February 2002 March 2002 April 2002 May 2002 June 2002 July 2002 August 2002 September 2002 October 2002 November 2002 December 2002 January 2003 February 2003 March 2003 April 2003 May 2003 June 2003 July 2003 August 2003 September 2003 October 2003 November 2003 December 2003 January 2004 February 2004 March 2004 April 2004 May 2004 June 2004 July 2004 August 2004 September 2004 October 2004 November 2004 December 2004 January 2005 February 2005 March 2005 April 2005 May 2005 June 2005 July 2005 August 2005 September 2005 October 2005 November 2005 December 2005 January 2006 February 2006 March 2006 April 2006 May 2006 June 2006 July 2006 August 2006 September 2006 October 2006 November 2006 December 2006 January 2007 February 2007 March 2007 April 2007 May 2007 June 2007 July 2007 August 2007 September 2007 October 2007 November 2007 December 2007 January 2008 March 2008 April 2008 May 2008 June 2008 July 2008 September 2008 October 2008 November 2008 December 2008 January 2009 February 2009 March 2009 May 2009 June 2009 July 2009 August 2009 September 2009 October 2009 November 2009 December 2009 January 2010 March 2010 April 2010


Powered by Blogger

   Monday, August 26, 2002  
So it kicks off with an eminently skippable 8-and-a-half minute track apparently recorded in the back seat of a moving car. So plenty of the other tracks crack six minutes and have that 'sung in the bathroom' quality or are tricked out with fake vinyl crackle. So the quavering, sometimes frantic vocal can only just carry a tune but hardly ever shuts up. So should you bother with the latest Bright Eyes album? reallyrather votes 'yes'.
Re-tracking Lifted or.. to exclude aforesaid opener, the unwelcome Brit-prog-folkisms of Don't know when but a day is gonna come and the 7mins+ of goodtime shambling country-rock that is closer Let's not shit ourselves, reallyrather is still left with almost an hour's worth of darn good stuff. An at times barely mediated splurge of indie-pop-twang, Conor Oberst's back at the wheel and veering all over the shop, getting it all off his chest just in case he dies tomorrow. After the dodgy opener, militaristic drumming propels the great clanging pop of Method acting. This is instantly trumped by the nostalgic string-driven False advertising which taps into the same '50s kitsch as Richard Hawley's stuff. Like quite a few releases this year, both You will and the jaunty Bowl of oranges tip a hat to The Cure while the plaintive slow waltz of Laura Laurent and hopalong twang of Make war drag us back to the dustbowl. Amidst all this sits the swoonsome knock-out punch that is Nothing gets crossed out. Oberst''singing' voice is a distinctly limited instrument most at home urgently tumbling out his reams of verbiage. When things calm down a bit and the tune's laid bare he could do with a bit of help and on Nothing.. he's mercifully (and quite wonderfully) assisted by Azure Ray's Orenda and Maria. It's another 'Blue Velvet' retro moment with some choice guitar building on the vocal waves. However, even in this sublime situation Oberst still manages to get a little stressed out but all is calm at the resolve. Sometimes raw, superficially difficult, musically and lyrically fearless - it's a wild ride but then the driver's still only 22. Get onboard and chuck the guide book out the window...

Rather brilliantly the Bright Eyes UK tour features Azure Ray in support tho' their wispy, hush-hush sound - recommended somewhere as perfect music for cats to sleep soundly to - will severely challenge the usual throng of bar-dwelling gasbags who prefer the sound of their own voices to the acts they've paid to see. Those dates:
5 Brighton, Komedia
6 Leeds, Joseph Well
7 Glasgow, King Tut's
8 Belfast, Queens University
9 Dublin, E Whelans
11 Manchester, Night and Day
12 London, Dingwalls

Sadly, reallyrather won't be able support The Tyde at the Water Rats on Tues (27) due to a prior committment elsewhere with The Polyphonic Spree. But anyone who can get there will be richly rewarded with a glistening West Coast take on '80 Lloyd Cole-esque UK indie-pop. At 93 Feet East last week they raised the bar way too high for notional headliners Beachwood Sparks to surpass (despite the bands sharing half the same members). In the face of a less than ideal sound system which overemphasised the shrill top end of 3 guitars and a moog synth and buried the harmonies, the sturdy knock-out melodies of stuff like All my bastard children, Strangers again and North County Times could not be diminished. Perfect sounds for a balmy summer night - only a shame it was London E1 and not Highway One...
   posted by SMc at 1:03 PM |