http://www.gigwise.com/reviews/live/44425/friday-040708-morrissey-the-national-guillemots-@-wireless-festival-hyde-park-london
Glastonbury’s younger, dwarf-like cousin has upped his bags and moved into Hyde Park for a holiday – bringing with him expensive gifts like super-amazing flushing portaloos. Not only that, but he’s brought with him the sun, and a fantastic line-up.
So, for The Rascals: the performance is a strange contrast between showmanship and technical introversion, almost too precise despite the fun the trio are having. The consistent sense of urgency does the trick in the short run, but it’s an unvaried set at least until Alex Turner makes a cameo on set-closer ‘Is It Too Late’ – which finally feeds the audience some much needed gusto.
Next up on the second stage is Jacksonville’s Black Kids. Their set’s a shambles, or more specifically, a mess of indistinguishable noise. Sure, ‘Hit The Heartbrakes’ wails some on record… but that and ‘I’ve Underestimated My Charm Again’ are reduced to screeching, out-of-tune cringefests live. Frontman Reggie Youngblood tries way too hard to impress, though Dawn and Ali’s 60s girlgroup harmonies do carry off live, redeeming the frontman a little. And it’s way too referential live. Shameful, and surely not down to the soundsystem because the same thing happened at Glastonbury last week.
Following that was Guillemots on the main stage, the diverse setlist taking in everything from the wistful ‘Made Up Lovesong #43’ to all-out dance on ‘Last Kiss’. Sporadic and not at all sitting right next to each other, they’ve a strange way of making it work. How unique a frontman Fyfe Dangerfield is becomes evermore apparent on ‘Standing On The Last Star’ - which is more stunning and skittishness live than can ever be imagined.
It’s now mid-afternoon/early-evening, and lapse ensuing, the PA announcement instructs the audience to “cry milky tears” in preparation for The Wombats’ arrival. Dubious. If dumbed-down, pappy, throwaway, foot-stomping, anthem-by-numbers indie-pop is your thing, then it’s a veritable feast. Doubtful though, with the high calibre elsewhere on this day’s bill. Perhaps I’m just irked about how The Wombats have followed me to every festival I’ve been to over the course of the summer. Against my will, may I add.
Aside, higher aspirations lead to the falafel stand – which sits happily alongside the burgers despite the believable rumours of a meat ban (!) – and then towards The National back on the second stage. Time constraints mean that I miss Beck’s set, which is a shame. But it’s more than compensated for by a fantastic display from frontman Matt Berninger, rich baritone in top form. ‘Slow Show’ is just perfect live, the whole set building and building and building into a giant climax of symphonic hyperbole. Boxer is such a stunning LP, which begs the question why The National haven’t been latched onto Arcade Fire-stylee. Not that the half full tent are complaining.
And now for the Moz; it’s vintage, quite simply. Three costume changes and a load of nipple sweat later, the night escalates into a brilliantly orchestrated 21-song set comprising new material, solo hits, and a select few Smiths’ favourites. With Bush-bashing and Kylie-commendations in almost equal part. Opening with ‘Last Of The Famous International Playboys’, it’s ‘What She Said’, ‘Vicar In A Tutu’ and ‘How Soon Is Now’ that get the heartiest receptions. The comeback era songs like ‘First Of The Gang To Die’ and ‘Irish Blood, English Heart’ come off brilliantly live, as Morrissey transforms into a super-human being seemingly born for playing these massive gigs. There’s even a cover of Buzzcocks’ ‘You Don’t Say You Love Me’, shamefully lost on much of the audience. New material such as 'Mama Lay Softly On The Riverbed' impresses too, with impassioned jangling like any of his best cuts. Forget the ‘depressing’ moniker that’s attached itself to le Moz because he comes across naturally funny, and humbled by the minions. I want to invite him to a private book club, but that’s another story.
In this ever-changing musical climate, Morrissey is the eternal paradigm. And that’s the greatest achievement of them all.
Tuesday, 8 July 2008
Tuesday, 17 June 2008
The Futureheads On... The Music - Part Four of Four
http://www.clashmusic.com/feature/the-futureheads-examined-pt.4
Though the business side of their career courts its own focus these days, it’s only fair that The Futureheads are given the chance to elucidate on that thing they’re known for: the music. Not only theirs, but the stuff they love, hate and love to hate.
I reckon ‘Sale Of The Century’ (on the new album) is my favourite thing you’ve ever done. Really ferocious, very Joy Division.
Jaff: We didn’t even want that one on the album!
David: It was a contentious one, I remember it well.
Jaff: Us two were outvoted. But lots of people are saying that to us about that one.
It does sound completely different to anything you’ve done before.
David: Yeah, you’ve got to take yourself outside of the recording world and let somebody else tell you what’s good or bad.
What are the setlists like now?
Jaff: Seven old, seven new, one from News and Tributes.
Why? Because the fans don’t want to hear the second album?
Jaff: Yep.
David: And ‘cause we can’t play it!
Jaff: It’s too hard.
David: We can play them…
Jaff: They’ve got a million vocal tracks.
David: We found that when we started playing the songs off this album it brought the energy down.
Jaff: They relied too much on precision.David: Like we’d play ‘He Knows’ and then go on to ‘Thursday’, and it was just…
Was it to do with the way the second album was produced then?
David: Yeah.
Jaff: And the way it was written. And the idea we had writing it was to make a record that’d sound good on stereos rather than…
David: …rather than gigs. It was arrogant.
Jaff: Oh aye. We thought we’d get away with that. We did it, and it was hard to do. We’re still very fond of the record but it’s not for live.
Did Youth’s production really change the sound of this album?
Jaff: Massively. He couldn’t really be bothered with fannying about.
David: Doodling, self-indulgence...
Jaff: We’d lay the song up on the morning, work on the bass for an hour – try this, try that – then do the bass, the drumming, the guitars, the vocals, the rest of the guitars, the rest of the vocals…
David: It was very quick.
Exhausting?
David: Mostly because of the heat (the band recorded This Is Not The World in Andalucia).
Jaff: Aye, they were long days.
David: I was done by three o’clock everyday, go and have a few drinks.
Jaff: I had to drive.
You were out there in the mountains somewhere weren’t you?
Jaff: Aye, it were brilliant like.
This album feels a lot more, well, technical. Technically put together, structure-wise. I probably haven’t quite got the right word but…
David: No, I know what you mean. The first one was a lot busier.
Jaff: Our third record is a lot more traditional. We couldn’t start a song until the lyrics were finished and the chorus was finished.
Was the album all written before you got to the studios?
Jaff: No, we wrote 20 songs when were out there – it was pretty intense. We were there for three weeks so...
David: …there was time for the beach.
Jaff: Torremolinos!
David: It was brilliant.
Blimey, talk about polar opposites!
David: Yeah!
What are you both listening to these days?
Jaff: Let me try and think what the last thing I bought was… ah, the MGMT record. It’s very good. We just did a little tour with them and CSS.
David: I’ve been listening to The Rolling Stones the whole time. I hated them for years and now I love them. I don’t really listen to new music, can’t be dealing with all that crap.Jaff: Not gonna be as good as ‘Sticky Fingers’ mate, is it?
David: No, nothing can be as good as ‘Sticky Fingers’.
You sound like a 50 year-old man, Dave…
David: Yeah I don’t like any of this nu-rave business, I can’t be arsed with it.
What else can’t you stand?
Dave: Alphabeat!(Jaff gives him a sly look)
Dave: Do you like that one, Jaff?
Jaff: It’s great! It’s brilliant, it’s a classic!
Dave: I think we’re going in different directions…
Jaff: I’m definitely gonna play that one when I DJ, like. It’ll send the pulses up like David Bowie! If I’m gonna be brutally honest, there’s a trend in the UK at the minute for guitar bands. Not only do a lot of dreadful bands get signed, but a lot of dreadful bands get to be quite big. There’s a load of mediocrity on the live scene that’s come from record companies signing guitar bands and trying to make them pop bands. There’s a lot of dreadful ones. They all just write songs like (in stupid voice) “That’s nice/oh my god/got drunk/na na na” – the lyrics just sprawl on and on. There’s no rhythm, no melody, no metre, no…
Though the business side of their career courts its own focus these days, it’s only fair that The Futureheads are given the chance to elucidate on that thing they’re known for: the music. Not only theirs, but the stuff they love, hate and love to hate.
I reckon ‘Sale Of The Century’ (on the new album) is my favourite thing you’ve ever done. Really ferocious, very Joy Division.
Jaff: We didn’t even want that one on the album!
David: It was a contentious one, I remember it well.
Jaff: Us two were outvoted. But lots of people are saying that to us about that one.
It does sound completely different to anything you’ve done before.
David: Yeah, you’ve got to take yourself outside of the recording world and let somebody else tell you what’s good or bad.
What are the setlists like now?
Jaff: Seven old, seven new, one from News and Tributes.
Why? Because the fans don’t want to hear the second album?
Jaff: Yep.
David: And ‘cause we can’t play it!
Jaff: It’s too hard.
David: We can play them…
Jaff: They’ve got a million vocal tracks.
David: We found that when we started playing the songs off this album it brought the energy down.
Jaff: They relied too much on precision.David: Like we’d play ‘He Knows’ and then go on to ‘Thursday’, and it was just…
Was it to do with the way the second album was produced then?
David: Yeah.
Jaff: And the way it was written. And the idea we had writing it was to make a record that’d sound good on stereos rather than…
David: …rather than gigs. It was arrogant.
Jaff: Oh aye. We thought we’d get away with that. We did it, and it was hard to do. We’re still very fond of the record but it’s not for live.
Did Youth’s production really change the sound of this album?
Jaff: Massively. He couldn’t really be bothered with fannying about.
David: Doodling, self-indulgence...
Jaff: We’d lay the song up on the morning, work on the bass for an hour – try this, try that – then do the bass, the drumming, the guitars, the vocals, the rest of the guitars, the rest of the vocals…
David: It was very quick.
Exhausting?
David: Mostly because of the heat (the band recorded This Is Not The World in Andalucia).
Jaff: Aye, they were long days.
David: I was done by three o’clock everyday, go and have a few drinks.
Jaff: I had to drive.
You were out there in the mountains somewhere weren’t you?
Jaff: Aye, it were brilliant like.
This album feels a lot more, well, technical. Technically put together, structure-wise. I probably haven’t quite got the right word but…
David: No, I know what you mean. The first one was a lot busier.
Jaff: Our third record is a lot more traditional. We couldn’t start a song until the lyrics were finished and the chorus was finished.
Was the album all written before you got to the studios?
Jaff: No, we wrote 20 songs when were out there – it was pretty intense. We were there for three weeks so...
David: …there was time for the beach.
Jaff: Torremolinos!
David: It was brilliant.
Blimey, talk about polar opposites!
David: Yeah!
What are you both listening to these days?
Jaff: Let me try and think what the last thing I bought was… ah, the MGMT record. It’s very good. We just did a little tour with them and CSS.
David: I’ve been listening to The Rolling Stones the whole time. I hated them for years and now I love them. I don’t really listen to new music, can’t be dealing with all that crap.Jaff: Not gonna be as good as ‘Sticky Fingers’ mate, is it?
David: No, nothing can be as good as ‘Sticky Fingers’.
You sound like a 50 year-old man, Dave…
David: Yeah I don’t like any of this nu-rave business, I can’t be arsed with it.
What else can’t you stand?
Dave: Alphabeat!(Jaff gives him a sly look)
Dave: Do you like that one, Jaff?
Jaff: It’s great! It’s brilliant, it’s a classic!
Dave: I think we’re going in different directions…
Jaff: I’m definitely gonna play that one when I DJ, like. It’ll send the pulses up like David Bowie! If I’m gonna be brutally honest, there’s a trend in the UK at the minute for guitar bands. Not only do a lot of dreadful bands get signed, but a lot of dreadful bands get to be quite big. There’s a load of mediocrity on the live scene that’s come from record companies signing guitar bands and trying to make them pop bands. There’s a lot of dreadful ones. They all just write songs like (in stupid voice) “That’s nice/oh my god/got drunk/na na na” – the lyrics just sprawl on and on. There’s no rhythm, no melody, no metre, no…
The Futureheads On... Nostalgia and The Band Dynamic - Part Three Of Four
http://www.clashmusic.com/feature/the-futureheads-examined-pt.3
At this stage in their collective career, it’s inevitable that the members of The Futureheads know each other inside out. Their highs and lows have been most publicly condensed into the past eighteen months, but behind the scenes there’s a whole lot more going on.
What’s been the highest moment in your careers so far?
David: Meeting Dennis Hopper. We did a TV show in LA and he came into our dressing room with his son. He had our album with him and wanted it signed for his son. We were like ‘wow’!Jaff: I think for me it was Glastonbury 2005, when ‘Hounds of Love’ was out.
David: Yeah that was brilliant.
What do you want in the next couple of years?
Jaff: Hopefully me Knighthood. Not really! I guess I just want to see this record do better than the others. I’d like to see it come out and be given a chance. I think it’s really good and I’m really proud of it. I feel like we should be given the chance – I’m sounding a bit emo – I think we’re a pretty good band.
Well yeah, you have come back into favour. It was all a bit unfair after News and Tributes really wasn’t it? How did you feel back then?
David: I can’t really remember it.
Jaff: What you gonna do? You can’t make people like the music, can you? You can’t go away and make an album and say “we’re gonna make a song that people like”. And if they don’t like it you can’t go “oh no” (puts on whiney voice).
David: You just do what you’ve got to do and see what happens.
Has the band dynamic changed?
Jaff: It totally has I think, yeah.
Dave: Aye.Jaff: I think we know each other so well now. We wind each other up constantly - I quite enjoy trying to wind Ross up. I’m probably more miserable than I used to be, I used to be a right laugh!
Today must be a good day then!
David: I think that’s a bit harsh on yourself, Jaff.
Jaff: Er…er, nah.
David: Yeah.
It can’t be completely easy living out of each others pockets on tour and stuff.
Jaff: Well exactly. When you go out with someone you get on amazing for the first year and then start fighting all the time. The fact is there’s loads of testosterone flying about.
David: Recently we had our first big, like, er… (Jaff starts laughing) well our first big band fight. It was over and done and it worked.
Jaff: It was good. We don’t want to get into it.
David: It was our first fight.Jaff: Bearing in mind it was probably my fault.
Was it violent?
David: No, it wasn’t.
Jaff: No.
David: It could’ve got violent!
Jaff: It was good! It was a kind of process.
David: A release.
Jaff: I think there’s a lot of things that people don’t say sometimes and when you see someone for three weeks by the end they’re getting on your nerves, like. The next time it takes two weeks and then next time it takes one week, and you realise you’re all getting on each others nerves and someone will say something and you’ll just snap. I said some things I pretty much regretted straight away, but I felt like I should’ve said them anyway and everyone at least knew what I thought. It was good.
Dave: It was.
Jaff: It was a good little process, pretty mad though.
I shan’t press you on it any more.
David: I remember Jaff calling Barry ‘Barry Mozart’.
Jaff: Ssh!(mass laughter and knowing looks occur)
David: That was pretty much the funniest part. It was very, very funny.
At this stage in their collective career, it’s inevitable that the members of The Futureheads know each other inside out. Their highs and lows have been most publicly condensed into the past eighteen months, but behind the scenes there’s a whole lot more going on.
What’s been the highest moment in your careers so far?
David: Meeting Dennis Hopper. We did a TV show in LA and he came into our dressing room with his son. He had our album with him and wanted it signed for his son. We were like ‘wow’!Jaff: I think for me it was Glastonbury 2005, when ‘Hounds of Love’ was out.
David: Yeah that was brilliant.
What do you want in the next couple of years?
Jaff: Hopefully me Knighthood. Not really! I guess I just want to see this record do better than the others. I’d like to see it come out and be given a chance. I think it’s really good and I’m really proud of it. I feel like we should be given the chance – I’m sounding a bit emo – I think we’re a pretty good band.
Well yeah, you have come back into favour. It was all a bit unfair after News and Tributes really wasn’t it? How did you feel back then?
David: I can’t really remember it.
Jaff: What you gonna do? You can’t make people like the music, can you? You can’t go away and make an album and say “we’re gonna make a song that people like”. And if they don’t like it you can’t go “oh no” (puts on whiney voice).
David: You just do what you’ve got to do and see what happens.
Has the band dynamic changed?
Jaff: It totally has I think, yeah.
Dave: Aye.Jaff: I think we know each other so well now. We wind each other up constantly - I quite enjoy trying to wind Ross up. I’m probably more miserable than I used to be, I used to be a right laugh!
Today must be a good day then!
David: I think that’s a bit harsh on yourself, Jaff.
Jaff: Er…er, nah.
David: Yeah.
It can’t be completely easy living out of each others pockets on tour and stuff.
Jaff: Well exactly. When you go out with someone you get on amazing for the first year and then start fighting all the time. The fact is there’s loads of testosterone flying about.
David: Recently we had our first big, like, er… (Jaff starts laughing) well our first big band fight. It was over and done and it worked.
Jaff: It was good. We don’t want to get into it.
David: It was our first fight.Jaff: Bearing in mind it was probably my fault.
Was it violent?
David: No, it wasn’t.
Jaff: No.
David: It could’ve got violent!
Jaff: It was good! It was a kind of process.
David: A release.
Jaff: I think there’s a lot of things that people don’t say sometimes and when you see someone for three weeks by the end they’re getting on your nerves, like. The next time it takes two weeks and then next time it takes one week, and you realise you’re all getting on each others nerves and someone will say something and you’ll just snap. I said some things I pretty much regretted straight away, but I felt like I should’ve said them anyway and everyone at least knew what I thought. It was good.
Dave: It was.
Jaff: It was a good little process, pretty mad though.
I shan’t press you on it any more.
David: I remember Jaff calling Barry ‘Barry Mozart’.
Jaff: Ssh!(mass laughter and knowing looks occur)
David: That was pretty much the funniest part. It was very, very funny.
The Futureheds On... Themes and Inspirations - Part Two Of Four
http://www.clashmusic.com/feature/the-futureheads-examined-pt.2
The Futureheads are notoriously difficult to pigeonhole. The lyrics have ranged from being dressed up in frantic barbershop quartet style harmonies (typically on their first album), in sparser structures (on News And Tributes) or in bigger radio rock anthems (on their latest LP). The one thing that’s remained is a general feeling of distance from the world around them, a frustration – even an obsession - with broader issues that are out of their control.
To me, this album feels the most personal. I’m not sure if I’m right on that one?
Jaff: Yeah, I think it is. It came out of a conflict. And when Barry and Ross write the words three albums in they’re not scared to say certain things. They realise it’s ok to have certain ways about you. It’s ok to talk about feelings so long as you don’t use the word ‘feeling’. I do think it’s a lot more personal, you can see into the band’s psyche a little bit more.
David: We’ve got more involved in this album with us doing it all ourselves, like. As far as myspace and getting involved – we do stupid video clips and stuff. It’s something we’ve never done before.
Had you ever contemplated doing that sort of thing before?
Jaff: We couldn’t, we weren’t allowed to.
David: This album’s been fun in that way – we can finally get the fans to observe what we’re about and how we do it. Yeah, it’s a good thing.
I’ve noticed how much time crops up as a theme on all of your material.
Jaff: You are probably the first person that’s noticed that.
You must be joking?
Jaff: No! It’s true - ‘Broke Up The Time’ on this album, half the songs on the first album – ‘Trying Not To Think About Time’, ‘He Knows’, ‘Meantime’… And ‘Everything’s Changing Today’ on This Is Not The World.
Why does it figure so much? It’s a pretty bold, all-encompassing thing.
Jaff: Barry is pretty scared of getting old. Though most of the time ones are Ross’s.
David: Yeah, the ones from the first record.
Do those two come to you with the lyrics then? Do you always know what the songs are about?Jaff: Yeah, yeah we do. I mean, you know what they’re about. That’s the thing about lyrics though – if you don’t know what the song’s about then you can’t relate to it. And if you can’t relate to a song then it’s not a very good song. Why would anyone from Sunderland ever listen to American bands if it wasn’t for lyrics? Our lives are so different. People like foreign music. It doesn’t matter where the people are from, it’s how they write the song.
I’ve noticed that there seem to be a fair amount of external forces you’re switched on to. Stuff around you. What inspires you to fight against them?
David: What do you mean?
Jaff: Like what?
Well of course I mean time as one example, but lyrically The Futureheads are extremely challenging. It’s nigh on abstract concepts sometimes; deep stuff that you don’t really tend to hear from artists that’ve broken into the mainstream.
Jaff: Yeah I think you’re right. We write about things that affect us. Things we care about. I think we are quite easily affected by things. We don’t have to have to have a vision, we comment on things - especially lyrically. Yeah you are right. You’re quite good at this, like! People don’t pick up on this sort of stuff normally.
David: She’s good. She’s very good.
Jaff: We never get asked these types of questions!
David: It’s normally ‘What shoes do you like?’
Jaff: Seriously, you’re right. We do care about things. It’s that observational thing we find interesting.
David: I think Barry and Ross are very aware of not writing about going out on a Saturday night and getting bevvied up and all that crap. There’s no blasé lyric writing.
Jaff: With the first record the lyrics were very much a means to an end, to getting the song finished.
David: Yeah.
Wow, I find that surprising.
David: Aye.
Jaff: The riffs would normally come first.D
avid: And then the lyrics.
‘Radio Heart’ – it’s pretty bold. Do you want to want to change the way people think or is it just an observational thing?
Jaff: It’s observational, yeah. I wouldn’t like the lead quote on this piece to say “The Futureheads want to change people”!
I’ll try rephrasing that question – how about, do you want to make people more aware of the world around them or is it just an observational thing?
Jaff: Better. Yeah, I think that is why you write songs. Though you write songs and you know they’re not listening. You write lyrics ‘cause you want people to notice. It’s all about a point of view.
The Futureheads are notoriously difficult to pigeonhole. The lyrics have ranged from being dressed up in frantic barbershop quartet style harmonies (typically on their first album), in sparser structures (on News And Tributes) or in bigger radio rock anthems (on their latest LP). The one thing that’s remained is a general feeling of distance from the world around them, a frustration – even an obsession - with broader issues that are out of their control.
To me, this album feels the most personal. I’m not sure if I’m right on that one?
Jaff: Yeah, I think it is. It came out of a conflict. And when Barry and Ross write the words three albums in they’re not scared to say certain things. They realise it’s ok to have certain ways about you. It’s ok to talk about feelings so long as you don’t use the word ‘feeling’. I do think it’s a lot more personal, you can see into the band’s psyche a little bit more.
David: We’ve got more involved in this album with us doing it all ourselves, like. As far as myspace and getting involved – we do stupid video clips and stuff. It’s something we’ve never done before.
Had you ever contemplated doing that sort of thing before?
Jaff: We couldn’t, we weren’t allowed to.
David: This album’s been fun in that way – we can finally get the fans to observe what we’re about and how we do it. Yeah, it’s a good thing.
I’ve noticed how much time crops up as a theme on all of your material.
Jaff: You are probably the first person that’s noticed that.
You must be joking?
Jaff: No! It’s true - ‘Broke Up The Time’ on this album, half the songs on the first album – ‘Trying Not To Think About Time’, ‘He Knows’, ‘Meantime’… And ‘Everything’s Changing Today’ on This Is Not The World.
Why does it figure so much? It’s a pretty bold, all-encompassing thing.
Jaff: Barry is pretty scared of getting old. Though most of the time ones are Ross’s.
David: Yeah, the ones from the first record.
Do those two come to you with the lyrics then? Do you always know what the songs are about?Jaff: Yeah, yeah we do. I mean, you know what they’re about. That’s the thing about lyrics though – if you don’t know what the song’s about then you can’t relate to it. And if you can’t relate to a song then it’s not a very good song. Why would anyone from Sunderland ever listen to American bands if it wasn’t for lyrics? Our lives are so different. People like foreign music. It doesn’t matter where the people are from, it’s how they write the song.
I’ve noticed that there seem to be a fair amount of external forces you’re switched on to. Stuff around you. What inspires you to fight against them?
David: What do you mean?
Jaff: Like what?
Well of course I mean time as one example, but lyrically The Futureheads are extremely challenging. It’s nigh on abstract concepts sometimes; deep stuff that you don’t really tend to hear from artists that’ve broken into the mainstream.
Jaff: Yeah I think you’re right. We write about things that affect us. Things we care about. I think we are quite easily affected by things. We don’t have to have to have a vision, we comment on things - especially lyrically. Yeah you are right. You’re quite good at this, like! People don’t pick up on this sort of stuff normally.
David: She’s good. She’s very good.
Jaff: We never get asked these types of questions!
David: It’s normally ‘What shoes do you like?’
Jaff: Seriously, you’re right. We do care about things. It’s that observational thing we find interesting.
David: I think Barry and Ross are very aware of not writing about going out on a Saturday night and getting bevvied up and all that crap. There’s no blasé lyric writing.
Jaff: With the first record the lyrics were very much a means to an end, to getting the song finished.
David: Yeah.
Wow, I find that surprising.
David: Aye.
Jaff: The riffs would normally come first.D
avid: And then the lyrics.
‘Radio Heart’ – it’s pretty bold. Do you want to want to change the way people think or is it just an observational thing?
Jaff: It’s observational, yeah. I wouldn’t like the lead quote on this piece to say “The Futureheads want to change people”!
I’ll try rephrasing that question – how about, do you want to make people more aware of the world around them or is it just an observational thing?
Jaff: Better. Yeah, I think that is why you write songs. Though you write songs and you know they’re not listening. You write lyrics ‘cause you want people to notice. It’s all about a point of view.
Wednesday, 11 June 2008
The Futureheads On... Being Dropped - Part One of Four
http://www.clashmusic.com/feature/the-futureheads-examined-pt.1
At the end of 2006, The Futureheads were ceremoniously dumped by their label. Relentlessly, they set up their own label (Nul Records), and have just released their third album, This Is Not The World. And here’s Part One of a four-part series documenting Clash’s catch-up session with Jaff (bass) and Dave (drums) in an East London boozer…
What were your initial reactions after being dropped?
Jaff: I think they were mixed within the band – Barry talked about how he was happy, I was worried about how I was gonna pay me mortgage but I was also thinking it was the best thing for the band. I was pretty concerned because I’m the sort of person that likes to know what’s happening in advance. It was a bit of a shock, but artistically it was the best thing that could’ve happened, like. We don’t want to slag major record companies off but they are generally tits. Though they do provide a certain kind of…
Security?
Jaff: Yep, yep they do. They pay your wage and they pay for you to go on tour.Dave: But we’ve still got a wage. It never stopped, did it? It’s alright.
There’s a huge sense of defiance on opening track ‘Beginning of The Twist’ but at the same time, it’s very on the edge. Was that related to the stuff that went on with 679?
Jaff: People ask that, but Barry had written that song before we got dropped. The lyrics anyway, and the arrangements came when we were in Spain. I just think it’s a good example of the record as a whole - it’s pretty defiant, it’s pretty rock. It’s upfront and direct, and it’s got that dark twist. The lyrics work perfectly for being first on the album, and as the first single. It’s about mental illness and those hard times in your life. It’s not quite so obvious.Dave: It’s nothing to do with the label.
Do you think the album would’ve gone in the same direction if you hadn’t got dropped?
Dave: Nah, we’d have been miserable.
Jaff: Or we’d have split up.
Really?
Jaff: Yeah, we’d have split up. We wouldn’t have had it in us, we couldn’t have been arsed. There’d have been too many decisions to be made. We would’ve have made records.
Wow. Was there ever a midpoint between splitting up and setting up Nul then? Was it going to go this way as soon as you got dropped?
Jaff: We got dropped in October 2006 and then we had a tour in the December which’d already sold out. So we realised it’d sold out and we wanted to do it on our own. We took the Christmas off, and Barry lives in Glasgow. So he came down for Christmas with a bunch of songs and we went from there. We recorded a couple of songs, and got back into it.
Do you think you’d have ever been able to get to where you’re at now without having been signed to 679 for two albums?
Jaff: Nah. And I’ll tell you why – essentially, Warner Bros (owner of subsidiary, 679) had spent about £700k on us. And that’s the kind of thing you can’t equate with really when you start doing it yourself. The capital they put into bands to start with… they were crazy to drop us. They put so much money in.
David: Yeah.
Jaff: They could’ve signed three bands with the amount of money they put into us – they should’ve given us another chance. But I’m so glad it happened – now we don’t owe them anything and all the money we make’ll be ours. We’ll get more money and make more music.
David: It is more about the music than the money.
Are you sick of talking about the industry side of things yet?
David: Yeah, I’m bored! Nah, joking (he pats Clash on the back to clarify how much fun he’s really having).
Jaff: I love it.
David: We let ourselves in for it really; we’ve been championing ourselves for a few months now. We’re doing it all ourselves. Though I don’t really have a clue about what’s going on on the business side – the others are pretty clued up though.
What’s the day-to-day involvement?
David: We’ve got people doing the everyday stuff. We do our job, they do theirs.
Jaff: It’s the four of us in the band and two managers that set up Nul. We split it all six ways, it’s good.
David: It’s working really well.
What could you offer in terms of advice to new bands? How are they supposed to get the best result from the word go?
Jaff: Just get a good lawyer! It’s different now though - it’s easier to market your music via myspace and things like that. It’s easier. You can get a fanbase without spending money. But it’s hard too because everyone sets the example of the Arctic Monkeys.
David: I don’t think anyone should look at the example of the Arctic Monkeys and say “right, that’s where we’ll go” because it’ll never happen. They sold more copies than The Beatles in the first week their album was released.
Yeah, it’s not a realistic target.
David: It’s cool though. It’s great.
Jaff: They’re a good band but it’s not the norm. I mean, how many bands have myspace sites? Loads.
At the end of 2006, The Futureheads were ceremoniously dumped by their label. Relentlessly, they set up their own label (Nul Records), and have just released their third album, This Is Not The World. And here’s Part One of a four-part series documenting Clash’s catch-up session with Jaff (bass) and Dave (drums) in an East London boozer…
What were your initial reactions after being dropped?
Jaff: I think they were mixed within the band – Barry talked about how he was happy, I was worried about how I was gonna pay me mortgage but I was also thinking it was the best thing for the band. I was pretty concerned because I’m the sort of person that likes to know what’s happening in advance. It was a bit of a shock, but artistically it was the best thing that could’ve happened, like. We don’t want to slag major record companies off but they are generally tits. Though they do provide a certain kind of…
Security?
Jaff: Yep, yep they do. They pay your wage and they pay for you to go on tour.Dave: But we’ve still got a wage. It never stopped, did it? It’s alright.
There’s a huge sense of defiance on opening track ‘Beginning of The Twist’ but at the same time, it’s very on the edge. Was that related to the stuff that went on with 679?
Jaff: People ask that, but Barry had written that song before we got dropped. The lyrics anyway, and the arrangements came when we were in Spain. I just think it’s a good example of the record as a whole - it’s pretty defiant, it’s pretty rock. It’s upfront and direct, and it’s got that dark twist. The lyrics work perfectly for being first on the album, and as the first single. It’s about mental illness and those hard times in your life. It’s not quite so obvious.Dave: It’s nothing to do with the label.
Do you think the album would’ve gone in the same direction if you hadn’t got dropped?
Dave: Nah, we’d have been miserable.
Jaff: Or we’d have split up.
Really?
Jaff: Yeah, we’d have split up. We wouldn’t have had it in us, we couldn’t have been arsed. There’d have been too many decisions to be made. We would’ve have made records.
Wow. Was there ever a midpoint between splitting up and setting up Nul then? Was it going to go this way as soon as you got dropped?
Jaff: We got dropped in October 2006 and then we had a tour in the December which’d already sold out. So we realised it’d sold out and we wanted to do it on our own. We took the Christmas off, and Barry lives in Glasgow. So he came down for Christmas with a bunch of songs and we went from there. We recorded a couple of songs, and got back into it.
Do you think you’d have ever been able to get to where you’re at now without having been signed to 679 for two albums?
Jaff: Nah. And I’ll tell you why – essentially, Warner Bros (owner of subsidiary, 679) had spent about £700k on us. And that’s the kind of thing you can’t equate with really when you start doing it yourself. The capital they put into bands to start with… they were crazy to drop us. They put so much money in.
David: Yeah.
Jaff: They could’ve signed three bands with the amount of money they put into us – they should’ve given us another chance. But I’m so glad it happened – now we don’t owe them anything and all the money we make’ll be ours. We’ll get more money and make more music.
David: It is more about the music than the money.
Are you sick of talking about the industry side of things yet?
David: Yeah, I’m bored! Nah, joking (he pats Clash on the back to clarify how much fun he’s really having).
Jaff: I love it.
David: We let ourselves in for it really; we’ve been championing ourselves for a few months now. We’re doing it all ourselves. Though I don’t really have a clue about what’s going on on the business side – the others are pretty clued up though.
What’s the day-to-day involvement?
David: We’ve got people doing the everyday stuff. We do our job, they do theirs.
Jaff: It’s the four of us in the band and two managers that set up Nul. We split it all six ways, it’s good.
David: It’s working really well.
What could you offer in terms of advice to new bands? How are they supposed to get the best result from the word go?
Jaff: Just get a good lawyer! It’s different now though - it’s easier to market your music via myspace and things like that. It’s easier. You can get a fanbase without spending money. But it’s hard too because everyone sets the example of the Arctic Monkeys.
David: I don’t think anyone should look at the example of the Arctic Monkeys and say “right, that’s where we’ll go” because it’ll never happen. They sold more copies than The Beatles in the first week their album was released.
Yeah, it’s not a realistic target.
David: It’s cool though. It’s great.
Jaff: They’re a good band but it’s not the norm. I mean, how many bands have myspace sites? Loads.
Wednesday, 4 June 2008
The Futureheads at Camden Electric Ballroom
http://drownedinsound.com/articles/3409878
The Futureheads are currently playing like it’s their last hour on the planet – a fact (well, it’s as objective as I’ve ever tried to be) which surely can’t invoke anything other than histrionic praise. It’s a truly mind-blowing set where I marvel in the wonder of just where the undying fervour and force comes from. The stream of anthems emitting from the stage is endless, each one having its own matchless characteristic - from the “ooh-ooh-ooh” punctuating ‘Carnival Kids’ to the instinctual, homely beat holding together ‘Area’. And the tempo keeps building throughout, almost of its own accord.
They’re on top of their game, be it via straight-up stormer ‘Everything Is Changing Today’ or the frenetic syncopation of ‘Man Ray’. Only ‘Hard To Bear’ allays the undying pace, and it’s placed at exactly the right moment – the guitars chug like steam engines and the drums enter a quasi-tango phase, sometimes. It comes across so tender because of the preciseness of the performance - the contrasts are amplified as each bass flinch, each syllable, each uplifting coming together of harmony is put out there on a limb. Such a distinctive blend of sounds, another the reason this lot impress so much is their passion; simple, old-fashioned showmanship where the crowd are mere foils. It’s essentially four huge personalities buzzing off of each other into a mix of sound which is never contained. Back to the way that every little nuance exemplifies itself, the jostling interplay and sparser downbeat of ‘Skip To The End’ showcase the ambition of the band to prolific effect - especially when placed in a set of mostly feverish snatches.
A huge sense of self-assertion has encircled the band since I last saw them around the release of News and Tributes – there’s a new warmth to their once ramshackle, throw-it-all-in dramaticism. It only takes a glimpse at the contrast between ‘Broke Up The Time’ and ‘Stupid and Shallow’ – there’s warmth and humanity at one end, and abstract anecdotes at the other. And from that, there seems to be a sense of pride growing within their performance. The loudness and the fastness remains, but the guts behind it have undergone a change in substance. Each snatch is played out with swagger, framing the observations in protagonist-led social scrutiny.
It’s an absolutely perfect set, with the band’s relatively pared-down moments (notably, most of the second album) foregone in favour of a 15-song set of impossibly tight harmonies, spat out nuances and frenzied emotion – and that’s the master stroke, to be quite honest. For what it’s worth, ‘Sale Of The Century’ and ‘Alms’ are my choice Futureheads songs – but they just wouldn’t work in this context of full-on vigour without a let up. The only problem now is that every time I listen to the records I’m going to wish they were performing it before me instead. Kudos to the sound and lighting people too – it’s spot on, particularly the moments that feel like I’m watching the band through a red tint. Brilliant, symbiotic almost.
Where the heck to go next? Who cares. For now, this is a supreme masterclass in itself. Maybe one of these days I’ll choose to review a gig for DiS that’ll disappoint me… I’m not easy to please, promise.
The Futureheads are currently playing like it’s their last hour on the planet – a fact (well, it’s as objective as I’ve ever tried to be) which surely can’t invoke anything other than histrionic praise. It’s a truly mind-blowing set where I marvel in the wonder of just where the undying fervour and force comes from. The stream of anthems emitting from the stage is endless, each one having its own matchless characteristic - from the “ooh-ooh-ooh” punctuating ‘Carnival Kids’ to the instinctual, homely beat holding together ‘Area’. And the tempo keeps building throughout, almost of its own accord.
They’re on top of their game, be it via straight-up stormer ‘Everything Is Changing Today’ or the frenetic syncopation of ‘Man Ray’. Only ‘Hard To Bear’ allays the undying pace, and it’s placed at exactly the right moment – the guitars chug like steam engines and the drums enter a quasi-tango phase, sometimes. It comes across so tender because of the preciseness of the performance - the contrasts are amplified as each bass flinch, each syllable, each uplifting coming together of harmony is put out there on a limb. Such a distinctive blend of sounds, another the reason this lot impress so much is their passion; simple, old-fashioned showmanship where the crowd are mere foils. It’s essentially four huge personalities buzzing off of each other into a mix of sound which is never contained. Back to the way that every little nuance exemplifies itself, the jostling interplay and sparser downbeat of ‘Skip To The End’ showcase the ambition of the band to prolific effect - especially when placed in a set of mostly feverish snatches.
A huge sense of self-assertion has encircled the band since I last saw them around the release of News and Tributes – there’s a new warmth to their once ramshackle, throw-it-all-in dramaticism. It only takes a glimpse at the contrast between ‘Broke Up The Time’ and ‘Stupid and Shallow’ – there’s warmth and humanity at one end, and abstract anecdotes at the other. And from that, there seems to be a sense of pride growing within their performance. The loudness and the fastness remains, but the guts behind it have undergone a change in substance. Each snatch is played out with swagger, framing the observations in protagonist-led social scrutiny.
It’s an absolutely perfect set, with the band’s relatively pared-down moments (notably, most of the second album) foregone in favour of a 15-song set of impossibly tight harmonies, spat out nuances and frenzied emotion – and that’s the master stroke, to be quite honest. For what it’s worth, ‘Sale Of The Century’ and ‘Alms’ are my choice Futureheads songs – but they just wouldn’t work in this context of full-on vigour without a let up. The only problem now is that every time I listen to the records I’m going to wish they were performing it before me instead. Kudos to the sound and lighting people too – it’s spot on, particularly the moments that feel like I’m watching the band through a red tint. Brilliant, symbiotic almost.
Where the heck to go next? Who cares. For now, this is a supreme masterclass in itself. Maybe one of these days I’ll choose to review a gig for DiS that’ll disappoint me… I’m not easy to please, promise.
Tuesday, 3 June 2008
Lykke Li - Youth Novels
http://www.gigwise.com/reviews/albums/43552/lykke-li--youth-novels-ll-released-090608
Coming in at fourteen tracks, this album would have benefited from being a few tracks shorter. All the same, it’s a remarkably different debut; the vocals are fragile, the variation knowing. There’s an underlying - even superseding – minimalism that holds the songs together. And that’s why some of the offerings are so astonishing. The emotion is raw and fragile but the high, saccharine register gives it a confusing sugar-coating.Opening with Kraftwerk-meets-Madonna spoken-word mantra ‘Melodies & Desires’ isn’t the best idea – it’s overly pretentious, too consciously zen. “You’ll be the rhythm and I’ll be the beat/And I’ll be the rhythm and you’ll be the beat” sings Sweden’s Lykke Li; it’s certainly a fitting introduction to the key dichotomies throughout, but it’s also a false lead.
The album progresses rapidly through the twitchy, minimal tribalism and cowbell vacuum interludes on ‘Dance, Dance, Dance’; the flinches of bizarre percussion, comforting repetition and yo-yo vocals on ‘I’m Good, I’m Gone’; and the beat-led, syncopated snatch ‘Let It Fall’. Throughout this strong and varied series of songs, one thing remains - a very slightly flat vocal which turns out to be a laudible stylistic trick. But that same flatness grates in parts as despite everything around it changing, it remains. It’s immovable and extremely out of place on more twee takes like ‘Hanging High’.
As the album continues, it begins to tire a tad - ‘Tonight’ feels too overwrought, ‘The Trumpet In My Head’ strangely evoking Sting. To elucidate, it’s because there’s a fine line between insubstantial and minimal. ‘My Love’ dances the line, veering towards the more favourable side of it after repeated listens. The Bossa rhythms and drifting harmonies are easy on the ear but it lacks immediate direction - albeit the song’s about waiting for a lover in a state of stagnancy, so it’s probably justified. So that’s a pretty circular point, but it’s fairer to say that the structure of sparse verse/broad-spanning harmony-punctuated harmony feels all too predictable five tracks in.
The song that got Lykke Li noticed, ‘Little Bit’, is of course a snippet of brilliance. It combines tropicalia, electro and low-slung folk with a shudderingly sexy vocal – it showcases just how emotions are laid on the line throughout this album, but more to the point has something extraordinary; a really special hook that lodges itself in the brain by reflex. And then there’s ‘Complaint Department’, the starkest contrast yet to Li’s syrupy vocal timbre – the words remain soft but the loops are bleak and damaged. It’s difficult to warm to though and despite the album never once staying in one place, it feels strange that this track has ever found itself here. It’s admirably followed by the nursery-rhyme feyness of ‘Breaking It Up’, with sounds of a children’s choir and all. Which is crying out for a Metronomy remix, may I add.
The closing three tracks don’t go down a treat, to be frank – the bare emotions are on display as ever, but without the idiosyncrasies El Perro Del Mar does a better job. ‘Time Flies’ equally lacks the contrasts found elsewhere but it’s still an admirable offering considering that this is a debut record - Björn Yttling’s production is top notch too, making every uber-vibration count.
The hard-hitting contrasts between songs may prove isolating at first but if you give Lykke Li the chance, you’ll fall for her. The songs are dainty, sure – but there’s a sandpaper-rough edge around every note’s perimeter. Let’s hope she remembers the quality control button next time around – if she’d done so this time, this album would be a pop phenomenon of the finest calibre.
Coming in at fourteen tracks, this album would have benefited from being a few tracks shorter. All the same, it’s a remarkably different debut; the vocals are fragile, the variation knowing. There’s an underlying - even superseding – minimalism that holds the songs together. And that’s why some of the offerings are so astonishing. The emotion is raw and fragile but the high, saccharine register gives it a confusing sugar-coating.Opening with Kraftwerk-meets-Madonna spoken-word mantra ‘Melodies & Desires’ isn’t the best idea – it’s overly pretentious, too consciously zen. “You’ll be the rhythm and I’ll be the beat/And I’ll be the rhythm and you’ll be the beat” sings Sweden’s Lykke Li; it’s certainly a fitting introduction to the key dichotomies throughout, but it’s also a false lead.
The album progresses rapidly through the twitchy, minimal tribalism and cowbell vacuum interludes on ‘Dance, Dance, Dance’; the flinches of bizarre percussion, comforting repetition and yo-yo vocals on ‘I’m Good, I’m Gone’; and the beat-led, syncopated snatch ‘Let It Fall’. Throughout this strong and varied series of songs, one thing remains - a very slightly flat vocal which turns out to be a laudible stylistic trick. But that same flatness grates in parts as despite everything around it changing, it remains. It’s immovable and extremely out of place on more twee takes like ‘Hanging High’.
As the album continues, it begins to tire a tad - ‘Tonight’ feels too overwrought, ‘The Trumpet In My Head’ strangely evoking Sting. To elucidate, it’s because there’s a fine line between insubstantial and minimal. ‘My Love’ dances the line, veering towards the more favourable side of it after repeated listens. The Bossa rhythms and drifting harmonies are easy on the ear but it lacks immediate direction - albeit the song’s about waiting for a lover in a state of stagnancy, so it’s probably justified. So that’s a pretty circular point, but it’s fairer to say that the structure of sparse verse/broad-spanning harmony-punctuated harmony feels all too predictable five tracks in.
The song that got Lykke Li noticed, ‘Little Bit’, is of course a snippet of brilliance. It combines tropicalia, electro and low-slung folk with a shudderingly sexy vocal – it showcases just how emotions are laid on the line throughout this album, but more to the point has something extraordinary; a really special hook that lodges itself in the brain by reflex. And then there’s ‘Complaint Department’, the starkest contrast yet to Li’s syrupy vocal timbre – the words remain soft but the loops are bleak and damaged. It’s difficult to warm to though and despite the album never once staying in one place, it feels strange that this track has ever found itself here. It’s admirably followed by the nursery-rhyme feyness of ‘Breaking It Up’, with sounds of a children’s choir and all. Which is crying out for a Metronomy remix, may I add.
The closing three tracks don’t go down a treat, to be frank – the bare emotions are on display as ever, but without the idiosyncrasies El Perro Del Mar does a better job. ‘Time Flies’ equally lacks the contrasts found elsewhere but it’s still an admirable offering considering that this is a debut record - Björn Yttling’s production is top notch too, making every uber-vibration count.
The hard-hitting contrasts between songs may prove isolating at first but if you give Lykke Li the chance, you’ll fall for her. The songs are dainty, sure – but there’s a sandpaper-rough edge around every note’s perimeter. Let’s hope she remembers the quality control button next time around – if she’d done so this time, this album would be a pop phenomenon of the finest calibre.
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