Album Reviews

Danger Mouse and Sparklehorse 'Dark Night of the Soul'

editor@cluas.com — Wed, 24 Jun 2009 00:00:00 GMT

Danger Mouse and Sparklehorse 'Dark Night Of The Soul'

Review Snapshot: Artists fall out with record label, release album for free online as a parting shot. Nope I’m not talking about Machina II by the Smashing Pumpkins, but Dark Night of the Soul by Danger Mouse and friends. DNOTS does dabble, however, in similarly dark realms. Shiny summer pop this isn’t, store it up for the winter. It's late night introverted pop and it's a curious aside in the Danger Mouse canon.

The Cluas Verdict? 6.9 out of 10

Full Review: As if parting ways with Paul McCartney and Radiohead wasn't enough kudos-shattering for one decade, EMI now finds itself embroiled in a right kerfuffle with the enduringly zeitgesity producer-cum-cash cow Danger Mouse. His über collaboration-compilation with Mark Linkous of Sparklehorse - featuring such luminaries as Frank Black, Iggy Pop, Julian Casablancas, Gruff Rhys, and Nina Persson (The Cardigans) - has been streaming online on NPR for the past few weeks , originally in anticipation of a physical release through EMI. However, following disagreement with EMI over release logistics, Mouse et al have opted for the pragmatic route. With David Lynch contributing a vast collection of photography described as a "visual narrative" to the music, the album's completion was marked by a limited release of an artbook of these photographs along with "a blank CD-R as an artefact to use however you see fit".

It might not be available on an official CD release, or via a legitimate download, but this is not something that would stop CLUAS from reviewing it. That nice NPR stream of the album came in handy...

So, how does it rate?

Well, Gnarls Barkley it isn't. Nor would you expect Danger Mouse not to diversify with every new project he embarks on. Given the time of year this album has reached Cluas Towers, you might expect Danger Mouse to have one eye on shiny summer pop-ulism. Not the case. Its a remarkably dark album, perhaps best stored up for those dull introverted winter nights.

Album opener 'Revenge' finds a pensive Flaming Lips churning out what can loosely be described as a sombre retake of 'Fight Test' in that it features the same Wayne Coyne confidence-inducing brand of lyrics but in a far more stifled and moody fashion. Although slow-paced a lá Beck's cover of "I Need Your Lovin (Like The Sunshine)" it does reach an intense drum-laden crescendo, the kind that leaves you wishing that this was a full-length Flaming Lips album in its own right so they could continue exploring this newfound dark sound.

The renaissance of Gruff Rhys finds a new chapter on 'Just War' - it starts out as a swampy slide guitar effort but quickly sidesteps into electricified layers. Although oozing in complexities, its actually quite a simple tongue-in-cheek anti-war song.

Another highlight includes Frank Black's appearance on 'Angel's Harp' - it has all you would want from Black - the thrashy guitars, the iconic wail, its fantastic. Although sounding quite fresh and new, its possibly the most Pixie-esque track he's written since that band stopped recording together.

Apparently all the vocalists on this album were sent instrumental tracks and simply asked to record over them with whatever vocals they wanted and its pretty evident on Iggy Pop's effort 'Pain'. By no means Iggy Pop's worst ever project - see his Sum 41 collaboration - it does come across as a self-indulgent imitation of Ian Curtis. Even though there mightn't have been a Joy Division without the Iggy influence, this song just isn't good.

The rest of the album is very filler-ed - albeit with some bright spots from Nina Persson and Julian Casablancas - but on the whole DNOTS keeps Danger Mouse up there on the producer wishlists across the popular music landscape. Surely Michael Jackson will be on the phone to recruit him for that comeback album any day now...

Ronan Lawlor

Royksopp 'Junior'

editor@cluas.com — Fri, 12 Jun 2009 00:00:00 GMT

A review of the album 'Junior' by Royksopp

Review Snapshot: After an uninspiring and uneven second studio album Royksopp get their groove together with "Junior", their summer collection. If you listen to this album and don't smile at least once you don't have a pulse.

The Cluas Verdict? 8 out of 10

Full Review:
The frankly brilliant "Junior", Royksopp's third studio album, puts a lie to one of the great musical clichés: disposable pop. Pop is pop. If it's good it's good. If it's bad it's bad. If it's "Junior" it's an indisposable treasure.

"Junior" is one of the best pop albums this year by a mile, it's varied in tone, it's skewed in its sounds and its sentiments, but best of all it's pure fun. Take the opener, "Happy up here". When asked about JFK Angie Dickinson said he was "the best two and a half minutes I ever had". Alter the context slightly and you could easily say the same about "Happy up here" - it kicks off with a couple of stoner giggles and thereafter it morphs into a Nordic take on the Tom Tom Club's sublime "Genius of Love". Not a note or a millisecond is wasted here and it make you feel like you're fifteen and in love with the world. It's an almost impossible standard to maintain.

In fairness "Royksopp forever", the moody instrumental, is remarkably unremarkable and "Tricky tricky" is a musical itch that never gets scratched. Ignore these and listen to "True to life" – its beats are slippery than a bag of eels, you could recite a phone book over it and sound good but instead Royksopp come up with a moody little droned verse and a ravishingly sweet chorus sighed by Anneli Drecker. "Across the graveyard", the final cut, is the instrumental Air spent their lives trying to write, afterglow soft as soft and, again, summery as a breeze. "The girl and the robot", on the other hand, is a girl alone - "I'm in love with a robot" - waiting for someone to come home. The melody is mildly reminiscent of Depeche Mode's "Enjoy the silence" but Robyn gives it some gripping desperation and isolation:

"Fell asleep again in front of MTV
God, I'm down at the bottom
No one's singing songs for me
I can't wait for tomorrow"

"Vision 1" on the other hand, is the best song you never heard on a summer holiday, best heard in a beach bar on tinny little speakers. It's unadulterated Europop with excruciatingly hippy lyrics:

"Everybody let us gaze upon the world, we created
And must rest our eyes upon the great machine, as we wave goodbye"

That reads awfully but sounds sublime. "Vision 1" is wrapped in sugar and synths and bottomed out with a leathery synth bassline but the lyrics and again, Anneli Drecker's almost angelic tone rip your heart out.

The band themselves say that "Junior" is their optimistic album and that the follow up, "Senior", will reflect their darker more contemplative side. If they are true to their word "Senior" will really be a Vale of tears. For now though "Junior" is all of the things that great pop can be: uplifting, provocative, laugh-out loud funny.

Anthony Morrissey

The View 'Which Bitch?'

editor@cluas.com — Thu, 11 Jun 2009 00:00:00 GMT

A review of the album 'Which Bitch?' by The View

Review Snapshot: A failed attempt by the 'Dundonian upstarts' to recreate the magic of their debut album, 'Hats Off to the Buskers.' In the words of all of our favourite teachers, 'a good effort, but a lot more work is needed.'

The Cluas Verdict? 4 out of 10

Full Review:
I recall listening to an excellent album in 2007 which shaped my summer, this album was 'Hats off to the Buskers', the debut album from ambitious Scots The View. It was a personal portrayal of working-class life and the lyrics and music were immeasurably perfect. My hopes were high for their follow up 'Which Bitch?' They needn't have been.

Evidently life has changed for the band since the success of their debut. In particular, the lead singer Kyle Falconer moved out of his Dundee council-estate family home into a central London apartment. Surely this would cause progression in the band's music? It's apparent from the outset of the album that The View are desperately trying to retain the 'working-class, hard life' attitude that dominated their first album. It was believable then. It's not believable now.

Tracks such as 'Double Yellow Lines' and '5Rebeccas' make for dull listening, rarely showing any stand-out melodies or lyrics. It's nearly impossible to engage with these songs, they're not even vaguely memorable and are easily forgotten. It's evident they've tried, but perhaps a bit too hard?

Ballad 'Unexpected' is a poignant addition to the album. Falconer wrote it about his father, who passed away from cancer when he was a child. Violins and cellos add to the already emotive song, effectively portraying the despair Falconer must have felt at the time. It's a heart-wrenching track, with lyrics such as 'You would lead a shortened life/cause your light was running low.'

Their latest single 'Temptation Dice' is arguably the best track here with a Libertine-esque catchy riff and an overall danceable tune. The lyrics may be indecipherable at times, but it seems to complement the music perfectly. In this song they caught the essence of their first album that was somehow lost along the way.

Paolo Nutini was recording his new album in a studio in Wales near to where The View were recording 'Which Bitch?' They, wisely, roped him into collaborating with them on the track 'Covers', beautifully singing with Falconer and giving the album a lift. This track is definitely a high-point on 'Which Bitch?', it has real emotion and is noticeably different to every other track on the album. It is, in contrast to several other tracks, memorable and somewhat redeems the otherwise lifeless album.

'Realisation' is, without a doubt, the album's worst track. Bassist Kieron Webster takes on singing duties for most of this track, but the song just seems so long , even though it's only 3:41 in length. It seems very rushed, and it's difficult to tell what 'style' they were trying to go for. A disappointment at best. One redeeming grace on this track is the acappella line 'Take for granted Eagers omen/Stories lost its moment.' It's all in harmony and is sublime. I can't help but think that if they'd paid as much attention to the rest of the song as they did this line, it could be something wonderful.

Overall, 'Which Bitch?' is lacking in the musical genius which was present in The View's first album. I hold out hope that this album was mainly experimental, and that any future releases will contain the excitable, emotional rollercoaster they portrayed in the past.

Aideen O'Flaherty

Manic Street Preachers 'A Journal For Plague Lovers'

editor@cluas.com — Thu, 11 Jun 2009 00:00:00 GMT

A review of the album 'A Journal For Plague Lovers' by Manic Street Preachers

Review Snapshot:
Fourteen years ago Richey Edwards, the then lyricist and rhythm guitarist of the Manic Street Preachers, went missing at a well-known suicide spot on the Severn. And despite a handful of alleged sightings of the former Manic, was in November of last year announced dead. And now in 2009, A Journal for Plague Lovers adds another chapter to the legacy of one of Britain's great songwriters.

The Cluas Verdict? 8 out of 10

Full Review:
For those of us inclined to sentimentality, the Richey Edwards saga has been an ongoing source of enchantment, never allowing us to stray too far from Manic album releases, on the admittedly slight chance that the tragic lyricist might return. Sadly, since it has been well over a decade since his disappearance, it would seem unlikely that such a scenario might arise and so A Journal for Plague Lovers serves as the next best thing.

The use on this album of a folder of poetry left by Edwards is a source of controversy that has split opinion amongst even the most hardcore fans of the Manic Street Preachers. For some it is a worthy homage to the band member who supplied so much of the content that made 1994's 'The Holy Bible' such a mesmerising and quintessential rock offering. For others, the folder of poetry left behind embodies the most intimate of details written by the troubled icon in his darkest moments and question whether it is advisable to put these words to music after so much time has passed. According to the band themselves, the lyrics were simply too good to be left unreleased.

From the instant that the opening track 'Peeled Apples' kicks in, you get the impression that this is the Manics back to their best. There are the movie snippet sound clips that have become a common feature of their albums, followed by thumping bass lines and the familiar grungy guitar riffs of James Dean Bradfield. On this album the Manics are typically outspoken and meddlesome. The first track explores the role of brands and consumerism as Bradfield roars out:
"The levi jean will always be stronger than an uzi" and "A series of images against you and me trespass your torment if you are what you want to be".

And without time for so much as a breath, the second song on the album kicks off. 'Jackie Collins Existential Question Time' is arguably the strongest track on the album, combining the various elements that over the years have merged to define the Manics, such as the anthemic guitar riffs, caustic lyrics and the inimitable vocals of Bradfield.

A Journal for Plague Lovers has, in parts, an uncomfortably overwrought feel to it. The lyrics are that of a confused, emotional mind struggling to get a grip on the multiplicity of mysteries in modern society. 'She bathed herself in a bath of bleach' for example, is a fairly cynical insight into the pitfalls of love and lust.

Despite the gritty and often forlorn nature of the album, it enthralls from start to finish. Undoubtedly there is enough quality on the album to whet the appetites of the now almost famished Preachers' fans (their last album 'Send away the tigers' wasn't all that great) and enough to re-ignite the interests of those who were often sitting on the fence in relation to the Welsh band. With the ominous sounding riffs and frenetic vocals, A Journal for Plague Lovers sounds more like a follow up to The Holy Bible than any other Manics release.

Kevin Boyle

The Pretenders 'Break Up The Concrete'

editor@cluas.com — Thu, 11 Jun 2009 00:00:00 GMT

A review of the album 'Break Up The Concrete' by The Pretenders

Review Snapshot: Though it leans more towards blues and country than its predecessors, the ninth album by Chrissie Hynde et al. is still recognizably safe classic rock. But slipping it into a Greatest Hits package feels needlessly defeatist.

The Cluas Verdict? 4.5 out of 10

Full Review:
This is odd: our review copy of the new album by The Pretenders comes in a double CD with a Best Of. What’s more, the hits compilation is Disc 1 of this set and the new album is Disc 2. You’d think it’d be a brave record company exec who’d propose this to Chrissie Hynde.

Do you really need us to review The Pretenders’ hits? Surely you already know from constant airplay those smart late-‘70s rockers, radio-friendly ‘80s poppers and blustery ‘90s stadium ballads. (We’ll only point out that this compilation doesn’t include a catchy 1999 cover of The Divinyls’ ‘Human’, which is a pity.)

So, the new album, then. For the most part, ‘Break Up The Concrete’ is unremarkable blues-tinted MOR rock. Hynde, forever in skinny jeans and black t-shirt, still pulls the same rawk chick shapes but with a hint of nostalgic wistfulness on gentle country rock numbers like ‘You Didn’t Have To’, ‘One Thing Never Changed’ and ‘Love’s A Mystery’ (“Lovers of today/Aren’t like lovers of the past”). It’s strange and slightly sad to now associate Hynde, one of rock’s great icon(oclast)s, with concepts like ‘nostalgia’ and ‘gentle country rock’. But then, you can hardly expect iconoclasm from someone who subordinates her new album to a Greatest Hits disc in the same package.

There are a couple of interesting moments on this record all the same. Opener ‘Boots Of Chinese Plastic’ is a rousing bit of rockabilly, a sound that suits Hynde’s attitude and voice. (Unfortunately, it’s let down by naff verses about Buddha, Hari Krishna, Allah and Jesus.) And ‘Almost Perfect’ is an acoustic bossa nova groove where Hynde sounds jazzy and (almost) fresh – could that be for her a new route worth investigating?

Anyway, Hynde would do well to heed her album title: please destroy that dull, grey rock. And next time let your new album stand or fall on its merits rather than hide it under the oldies.

Aidan Curran

Astrid Williamson 'Here Come The Vikings'

editor@cluas.com — Thu, 11 Jun 2009 00:00:00 GMT

A review of the album 'Here Come The Vikings' by Astrid Williamson

Review Snapshot: One glorious lyric aside, a record of chugging ones, epic ones, book-smart lyrics and all the regulars of indie-by-numbers. You’re a busy person with other records to hear and other things to do, so this needn’t detain you.

The Cluas Verdict? 5 out of 10

Full Review:
The fourth solo album by former Goya Dress singer Astrid Williamson is more plugged-in and amped-up than her previous records. Unfortunately, while for her this might be a grand creative leap, for the listener ‘Here Come The Vikings’ is mid-table indie-rock of the sort you’ve heard many times before.

To be fair, there are brief flashes of personality on show here. When she rocks out, like on opening ‘Store’, Williamson has a strong and soaring voice similar to ‘The Lion And The Cobra’-era Sinead O’Connor. But a lot of the uptempo tracks here are unoriginal and unimaginative chuggernauts, while slower numbers like ‘Crashing Minis’ and ‘Pinned’ strain themselves to sound like epic heartstring-tuggers.

The blandness of the music is reflected in the lyrics, which mostly have a sense of being all craft and no feeling. The poppy ‘Sing The Body Electric’ shoehorns in fairly arbitrary references to Isambard Kingdom Brunel and Walt Whitman, as if Williamson desperately wants us to know that she knows who they are. And then at the other extreme, ‘Falling Down’ features the anodyne ‘insight’ and uninspired clichés of your average Celine Dion or Bon Jovi hit: “They say a little information/Can be a dangerous thing… Love is all we need/Why do we keep on falling down?”

At least ‘Shut Your Mouth’ features an innuendo-drenched couplet that even Cole Porter would have envied: “Please forgive my pursuit of you/But I have to get to the root of you.” (Keeping in that spirit, our spellcheck wants us to change Astrid’s first name to ‘Astride’.)

But apart from that tantalising flash of invention, there’s nothing new or memorable about this record. You couldn’t imagine real Vikings coming and going so unremarkably.

Aidan Curran

Julie Feeney 'Pages'

editor@cluas.com — Wed, 10 Jun 2009 00:00:00 GMT

A review of the album Pages by Julie Feeney

Review Snapshot: There isn't an artist quite like Julie Feeney at work in Ireland today, her music is at once eccentric, grounded, cheeky and vulnerable. Having snatched the inaugural Choice Music Prize in 2005, 'Pages' may see her be the first to do the double.

The Cluas Verdict? 9 out of 10

Full Review:
Reading the liner notes of Julie Feeney's second album 'Pages' will likely have you questioning just what the hell you've been doing with your time. Finally managing to clean out the shed or alphabetise your CD collection can't help but pale in comparison to writing, composing, orchestrating, conducting, producing and performing your own album. Even if the end result was less than brilliant, you'd have to admire Feeney's efforts, but this is a record of sparkling innovation and excitement.

Feeney's voice is as dextrous and beautifully textured as on her debut and is expertly layered over arrangements that satisfy both classical and pop sensibilities. 'Love Is A Tricky Thing' proves a playful opener that sets out the lyrical themes of the album while also showcasing Julie's talent for orchestration, particularly strings in this case. These aren't identikit string arrangements from the School of David Arnold Adoration; this is a woman expertly choosing each and every note with the sole function of expressing and realising her artistic vision.

The layered vocals on tracks like 'Valentine's Day' and 'Myth' create a Greek chorus type effect that builds to a cacophonous crescendo, while 'Stay' is a heartfelt lullaby that mops the brow clean of anxiety and doubt. There is a theatricality to the music of 'Pages' that is more Sondheim than Gilbert & Sullivan, less greasepaint and more grace, while Feeney's lyrics are crafted with cathartic intent rather than nodding to narrative, rendering them all the more affective as a result.

The humour of 'Mr. Roving Eye Guy' and the percussive gallop of 'Monster' bring us skipping towards the end but not before an ode to eternal optimism in the form of closing track 'Knock Knock'. For someone who soldiered on through her own creative process, largely in isolation, ending 'Pages' on such a hopeful note, proves poignant. “With innocent eyes and expectant faces, momentary amnesia lured by graces, perils forgotten and the heart embraces knock knock it's here again.”

Perhaps the most striking thing about this record is just how perfectly conceived of and executed each element is. From studying composition to holing herself up at an artist's retreat in Annaghmakerrig, Julie Feeney's sheer force of will and commitment to the expression of her own artistic ideas, and ideals, can be heard in every note of 'Pages'.

Jan Ní Fhlanagáin

We Were Promised Jetpacks 'These Four Walls'

editor@cluas.com — Sun, 07 Jun 2009 00:00:00 GMT

A review of the album These Four Walls by We Were Promised Jetpacks

Review Snapshot: A confident statement of intent from this Edinburgh four piece who are staunch in their sound and endearing in its execution. They don’t always hit the highs they’re aiming for but there are clear indicators that they’ll reach them in time.

The Cluas Verdict? 6.5 out of 10

Full Review:
We Were Promised Jetpacks are not a band you’d mess with lightly. Pale-faced indie kids with lilied livers they most certainly are not. Opening track ‘It’s Thunder and it’s Lightning’ nails their colours firmly to the mast as a solid, energetic and forceful foursome intent on blowing away the competition.

From the off there’s an honesty to frontman Adam Thompson’s vocals that draws you in, just like label mates and fellow countrymen ‘The Twilight Sad’ and ‘Frightened Rabbit’ the Scottish brogue certainly helps but there’s much more to him than that. His voice is expertly engineered to shift from sullen to soaring in a matter of seconds and serves as the perfect counterpoint to the thundering drumming that drives this record on.

You’ll struggle to catch your breath for the first four songs of These Four Walls, the pace is frenetic and the sound intense. Fifth track ‘A Half Built House’ is, in some ways, a half built song in that it seems to act as an intermission of sorts, however, it also offers a glimpse at the palette of found sounds that lie behind the pulsating drums and power chords.

‘Quiet Little Voices’ (the debut single off the album) is, in essence, a perfectly crafted blitz of indie rock but loses some of its punch by the time you get to the fourth minute! In fact most of the songs that make up the later half of the record could have benefited from a tighter reign. The lyrical and melodic idea at the centre of penultimate track ‘Keeping Warm’ just gets lost in 8 minutes, but the closing couplet it forms with largely acoustic track ‘An Almighty Thud’ gives the album a more rounded sound and tempers the frantic pace of earlier tracks.

There’s a lot to like about We Were Promised Jetpacks in that for good or bad this is clearly the record they wanted to make, unlike say White Lies, there’s no over-reliance on influences, instead there’s a confidence, a bloody mindedness and a commitment to their sound that marks them out as ones to watch. If they can marry the energy of tracks like ‘Roll Up Your Sleeves’ with the scope hinted at in ‘A Half Built House’ they’re sure to merit the mantle of next big thing.

Jan Ní Fhlanagáin

Placebo 'Battle For The Sun'

editor@cluas.com — Thu, 28 May 2009 00:00:00 GMT

A review of the album Battle For The Sun by Placebo

Review Snapshot: If this is how good Placebo sound when they choose to write about 'stepping out of the darkness and into the light' can somebody please arrange to shower Brian Molko with sunlight for the foreseeable future? An album full of urgency and optimism, Battle for the Sun has the potential to be regarded as Placebo's finest work.

The Cluas Verdict? 9.5 out of 10

Full Review:
After 13 years, 5 studio albums and 10 million album sales, you would have to wonder what possible reasons Placebo have to keep going, especially after the loss of major label backing and Steve Hewitt, the band's drummer for the past 11 years. Wonder no more, the reason is clear; after spending over a decade dealing with life in the shadows, Placebo, and Brian Molko in particular, have decided to focus on optimism and positivity, the result of which is Battle for the Sun (released June 8).

Those of you familiar with the Placebo back catalogue, 2006's Meds in particular, will be aware that darkness seemed to be an essential element in terms of shaping Placebo's songs, almost to the point of self-parody. Indeed, at that stage that Placebo were arguably, to quote our own Aidan Curran, 'a band who's future was long behind them.' That's most definitely not the case however, and while there are still some dark themes on Battle for the Sun it is hard not to feel the sense of optimism that seeps from every nook and cranny of this record. Track 6, Bright Lights, for example contains the following refrain: A heart that hurts/is a heart that works. It's simple, yet equally effective and evocative and a million miles adrift of songs like Pierrot the Clown (Meds, 2006) or Summer's Gone (Without You I'm Nothing, 1998).

The album, recorded in Toronto over three months with Dave Bottrill (dEUS, Silverchair, Muse) and mixed by Alan Moulder (My Bloody Valentine, Smashing Pumpkins, Nine Inch Nails), actually gets off to a very inauspicious start with Kitty Litter. For the first 3 minutes, it sounds like typical Placebo fair, musically competent, lyrically excellent and then there is a subtle change of direction and bang, we have the new Placebo. This continues straight into the excellent Ashtray Heart, which has more in common with the likes of Broken Social Scene and Arcade Fire (it must be the Toronto air) than the Placebo of old.

Battle for the Sun contains far too many standout tracks to list them all. The sense of urgency that drives almost every track, combined with very polished production, creates a unique listening experience where you find yourself waiting for the next track while not wanting the current track to end. New drummer Steve Forrest does an exceptional job considering his mere 22 years and his pounding of the skins plays an important part on the majority of tracks, lead single For What it's Worth in particular.

When I review records, I start off with a score of 10 and try to find reasons to deduct marks. With Battle for the Sun I found it very difficult to find fault. It's as accomplished as it is refreshing and while producing an album that defies genres (and indeed people's pre-conceptions of them, this writer included) will be sure to garner Placebo new fans (maybe even Aidan), it is also a record that will startle and delight their many existing fans. I can give Battle for the Sun no higher praise than to say it could well prove to be the essential Placebo album.

Steve O'Rourke

Laura Izibor 'Let The Truth Be Told'

editor@cluas.com — Wed, 27 May 2009 00:00:00 GMT

A review of the album Let The Truth Be Told by Laura Izibor

Review Snapshot: Pretty face on the cover? Check. Impressive voice? Check. Middle of the road, vaguely familiar sounding songs? Check. It appears we have found this years Nora Jones/Alicia Keys/Dido

The Cluas Verdict? 3.5 out of 10

Full Review:
I've always believed that musicians should put more thought into their album titles, especially albums they know will be critically reviewed. Let The Truth Be Told, really? Okay, the truth is that, despite being touted as the next big thing since winning the 2FM Song Contest at the age of 15, Laura Izibor has produced an album that is the musical equivalent to magnolia paint. In other words, Let The Truth Be Told is blandness personified. No doubt then, it will be huge.

You see, Let The Truth Be Told is not an album, no, it is very much a product (what credible musician finds it necessary to plug the type of make-up she uses on her website?). As a collection of music it borrows very heavily from the song books of the likes of Lauren Hill and Alicia Keys. Izibor's vocal phrasing is also reminiscent of Keys (and oddly, Ronan Keating at times!). Lyrically, Izibor deals almost exclusively with matters of the heart and though her lyrics are firmly in the Des'ree (I'd rather have a piece of toast) category: Only get a short time on this earth/you gotta make each moment worth/something beautiful/you gotta give every bit of you/with love, half won't do, oooh, they will have a certain amount of appeal.

It's not awful. Shine, with its catchy chorus and simple structure is almost the perfect summer pop hit. Likewise, the touch of gospel that makes its way into the albums final track MMM... might be a pointer as to the direction of Izibor's sophomore album. However, it would be remiss of me to review this album as anything other than a product designed to sell bucket loads of units and pay back some of the plentiful investment Izibor has received from Atlantic Records.

As a product, it has it all. She's gorgeous for a start, possesses a great voice and has the ability to appeal to the very profitable American market. I've no doubt it will be very successful. Whether anyone who buys it will still be listening to it in 6 months time is another matter altogether.

Steve O'Rourke

Subplots 'Nightcycles'

editor@cluas.com — Mon, 25 May 2009 00:00:00 GMT

A review of the album Nightcycles by Subplots

Review Snapshot: At times melodic, at times fractured, Nightcycles is at all times a beautiful and ambitious debut long player and, for that, Subplots must be applauded.

The Cluas Verdict? 8 out of 10

Full Review:
While it is fairly obvious that Phil Boughton, Daryl Chaney and Michael Orange listened to a lot of Radiohead while they were growing up, it would be unfair to peg Subplots as yet another Radiohead wannabe. Having set tongues wagging and ears twitching with the excellent We Carved Our Names in Glass EP in 2008, the band have released an album that shows them as a trio not afraid to plough their own furrow.

Recorded over an 18 month period with Ciaran Bradshaw (Dark Room Notes, Oliver Cole) it's no surprise to learn that the 10 tracks that make up Nightcycles were recorded at the same time as last years EP and the single Alarm. Opening with the sparse yet melodic 16:9, Nightcycles contains some of the most beautifully crafted songs you're likely to hear this year.

The stand out track for me is the dark, brooding Anchors and Kites, which sounds like the best song Mercury Rev never wrote. Other notable tracks include Leech (though it is probably the most Radiohead-esque track on the album), Remainders and closing track, Violent Sea.

Despite all its charms, Nightcycles isn't an instantly accessible album and Subplots unique approach to song structure and melody may not suit everyone. Not that music has to be accessible, indeed I tend to personally favour music that requires some effort. However, from a commercial point of view it is difficult to imagine any of the tracks (outside Anchors and Kites and Remainders) receiving much radio play.

Overall, Nightcycles is as accomplished as it is ambitious. Littered with tracks of exquisite beauty, Nightcycles is a must for anyone whose music collection is not dictated by current trends.

Steve O'Rourke

Tom Brosseau 'Posthumous Success'

editor@cluas.com — Mon, 11 May 2009 00:00:00 GMT

A review of the album 'Posthumous Success' by Tom Brosseau

Review Snapshot: The sound of a singer-songer in creative transition and perhaps finding his true voice. This album’s folk foundations are weak when exposed to attentive listening, but Brosseau’s other aspect is an alt-rock swagger that infuses this record with wit and personality.

The Cluas Verdict? 6.5 out of 10

Full Review:
The self-deprecating title of Tom Brosseau’s third album suggests that this North Dakota native may be of that rare species: a male acoustic singer-songer with a sense of humour.

And for the most part this is true. ‘Posthumous Success’ is a likeable sort of record that brings a refreshingly alternative range of influences to bear on the familiar old folk-pop format. ‘Big Time’, with its wry declaration of wannabe ambition, shudders with a treated electric riff that would sound at home on stage at the Enormodome. There’s a triumphant lo-fi sneer to ‘You Don’t Know My Friends’ which is picked up again in a veritable Lou Reed tribute called ‘Drumroll’. That VU sound suits Brosseau and he wears it like he owns it.

Strangely enough, though, he’s less convincing whenever he chooses to emphasise the folk style that probably inspired these songs at the writing stage. Brosseau’s thin, vibrato-drenched voice just isn’t robust enough to carry the weight of sincere balladry. On something self-consciously rootsy like ‘Wishbone Medallion’ he sounds like a college boy pretending to be a gnarled old-time bluesman by putting on a fake moustache and his granddad’s hat. ‘Favourite Colour Blue’ (in two versions that top and tail this album) and ‘Been True’ sound whiny. And ‘Axe & Stump’ is the sort of Ritter-esque laboured lovelorn sincerity best left in the bedsit.

So, to recap: sometimes Brosseau plays and sings with the indie swagger and dry cynicism of a young man, which is where this record fairly buzzes with attitude and personality. Other times he tugs the forelock to traditional folk and blues, and then it all sounds flat and faintly contrived.

Given these two aspects of this album, it’s no surprise to learn that half the songs were recorded in upstate New York and the other half in Portland, Oregon. Whichever of those two locations got Brosseau into his Velvets frame of mind, there he should stay for 100% of his next record.

Aidan Curran

Storsveit Nix Noltes 'Royal Family - Divorce'

editor@cluas.com — Sat, 09 May 2009 00:00:00 GMT

A review of the album 'Royal Family - Divorce' by Storsveit Nix Noltes

Review Snapshot: Balkan folk instrumentals tarted up with punk riffing and a brief spell of shoegazing squall. The genre sound is done well but the lack of variety in the tracks means your interest will wear off very soon, though it's probably good fun live.

The Cluas Verdict? 6 out of 10

Full Review:
The band’s name is sufficiently Scandinavian and melodic to suggest that they deal in catchy tunes – and with that allusion to Hollywood hellraiser Nick Nolte, arse-kickingly catchy tunes at that. Plus, that album title can only be said in a Lydon-esque sneer. This seemed promising.

Imagine our disappointment, then, to hear a full album of instrumental Balkan folk. For that, dear friends, is what ‘Royal Family Divorce’ by Icelandic post-rock supergroup Storsveit Nix Noltes gives you.

If you’ve ever seen a film by Emir Kusturica, then you’ve heard this kind of music in a typical scene of his: the scrawny, scruffy middle-aged peasant somehow manages to pull the sultry young gypsy babe and at the wedding the entire campsite is dancing around to it. (Your reviewer hasn’t seen Kusturica’s film on Diego Maradona yet, so we’re curious as to how he’ll work a Balkan gypsy wedding scene into that one. Perhaps Napoli take a pre-season tour of rural pre-war Yugoslavia.)

Oh, but there’s a bit of modernising and indie-ing up done to the genre: some fairly basic electric guitar chugging through all the numbers. Second-last track ‘Winding Horo’ (most of the track titles have ‘Horo’ in them: we believe it’s Serbo-Croat for “condescending, middle-class Lonely-Planet ethno-tourism”) has a bit of MBV-style screeching, the only point where this record briefly considers taking a creative risk.

Look, it’s not a bad album and were you to hear this music live you’d probably have a good night. But on record the whole thing is samey to the point of boredom: same rhythms, same arrangements, no vocals or variety to break things up. It’s background music for when you’re dancing with a sultry young gypsy, and it doesn’t bear attentive listening.

And maybe it’s just us but there’s something vaguely dispiriting about a bunch of Reykjavik indie kids turning out a Balkan folk record. Perhaps it’s the same culturally-right-on self-satisfaction that makes many fans of Beirut so insufferable. (Your reviewer has a hip local bookstore whose staff we’re thinking of here; we’re sure they’ll love this album.)

But if you’re engaged to marry a Serbian gypsy or a bourgeois-bohemian ethno-tourist, this’ll be a hit at the wedding reception.

Aidan Curran

Official Secrets Act 'Understanding Electricity'

editor@cluas.com — Mon, 04 May 2009 00:00:00 GMT

A review of the album 'Understanding Electricity' by Official Secrets Act

Review Snapshot: Reasonable debut from the London art-rockers - with synth-stylings of the New Romantic era allied to the post-punk guitars of Franz Ferdinand, this release suggests a decent future for the group. However, given the lack of moments of true genius, one wonders if this album will truly catapult them into the indie stratosphere.

The Cluas Verdict? 6.5 out of 10

Full Review:
Good God, it’s like the ‘80s never went away. The last time the country struggled through such an economic crisis, the airwaves were populated by a plethora of dubiously-attired, synthesizer-based acts.

Arriving on the scene with their meticulously-coiffed hair, Adam Ant facepaint and clipped English accents, it would be very easy to dismiss Official Secrets Act as an anachronism, a hark back to a bygone age of legwarmers and Spandau Ballet. (Although they’re back too, aren’t they?) Delve a little into their album, though, and one realises that, whatever about originality, there are enough tunes here to hold one’s attention.

‘Understanding Electricity’ opens with ‘Mainstream’, a reasonably catchy, mildly diverting piece of saccharine pop, but it’s not until the second track that the album really takes off. Powered by Alexander McKenzie’s fierce yet disciplined drumming, the single ‘So Tomorrow’ is one of the standout tunes. Possessing an insistent chorus, it might just be enough to keep this band around for a while, although, given the flaky nature of the music industry at present, that may be a forlorn hope.

The songs are compact and well-produced, characterised by Thomas Charge Burke’s high-pitched singing and Lawrence Diamond’s inventive basslines. Throughout, there are frequent references to the group’s most beloved decade – ‘Hold The Line’, with its references to Japan and “playing guitar to Tears for Fears”, nails the (Official Secrets) act’s colours firmly to the mast. ‘Bloodsport’ is akin to a slowed-down version of A-Ha’s ‘The Sun Always Shines On TV’.

The highlight, however, is the epic ‘Momentary Sanctuary’. Opening with an ominous-sounding bass rumble, it’s a tune that simmers intently for three minutes before finally uncovering its true colours in the final two. As strings are introduced, the song segues into a fantasy-like sequence, with Lawrence Diamond stepping up most impressively to the microphone and delivering a beautiful, Chris Martin-like (no sniggering at the back) vocal. If there is to be a second album, we’ll have more of this please.

The main stumbling block for this album, however, is the gimmicky nature of some of the music. Like alcohol, a synthesizer is all very well if used responsibly, but in recalling every cheap electronic sound from Depeche Mode to Erasure, Official Secrets Act have left themselves ripe for ridicule. Burke’s vocals, while distinctive, can grate on repeated listens. His lyrics can also display an annoying naivete at times: “Take me back to the mainstream”, he pleads on the opening track. Back, Thom? Probably best to arrive and leave first, before returning.

In summary, it would be unfair to be overly harsh on ‘Understanding Electricity’. Slightly derivative and over-glossy fare it may be, but there are a lot more melodic hooks here than you would find on most bog-standard indie albums of today. And, in all honesty, if The Kooks can sell millions of records now, then why not these guys?

Mark Townsend

Silversun Pickups 'Swoon'

editor@cluas.com — Tue, 28 Apr 2009 00:00:00 GMT

A review of the album 'Swoon' by Silversun Pickups

Review Snapshot: Competent but slightly dull sophomore release from the California-based four-piece. Following on from the success of ‘Carnavas’, their debut album, ‘Swoon’ is polished and well-played but lacks the irresistible hook of their early single ‘Lazy Eye’.

The Cluas Verdict? 5.5 out of 10

Full Review:
So long as Brian Aubert sings angst-filled lyrics in a reedy-voiced manner to the background of heavily-distorted guitars, there will always be a Smashing Pumpkins reference waiting to be mentioned when discussing Silversun Pickups. From the opposite side of America they may be, but aside from the voice, guitars, female bass player and the same initials (am I stretching this?) there was the gorgeous ‘1979’-esque mellow groove of their breakthrough single ‘Lazy Eye’.

With their second release Silversun Pickups seem to have edged away slightly from early ‘90s American grunge and replaced it as a touchstone by the English shoegazing scene of the same era. Unfortunately, they appear to have also skimped on the classic rock songs that made them popular in the first place.

The album begins promisingly enough with ‘There’s No Secrets This Year’. With its taut drumming and heavily-layered guitars, it echoes the work of British shoegaze revivalists My Vitriol. On a good day, of course.

This then segues into ‘The Royal We’. Adding strings to their initial foundation, it’s a song you could imagine being sung by Evanescence, with lyrics about as emo as you could hope for. “How many times do you want to die?” asks Aubert. Well, just the once will do it for me, thanks.

The musicianship of the group impresses throughout. 'Growing Old Is Getting Old' brings Pink Floyd-like guitars to the mix before bursting into a energetic if slightly predictable nu-metal-lite climax. Whatever the band is lacking, it’s not instrumental ability. A catchy chorus or killer melody, however, would not go astray. As it is, there is no standout track on the album that looks likely to surpass or even match the promise of their earlier releases. Lead single ‘Panic Switch’ is a good example of this - technically excellent, it is easy to admire but, given its cold and clinical nature, hard to love.

‘Substitution’ is probably the closest they come to replicating their initial success - think 'You Were My Last High' by The Dandy Warhols with slightly more urgency and higher-pitched vocals. But it still promises more than it eventually delivers, which is symptomatic of the album. While the Pickups possess certain ability and the occasional noteworthy riff, very rarely does this translate into a fully-formed coherent song. Instead, very often the idea is overplayed and overlong: containing only ten tracks, the album lasts for more than fifty minutes.

The album closer ‘Surrounded Or Spiralling’ ends with a curious question: “Is it perfect in our little hell?” It’s a slightly misguided phrase; morose, carefully constructed yet frequently melodic, ‘Swoon’ never verges close to hell. Purgatory, however, seems a perfect place for where it is pitched.

Mark Townsend

Jabbas 'Upside to the Downside'

editor@cluas.com — Thu, 23 Apr 2009 00:00:00 GMT

A review of the album Upside to the Downside by Jabbas

Review Snapshot: Upside to the Downside doesn't break any new musicial boundaries but its infusion of edgy urban beats and toe-tapping electro-pop ensures that there's pleanty to keep all but the most fickle of listeners coming back again and again.

The Cluas Verdict? 7 out of 10

Full Review:
Jabbas is a very aspirational young man. Before I began to listen to his debut album, Upside to the Downside, I was challenged to cut up everything I thought I knew about rock, pop and dance and throw the pieces into a pot of glue. Indeed, even then, what came out would only go some of the way to explaining what Jabbas sounds like. An interesting challenge when you're dealing with something as subjective and emotive as music, I'm sure you'll agree but it is also an exercise well worth undertaking, especially when the album in question, for the most part, delivers.

The record sleeve claims that this album was recorded in bedrooms in Castlegregory and Dublin, and its lo-fi production values will not be to everyone's taste. That being said, this is the ultimate self-produced record, with Jabbas playing virtually every instrument and proving to be very competent on them all.

Upside to the Downside opens with the following line 'Baby, I'm your one stop shop for all your needs.' Generally, it's a promise that Jabbas lives up to. This record contains a pick-n-mix of musical styles from euro-pop to Beck-esque sleazy rock, without ever sounding disjointed. The stand out tracks are Electrotable Town, Make Amends, Ephemera and the title track, even if the verses of the later do sound a little like David Byrne's Lazy at times (it even contains the lyric, ironically enough, 'I'm never lazy, I'm always late'). Indeed, it is this feeling of familiarity (despite the number of genres that the album spans) that, paradoxically, will drive some listeners away and keep yet more coming back.

Overall, Upside to the Downside is, despite the high standards it sets itself, a very accomplished debut album and showcases Jabbas as both a talented songwriter and multi-instrumentalist. More importantly, it leaves you eagerly anticipating album number two.

Steve O'Rourke

Herm 'Monsters'

editor@cluas.com — Thu, 16 Apr 2009 00:00:00 GMT

A review of the album Monsters by Herm

Review Snapshot: Monsters is an excellent album whose only fault is that it contains so many disparate song styles that it sometimes sounds more like a 'best of' than you would expect debut record.

The Cluas Verdict? 8 out of 10

Full Review:
Herm (known to the passport office as Kevin Connolly) is, as he likes to say, the result of a short-lived relationship in the late 70's between Her and Him; writing his first song at the age of 8, about alcohol addiction. More than that, Herm and his Hermanos are a blend of like-minded afficionados of folk, pop, rock and everything else they can get their hands on. They follow up their well received Rosemary EP with Monsters a fine, if slightly disjointed, debut album.

Opening with The Way, a song Johnny Cash could have sold 10 million copies of had he written it, Herm diplays his one man orchestral skills (guitar, keys, percussion and vox) to great effect, without ever sounding like he's showing off. The album then takes a different turn, with Connolly showing his flair from melodic indie-pop with Heads, the lead single from the album and perhaps the most catchy song every written about cannibalism (Step 1: Rub me down with grease/Step 2: Cook me in the fire/Step 3: Cut me into pieces/Eat me when I'm done). I'm sure (okay I hope) it's actually a song about the unforgiving nature of the music industry, but it's unnerving mix of macabre lyrics and pop sensibilities is, in equal measure, eerie and unforgettable.

Then, just when you think you know Herm, and what he's about, the opening chords of the most beautiful song you'll hear this year begin. Year of the Horse is one of those delicate bedroom dramas (think Stars - Midnight Coward) that is all the better for convincing you that the conversation between Connolly and Nina Hynes is one that you shouldn't be listening to but, like that couple fighting on the bus, you just can't help it. Hynes vocals are gorgeous and contrast perfectly with Connolly's on this track. If this song doesn't end up soundtracking some indie kids first wedding dance this year, I'll eat a copy of Monsters (assuming, of course, it's vegetarian friendly!).

If this album has any faults it's that Herm has, if this is possible, too many good ideas. Monsters disparate mix of song styles actually make it feel more like a 'best of' album than a debut album should. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for showcasing different musical styles, but when an artist is so good at almost all of them, it makes for a slightly disjointed listening experience. It's a minor quibble, of course, and when you have as many stand out tracks as Monsters has (Rosemary, Year of the Horse, Cellar Door, Heads) it probably doesn't matter to the iPod generation. There is some filler here also, and is approximately a song and a half too long, but nothing that will put off too many listeners.

What's really exciting for me, as someone with a vested interest in Irish music, is that this is yet another in the long line of promising debuts from Irish musicians not afraid to stand out from their peers and, if Monsters is anything to judge by, Herm can expect to be , indeed, deserves to be, at the forefront of Irish indie music's new golden age.

Steve O'Rourke

Grammatics 'Grammatics'

editor@cluas.com — Wed, 08 Apr 2009 00:00:00 GMT

A review of the album Grammatics by Grammatics

Review Snapshot: Grammatics’ mishmash debut album can sometimes be embarrassing in its attempt to cover a lot of ground, leaving you thinking that too much of an influence is a bad thing. Anyone got a Solpadeine?

The Cluas Verdict? 5.5 out of 10

Full Review:
‘Bona fide genius.’ So said the NME of Grammatics’ debut album, entitled, er, Grammatics. Far from genius, this album is a muddle of sounds that never seemed to have been introduced to each other before the recording process. As a fan of experimentation, I thought this blend of violins, deep and dirty distortion, Foals-like harmonics and falsetto would leave me feeling full. Instead, the album gave a sense of never understanding its purpose, or truly feeling its sound. Lead singer Owen Brinley describes his participation in the band on MySpace as a ‘squeal,’ which I take to be an appropriate and not wholly ironic description of how Brinley sings. If you can make it to the end of the album in one go without gritting your teeth at his forced falsetto, I applaud your tolerance.

The NME might be guilty of abusing language with exaggeration, but they were correct when they called the Leeds band ‘ambitious musical shape-shifters.’ Post rock? Post Pop? Art rock? Gimmick rock? It’s hard to know where Grammatics slot into the current musical scene, but then, perhaps it’s insulting to try and make them fit. In any case, Grammatics is an album that leaves you scratching your head and wondering what happened to the somber and promising beginnings of opening track Shadow Committee.

We move from track to track in a jolting manner, with no release or sense of conclusion. Although technically quite musical, the tracks just don’t work. Second track D.I.L.E.M.M.A clearly spells gimmick, and sounds so much like Foals that I begin to wonder if the influences are too much for Grammatics to handle. There are little flashes of indie pop group Delays’ sound too with Murderer, a song vaguely reminding me of the early 90s big hair soaps that appeared on Sky One.

Begrudgingly, there are highlights. Grammatics’ high comes in at the midpoint of the album with a track called ‘Relentless Fours’. This song reveals that Brinley’s voice can lose control and sounds quite good in the process. Emilia Ergin joins in with a sweet voice that is refreshing and gives the band a much clearer sound. One begins to wonder why Ergin’s vocal talents have not been exploited on other tracks. The a capella harmony might be a bit repetitive in its lyrics but it shows that sometimes Brinley can sing naturally.

Signed to Dance to the Radio (Howling Bells, Sky Larkin, The Pigeon Detectives), and gearing up to support Bloc Party in the autumn, Grammatics might be trendy and loved by NME, but for me their sound is a try-hard attempt at being unique without making it.

Niamh Madden

Peter Doherty 'Grace/Wastelands'

editor@cluas.com — Wed, 01 Apr 2009 00:00:00 GMT

A review of the album 'Grace/Wastelands' by Peter Doherty

Review Snapshot: Rambling acoustic album from the pen of Peter (not Pete anymore) Doherty. Devoid of the energy and drive of his earlier work, this is a meandering, middle of the road piece which, despite occasional moments of elegance, is frequently bogged down by dull mid-tempo acoustic guitars and Doherty’s increasingly unclear vocal delivery.

The Cluas Verdict? 5 out of 10

Full Review:
You always run the risk when mentioning the name of Mister Pete(r) Doherty of offending someone. He has always been, and one suspects always will be, a name that divides public opinion. To some he is nothing other than a genius. To others he is merely a talentless junkie.

But one charge that can be levelled at the man, and which even his most ardent fans may struggle to dispute, is that he has never produced a consistently brilliant piece of work. Even his best albums with The Libertines and Babyshambles seemed to mirror the drug use that has dogged his career, blessed with the ecstatic highs of exquisitely written songs but also cursed with the deep depressions of incoherent half-sketched ditties.

On his most recent album with Babyshambles Doherty appeared to clean his act up somewhat. If it lacked moments of genuine class, at the very least it was consistent. Continuing with the same producer, Stephen Street, for his first solo record Doherty works off the template of ‘Shotter’s Nation’. Which is to say there are few enough embarrassingly bad songs on ‘Grace/Wastelands’. But then, neither can you say it contains any exceptionally good ones.

The opening song, ‘Arcady’, is one of the album’s best, even though it’s still quite a whimsical piece that carries none of the emotional punch of a ‘Time For Heroes’ or a ‘Can’t Stand Me Now’. Aside from a few flourishes from Blur’s Graham Coxon, there is precious little electric guitar on this album. Instead, every track follows a similar pattern of mid-tempo acoustic guitar, husky singing and soft percussion.

It is a formula that works on occasion. The single ‘Last Of The English Roses’, despite a shambolic rendition on The Late Late Show, is quite impressive. Apart from that, highlights are thin enough on the ground. The lyrics, which Doherty continually views as his strongpoint, are frequently indecipherable. His slurred vocals can appear enigmatic and appealing when the music is strong, but frequently irritating when, as in this case, a majority of the songs are weak.

While never plummeting to the depths of Babyshambles’ most risible moments (witness ‘Pentonville’ on ‘Down in Albion’), there are some cringeworthy tracks included. ‘The Sweet By And By’ is a song that sounds similar to Lou Reed‘s less-inspired songs off ‘Transformer’. Awash with boozy trumpets and tinkly piano, it shows that whatever Doherty’s future may hold in the indie rock genre, there is little room for him in jazz circles.

Inevitably Doherty’s old sparring partner, the supposedly malevolent force of Wolfman, is present. His co-contribution, ‘Broken Love Song’ is actually one of the stronger efforts here, echoing their previous collaboration ‘For Lovers’ in ways, if not to the same high standard. Another former colleague, Carl Barat, assists on ‘A Little Death Around The Eyes’ but this is about as memorable as some of his post-Libertines work. The album is also marred by the similar nature of so many of the tunes. One could listen through it a number of times and frequently not be able to distinguish the ending of one song from the beginning of the next.

There is still a case to be made for Doherty being one of the foremost songwriters of his generation, but for evidence you would be better advised to lean towards “The Best Of The Libertines” compilation before directing someone to listen to this. The word “junkie” is one that has been thrown at him so much you would imagine it’s akin to water off a duck’s back by now. But the accusation of being talentless is one that could easily be levelled at him by a newcomer to his music on hearing ‘Grace/Wastelands’. And that, no doubt, would hurt Doherty a lot more.

Mark Townsend

Dark Room Notes 'We Love You Dark Matter'

editor@cluas.com — Wed, 25 Mar 2009 00:00:00 GMT

A review of the album We Love You Dark Matter by Dark Room Notes

Review Snapshot: An album that proves there's more to electro-indie than silly stage antics and dodgy dress sense, We Love You Dark Matter, is one of the great debut albums. Expect to see Dark Room Notes feature highly in many end of year polls.

The Cluas Verdict? 9 out of 10

Full Review:
It's generally agreed, by cartoons at least, that postmen are most afraid of dogs. Over the past few weeks, however, my postman has gone to great lengths to try and avoid me. The reason? Well, I knew that I had been sent a copy of We Love You Dark Matter to review and there was no sign of it. Thankfully, my regular postman went on holiday last week and, after not getting any post for nearly a week, the replacement happened to have 13 pieces of mail for me, one of which was We Love You Dark Matter.

Normally the trouble with wanting to hear an album so much is that you end up being disappointed. Thankfully, Dark Room Notes have crafted an album that is so close to perfection that I haven't been able to listen to another record for the last week. Recorded over a two week period in London in July 2008, We Love You Dark Matter, places Dark Room Notes firmly in the running for many end of year awards. I know it's only April, but it's that good.

To the uninitiated, Dark Room Notes are Ronan Gaughan, Rurai Ferrie, Darragh Shanahan and Arran Murphy and have, thanks to electric live performances, built a name for themselves as one of Ireland's most exciting electro-rock outfits. Some of you wil, no doubt, be familier with Love Like Nicotine, the bands debut single. Those of you that are will be pleased to hear that the band have retained the services of Ciaran Bradshaw (Evil Harrisons, The Chapters) who produced both that single and the bands Dead Start Program EP.

Bradshaw's influence is most evident on tracks like The Same City Awaits Me and This Hot Heat where he somehow manages to keep the band's obvious influences in check enough to stop the songs verging into homage territory. However, Bradshaw seems to know when to step back and let the bands talent for mixing intelligent electro-rock rhythms with clever word play take over, especially on tracks like Broken Nail and ELM.

By condensing all their energy and enthusiasm into just 10 songs, Dark Room Notes have ensured that they have created an album will little or no filler. Indeed, such is the quality of We Love You Dark Matter it is difficult to pick a stand-out track. However, if I was to choose one track to sell Irish indie music to the world it would be Shake, Shake My Ceiling a song so catchy that it should be issued with a health warning 'Danger: Will 'cause spontaneous bouts of dancing.'

It's very difficult to find fault with an album as good as We Love You Dark Matter. It is as good a debut album as I've heard from an Irish band. At a time when music is so plentiful and money is not it can be difficult to know what albums to buy and what to leave behind in the record store. This is one album that you have to add to your collection. You heard it here first, Dark Room Notes are your new favourite band.

Steven O'Rourke

White Lies 'To Lose My Life'

editor@cluas.com — Wed, 25 Feb 2009 00:00:00 GMT

A review of the album To Lose My Life by White Lies

Review Snapshot: With echoes of Interpol, Echo and The Bunnymen, Editors and more White Lies emerge from the ashes of ‘Fear of Flying’ with a confident yet underwhelming debut. If they can just shake off the shadow of their influences their music will be all the better for it.

The Cluas Verdict? 5 out of 10

Full Review:
So the country’s goosed, the Celtic Tiger’s ambling listlessly around a home for the bewildered and we’re all frantically padding out our mattresses with what few doubloons we’ve salvaged from the wreckage. If you turn to music at times like these either to wallow or to forget, then avoid this debut album from White Lies. You’ll find neither solace nor distraction just ten songs that all sound vaguely alike, derivative and dull.

‘To Lose My Life’ gets underway with what has the bare bones of a decent single. The thumping drum and bass lines of ‘Death’ prove catchy but all too reminiscent of most any Killers track released in the last five years. Still though it’s a solid opener which could probably have held its own were it crafted to the mould of a three minute pop/rock song but the relatively straightforward hook and glaring lack of climax leave it languishing.

In fact the vast majority of tracks here suffer the same fate with all but one clocking in at less than four minutes and all seeming to meander around a central melodic motif too simple to sustain the weight of a song. In spite of all of this there are moments of promise that hint at a future which may well eclipse many of White Lies contemporaries. Some beautifully blended synth parts (E.S.T.) coupled with an assured rhythm section driving things from beneath the glum and gloomy vocals of Harry McVeigh point to festival fields full of kids (who dabble in Goth-lite) singing along at the top of their lungs.

At the moment though this West London trio are suffocating beneath the weight of their idols and faltering between awkward lyrics and predictable melodies. Songs which deal with dark subject matter such as suicide, self-harm and depression are unwittingly undermined by clunky writing, ‘a desperate fear flows through my blood, that our dead love’s buried beneath the mud’. The clear exception here is penultimate track ‘Nothing to Hide’ which strikes a chord largely because the Interpol and Editors influence is at it’s least obvious, allowing the heart of the song to breathe.

In the checks and balances of it all best to leave this one on the shelf for now but there are just enough glimmers of interest here to save White Lies from being written off just yet.

Jan Ní Fhlanagáin

Antony and The Johnsons'The Crying Light'

editor@cluas.com — Sat, 21 Feb 2009 00:00:00 GMT

A review of the album The Crying Light by Antony and The Johnsons

Review Snapshot:The spine tingling vibrato remains very much in evidence and the bruised and broken hearts that found refuge in ‘I Am Bird Now’ are bathed in ‘The Crying Light’. However those with high hopes for this record may feel a little short changed as great intentions are oft hinted at but not always realised. Nonetheless there aren’t many artists at work right now that stir the soul and make it sing quite like these guys do.

The Cluas Verdict? 7.5 out of 10

Full Review:
Antony Hegarty is most certainly a card carrying member of the MVC (Marmite Vocals Club) and along with the likes of Joanna Newsom, Bob Dylan and Will Oldham (among others) is adored and abhorred in equal measure for his somewhat idiosyncratic vocal style. Column inches are written about it and many heated exchanges between friends fuelled by it to such an extent that it threatens to overshadow what is possibly one of Mr. Hegarty’s greater talents – that of perspective.

The ability to compose lyrics which seem to emanate from a unique viewpoint but still embody a universal truth of feeling is a relatively rare and wonderful gift. The Mercury Music Prize winning ‘I Am Bird Now’ is packed full with examples of this and thankfully ‘The Crying Light’ is not bereft of them either.

‘Epilepsy is Dancing’ describes the freneticism of a fit as a transcendental movement with it’s own choreography, ‘I’m finding my rhythm as I twist in the snow, oh the metal burned in me down the brain of my river or the fire was searching for a water way home’. It’s waltz-like tempo and lilting melody contrast deftly with the subject matter providing one of the album’s highlights fairly early on in proceedings.

This album marks a break away from the torch songs of the last record and a move, however small, towards a more textured sound akin to that of Antony and the Johnsons live. ‘Kiss My Name’ and ‘Aeon’ in particular allow melodies and arrangements to match the intensity of the vocals rather than compete with them – no doubt thanks to the contribution of contemporary classical composer Nico Muhly.

Having cited the writing of this album as an opportunity to reflect on his relationship with the natural world, it’s no surprise that mother earth and her ailing health loom large over The Crying Light. However, ‘Another World’, ‘Daylight and the Sun’ and final track ‘Everglade’ teeter on the brink of over-indulgence and fail to pack the emotional punch we’ve come to expect, and long for, from Mr. Hegarty. There is however, a certain cinematic quality to ‘Everglade’ which calls to mind the autumnal landscapes of New England and the sweeping and soaring vocal lends itself perfectly to the mantle of closing track.

Although moving, beautiful and stirring in places, what prevents this album from being truly great is a lack of cohesion. Tracks fail to flow from one to the other and the somewhat jarring joinery between them creates a touch of unease which prevents the listener from surrendering to the record. ‘Dust and Water’ for example evokes the haunting sound of Gregorian chanting but sounds so utterly out of place that the listener is jolted back to reality rather than being enveloped in their own crying light, and that’s a crying shame.

Jan Ní Fhlanagáin

Bell X1 'Blue Lights On The Runway'

editor@cluas.com — Wed, 18 Feb 2009 00:00:00 GMT

A review of the album 'Blue Lights On The Runway' by Bell X1

Review Snapshot: Uninventive indie rock dressed up in the too-large suit of Talking Heads, the new Bell X1 album has little in the way of invention or excitement. It would take a tectonic shift in their creative thinking for this band to become relevant or interesting again.

The Cluas Verdict? 5 out of 10

Full Review:
It’s a coincidence that the two major Irish album releases of spring 2009, ‘No Line On The Horizon’ by U2 and ‘Blue Lights On The Runway’ by Bell X1, have such similar titles. Apart from sounding alike, both titles evoke images of sky and travel. And both are aspirational and ambitious: they tell us that U2 know no boundaries and Bell X1 are revving for take-off.

In fact, the Kildare band’s fourth studio album is flat and unadventurous, like an interminable taxi round the runway without ever leaving the ground.

The funkiness of ‘Flock’ has been left off this new album. With its stylistic nods to arty post-punk and emotive indie-folk, the strongest influences this time around seem to be Talking Heads and a bit of Arcade Fire. The Heads comparison is most obvious on lead single ‘The Great Defector’, where Paul Noonan lapses into a David Byrne-style singing voice that pops up again at various points on the record. Lyrically, Noonan’s taste for yoking together random quips and images also recalls Byrne and Black Francis.

But all of that feels like fancy dress. This album falls flat because there aren’t any outstanding tracks on it; no catchy hooks or earworm choruses to help these songs stay in the memory. Chord progressions are safe and familiar. Verses feature long lines of bedsit-romantic lyrics delivered with little melodic variety; we can tell that there are choruses because some lyrics are repeated. And there are two instances of maudlin piano ballads: ‘Light Catches Your Face’ and ‘The Curtains Are Twitchin’. Noonan’s distinctive Kildare vowels, like on ‘One Stringed Harp’, offer rare moments of colour and individuality, and that’s about all.

Quite simply, it’s stale and boring stuff – far from the tuneful charm of their 2000 debut, ‘Neither Am I’. Today’s newly-prominent Irish acts, such as Jape and Fight Like Apes, are making music that’s inventive and exciting. Next to them, Bell X1 sound like a band whose time has passed.

All in all, ‘Blue Lights On The Runway’ is just one step up from the horrors of Snow Patrol. The last Snow Patrol album, ‘A Hundred Million Suns’, shares the luminous, aspirational title imagery of this Bell X1 release, and both bands deal in the same over-earnest indie that plays on emotion over excitement.

Worthy but unoriginal – by analogy with landfill indie, can we consider Bell X1 and their peers as recycling-centre indie?

Aidan Curran

Tony Christie 'Made in Sheffield'

editor@cluas.com — Fri, 12 Dec 2008 15:48:46 GMT

A review of Tony Christie's album 'Made in Sheffield'

Review Snapshot: Medallion man steps out of comfort zone, and covers the Arctic Monkeys. "Made in Sheffield " is uneasy listening but it should be heard.

The Cluas Verdict? 8 out of 10

Full Review:

Early noughties there was a vogue for people recycling American songs from the 40s. Rod Stewart, Boz Scaggs and Bryan Ferry all dipped their toes in the American songbook pool with wildly varying results. More recently there's been a move towards a kind of musical last will and testament – artistes in their twilight years striving to leave some sort of credible musical legacy. Johnny Cash's last work with Rick Rubin was a very extreme case in point – his vocals on Nine Inch Nails' "Hurt" were to all intents and purposes a musical death rattle, you could hear the air fall from his lungs and his heartbeat receding as he shivered through to the last chords. Latterly Neil Diamond also worked in the same general musical vicinity with Rick Rubin. It bought him a degree of cred but you felt he was thinking - forget "Crackling Rosie", "Sweet Caroline", "Forever in blue jeans", this is the real, tortured me that I want you to remember.

Follow on down a little further on this road and you'll come across "Made in Sheffield", impeccably produced by Richard Hawley and his band colleague Colin Elliot. Hawley's own material is pretty much peerless, featuring arrangements that are subtle and that allow his own songs to breathe. The concept on this album is that all of the songs are written by people from Sheffield, including contributions from Christie himself and Richard Hawley. The easier option for someone like Christie would have been to take the afore-mentioned American standards route but with "Made in Sheffield" he's taken a very adventurous step and broken some new ground - hardly a case of Christie does Slipknot but it's a bold step nevertheless and one justified by the album's choice and breadth of material. And yet I fear for it and for Christie's success with it. "Made in Sheffield" should shift by the vanload but Christie has to overcome a number of prejudices – indie rockers will despise it because Tony Christie is music their gummy grannies listen to. On the other hand it won't appeal to the end of pier brigade because it does not feature any hit material but instead features new songs with some uncomfortable moments and truths.

"Made in Sheffield " is a particularly miraculous collection if you remember Christie from the seventies. He swaggered onto shows like "Golden Shot" on miserable Sunday afternoons, big hair, big lapels, shirt open to his navel and a set of pipes that knocked down walls. Tom Jones had power and resonance but Christie was urgent and a little twitchy – "Avenues and alleyways" is a classic, his voice in raucous cinemascope. A little while back Peter Kay picked up on "Is this the way to Amarillo?" You've heard it a million times, it's kitsch, it's dated, it's karaoke – listen to the vocals though, Christie kicks this song along at a rate of knots. Very late nineties he recorded "Walk Like a Panther" a very arch and funny piece of work with the All Seeing I (a front for Pulp's Jarvis Cocker). Christie recognised the glint in this song's eye but he played it straight and knew the score.

Christie himself has physically shrunk and his voice has too – he's a bona fide crooner with a decent range and an expressive tone. His voice works perfectly on "Made in Sheffield", which opens with the glistening strings that herald the Arctic Monkeys' "only ones who know" – I never "got" Alex Turner till I heard this song, it doesn't rhyme, it doesn't scan but it's a brilliant observation on loneliness, meeting up, breaking up, moving on and just wondering why - Christie sings "I hope you're holding hands on New year's eve" and makes you want to weep. Donald Fagan would call it Christmas without the chintzy stuff. And he'd be right. "Perfect Moon" is an afternoon tea dance number, and Christie glides through it but even here there's an aching. Christie's own two songs are a score draw- "All I ever care about is you" is a "honey pie" rewrite, it's a soft shoe shuffle, just this side of bland but "Going home tomorrow " is a real pearl, a crying in your beer jaunty little country number that would have graced any Marty Robbins album. "Danger is a woman in love" on the other hand is a thoroughbred torch ballad, the nearest thing to his old seventies catalogue. It's all John Barry and femme fatale but Christie does not vamp and gives the song the respect it deserves with the result that it works on serious and not so serious levels.

Christie's version of Richard Hawley's "Coles Corner" is respectful but the song itself is so good that Kate Perry could do a house version of it and still make you come over all melancholic and winsome. However "Born to cry," third track in, is this album's killer cut. Written by Jarvis Cocker, Hawley and Pulp, this is a stunning piece of melodrama centring on a couple at a crossroads. Everything here is just about perfect- the crescendo arrangement, Christie's voice that barely contains its pain, a huge chorus and a fade that gives the nod to the Fab Four's "Dear Prudence". It's uneasy listening – when Christie sings "you say you're trying to make things better / how come you always make things worse" you're reminded of every hellish moment of every burnt out relationship you've ever had.

"Made in Sheffield" is as good a collection of songs as anything you'll hear this year. It should not be labelled, pigeon-holed or categorised. It's honest, heartfelt, entertaining. It's great music.

Buy it and enjoy it.

Anthony Morrissey

Duke Special 'I Never Thought This Day Would Come'

editor@cluas.com — Tue, 11 Nov 2008 00:00:00 GMT

A review of the album 'I Never Thought This Day Would Come' by Duke Special

Review Snapshot: While never consistently matching the dizzy heights of previous album 'Songs From The Deep Forest', Peter Wilson still makes a convincing tilt at the title of Ireland's Best Songwriter. A few Duke-Special-by-numbers numbers aside, mostly collaborations, his new album contains more of the same catchy, heartfelt piano-pop with which he's now synonymous. A consolidation, then.

The Cluas Verdict? 7 out of 10

Full Review:

Not to burden the new Duke Special album with impossible expectations or anything, but Peter Wilson’s previous long-player, ‘Songs From The Deep Forest’, was simply astounding. Bursting with baroque ambition, soaring joy, searing heartache, witty poetry, warm sincerity and catchy tunes, it’ll soon be permanently camped on the upper slopes of Mount Best Irish Album Ever. (If not, it’ll be because of the drippy single mix of ‘Freewheel’, for which someone should be fired.)

So, the follow-up, then.

Well, while not topping or matching its illustrious predecessor, ‘I Never Thought This Day Would Come’ is still a very good album. With it, Wilson continues a fine strand of work and consolidates his reputation as a Champions League-level pop songwriter.

It falls short of greatness because it can’t keep up the consistent emotional, lyrical and musical density of ‘Songs From The Deep Forest’. Simpering second track ‘Sweet Sweet Kisses’ shares a melody with ‘She’ll Be Comin’ Round The Mountain’ and is just as repetitive and flimsy. ‘Flesh And Blood Dance’ feels like a photocopy of ‘Portrait’ off the previous album. And if ever a song sounds like hard work just from its title, then it’s ‘These Proverbs We Made In The Winter Must End’. A track co-written with, of all people, Bernard Butler, that title is the catchiest bit. Exactly.

(Butler, of course, famously walked out on Suede’s ‘Dog Man Star’, another baroque pop masterpiece whose frosty darkness complements Wilson’s sunnier disposition.)

But there’s plenty to be positive about on this album. Wilson, like Paul McCartney, seems genetically designed to write (or co-write, as is more often the case on this album) tunes that’ll be whistled by postmen and bus drivers the world over. It’s surely no accident that, like all radio-friendly pop songwriters, he usually makes the title the lyrical hook of his songs.

And though we complained above that this album can’t match the power of its predecessor, there are still plenty of memorable moments. It’s hard to dislike the bruised optimism of opening track ‘Mockingbird Wish Me Luck’ and the subversive cynicism of the title song (whose punchline is given away by its own subtitle).

Best of all are two tearjerkers that rate among Wilson’s finest songs. It’s hard to convey the emotional wallop of Wilson singing simple lines like the title lyrics of ‘If I Don’t Feel It’, ‘Why Does Anybody Love?’ and ‘Nothing Comes Easy’. If you listen to them on the bus to work tomorrow morning, good luck convincing fellow passengers that you’ve just been chopping onions. Like poor old Elliott Smith, Wilson has the knack of marrying bleak sentiment with gorgeous melody. And his voice, that vivid Belfast accent, is still his ace: the implicit touch of sincerity and individuality that has us trusting the emotions he evokes.

If we’ve gone on too much about Wilson’s previous album, that’s because the man has set a dizzyingly high standard and we want him to maintain it on this new record. He doesn’t always succeed, but now we know that a good Duke Special album is better than most people’s best. Go on, son – write that next record all by yourself and make it blow our minds.

Aidan Curran