REVIEW: Rhodes - Raise Your Love EP

*Originally published for The 405 (22/10/13)

Childhood curiosity, openness and immunity to fear is a perfect mix for trying new things: from learning to ride a bike, to picking up a new language. All this becomes more challenging as you grow up and many would discard trying to master a new skill. But not 24-year-old David Rhodes. In January this year, he picked up a guitar, discovered he had a voice and set about to write some music. And the results are quite startling.

It's rare that a song can move you as quickly as 'Run' does. Guitars trickle like waterfalls over Rhodes' devastatingly beautiful vocals, whilst a gospel chorus lifts the track to a higher state. It would certainly suit a indie film soundtrack with its steadied and commanding crescendos.

'Worry' feels like an old friend with its instantly catchy chorus. Rhodes knows a way into a girl's heart with guttural, soulful vocals, nicely tied up at the end with aquatic guitars harking to Parachutes-era Coldplay.

The weakest song on the EP (though by no means "weak") is 'Darker Side'. It never quite takes off, but has the same earworm-of-a-chorus as 'Worry.' The thread attaching all of the songs is undoubtedly raw simplicity via Rhodes' pairing of ringing guitar and vocals (of the Jeff Buckley ilk) and, though this can be samey at times, it's powerful in its consistency.

Closer 'Raise Your Love' allows Rhodes' songwriting to really crawl into your head. The deep-seated projection of his voice in the verses is astounding as gentle percussion kisses a clanging electric guitar. Harmonies soar and echoes resound, leaving the record perched firmly on a high.

Raise Your Love is an arresting introduction to this impossibly-talented songwriter. It's the type of record that stops you in your tracks and swallows you whole, and it's frightening to think what heights can be reached next.

7.5/10

REVIEW: Bos Angeles - Taking Out The Trash

*Originally published for The 405 (27/11/12)

It's mid-summer, the car windows are wound down, your friends are drinking in the back seat and the air stinks of West Coast hubris. You're not in Los Angeles, however, you're in Bos Angeles, UK and it's pissing it down with rain.

According to a local travel website, Boscombe is lovingly referred to as 'Bos Vegas' or 'Bos Angeles' (though we'll leave the level of irony to the opinions of those who've visited). Three lads from the area have also decided to name their band after it, and they're here to brighten things up a bit.

'Beach Slalom' catapulted Bos Angeles into buzz band territory in November last year, catching them the attention of many a tastemaker. Such a response was inevitable with the band scoffing the liquid hooks of Beach Fossils, WAVVES and Girls, yet sounding distinctly rawer. Lazy, pubescent vocals groan over prickly guitars on 'Beach Slalom', with distorted bass and kitchen pot drums thrashing in the background. It's an addictive sound.

A year later, Bos Angeles have decided to compile all their unreleased EPs onto a retro, yet of-the-moment 21-song cassette tape, Taking Out The Trash as their final parting shot (they disbanded this year). 'Beach Slalom' opens the thick onslaught of lo-fi surfer-rock tunes, followed closely by 'Days Of Youth' with its assured oohs and ahs and happy-go-lucky guitars. It's a strong start and adheres to the 'bedroom pop grunge lo-fi post-punk surf' that the boys have previously (and a little humorously) marketed themselves on.

The next ten minutes do not allow you to lose sight of these genres, so much so that the tracks merge into one another. 'Making Waves' plods in 4/4 like a tired indie filler, lacklustre lyrics grate rather than satiate, and 'Endelss Summer' makes of a double-mockery of its title. Perhaps it's the juxtaposition with the ferocious 'Beach Slalom' and 'Days Of Youth', but either way, it feels like you're looking up from the foot of the mountain.

You can wipe away the beads of sweat once you've pass the halfway mark where, at last, a good cluster of songs breathes life back into the record. 'Stone Washes' is a wonderful early noughties pop-punk with its jangling bass and classic three-chord guitar progression and 'Shallom Goy' boasts of a fresh identity with its battered vocals and anthemic punk-rock chorus. There's something all the more different in 'I Hate It When You Look At Me', which shuffles its shoegaze feet and lets guitars gnaw beneath an impossibly slow beat.

You're just about getting somewhere until a couple of dreary numbers ('Friendzoned', 'All I Do Is Dream') take pole position once more. But the Boscombe boys are clever and draw the compilation to its close with some stellar tracks in 'You're The One That I Want' and 'Pretend With You.'

'You're The One That I Want', unfortunately, isn't a Grease cover, but it is fortunately two minutes of scorching post-punk. 'Pretend With You' is where you can't help but scream "more of this" into your speakers, with its stunning guitar stumbling over calypso drums and ghoulish vocals. Seriously, more of this please.

In all its giant, aggregated glory, Taking Out The Trash is more of a curse than a blessing. Chop it up into bits and it's perfect for easy listening, but swallow it whole and you'll choke before you reach the end. There are some great tracks hidden in its spools – you'll just have to play cassette roulette to find them.

6/10

FEATURE: Spring King

                                                                                                   

*Originally published for The Generator's 'Tipping Point' blog (6/9/12)

Working under the alias Spring King since March, it seems prolific producer of Tipping Point faves Jethro Fox and Dan Croll, Tarek Musa and friends have been spending a lot of time hanging out with Ty Segall and The Black Lips, or, the more probable situation, wishing they had. Their first penned track, ‘Let’s Ride’, boasts a similar garage-punk sound but is loaded with a faster energy that has already gained attention from the likes of The 405 and Amazing Tunes.

It’s hard to believe Spring King hail from the UK when dusty, Americanized vocals shout over lo-fi riffs and tinny west coast surf solos. Bass and drum breakdowns characterise the verses, while root-note piano adds depth to latter part of their organised car crash of sound. They even manage to squeeze in a couple of whirring synth melodies before the song ends at a measly two minutes and fourteen seconds, but they have made their point and impressively stun us to silence.

Spring King’s aggression and energy on ‘Let’s Ride’ is bound to prick ears up and get people excited about guitar music again – but this time on our home turf.

Today's Generator Tipping Point comes courtesy of Rob Platts at Alan James PR

REVIEW: Micachu and the Shapes - Never

*Originally published for The 405 (23/7/12)

It's been three years since Micachu and the Shapes won critics over with their improbable pop debut, and a year since their high-brow live recordings with the London Sinfonietta, but their latest offering, Never, is where they have truly found themselves.

That said, there doesn't seem to be anything startlingly different with the music on Never. It just oozes more confidence. On 'Easy', the nasty, discordant post-punk sound of their debut, Jewellery, returns, with detuned guitars spasming over chop pop textures and homemade instruments dancing together. It's nice to hear they've still got a trusty vacuum cleaner to provide some of the drone effects, but what is really different is the assuredness that emits from every clash, bang or wallop, or how well 'Easy' and 'Never' flow into each another.

'Low Dogg', taken from their 2011 live album Chopped and Screwed, has received a new energy on Never. Menacing synths replace the original Sinfonietta's stringed instruments, which sound bizarrely similar to the twisted synth progressions on Grimes's, 'Oblivion.' It's not necessarily an improvement on the live recording, but the sound is sharper and really lifts the slightly dulled hip-hop rhythms. Lead singer Mica Levi is full of character here – her East London growl snuggled comfortably between beats.

Another track that has made its way over from Chopped and Screwed is the rather doomy and introspective, 'Fall'. It's a depressing little number with deformed jazz chords hopping between gloopy reverb and purring drum rolls. The lyrics are hard to discern, but the dark, cinematic sounds towards the end of the track seem to speak of an inconsolable situation. Whatever its meaning, 'Fall' is an immersive and enthralling listen.

Many albums are loaded with their strongest tracks at the beginning or end, but the best songs on Never are actually clustered in the middle. 'Holiday' is laced with rewound cassette tapes and light hearted chants: "I can't wait for my holiday, I've had my work cut out for me." It's catchy with ooh-and-ah harmonies and it really feels like the trio had boundless fun putting this track together.

A nostalgic, fairground tune whirls throughout 'Slick' as vocals gargle between snap-happy percussions, but the following track, 'OK', is even more attractive in sound. Keyboardist Raisa Khan and Levi sing, "Are you sure you're ok? Couldn't be better," in call-and-response over thick, industrial noise, yet the track offers an earthier, psychedelic sound with dreamy vocals and synths mimicking prog-rock guitars. Like 'Holiday', the song has conventional structures and accessible lyrics, propelling Micachu and the Shapes into their most poppy territory yet.

'You Know' and 'Glamour', sadly, fail to fit anywhere between the band's admirable experimentalism and organised chaos, falling quickly behind the overwhelming amount of solid tracks on the LP.

The definitive track of the album comes in the sonic-sized form of the oxymoron entitled, 'Nothing.' Lying somewhere between a sedated Ty Segall track and a warped 50s rock 'n' roll ballad, 'Nothing' sees gritty guitars and rich harmonies married together as handsome male vocals carry the verses. Smart lyrical arrangements ("We had everything to lose, so I stood on a cigarette, and decided we weren't finished yet") anticipate an explosion of quivering synths, choral singing and broken guitar solos, leaving your brain suitably fuzzy and warm at the close.

Micachu and the Shapes have retained their knack for producing an accomplished smorgasbord of sound on Never, but have done so without alienating listeners or sounding tired. Their new material is stronger than ever and, for better or worse, edges just that bit nearer to pop music. Who knows what they will come up with next.

8/10

REVIEW: James Yorkston And The Athletes - Moving Up Country [Reissue]

*Originally published for The 405 (25/4/12)

2002. The birth of reality TV talent contests such as Pop Idol, number one singles from Daniel Bedingfield and Girls Aloud and the untimely death of The Clash's Joe Strummer. Little did I know as an oblivious 12 year old that among these musical events there was a burgeoning micro-indie record label and group of musicians called the Fence Collective. Founded by Kenny Anderson of King Creosote in 1997, Fence Collective was to later have the likes of such great artists as Lone Pigeon, Françoise And The Atlas Mountains and a quietly confident singer-songwriter, James Yorkston, nestled in its arms.

In 2002, Yorkston (with musical backing from The Athletes) released his critically-acclaimed debut album, Moving Up Country under Domino Records and this year the label are marking its 10th anniversary with a reissue of the album; replete with bonus songs and Peel session recordings as part of a double CD/vinyl package.

Time and time again, Yorkston has been affiliated with folk music. This has been accelerated no less by releases of albums like Folk Songs (2009) but truth be told, he is a more general roots man; country, blues and folk can all be quite easily picked out on Moving Up Country (not to mention splices of gospel and even some jazz). It is the album's myriad of sound that won Yorkston his die-hard fans and has been pulling in new listeners ever since.

Album opener, 'In Your Hands', is a potent example of this. Deep accordion notes sit below Yorkston's imperfect but charming vocal, and a harmonica and a light blues guitar, among other instruments, caress the narrative about a day spent giving undivided attention to a lover. '6.30 Is Just Way Too Early' is similar in its domestic story-telling, "I find myself down the stairs/Lazy dog gives me the eye/And I drag our bones around the barns/And catch the morning light," but a stuttering and spluttering organ shifts the song from comfortable acoustics to sonic gospel terrains.

There is a timeless quality to the songs in Moving Up Country, like the rich acoustic that walks in hand with the soothing vocals and scratchy fiddles in 'St Patrick', or the fast-paced jazz piano, rippling snare and early rock 'n' roll jaunt of 'I Spy Dogs' – it feels like you have heard these songs before. The talent with which Yorkston and his Athletes revisit, explore and reinvent genres is astounding.

It is then barely excusable to downplay the albums' lead single, 'Moving Up Country' – the very song that caught the eye of John Peel and convinced John Martyn to take Yorkston on his full Winter tour in 2001 – but where songs like 'The Patient Song' worm their way into your ears with warped blues keys and bouncy reverb guitars, 'Moving Up Country's' obtrusive harmonica and repetitive melody just leaves you tired. Thankfully, this is not the case for the overwhelming majority of the songs on the double album and this is what makes it so rounded and impressive.

Disc two holds demos of some of Yorkston's finest songs on Moving Up Country, but it does suffer a little for the more basic production, as can often be expected with demos. The harmonies on 'The Patient Song' are less refined and the harmonica in '6.30 Is Just Way Too Early' is quite grating here, but it is strangely wonderful to hear how the kinetic energy of 'I Spy Dogs' used to be stored before it was unleashed later in its studio version.

Some of the bonus demo tracks like 'Worthy Souls' and 'My Distance Travelled' are truly enthralling; yawning slide guitars, grumbling double-bass and tinny, roll-snap drums dancing together in unrivalled freedom. Another strong contester from the bonus tracks is 'La Magnifica' with its burgeoning acoustics and plucked violin strings tiptoeing around the track's edges, but it is the 'Tender To The Blues' Peel recording that elevates itself above the rest. The descending string progression, melancholic harmonies and sinew-yanking minor notes sound just as, if not more, extraordinary live than on the original recording. The track's multifaceted texture is a true microcosm of James Yorkston and The Athletes' remarkable musical dexterity.

Moving Up Country is the kind of album that has and will continue to introduce people to styles of music that they thought they didn't like. Yorkston has an envious and somewhat confusing ability to pen songs that transcend genres, yet still beam his style from start to finish. The reissue is a treat for anyone who appreciates the difficulty of this; wants their hands on rarer Yorkston material; or is willing to open their mind to a variety of musical styles that sound as timeless and as a fresh as they did a decade ago.

9/10

REVIEW: Mesita - The Coyote

*Originally published for The 405 (13/4/12)

You know that tip-of-the-tongue familiarity that you get when listening to music? That teeth-grinding frustration that eats into your daily routine? This is what happens when you delve into Mesita's latest release, save for the unclenched teeth. The Coyote constantly jumps between syncopated Radiohead rhythms, darting Efterklang melodies, bluesy Black Keys riffs and airy Bon Iver falsettos, to name but a few comparisons. It seems as if all of these artists, and more, have been soaked up by James Cooley (under his moniker, Mesita) – a bedroom producer and multi-instrumentalist from Colorado, USA. Not only is Cooley a bit of a musical mastermind, but a sponge who effortlessly squeezes out perfect pop song-shaped suds.

The first few tracks are driven by infectious guitars that lock you into listening. ‘William Cannon‘ and ‘The Coyotes‘ seem to be in a race with Tunng and Hockey; with off-beat strums, glittering harmonies, puckered acoustics and Indonesian gamelan sounds that radiate a balmy joy. ‘Onward Upward‘ is bossed about by a heavy beat that stomps on Spanish guitars and Broken Bells-esque stereo vocals.

‘The Front Range‘ and ‘Out For Blood‘ introduce a more sinister sound at the album‘s core. The ringing root notes and hurtling drums in the latter thump as loudly Arcade Fire‘s ‘Ready To Start‘ and Cooley‘s sexy, unshaven vocal glides over gorgeous desert rock riffs. ‘The Front Range‘ is the sunny lovechild of Radiohead‘s ‘Weird Fishes/Arpeggi‘ and ‘Bloom‘, with unpredictable, swelling snare rolls and dissonant bass notes.

What is so engaging about The Coyote, apart from pin-pointing all its influences like an excited child, is its meticulous structure. Where ‘Out For Blood‘ and ‘The Front Range‘ build on the glossy sounds of the opening tracks, ‘Into The Wind‘ marks the beginning of the record‘s dark final stages. The track embodies a startlingly different sound, with muted distortion, snake-rattle drums, spliced samples, ebow bends and fuzzy electronics. Just as you are starting to adjust your ears, Cooley suddenly brings in bouncy lounge music and your eyes pop with disbelief. Does he manage to pull this dramatic song change off? Absolutely.

Cooley even makes room for some hardcore music, albeit in a skewed sense. ‘You Or The City‘ has all the ingredients for neck-thrashing and pig-snorted screams, but the pitchy guitars are too compressed and, quite disappointingly, the song doesn‘t reach the climatic point that you want it to.
It is ‘Endless Build Into Nothing‘, with its ironic title, that achieves everything that ‘You Are The City‘ fails to. Starting with a soothing guitar and hushed vocals, a colourful guitar gradually lifts Cooley‘s hook, "future distant, endless build into nothing," before gospel organs, bleating guitars, monstrous drums and ghostly vocals bellow at the peak of the crescendo.

Mesita‘s latest LP is an entrancing medley of genres from all parts of the globe, and James Cooley manages to stitch everything together with his relentless nack for melody. The Coyote is a bustling pop record that gets right to the point and doesn‘t care what influences it drags along with it, because without them it wouldn‘t be half the informed and astonishing record that it is.

8/10