Recommended by Ross: some albums to check out in 2011

So it seems I should mention some new stuff I’ve actually listened to this year. To be honest, it’s been difficult – having to drag myself away from putting on the KVELERTAK record for the millionth time is like deciding which limb I want to hack off. Anyway, so as not to pigeon-hole all my posts into “Iced Earth = LOL” and “Let’s listen to a punk rock album from 1997 that no-one cares about” here’s a selection of bands and albums that I’ve really enjoyed this year.

Absolute Power – Absolute Power

I really hope that the reason Absolute Power exist is because some of the band members witnessed another (not to be named) power metal band making complete dicks of themselves on stage. Featuring the really scary looking bassist from Napalm Death, Absolute Power are: swords smashing against wooden shields; lances splintering as they crash against bodies, dirt flying from the hooves of mighty steeds, horns raised high in the air – yes, battle metal, possibly the greatest music ever. Absolute Power completely kill it; they make me instinctively reach for 2D6; think about how many goblins I can afford in a 2,000 point army and whether I’ve washed recently (there’s even a song called ‘Standard Bearer’). It’s a clash of styles however; there are some fairly pop-rock moments, particularly ‘Secrets’, which is that strange mix of sugary, bouncing hooks, whilst still retains some mighty 80s-style metallic riffage and some wonderful harmonies. But then they’ll push the boat out with some truly over-the-top thrash excellence, sounding like Iron Maiden jamming with Judas Priest; with vocalist Simon Efemey slipping into BRIAN BLESSED mode. Hammy? You bet.

For something that sounds so cheesy, Absolute Power really do shred – changing from quick-tempo heavy metal onslaughts, through to glammy-80s soft rock, back to trashy battle metal frolicking and then into early Megadeth-thrash and Halford-style wailing lyrics, it’s some of the best classic metal and rock I’ve heard this year. Also, are you seriously considering not listening to a band that have the track titles ‘Full Metal Roar’, ‘Land Of Steel’ and ‘Faster Than The Speed Of Evil’? Come on!

Additional: the album art is nothing short of incredible.

Of Legends – Stranded

Luis Dubuc is a monster. I seriously wouldn’t believe someone if they told me this was the wimpy guy from The Secret Handshake – but it is and he’s angry. Of Legends are pretty metal, like nasty, Johnny Truant-style metal. The guitars on this record howl and I mean HOWL – they sound like they’re screaming in agony, such is the twisting, contorting shriek they emit. Dubuc himself is no shrinking wallflower – his bark is a rattled, shredded cry, mixes the talents of Jeffery Moreira and Matt Caughthran into one big ball of rage and bleeding fury. It’s fairly groove-orientated; when the guitars aren’t sounding like they’re being tortured, they’re cutting some quite shred-worthy lines. I suppose a similar artist would be Killswitch Engage – it has that same dense, bludgeoning attack on the senses, but retains an slick nu-metal tinged rut and enough hardcore experimentation so as not to pigeon hole. Actually, a lot of the sound on ‘Stranded’ reminds me of swamp-metal titans, Blacktusk – that same dirge of scraping sound, buried beneath a crusty bass hum and battering drum beats. Of Legends create this insane, barbaric noise, especially on ‘Cannibal King’, which is a stop start shudder of stabbing, taunt metal alongside some spazzy, mathcore styles. The kind of bile-spitting, contemporary metal I can get behind.

Zombi – Escape Velocity

This is probably my favourite album at the moment; I gave it 10/10 in a review I wrote for planet-loud few weeks back, so it must be something I really dig, right? ‘Escape Velocity’ is an absolute mind-bender of sound; like Adebisi Shank, I describe them as ‘future music’ mainly because, being someone who listens to three chords and beatdowns, hearing something outside of that spec is pretty damn revolutionary. There’s tons of build on this, most notably the title track that grows and mutates with such pulsating energy and tribal drum blasts. 'Slow Oscillations' is an almost Martin O'Donnell-worthy slice of bending, trippy atmosphere and being a fan of the Halo series and the music, this struck a particular chord with me. I said in my review that ‘DE3’ is one of the best songs I’d heard all year and I stand by this. Part elements of Justice mixed with Goblin, part experimental noise, part "let's make music: IN SPACE." something about it really gets to me. Maybe it’s the fact it sounds like an old trance song at half-speed; or maybe it's the key change around the 6 minute mark. ‘Escape Velocity’ buries the listener in loops though; layers upon layers of synthesised build and it makes me feel good. I can’t explain it, but Zombi really do make me feel like a better person and there are very few records that lift my spirits, but I'm happy to say that this is one of them. For something built around just drums and keys, it's an incredibly deep and mesmerizing body of work.

Snowing – I Could Do Whatever I Wanted If I Wanted

I have no idea if emo is still a dirty word, but Snowing don’t seem to give a shit and nor should you. Formed from the ashes of Street Smart Cyclist, Snowing make me feel good; their music is rooted in mid-90s emo-rock, where guitars were held together with masking tape and were tappier than a room full of sinks and actually poured their heart and soul into their recordings, instead of dull, lifeless unit-shifting compositions. ‘I Could Do Whatever I Wanted If I Wanted’ is so bleeding-heart in all its pent-up earnest and frantic nature, it’s hard not to be warmed by it. The themes present revolve around drinking, loss, love and overall, just good times and that’s what Snowing want listeners to get from their music; a sense of connection, a sense of warmth and high-fiving each other in a packed mosh pit, in a venue that holds 50, but is full to 75, kissing your sweetheart and more importantly, getting drunk on Miller lite.

It’s scatter-brained, disorganised but a relatively short blast on intense rock music that has been created with that tender honestly and passion that a lot of acts who fit into a similar genre, fail to achieve and Snowing manage it with such ease and drunken cheer it’s hard not being impressed. Also, the album is available for free download from bandcamp; what’s not to love?

The Heat Tape – Raccoon Valley Recordings

The Heat Tape is Brett Hunter from The Copyrights (pop-punk done really, really good) and two other dudes, who have swapped out production values for the sound of a bunch of wasps in a biscuit tin, whilst someone plays a Marked Men record in the background. Yeah, it’s well garage – but garage punk done superbly. For one thing, while the unrelenting hiss of a furred-up tape recorder is consistently present, at least Hunter and Co. has bothered to write memorable and catchy songs to counter-act the fuzz. ‘Quotes From An Unopened Letter’ is a snotty ball of punk energy, reminiscent of Wavves, while ‘Spend It’ is dumb grunge rock apathy condensed into a minute and a half. Hunter’s lazy, almost bored vocals, sneer with despondence, regret and self deprecation for the duration of this 25 minute record and fit nicely with the deliberately scrappy production and early 90s recording values. ‘Idle Man’ sounds like and outtake from the first Thermals album (‘More Parts Per Million’) – a relentlessly sunny, yet jangled mess of smothering cymbal crashes and vibrant punk-pop bounce.

Weekend Nachos – Worthless

I genuinely thought this band were a complete pisstake. Maybe they are who knows? WEEKEND NACHOS – I just like saying it. The artwork seems to have been cribbed from the photo series ‘Great Waterfalls of Our Times’ or was perhaps supposed to be the next Explosions In The Sky album cover, and there was a mix up at the post office. Musically, it’s completely dumb-as-fuck punk rock, loaded with ten tons of aggression and venom-spitting fury, minus any melody, chorus or catchy bass lines.

There’s an air of a “don’t give a shit” attitude, which I like – it’s free of any snobbish airs or graces, Weekend Nachos are more content with burying the listener beneath filthy riff after filthy riff. Aggressive determination, plus rusty vocal barks, detuned-bass scrawls and some farily tight drumming (and blast beats) hold it all together. ‘The Meeting’ is a fairly guttural piece, relying on feedback and clanking guitar chugs, whilst the title track is a bottoming-out piece of sludge-metal intimidation. ‘Jock Powerviolence’ is rapid-fire drumbeats, with rap-metal taunts and this staggering metallic gait that doesn’t know whether it should be pure hardcore or not. In any case, if you’re looking for some machine-gun fire crust-hardcore, that mixes elements of punk, grind and sludge-metal then Weekend Nachos can do that in about 26 minutes or your money stuffed down your throat.

April Albums: The Conclusion

So, that's that then. 30 days, 100 albums, one 20-something with time on his hands and a near-obsessive fascination with listening habits and the way we consume music. Job done.


For those out of the loop, throughout April I made a conscious decision to take my life off the shuffle function which it had seemed to have regressed to, and go back to listen to albums as they were intended. No compilations, best ofs or EPs and wherever possible stay away from perennial favourites. This was to be no month long karaoke session. Oh no. So, now it's all over, what are my thoughts?

Firstly, my thoughts on my choices. A massive batch of newly purchased albums arriving just prior to my listening experience commencing skewed things a bit – not only were there a pile of albums waiting to be included that I'd be listening to for the first time, but owing to my 'one album per artist' rule, there'd be albums that I wouldn't actually get to listen to until a month later. Surreal times. I have to say that looking back over the list I'm pleased with the way things went. Obviously we can all sit there going 'damn! Why didn't I put that in there?' but on the whole it was a good mix between albums I haven't listened to in years (or even forgot I owned), recent discoveries, new records and albums from some of my favourite back catalogues that I'd always thought of as runts of the litter. As well as a voyage of (re)discovery the whole experience also gave some albums a second chance, rescuing them from a near certain fate of charity shop dust gathering. Did I walk away with some new favourites? Well yes actually, the main two that spring to mind being The Concretes' Concretes In Colour and Tokyo Police Club's Elephant Shell. But perhaps more importantly, a number of albums that I'd written off or had mixed views have, as a general rule, now left a far more favourable impression than they had previously.

Whereas Jack Stewart of Mercury Challenge fame was constrained by what he had to listen to, I – while having free choice of what to listen to – was limited by time and having to rack up 100 records. What this inadvertently meant was that there times when I'd be sat listening to an album and willing it to end not because it was bad, but because I wanted to get another on the go and keep to a mental schedule. While it'd be nice to boldly proclaim this didn't dilute the listening experience in any way, it's fanciful at best. I suppose the targets that I set myself, while being something to aim for, also proved a a distraction and it could be argued detracted slightly from the experience as a whole. If I were to do it again I might do it under more relaxed criteria and compare notes.

One aspect that I wasn't really expecting was the social element. Tweeting the albums as I listened to them (as much of a record of what I'd listened to/how many albums I'd chalked up as much as anything else) gave way to conversations about the merits of particular albums and how they compared with the rest of back catalogues. It was a real eye opener, and a demonstration of how unifying music and albums can be. A recent trip to Manchester saw me being asked about my listening experience by people who followed me but who I'd never really conversed with before. It was surreal. As was people offering to buy me their favourite albums to be included, such was their belief in them and desire to share said love (I was only listening to albums that I personally owned). Crazy days.

So the big question is: has it made me appreciate the concept of the album more? The answer is a resounding yes, incredible as it may seem. Two weeks on, and apart from my daily couple of walks where the mp3 player stays on shuffle for a bit of variety I've listened to nothing but full albums. Not only that, but if I have a free day can be found giving thought to what I'll be listening to throughout the day, just as I did during April Albums. I'm enjoying it. It's nice. I suppose the main thing I've learnt that is that the age old excuse of 'I haven't got time to listen to albums' is a load of rhubarb. With precious little effort 3 albums a day is easily achievable. I wish I could end this with a snappy punchline, but I can't. The best I can think of is: I'm glad I did it.

Over the course of April I listened to:

Beirut – Flying Club Cup

Felt – Strange Idols And Other Short Stories

Wild Beasts – Two Dancers

Razorcuts – The World Keeps Turning

Malcolm Middleton – Waxing Gibbous

Eels – Hombre Lobo

The Rakes – Klang

OMD – Organisation

Antlers – Hospice

Dum Dum Girls – I Will be

The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart – Belong

The Wave Pictures – If You Leave It Behind

Pulp – This Is Hardcore

Bruce Springsteen – Born In The USA

Air – Moon Safari

The Lemonheads – It's A Shame About Ray

Television Personalities – Privilege

Tracey Thorne – A Distant Shore

Darren Hayman – Table For One

Camera Obscura – My Maudlin Career

The Indelicates – American Demo

The Knife – Silent Shout

The Ramones – S/T

Pete & The Pirates – Little Death

Those Dancing Days – Daydreams & Nightmares

Foals – Antidotes

The Kissaway Trail – Sleep Mountain

Orange Juice – You Can't Hide Your Love Forever

Edwyn Collins – Home Again

Beach House – Devotion

The Hold Steady – Heaven Is Whenever

The Undertones – The Sin Of Pride

Magazine – Murder, Magic and the Weather

Perfume Genius – Learning

The Lost Brothers – Trails Of The Lonely Part 1 + 3

Lloyd Cole & The Commotions – Rattlesnakes

Richard Hawley – Late Night Final

The Wedding Present – Bizzarro

New Order – Technique

Elvis Costello – This Year's Model

The National – High Violet

Arcade Fire – Funeral

Help Stamp Out Loneliness – S/T

Good Shoes – no Hope, No Future

Last Shadow Puppets – The Age Of The Understatement

LCD Soundsystem – Sound Of Silver

Doves – Lost Souls

Jeremy Warmsley – The Art Of Fiction

Joey Ramone – Don't Worry About Me

Elbow – Asleep In The Back

The Smiths – The Queen Is Dead

The Concretes – The Concretes In Colour

Art Brut – It's A Bit Complicated

Envelopes – Demon

The Brilliant Corners – Somebody Up There Likes Me

Radiohead – Hail To The Thief

Gaslight Anthem – American Slang

John Cooper-Clarke – Zip Style Method

Field Mice – Skywriting

REM – Reckoning

Girls – S/T

The Libertines – S/T

Young Knives – Voices of Animals and Men

The Cribs – The New Fellas

Albert Hammond Jr – For Keeps

David Bowie – Let's Dance

The Clash – Combat Rock

Los Campesinos! - Romance Is Boring

Dexy's Midnight Runners – Too Rya Aye

The Orchids – Striving For The Lazy Perfection

Christopher Eatough – A Creak in The Cold

Echo & The Bunnymen – Porcupine

Hefner – The Fidelity Wars

The Magnetic Fields – Get Lost

James Yorkston – When The Haar Rolls In

The Drums – S/T

Jim Noir – Tower Of Love

Belle & Sebastian – The Life Pursuit

Goodbooks – Control

Kubb – Mother

Noah & The Whale – The First Days Of Spring

The Jam – This Is The Modern World

The Vapors – New Clear Days

The Replacements – Tim

MJ Hibbett & The Validators – We Validate!

Brian Eno – Apollo

Tokyo Police Club – Elephant Shell

The Cars – S/T

The Modern Lovers – S/T

Cold War Kids – Robbers & Cowards

Suede – Head Music – Blur – 13

M83 – Saturdays = Youth

Neutral Milk Hotel – Aeroplane Over The Sea

All Darlin' - S/T

Guest Blog: Jack Stewart's Mercury Challenge

Boredom is a terrible thing, and can so often drive people to do things they regret. For Jack Stewart of the wonderful Just Like TV blog, it meant the opportunity to listen to every album (available on Spotify) ever nominated for the Mercury Music Prize. Despite this harrowing experience, he was happy to offer Tones of Town a few thoughts on the experience:

Late last month I had another one of my ideas. I always have 'ideas'. You know the sort. They seem good at the time but once you put them into action you know you've made a huge mistake, but you're too stubborn to give in once you've started.

Thinking that it would be 'a bit of fun' and 'a laugh', I decided to listen to every Mercury Music Prize nominated album. Well, the ones that were available on Spotify anyway, which turned out to be around 60%.

The Mercury ceremony has always entertained me over the years. I like that there is recognition out there for great British albums and it's certainly given a lot of smaller acts a well-needed boost into the mainstream in the time that it's been running.

The merits of the winners have been well-documented so I won't cover old ground, but I thought I'd let you know the full extent of the torture that I went through, just in case anyone was thinking of making the same mistake.

First off, no, I didn't really discover any gems hidden in the Mercury collection. That's not to say that there aren't any, no. The majority of the greatest British albums since 1992 have been included in the shortlists, from Dummy, OK Computer and Parklife in the early years to the sounds of Asleep In The Back, In Rainbows and XX this decade.

My personal musical journey owes a lot to the Prize. My dad unearthed many classics because of it whilst I was still forming my tastes, and then passed them on once I became interested in music. Helicopter Girl, Goldfrapp, Tricky, The Delgados and Doves were all passed down purely because of the increased press and recognition that the nominations gave each artist.

There's a few albums that I listened to during what I dubbed the 'Mercury Challenge' which I will re-visit, but not many. On a first listen The Auteurs, Villagers, Mark Lanegan & Isobel Campbell all sounded like they had something else to offer.

As much as it was nice to listen to some classic albums, the Mercury Challenge was mostly a thankless task. Sting, M People, Spice Girls, Roni Size, Robbie Williams, Stereophonics and Richard Ashcroft all took the wind out of my sails, and that's just the first eight years. Some of the later shortlists were horrific. 2004 and 2005 in particular- the Keane/Snow Patrol/Joss Stone/The Streets/Ty/Amy Winehouse run in 2004 did not please me, and the Hard-Fi/Kaiser Chiefs double header in 2005 would be enough to destroy a lesser man.

But no. I, Jack Stewart, bravely battled on in the face of adversity. I took it all in my stride (well, aside from the odd despairing tweet) and I am proud to state that I completed my challenge last week.

They say whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger. That's not true. I am scarred, I am bruised, I am weak and I am tired. But none of that matters, because I completed an entirely arbitrary challenge that I set myself, for absolutely no reason whatsoever.

For my next test I will listen to every track on every Now That's What I Call Music compilation. I'm a sucker for punishment.

Top Mercury Challenge tweets from Jack:

"I am officially listening to Stars by Simply Red. Two minutes in and the saxophones have started. Kill me."

"Two tracks into the Barry Adamson album and I've already heard 'negro' and 'gaping hole'."

"If you'd like to hear the worst song ever recorded, I'd suggest you look up Sting's 'Love is Stronger Than Justice'."

"Wrapping up 1997 with 'Spice'. Hold me."

"Pretty sure I'm listening to Robbie Williams singing about Charlie Sheen #losing"

"MJ Cole- Sincere. I sincerely think this album is a sub-Artful Dodger piece of shit."

"Hard-Fi. Remember them? No, me neither."

"Christ on a bike. It's another Dizzee Rascal album next. Not sure I'm strong enough to do this."

"Mumford & Sons are so shit it genuinely makes me angry. GET YOUR BANJO AND FUCK OFF, RUPERT."

"This is the kind of thing people do for charity, isn't it. Not something that people do just for the hell of it."

April Albums: The Bloodening

So, welcome to the halfway mark of April Albums, the listening experience that sees a 20-something with far too much time on his hands take his life off shuffle and tries to spend the month listening to nothing but full albums. At least 100 of them in fact.


How are we* (*I) doing then? Well, 14 days have passed, and we're 50 albums down (51 is playing in the background as I type this). If that's not sticking to schedule, then I don't know what is. My listening patterns have varied from 3-4 a day when I've been working, and up to 7 or so when not. The morning shift at work means I have a clear block of listening time from lunchtime onwards, which has worked out really nicely. The afternoon shift less so. The 2pm starts have meant getting up early, and getting 2-3 done before work, and having just enough time when I get in for one more between dinner and bed. In a way it's quite weird how such a whimsical project has altered my daily schedules.

Believe it or not, there are even a set of rules to go with the project. They are as follows:

One album per artist (this is proving something of a headache when I have two albums I've not heard in ages that I want to put on and have to choose between them)

No E.P.s (there was an attempt at making some kind of formula to equate a number of E.P.s to a full album depending on time/number of tracks. But it became laughably laborious pretty damn fast so I gave up)

No compilations either of the various artists variety nor the single artist best ofs/collections kind.

If an album is an expanded format, I will only listen to the original album (this originally started off as an exercise in hearing an album as it was originally intended, but has since become more a matter of time management. Don't say I'm anything but honest)

50 albums in 14 days makes it sound like all is going swimmingly. That's not strictly true. For one, one of my prime listening opportunities – a train journey to Manchester and back – saw my mp3 player lunch itself. The ensuing fallout, purchase of a new one, and filling it all back up (an ongoing process) put me back a fair amount. Only a late listening charge on Tuesday saved it. Some dodgy work shifts (8pm finish one night, then 5am start the next morning anyone?), and breaking off to listen to/write up review albums all contributed to some days where it all looked a bit iffy to say the least. But hey, we're here so all is well.

The main thing I'm experiencing at the moment is guilt. It's rare for me to listen to an album while not doing something else at the same time. While it's sad, it's also impractical to expect anything else. If that were to happen the whole of April would see me achieve nothing else except go to work and listen to albums. It'd be great if I could afford such luxuries but life admin and the like sadly have to have a space made for them. That said, while I'm not necessarily 'connecting' with albums in the purest sense of the concept, I'm at least actually listening to many for the first time in years, and forming opinions and judgements about them. I'm still experiencing them, just not perhaps in the puritanical lights off, eyes closed, everything turned off manner that the newly-fashionable record clubs have banged on about.

The more I think about it, the more I probably should've made greater headway in the last couple of weeks. At somepoint in the next couple of weeks the house is being reglazed (not sure when, just waiting for the army of workmen descending on the place at any given moment) so that could (and probably will) jeopardise proceedings a bit. But I'm not here to make excuses. One way or another each obstacle will be overcome, even if it means me going on walks with a discman or something equally demeaning.

What's actually surprising, having gone through the vaults* (*plastic crates) is how many of my favourite artists I've not yet played a record by. There's not been any Clash, Hefner, or David Bowie in the mix so far to name but three. This is pleasing as it means I haven't gone and played all the good stuff at the start and been left with the insufferable shit at the end which in turn harms my motivation. There's still a lot of great stuff still to explore. Happy days.

If you'll excuse me, I'm off to go and make some more headway. Before you ask, no I don't know what I'm going to play to send off the whole experience. Or if I'm going to stop at album 100 if I arrive there before the end of the month or just keep going until the 30th.

Update: In the space of time it's taken me to write this I'm now almost up to album 70. I'm not sure if this says more about my album listening work ethic the past couple of days or my insanely good procrastination skills.

The World's Most Cultured Lobotomy; and a Los Angeles hire car

I'm always amazed at people who have this seemingly endless appetite for new music. Once upon a time I'd have probably doubted it possible to really appreciate music that way, but we can put that one down to the “oh, no-one can possibly appreciate music differently to the way I do” youthfulness. Arrogance, basically. Nonetheless, as I get older I listen to less music, and I listen to music less. Gone are the days of 400 last.fm scrobbles a week, now if I tip 100 I'm doing well. And that's without an mp3 player, too (I have an mp3 player, I just have no headphones and keep forgetting to buy them, being a lazy bugger in the evenings when I could be looking).

In any case, I generally struggle to synthesise too much new music. It's like modern art, in a way. Wandering around the Tate Modern's a pretty powerful experience, as the sheer variety and vivacity of the art combines with the fact you're generally looking when the place is really busy. The whole thing's awe-inspiring on one level, but it's more than a little asphyxiative, too. You wander out thinking “that was cool, but thank FUCK I'm out of there”, and go amble along the South Bank in the hope of getting your synaptic functions back. It's like the world's most cultured lobotomy.

And too much new music can have the same effect – I don't necessarily mean stuff that's recently released, trawling through a whole heap of 70s stuff would probably have the same effect. Especially if I took leave of my senses and stuck Tales from the Topographic Ocean on. But I guess everyone has a tolerance level for music, and I'm quite happy listening to a couple of albums a day. It does mean I'm listening to less stuff for the first time, and that might not be a good thing, but I'm not ready to crank out the Ellie Goulding and live on a coffee table forever more yet.

Anyway, to take a post tangentially in a different direction, I'm going to say a bit about a couple of discoveries I have made while tentatively dipping my toe in the ocean of Spotify. Spotify's an interesting matter, but with rumours today suggesting that free use of it could be capped in the not-too-distant future, I'm making hay while the sun shines and catching up on stuff I've been meaning to listen to for roughly 4 years.

First up is Clem Snide's “The Ghost of Fashion”. God knows how I first heard their 2005 album “End of Love”, but it's one of my all-time favourites, the world-weariness and general resigned feeling play out alternately with despair and the grudging acceptance that hey, the future might not be what you wanted but it's alright. It's wonderful, and I'd not heard any Clem Snide that matched it. But I'd never heard The Ghost of Fashion, which keeps up the themes to a similar standard. As a recent discovery I've not listened to it much, but it's one of those oh-so-they-did-do-something-else-good moments of relief.

The main one I wanted to enthuse about is Shack's “Waterpistol”. It's one of the all-time great 'lost' albums, mainly because it was. Originally, post-completion, all but one of the master DAT tapes were lost when the studio they'd recorded the album in burnt down. Then, the album's producer lost the last remaining master tape in a Los Angeles hire car. It turned up, but then the label folder. This was all in 1991. The album wasn't released until a tiny German independent label stepped in, in 1995. The story's regurgitated often and every sod seems to have heard it, but it's absolutely unfortunate.

And a terrible shame, because bugger-all people have heard Waterpistol (even compared to later albums HMS Fable and Here's Tom With The Weather) yet it's fantastic. It's jangly guitar music in the Liverpudlian tradition – Shack were pretty closely subsequent to The La's, for instance, and lead songwriter Mick Head's got a hell of a knack for melody, if slightly less so on how to construct a song. I'd recommend Sgt. Major, Neighbours and Walter's Song as tracks to listen to, but go stick the entire of Waterpistol on your Spotify while it's free. It's a wonderful, major-key, upbeat but not remotely saccharine. I can't recommend it enough.

Here endeth the ramble.

April Albums: An Introduction

Anyone who has been reading our various musings on this here blog over the last 15 months or so (and there have been some of you. It's not just us making up the pageviews. Honest) you'll have noticed that an area that fascinates me is the way we listen to and ingest music (or 'consume' to use the vulgar terminology so popular amongst the marketing-obsessed industry these days). You'll already know that if you've seen some of my earlier pieces which have explored tangible music formats – one about how I'd be sad if physical formats disappeared altogether, another on the sociological side to physical record collections (excitement of opening it for the first time, ogling other people's collections etc).


Naturally this extends to the format of the album as a whole. For so, so long it's been given the last rites by pretty much everyone involved within the industry. The downloading culture seems to have wiped out the concept of the album as a body of work to the more casual music listener. Consider how much thought has gone into choosing which songs are going onto an album and in which order, so as to present a coherent body of work documenting that artist's influences or experiences at that time. Now try and tell me that cherrypicking tracks from it to put on your hard-drive or MP3 player in no way devalues, disturbs or compromises the processes listed above. Exactly.

Now, let me try qualify a couple of things here. Firstly, I'm not saying we should all sit through unlistenable shit that crops in albums for the sake of preserving tracklistings every time. All I'm saying is that it's all too easy to reduce an album into a personal greatest hits compilation. In doing so it also becomes so easy to distance yourself from the original body of work as a whole to the point that you never give an album a proper chance. It's all about some misplaced notion that immediacy is key.

I don't say any of this as an outsider looking in. I'm guilty of this myself. My first ever post on here described how, when I once again invested in a device for playing physical formats, I sat down for two days and listened to records to rediscover my love for the album. Sadly, I appear to have regressed. Somewhere over the 15 months since writing it my life has once again gone onto shuffle. Aside from a week working night shifts where I wanted to explore how some of my favourite albums sounded at night the random function has been king. Time for another dose of remedial action.

A weekend drink (or several......) with the Pull Yourself Together produced the jocular remark that with so many albums coming to my house this week (courtesy of a small but welcome profit share from work) I could conceivably listen to an album a day throughout April and still have some left over. A quick bite to eat at PYT HQ saw Hefner's We Love The City providing the soundtrack, and at that moment I couldn't remember the last time I'd sat down and listened to an album all the way through. Two days later, while writing up a feature on Darren Hayman and his January Songs (where he wrote and recorded a song a day) I finally had my inspiration.

So yes, this is indeed inspired in equal parts by the people behind a fanzine named after a Hefner song, a Hefner album, and another dose of Hayman for good measure. Bordering on Darren overload if you ask me. Where he had January Songs, I'm doing April Albums.

The original idea of listening to one a day seemed frankly laughable. My aim is to now listen to at least 100 for the month. Sounds easy doesn't it? Pick 100 albums, press play, 3-4 a day and you're done. Except which 100 do you choose? There are so many ways of doing this I've already started to have choice paralysis. The arrival of most of my new albums (and possibly all by the end of the week) hasn't helped. It's thrown a whole new dimension into the mix of 'how many albums out of the 100 do I put on for the first time?'. One thing is certain though, as easy it would be to merely make it a month-long karaoke session it isn't something that I want to do. I want to be able to say that I've gained something new from every album I've put on, and picking ones you've heard 100s of times before just won't cut it. I'm sure there'll be moments when I'm tired or want something familiar that the odd personal favourite will creep in, but I'm aiming to keep that in the minority. I also want to try and throw in some albums that I haven't heard in 4 years or so, and see how they compare with the things I'm into now. Hell, I'm willing to sit through things I still own that I played twice and thought were bloody awful, just to see if my opinions have stayed consistent.

I'm really looking forward to it, I have to say. I'm already looking at albums and thinking 'am I going to put that on now or am I going to wait and have it included in my 100?'. Not even the fact my house is being totally reglazed at somepoint in proceedings (I think it's around week 3, and will last a week) is stopping me. I'm already thinking of ways to go and listen to albums aside from sitting in the house in order to keep the momentum going. This of course might backfire spectacularly and leave me not wanting to hear an album in its entirety for ever and a day. But we won't know until I get there.

This started as a personal adventure through my own record collection, but over the past couple of days the thought has creeped in that it would be nice if others did it too. Set your own rules. How many you intend to listen to. Whether you do new ones, or old ones. Whether you do albums you own, or trawl Spotify for new ones. It'd be lovely to go look through the #aprilalbums hashtag on Twitter and see not only that people are joining in, but what they're listening to.

I'll be live tweeting my listening experiences on twitter.com/musicismyradar. Entirely up to you if you follow of course, and I wouldn't blame you if you didn't. But if you do join in, remember to hashtag. I'm hoping to do weekly updates/progress reports on here documenting my experiences/slow descent into madness. So until then, BAI.

Actually, not quite. This is clearly the season for listening experiences, for twitter.com/jook is currently listening to EVERY Mercury prize nominated album ever (providing it's on Spotify). He's currently up to 1995, the poor sod. Go keep him company for god's sake.

The Dears - Degeneration Street

Something that should be quoted at the beginning of any review of a band on their third or later album is the saying that the definition of madness is

"doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results"

Huh. The other thing is something that I have tried to figure out for a long time - should I, a consumer of music, really expect that a band can make more than one great album? And do I feel guilty for wanting an album like their original stuff, pretty much the most 'indie' thing you can want? The Dears created something magical with their first major release, No Cities Left, a certifiable indie-classic that is almost timeless in its execution and style, with the crooning vocals and puncturing rhythms that sound like lightning in a bottle. The album is one of very few - like Is This It and Turn On the Bright Lights - born from that early 21st century stable of indie rockers that can still be listened to. But...

There is a problem. Since then The Dears have struggled to match their heady heights, and here's my question? Should I expect them to, do I have an investment that needs returning from my affection in the first place, am I out of order to expect that they can make another album of the quality? The recent albums, Gang of Losers and Missiles were albums that I wanted to love but left me feeling a little out of sorts. They weren't bad records but held up against their startling older brethren they seem less polished and less compelling.

Eight years since No Cities Left they are back with another set of tracks in a perverse perseverance. Should you care that they are back? Should I care that they are back? Is this the album, these 14 tracks, the ones that are going to reaffirm that solid belief that The Dears were the next big thing?

No. No, it's not. Degeneration Street is 14 tracks of great song craftsmanship, good vocal work, nice lyrics, competent guitar and a certain confidence that exude a good atmosphere. But the thing is to understand why I don't like Degeneration Street as much as No Cities Left I have to take apart why I like No Cities Left and you know what? It's the past that makes it so great. In 2004 when I first heard the album I was shocked because it was an album of sheer depth the like of which I'd not really been exposed to - growing up amongst fans of Nu Metal and Pop music I found it difficult to find my footing in bands, and The Dears is a good example of a band that opened my eyes, much like Belle and Sebastian and Godspeed You! Black Emperor - they were a gateway band to a world I had hoped existed and that I was happy to have found. The lead me to a host of new bands, namely The Smiths and Yo La Tengo.

So where does Degeneration Street sit? Quite well, actually - the assured style is akin to No Cities Left and the return of the dark lyrics, slow build up and long over blown drum solos are here in full effect, and it is the best sounding album they've made, better in some respects that No Cities Left. It has a few pretty amazing highlights - Blood being a stomping anthem with a rollercoaster melody on the chorus line. Lamentation is a slow burner like 22: The Death of all the Romance and has the same sense of despair and really does show that the band have the same feelings that made No Cities Left so special.

The album could do with two or three tracks cut from it's running length. Yesteryear is a jaunty sing along pop song that sites rather awkwardly on the record, and the song Easy Suffering sounds like it was culled from session on a Robbie Williams record... but for all it's flaws, Degeneration Street is an album worthy of that 20 year old students love, promise that they might have a place in modern day rock music. The Dears though have yet to make a truely essential album since their first, and the question I must ask then is why do they need to?

They don't. And finally, I don't think they are trying to anymore. This is one of the best albums of the year.