fantasised about Jay Leno turning an Uzi on his own head after ‘$3 million to hawk Doritos? You don’t have enough money that you need to hawk snacks to bovine fucking America?’
And isn’t Jay Leno turning an Uzi on his own head a lovely image? ‘Blood sprinkler’.
One thing indisputable, is that by following this blueprint, Kuskus are chucking some fantastic new acts out there – Housse De Racket (who have turned down more lucrative offers from Universal and SonyBMG), Rhythm Droid, DJ Tonka and now You!. There’s been an acoustic cut of their first single ‘To Disappear’ knocking round t’internet for a wee while now, and it’s lovely. Classic melancholy electro-pop in the New Order mould, with a guitar line that won’t come out of your head for weeks, no matter how hard you try. A&R’d for the label by Jamie Harley (who directs videos for Memory Tapes, so his taste can’t be questioned), the studio cut is now on its way out, and you can watch the accompanying video just as soon as you’ve lost patience reading this. It’s lovely. And hopefully, the first of many….and you can hope that with more confidence than you could anything on a major.
Possibly the loudest Brit indie record since ‘Definitely Maybe’, ‘What Came From Fire’ is probably the dream racket ricocheting inside of Tom Clarke’s head. Less po-faced than The Enemy, Sound Of Guns aim for skyscraping epicness of the U2 / Oasis variety. The sonics are great, a real rush of well-harnessed electricity, something sorely lacking in the multitude of combos knocking about today. However, the vocalist often ends up drowned by the loud roaring guitars, the lyrics lost to (ace) white noise. Not necessarily a bad thing, when they seem graduates of the Ashcroft school of self-empowerment and reflection (ugh!), and for fans of bands like this lyrics aren’t that important anyway (‘Elevation’, anyone?). But what they are looking for is anthems. And these they pump like endless ammo. ‘Alcatraz’ is like a pre-historic Killers, ‘Starts With An End’ a mislaid Urban Hymn, ‘106 (Still the Words)’ the point when it all comes together. An obvious single – the sing-a-long chorus, screaming guitars, pounding drums creating the kind of euphoric moment that could find them festival favourites. And from this mid-point the album hits its stride. They have the volume, the dumbness, and the ambition – it’s their year to be hated.
‘Won’t Get Up Again’ is a polished four-track EP from Young Rebel Set. The title track is one of those simple, reaffirming numbers with a strong British styling. The lyrics are interesting, with some choice opening lines; “There is a ghost upon my lips, of which whose taste I can’t resist, to call upon each time I miss, that touch of grace that I long to feel again.” Good eh? The verse pattern and gospel & strings chorus do sound a bit late 90’s Verve however, and the guitar intro is very similar to Oasis’ ‘Live Forever’, but nonetheless, ‘Won’t Get Up Again’ ticks all the indie anthem boxes with aplomb. A nice Hammond organ intro spreads into ‘Fall Hard’, another succinct offering with a sing-a-long chorus and a likeable guitar solo. ‘Bagatelle’ follows, a stripped back ballad, concerns itself with lonesome wanderings and searching deep within – it’s about heartbreak and the enigmatic Bagatelle – which I think is a sort of a pasta sandwich. ‘Rosie’ is the most originally piece here, with a rather touching tale of a troubled girl seeking redemption, framed around a light and mildly bluegrass alt-folk tune. Likeable stuff with much wider appeal.
New York’s The Go Station have a strangely familiar Britpop sound dominating this album, which is not without it’s bright moments. Among their strongest tracks are opener ‘All Together Now’ plus ‘Twin Six’ and ‘Next In Line’. With these you can hear more of their original voice. And at best, their tunes carry purposeful, rhythmic indie rock, with some tight, energetic lead guitar, pacey drums and anthemic, crescendo choruses. But with much of the material here, on tracks such as ‘Not Enough’, ‘C’Mon’ and ‘They Way Of The World’, it’s as if someone has taken all the mid 90’s Britpop bands you can think of, liquidised them, and drunk them down in one. This means you get some good, smooth Oasis and Charlatans styled bits, but also, you end up swallowing quite a few indigestible chucks; a finger from Menswear here and testicle from Toploader there. With ‘Way Of The World’, the chorus proclaims; “It’s just the way of the world…the original sin…sign of the times…it’s the state I’m in’. For all I know, this could well be listing some of the many po-faced, pseudo-philosophical album titles prevalent back then. For fans of the bigger, broader British sounds of the previous decade, then The Go Station do what they do well. But for those who remember being saturated with this sort of thing in the mid 90s, it’s not a return journey many of us in the UK yet wish to make.
