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

   Sunday, July 13, 2003  
Hotter than July, that's the Kings of Leon right now. Stealthily upsetting the best-laid plans of festival promoters all over, the family Followill have mid-afternoon minor stage slots allotted while their debut album Youth and young manhood heads for the sharp end of the charts. These guys are bound to arouse a bit of suspicion having seemingly risen without trace, skipping out tiresome traditions like Ye Paying of Ye Dues and vaulting straight to the top. Almost coincidently, they happen to be pretty damned good, peddling a lean and limber brand of southern-fried Garage rock. Imagine The Strokes' rhythm section joining the Black Crowes for a shot at Iggy Pop's Lust for life.
At Friday's sold-out show at the Astoria (cap.2000) they sounded great, playing the album in full, no more no less; no frills, no chat, mucho moshing. Consider brother Jared (bass): you're just turned 17, in your first band and there's hoardes out there going ape. But you're not Busted, you're cool as hell. Seemingly yet to darken the barber's door, through his hippy thicket Jared's cocksure pouting delight was unmistakable and totally understandable: 'Does life get any sweeter...?'

'All songs by Nathan Followill, Caleb Followill, Angelo.' Sceptical types looking for the hand of others in the KoL's instant success may wonder just who this 'Angelo', prominently credited in the sleevenotes, is. Seems it's one Angelo Petraglia, a Nashville gun-for-hire...

Another indie comet passes over London town in August, the 12th to be precise when Toronto's Broken Social Scene stop by the Barfly. Altogether more eclectic and complex (and therefore less commercial?) a proposition than KoL, just how many members of this fluid, hydra-headed combo will be making the trip is anyone's guess. But if their show is only half as enjoyable as You forgot it in people this blog won't be complaining...

Some of the songs on Sufjan [pr.Soof-yon] Stevens' terrific album Greetings from Michigan (reviewed below) sound like they'd comfortably withstand the full orchestra & chorus treatment at the Royal Albert Hall. On Tuesday though it was just the man and his guitar in the shoebox that is the 12Bar club. An engagingly bashful performer, after each song of his short set Stevens would instinctively join in the applause, a bit like a performing seal; a reflex action helping dissipate self-conciousness, maybe? [OK, that's enough psycho-analysis.] For this listener at least the emotional core of the set (as on Michigan) was Romulus with Stevens, revisiting a moment of uncomfortable self-awareness, uttering quietly the line 'I was ashamed of her' as if in the confessional. Personal, singular stories and beautiful, luminous tunes - just a joy, really. For the record, the set was:
Opie's funeral party
The one I love (fine brittle cover)
The upper peninsula
Lakes of Canada
Seven swans

Greetings from Michigan is certainly an '03 contender; last year's favourite meanwhile is still being discovered. Rilo Kiley's The execution of all things gets to share (with UK Rough Trade tyros British Sea Power) a whole page of the July issue of Word magazine, the latest child of the folks who brought us Q and then Mojo. 'A quietly great band...dazzling displays of melodic and lyrical invention...what-the-hell-was-that brilliance', etc, etc. Ye gods, Jenny, you'll surely have to come over now...?!
   posted by SMc at 9:34 AM |