Jesus, An Ass and An Arsehole - It's Singled Out!

Delilah’s Gold eponymous debut EP takes a hold of the Portishead baton and maintains their sorrowful, melancholic euphonies with the help of Natalie Valentine’s powerful vocals whilst disavowing themselves from Portishead’s dirty trip-hop experiments in favour of a more traditional emotive laden song structure. Seductive guitars, slinky bass lines, and subtle string arrangements paint Delilah’s Gold, and in particular ‘Into The Dust’, into a world of film noir chic where their moroseness may be gloriously basked within.

 

Occupying the deserted gaps between the ROCK barren lands of Nirvana, Sonic Youth, and Slipknot come the distinctly British (…the b-side’s called ‘Arsehole’ for chri’sakes), Energica. ‘My Demise’ hammers home a message of pure adulterated anger, “Don’t stop kicking till its dead, till mess is made of pretty head.” An absolutely thumping raucous riff (helped by the production of rawk uber-lord, Dave Eringa) drives this tour de force to a healthy 1:53 journey of overwhelming blasting anguish that should propel the trio in superseding Nine Black Alps to the title of Princes of British Rock.

 

A couple of months ago a certain Gigwise writer (that’ll be this one then!) wrote on the evidence of last single ‘Do It Like You’ that The Stands were, “predictable dad-rock, on this basis they are not destined for any greatness”. Well, this writer believes it’s humble pie time! ‘When The Night Falls In’ righteously proves they are more than just a Byrds tribute act. With sensuous pop folk melodies and mariachi trumpets elevating the joyous hook to a stomping conclusion it’s hard to begrudge The Stands the success that this single richly deserves.

 

“Stateless supported Kosheen on their UK tour last year,” reads the press release, quick, someone call the dinner party police, there’s a new band vying for the attention of the coffee table generation! Eponymous title track from ‘The Bloodstream EP’ does nothing to dispel such fears no matter how hard the fragile veneer of intricate Yamaha DJX style beats attempt to disguise what is essentially James Blunt gone left of centre electro. ‘Exit’ proves the highlight of the EP’s blips and beeps wasteland with a Bjork-like inspired production, whilst the two other tracks are seemingly in a battle against one another to win a slot on the blandness of an ‘As If’ soundtrack.

 

Linchpin ask: “Jesus had long hair so why can’t I?” Is it: A) Because you are balding B) You’re in the army, or C) You haven’t got the privileges that come with being the messiah, you are a mediocre punk pop band who have been tipped, and produced, by fellow mediocre punk popsters Good Charlotte, you sing like you’re from South California not South London, and you are lame- for that reason you cannot have long hair.

Answer: C.

 

!!! (Chk Chk Chk) return to the fold with a double a-side of covers that may as well come with directions to your nearest drugs rehabilitation unit because if you’ve endured the 17 minutes of trance inducing beats you’re either a sucker for getting value for money or you’ve been dabbling in the devils confectionery - tut, tut. !!!’s cover of Magnetic Fields’ ‘Take Ecstasy With Me’ sounds oddly like Joy Division’s ‘Atmosphere’ but with added New Order dance nuances to complete the blithesome recipe. The incessant groove makes the seven minutes whiz by, unlike their cover of Nate Dogg’s ‘Get Up’, which loses it’s funky hook at precisely three minutes and eight seconds when it transcends it to a dirge of psychedelic dwelling that seems to last as long as searching for a simile that describes the over-indulgence of a well-intentioned dance track gone bad.

 

Denmark’s debutantes The Blue Van release their first single with a song title,  ‘Revelation Of Love’, straight out of the sixties, with a bass line deriving from the “how to write a bass line in the 1960s” manual, and with the guitar cutting away like any number of Rolling Stones songs – it’s clear to see that their allegiances lie firmly within the dad-rock sphere. One anomaly to this dot-to-dot picture making The Blue Van sound like The Small Faces – the singer, Steffan Westmark, warbles like Starsailor’s James Walsh. Shudder. 

 

Komakino, to use the language of the potty-mouthed Eminem, are the latest music press “wank band”. Is this justified? According to music press guidelines (does your production sound like The Killers? Yes. Do you sound vaguely like you were interested in the short-lived yet much hyped 'New Cross Scene'? Certainly. Can we package you with our other new “wank band” Nine Black Alps? Most definitely) Komakino’s debut, ‘Say Something’, passes the “wank band” test with flying colours. The single’s not at all despicable, but there are so many other bands making the same sounds (Battle, Editors, etc) that such praise laid upon them seems unwarranted.

 

For a woman whose idea of paradise lay by the sea it is heart-rending that it was here that Kirsty MacColl died, and so it is fitting that the posthumous download release of ‘Sun On The Water’ dreamily celebrates this haven of escape. Kirsty’s delicate brogue compliments the hazy Beautiful South-esque melodies to whirr the listener off into a reverie of allure.

 

When you’re presented with a svelte fox such as Lucie Silvas it’s very hard to knock her – well, here goes… ‘Don’t Look Back’ is no ‘Breathe In’, that was a corking pop sing-a-long which even allegedly got the attention of primary dullard Chris Martin, this isn’t such a corker. As her press release rightfully states, ‘Don’t Look Back’ is full of ‘lavish production’, but so are Jessica Simpson’s ode’s to painful break-ups and this is exactly what Silvas’ fourth single sounds like; another minor league female solo star trying to crack it. But in the words of the Bo Selecta Kelly Osbourne alter ego, “she’s got an amazing voice.”

 

“The way you shake it, I can’t believe it, I ain’t ever seen an ass like that. The way you move it, you make my pee pee go ya-doyng-doyng-doyng.” Anyone else see the validity here that Eminem’s at the end of his career!? Perhaps one could forgive Em for languishing the production of the wittily titled (for a 10-year-old) ‘Ass Like That’ with sitars and other Punjabi instruments that were last seen fashionable in 1999. Perhaps one could even forgive Eminem for the song’s drawling tempo that goes about as fast as a snail sluggishly moving through a slop of treacle into a head on gale force wind. But surely no one could forgive him for his pathetic impersonation of an Asian rapping badly routine!?! Ok, mild amusement came with his Michael Jackson mimicry even though it was, say, 12 years too late, but here it’s like Eminem’s adopted the persona of a non-politically correct 1970s sitcom character. THIS IS PISS POOR.