Polaroids Of Androids

The Drums
The Drums

Scene: A housing estate flat in Manchester in the early 1980s. Two well-dressed youths sit at a table and have a discussion.

Morrisey: Hey Johnny, I think we should start a band, man.

Johnny Marr: I totally agree, Morrisey. But what kind of music should we play?

Morrisey: I think we should play Shangri Las-esque love ballads that have lots of reverb. We could call ourselves The Drums!

Johnny Marr: Fuck that. Let's write songs about dying and being bent and call our band The Smiths. Let some other bunch of wankers be The Drums in 30 years or so.

Morrisey: Sounds good to me.

Morrisey and Johnny Marr: Gooooooooo Smiths!!!!

The two youths leap into the air and hi-five. Everything is awesome.

End scene.

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July 22, 2010 @ 14:34 · Record Reviews   16 comments

M.I.A.
/\/\ /\ Y /\

This is a LIVE REVIEW.

Not because I thought that would be cool or future or edge cutting, but rather because after hearing the first few songs I knew there was no chance I'd be able to sit through this album more than once. Yep, that rating above speaks volumes. Each of those volumes has 10,000 pages. Each of those pages has a picture of a giant turd and/or a detailed photo of Oprah pleasuring herself.

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July 21, 2010 @ 14:54 · Record Reviews   11 comments

Eminem
Recovery

In addition to the obvious (He's white! He's from Detroit! He won an Oscar!) one of the most clear points of difference for Eminem has always been his ability to slap his tiny, flaccid penis in the face of American pop culture without too much care. While at times this was an entertaining (little) trick, it also sounded not only like a cheap/easy way to cause controversy but also - given the fact it was normally recorded months before release - often incredibly out-of-touch.

Aside from a few recycled Michael J Fox Parkinson cheap shots and a fairly confusing serving aimed at disgraced dog-fighting quarterback Michael Vick, Recovery is much more of a serious introspective self-analysis than just a bunch of funny songs about pop stars/sluts, clown rappers and nu-metal legends. Eminem on Eminem. He wants to tell you how he feels. He wants to let you inside his heart. His feelings. His mind. The problem is - there's not much there.

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Holy Fuck
Latin

Back in the Summer Of Jonny (2008) Holy Fuck's LP was my mandatory workout soundtrack. It's not that the record captures a particularly sweaty vibe (sup, Muscles!), but it's consistently steady rhythmic punches made it the perfect audio accompaniment whilst I pumped iron, ran countless miles and occasionally pumped mad honeys.

These days, since the Death Of Indie-pendent Jonny, the soundtrack is more often than not Bruce Springsteen's Greatest Hits. But that whole 'thing' is best saved for another day.

The album's ascent from an interesting spin on electronic music to familiarity to unhealthy obsession was undoubtedly fueled by it's seamless integration into my ritualistic jock activities of that summer. But, regardless of how I fell in love with the record, it has since become my own personal benchmark for the genre I like to inaccurately label as 'live electro'.

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Gonjasufi
A Sufi And A Killer

I think about the year 2030. A lot. I guess this is - at least on a sub-conscious level - because I'm fairly obsessed with the television program How I Met Your Mother, where the future portion of the show is set in 2030.

Aside from this slightly embarrassing revelation of my personal life, this obsession is also closely connected to my enjoyment of music which I think I'll look back on in twenty years time and say to myself - "Yep, that's some classic shit". More specifically, timeless music that isn't necessarily bound to a particular trend or era.

Rocking gently in my old ergonomically precise chair in the year 2030, LOL-ing with my fugly children about how people used to think it was cool to get tattoos, pierce their Fanny Mays and listen to The National, I can safely say that when the time comes to discuss the music of 2010, at least an hour will be set aside to talk about all the brilliantness of A Sufi And A Killer.

Apologies to those lovely Die! Die! Die! fellas. Likewise to Wolf Parade, Menomena and Further. And you can throw your Panda Bears on the old Arcade Campfire and grill your Blogspot Marshmallows to your heart's content. Because this is the best album of Twenty Ten.

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LCD Soundsystem
This Is Happening

This album isn't very good.

I know what you're thinking - "but it's James Murphy, he can do no wrong". I know. I used to think that as well. Don't just read that one line and persecute me! Your A.D.D is killing our relationship!

Ok, hear me out...

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June 9, 2010 @ 12:22 · Record Reviews   12 comments

Crystal Castles
Crystal Castles

I don't really like electronic music. Probably 'cos a) I'm not a robot¹; and b) I don't drive a lowered Hilux, play rugby league, take my shirt off at music festivals, eat disco biscuits like they're lifesavers, cliche, cliche, cliche... The Presets are the new Chisel, blah, blah, blah.

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June 7, 2010 @ 22:53 · Record Reviews   5 comments

Violent Soho
Violent Soho

If I'd downloaded this album from the beloved Torrent Sphere then I would have assumed it was a fake leak, uploaded by some bored, pimpled-faced teenager from Middle-America as a joke. After all, seven of the twelve songs featured here also appear on the group's 2008 debut, We Don't Belong Here. Around them, the clever little Pirate Bay life member has slotted some unknown titles, presumably just rejected b-sides and/or unfinished demos.

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June 4, 2010 @ 10:35 · Record Reviews   11 comments

The Hold Steady
Heaven Is Whenever

There's a strong chance that you won't like this album.

You haven't yet reached that age where you don't really believe in The System anymore. The fact you still call it "The System" like it's a monster living in the sky, is really all the proof we need. You also haven't yet given up hope of becoming one of those glamourous, successful people that you see in magazines when you're searching for anything that even resembles wank-off material. You still probably haven't drunkely wandered around empty suburban streets at 4am either, wondering at which point you lost all your motivation. The unsettling feeling of thinking you might have a drinking problem is still yet to cross your mind. You haven't heard stories of childhood friends gassing themselves in cars. You probably don't even reminisce about the filthy whores you used to date, look them up on Facebook and discover they've had more abortions than boyfriends.

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May 25, 2010 @ 11:37 · Record Reviews   1 comment

The National
High Violet

The National strike me as a band that I should like a lot more than I actually do. And admittedly some of their songs strike me as utterly captivating (90 Mile Water Wall, Fake Empire, So Far Around The Bend). But when it comes down to the push and shove, Matt Berninger's voice is so God damn depressing that I really find it hard to enjoy a lot of their music.

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May 18, 2010 @ 11:03 · Record Reviews   11 comments

Broken Social Scene
Forgiveness Rock Record

After being occupied by aboriginal people for thousands of years, the country of Canada was settled by both the British and the French in the 15th century. With a population of around 34 million people, it is made up of 10 provinces and three territories. The most populated of these provinces is Ontario, the capital of which is Toronto. Toronto is Canada's most populated city, with an estimated population of over 2.5 million people - all of whom are members of Broken Social Scene.

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May 13, 2010 @ 16:44 · Record Reviews   5 comments

The Vasco Era
Lucille

Fuck yes! The Vasco Era! I fucking love the Vasco Era! I was at a gig of theirs once and as I put my lips to my glass of beer I discovered my beverage had transformed into a testicle milkshake! That's how fucking hard the Vasco Era rock!

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May 10, 2010 @ 18:04 · Record Reviews   2 comments

Royal Headache
7"

The loooong awaited 7" from Sydney punks, Royal Headache, finally drops. A month long wank party follows.

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May 3, 2010 @ 14:23 · Record Reviews   2 comments

Otouto
Pip

My first introduction to Hazel Brown and her sister Martha was at the now infamous Casiotone For The Clinically Depressed And Suicidal gig at the Wombarra Bowls Club. I had rocked up a little early and was polishing off what would soon be revealed as a not completely cooked chicken schnitzel, when a tour van rocked up. Like a clown taxi at the circus, Lord Casiotone The Well Girthed himself exited the vehicle, as well as what I assumed were a couple of label mates, some tag alongs and some smokin' hot indie babes (the aforementioned Brown sisters). I distinctly remember it, because as I sliced through the pink middle of the chicken breast, I laughed out loud at the fact that a fat, hairy guy that played shitty keyboards to crowds of middy drinking locals at the Wombarra Bowls Club could still get groupies.

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/ / / ▲ ▲ ▲ \ \ \
Sample EP

Tim Dwyer (aka 'Void') creates the kind of horrific, face-stabbing, bad-ass musical compositions that make up the soundtrack to your death scene - you vs a pair of those deadly spikey walls closing in. While you ungraciously fight the losing battle against your fate, you're unable to block out the 80's flashback visions of your nemesis, the maestro behind your impending painful death, who is currently cruising down the boulevard in your priceless convertible. Your lady is in the passenger seat. They're carefree laughter at your dire predicament adds an even deeper stabbing pain than the first wall of spikes which, coincidentally enough, have just entered your spleen.

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April 29, 2010 @ 22:13 · Record Reviews   5 comments

Lil Wayne
No Ceilings

Contrary to what you may have read elsewhere on The WWW, Lil Wayne did not get jailed because of the rock-rap-abortion Rebirth. Actually, the reason he's currently serving a nine month sentence (189 days left at time of publication, according to his official prison blog) is hardly important. What is important is the fact that as far as parting gifts go, Rebirth was right up there with a pretty young lady leaving a steamer on your pillow the morning after a pleasurably wild evening in Oh Face Town.

Thankfully, a few months before Wayne released his Fredrick Durst tribute album, he put out this brilliant mixtape.

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April 28, 2010 @ 13:46 · Record Reviews   3 comments

Gorillaz
Plastic Beach

I've never really been that big a fan of Damon Albarn's loosely defined 'comic book concept' group, Gorillaz. In fact, I'm willing to extend that to D-Al's entire musical career - even his 'main squeeze' Blur never fully grabbed me. While hardly overlooking the pair of large elephants standing in the corner (Song 2 and Think Tank), not only do I think Supergrass won the "best chops" prize of The Brit Pop Early 90s War, but I also think they wrote the catchiest tunes of the NME-fueled bullshit genre.

But this isn't a critique essay of Blur's shortcomings, the Flying Fisted Gallaghar Brothers and how there was a whole decade of British Rock that played out like an even less successful sequel to The Great Rock N Roll Swindle, but instead a review of Albarn's primary musical project of this decade and their latest offering Plastic Beach.

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April 27, 2010 @ 12:25 · Record Reviews   6 comments

Ghosts Of Television
Forsaken Empire

Consisting of just thirty minutes of music and featuring only eight songs, Forsaken Empire keeps in line with Ghosts Of Television's tradition of limiting their musical output and proudly leaving the listener frustratingly undernourished.

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Free Energy
Stuck On Nothing

Go hard or go home. I think Rihanna once said that. Actually, maybe it was Tommy Raundonikis. Whoever it was, they were onto a solid philosophy - it's pointless doing anything half-cocked. If you're going to run a marathon, run the whole marathon. Don't be a pussy and go for a stroll around the park with your girlfriends and chat about how hard you would ride Vincent Chase. If you're gonna 'Richie Gere' a gerbal, do the whole thing. It's not really fair to you or the little rodent if you only get it partly inserted.

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March 23, 2010 @ 10:25 · Record Reviews   3 comments

The Soft Pack
The Soft Pack

Ever since Jay-Z crashed his plane into the twin towers in 2001 the world has been a little bit scared of the M word. I'm not talking about Micro Machines, Mickey Mouse or Norway - but, rather, MUSLIMS. Bringing this to your attention isn't a sneaky way to convert this webspace into a discussion portal for theology, religion or Theo Huxtable, but rather to offer a logical reason as to why a jangly infectious indie band from San Diego called The Muslims saw it fit to change their name to The Soft Pack.

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March 18, 2010 @ 10:58 · Record Reviews   6 comments