Broken Social Scene - Forgiveness Rock Record (Album)

Is it really five years since the last Broken Social Scene album? It really doesn’t feel like it. Perhaps it’s the ubiquity borne out of their indie megastardom, perhaps it’s the not-quite-solo, not-quite-BSS records released by Kevin Drew and Brendan Canning since 2005’s eponymous effort. Either way, it feels like they’ve never been away. However, that didn’t stop the initial announcement of Forgiveness Rock Record’s arrival being greeted with a feverish level of anticipation only matched so far this year by The National. Like Messrs Berninger, Dessner et al, BSS were on a bit of a hiding to nothing in trying to satisfy expectations, however Forgiveness Rock Record, like High Violet, comfortably achieves this feat.

Impressively for a band whose membership is so befuddlingly fluid, Broken Social Scene have been quietly cultivating an entirely specific sound ever since You Forgot it in People. Their albums have always been pretty diverse affairs (and Forgiveness Rock Record is no exception), but there have always been odd common threads loosely woven throughout their music, that creaky guitar, for instance, or that slightly dusty feel to the production, all of which serve to make a Broken Social Scene record instantly recognisable. Forgiveness Rock Record has this same sense about it, yet is still markedly different to anything yet released by BSS.

The biggest difference to a lot of the band’s previous work is that large chunks of Forgiveness Rock Record show a greater focus on more conventional song structures than usual, which is no bad thing. You might be surprised to hear it of a mass conglomerate of indie experimentalists, but when they want to, BSS can do pop pretty nicely thank you. ‘Art House Director’ is the finest example of this, a glorious slice of fun driven by a bounding brass refrain which races breathlessly onwards. ‘Meet Me in the Basement’, too, is similarly unrestrained in the joyousness which seeps out of its instrumental elegance.

Broken Social Scene have featured their fair share of big name female singers over the years, but one of Forgiveness Rock Record’s most gorgeous moments comes courtesy of one of their less feted chanteuses in Lisa Lobsinger. ‘All to All’ is heartbreakingly pretty, all woozy and lovelorn, and also has a disarmingly catchy groove to it. Perhaps the competition from Lobsinger has inspired Emily Haines, who in response turns in one of her most seductive vocals in years on the irresistibly sexy ‘Sentimental X’s’. It would be misguided to think that it’s just the girls who are capable of sending a tingle down the listener’s spine, though. ‘Sweetest Kill’ creeps up on you after a few listens, gently tugging at your sleeve for attention, and it is Kevin Drew’s careworn vocal which is largely responsible for this. For years, Drew has been a master of understated emotion, and this is one of the finest moments of his enviable career.

It probably won’t come as a surprise to hardened Broken Social Scene listeners that Forgiveness Rock Record isn’t without its missteps. There are undoubtedly times when the album can frustrate, such as with the aimless closer ‘Me and My Hand’, or the throwaway ‘Ungrateful Little Father’. And the less said about the ill-advised ‘Scoody-doody’ bits at the start of ‘Highway Slipper Jam’, the better. That said, the slack quality control which comes with their chaotic make-up is part of the band’s appeal. After all, how often do we berate bands for being a bit too slick? Besides, none of the record’s faults can possibly take anything away from its high points, which are as plentiful as they are enriching. Forgiveness Rock Record is definitely as much of a slow burner as any previous BSS efforts, but it’s at least as good as any of them.

4/5

Pulled Apart by Horses - Pulled Apart by Horses (Album)

I’m not sure exactly what it takes for a post-hardcore band to cross over successfully to indie-land, but Pulled Apart By Horses might be able to answer that question. Like Rolo Tomassi and Dananananaykroyd before them, they have managed to get check-shirted types a-quivering with anticipation for their debut record. They might not have Rolo’s lunatic creativity or Dananana’s insane levels of unbridled energy, but PABH are still quite adept with straight-up dumb shouty rawk. They have a sense of fun which is pretty appealing. This is music which doesn’t take itself too seriously, something that is clear from a mere passing glance at the track-list. The likes of ‘I Punched a Lion in the Throat’ and ‘The Crapsons’ are more than just silly one-liners though, they are backed up by satisfyingly meaty riffs and are catchier than all the yelling might lead you to believe at first. A lot of this might be a bit tongue in cheek, but there’s still a convincing amount of anger present, particularly in ‘I’ve Got Guestlist to Rory O’Hara’s Suicide’. It’s unlikely to reveal much more of itself after the first few listens, but PABH is still a decent rock knockabout.

3.5/5

Singles Round-Up - W/C 17-5-10 (Single)

It’s been suggested that the single is a dying artform, and although I’m a firm believer in the format, there are some weeks where it is hard to argue its case. Disappointingly for me, embarking on my maiden run at our Singles of the Week column, this week is one of those weeks. Still, there are one or two diamonds buried in the rough, so onward we go...

This week sees releases from more of pop’s luminaries than usual. Firstly, Christina Aguilera is back, and it would appear she has decide to reprise her filth-pop heyday, when she used to go around calling herself X-Tina. Sadly for pop’s yummiest mummy though, ‘Not Myself Tonight’, is a forgettable slice of “If you don’t like it, fuck you” –themed bluster, which sounds a little hollow now that we have far more interesting pop stars like Lady Gaga. A slightly better attempt at urban pop comes from little Alexandra Burke, whose ‘All Night Long’ at least has a more memorable chorus which is likely to go down well with Radio 1 types. She’s definitely one of the more worthwhile of the X Factor ‘artists’, but that contest is a bit like trying to decide what the best type of skin disease is. Completing the trio of pop giants releasing records this week is the wonderfully batshit Shakira, who at least deserves our admiration for gaining such prominence by embracing her lunacy rather than allowing herself to be buffed into radio-friendly generica. Her song ‘Give it Up to Me’, however is no ‘She-Wolf’. It’s a bit too straight, doesn’t really play to her eccentric strengths, and ends up sounding kind of like something Timbaland would have chucked at Nelly Furtado a few years ago.

While we’re on the subject of female pop solo artists, this week also sees the release of Ellie Goulding’s latest effort ‘Guns and Horses’. The song is perfectly pleasant, inoffensive and quite catchy (though not quite ‘Starry-Eyed’ catchy), but it’s difficult to take her seriously. It just feels like she’s been vacuum-packed in the lab which produces BBC Sound of 20xx candidates, with this year’s vintage requiring liberal splashes of baggy checked shirts, leggings and kooky vocal tics. You’d like to think there’s some irony present when she sings “It’s time that we found out who we are”, but there probably isn’t.

A far more enjoyable effort comes from Swanton Bombs (apparently it’s something to do with wrestling). Their single ‘Wasteland’ is a beautifully shambolic chunk of messy guitar pop. It has that fantastic grubby sound of Let’s Wrestle and the energy of Dananananaykroyd, but amid the murkiness, a tune is buried, and a surprisingly catchy one at that. Competing with Swanton Bombs for this week’s best single are Wild Palms. ‘Deep Dive’ is comprised of equal parts ominous portents of doom and driving power-pop, and is an all the more interesting proposition for its identity crisis. The singer might want to tone down the affectations just a touch though.

Also out this week is Camera Obscura’s cover of Richard Hawley’s ‘The Nights Are Cold’, which I would have loved to have told you all about, but as there seems to be an implausibly wide online exclusion zone around it, I’m afraid that’s not possible. The original is a lovely example of gently bouncing acoustic songcraft, so I expect the cover is kind of like that, only a little bit twee-er. They’re a lovely bunch, so you might as well just buy it and let me know what it sounds like.

Foals - Total Life Forever (Album)

When Foals first unveiled their debut album Antidotes, it dawned on most of us that they were not a band who were particularly keen to do what was expected of them. Their earliest singles led many to expect a by-numbers Math Rock knockabout of a long player, but, much to the surprise of those who had them pegged as hipster fodder, Antidotes took a more considered approach than that. It combined fleeting bouts of bombast with moments that subtly worked their way under your skin, all of which made for a sharply enriching end result. It also showed that Foals possessed a stubborn determination to do things entirely on their own terms, something which has continued through to second album Total Life Forever.

Opening track ‘Blue Blood’, builds from a fragile, reflective opening into something denser, growing so gradually that you barely notice the transition. This, really, is the album in microcosm. With each song that passes, and each repeat listen to the record, Total Life Forever reveals layer after layer until its majesty engulfs you entirely. It takes a lot longer to absorb than Antidotes, but once it has sunk in it becomes clear just how good a record this is.

It has been suggested that the process of making the album was a fraught one for Foals, and this is reflected in the tone of the music. Part of the reason that it initially proves tough to penetrate Total Life Forever is its largely gloomy nature. Much of the record sounds darker than anything the band have recorded before, but at the same time it is more rounded than any of their previous work, and, dare we say it, much more mature.

The entire thing hinges on the astonishing centrepiece that is ‘Spanish Sahara’. It is borne out of the darkest depths of the most miserable nights, and carries with it a sense of desolation which is particularly harrowing. Yannis Philippakis’ vocal delivery is that of a man completely exhausted, and adds to the almost suffocating mood of the song. It feels like there is a black cloud overhead, constantly threatening to erupt but which never quite breaks completely. It is this tension which makes the song so absorbing, no matter how disturbing a listen it is.

The despondency of ‘Spanish Sahara’ is followed by ‘This Orient’, which perks things up, but only in the slightest of fashions. In spite of its big single vibes and the gentle swell with which it builds, under the surface it still contains the same anxiety which permeates most of the album. A similar sense of timorousness can also be seen in ‘Black Gold’, whose chilly, isolated guitar builds into a vast, creepy final two minutes which are totally at odds with Yannis’ contention that “Spring is finally here”. Really, the only shaft of light to illuminate any part of the album appears early on in the form of ‘Miami’, which possesses a groove reminiscent of Friendly Fires and is probably the most overt pop song in Foals’ armoury.

The songs on Total Life Forever are powerful in both concept and realisation, and a massive part in what makes the album so impressive is the way the music has been captured. Phillippakis’ voice is consistently affecting, as he sounds far more jaded than the young pup whose yelps punctuated Antidotes. The band’s musicianship is stunning too, with the jittery rhythm section combining with the characteristically chiming guitar to produce a sound which is, at different stages, graceful, sinister and beautifully nourishing.

So clearly Total Life Forever is a record which demands time and attention from the listener. In return it offers more than its predecessor. Even this early in their career, there are suggestions that Foals are masters of reinvention, something which puts them completely in control of their own destiny. When Yannis sings “Singularity is here to stay” on the album’s title track, it is as honest a lyric as he will probably ever deliver, because for Foals it is quite obviously their way or no way.

Ash - A Retrospective

We all have our seminal bands, those who take a major part in forming our tastes in our younger days, and with whom we form such strong bonds that we will follow them unconditionally, football style, whatever kind of form they are in. For me, Ash are one of those bands. Now that they have eschewed the album format altogether for their much discussed A-Z singles project (The first thirteen of which have recently been compiled and released as a single disc), now would seem as good a time as any to run a critical eye over their recorded output and see just why they are such an important band to so many.

When debut mini-album Trailer appeared in 1994, Tim and Mark were still only 17. Much was made of the band’s age, and stories of them needing their headmaster’s permission to go on tour abounded, but the crux of it is that Trailer remains a vital piece in the Ash jigsaw. It bore the clear hallmarks of a young band trying to find their own sound, but even at this embryonic stage it was distinctly recognisable as Ash. The spikier punk songs like ‘Intense Thing’ are the earliest examples of the strength of Tim’s often under-rated guitar work, even if his voice was a little too sweet to convincingly carry off the shouting. Trailer’s best moments, however, were the songs which aligned most closely with the buoyant pop Ash would eventually become feted for. ‘Jack Names the Planets’, ‘Petrol’, and ‘Uncle Pat’ in particular can still stand toe to toe with much of the band’s back catalogue.

The band’s first album proper, 1977, saw them round off some (though thankfully not all) of their rougher edges into the power-pop which most casual observers would associate with them. It was (possibly inadvertently) timed to perfection in the summer of 1996 with ‘Goldfinger’ and ‘Oh Yeah’ in particular rightly being remembered as stone-cold pop classics, perfect distillations of the band’s youthful energy and skill with a memorable hook. It also provided the first indications that Tim was capable of writing more than just a catchy pop song, with ‘Gone the Dream’ and ‘Lost in You’ glistening with a yearning, wide-eyed sense of teenage angst. Unlike many albums from the same era, the record has aged well, partly thanks to the ageless quality of the songs, and partly because of Owen Morris’ meaty production.

Perhaps inevitably after seeing such success at such a young age, after 1977, the band went off the rails a little. Having recruited Charlotte Hatherley to beef up their sound, they produced Nu-Clear Sounds, a massive departure in tone from 1977 which left Joe Public completely baffled. Looking back, its poor critical and commercial reception was an unfair reflection of the quality of the record. The band’s collective psyche may have been completely frazzled, as displayed quite candidly on ‘Low Ebb’ and ‘Burn Out’, but there were moments of brilliant creativity lurking amid the gloom. ‘Projects’ and ‘Death Trip 21’ in particular were gloriously dense blasts of Sonic Youth-esque energy. While the album had little in common with the sugar rush of the previous record, under its blistered surface, the likes of ‘Wild Surf’ and ‘Jesus Says’ still displayed some of the old propensity for a catchy chorus.

After Nu-Clear Sounds, something had to give, and it was very nearly the band’s existence. Burnt out and almost bankrupt, they returned to Northern Ireland to lick their wounds and recorded Free All Angels, an album which would prove to be the most glorious of salvations. The record-buying public latched onto Ash again with the killer one-two of singles which preceded the album, ‘Shining Light’ and ‘Burn Baby Burn’ both gatecrashing the top end of the charts. As strong as it was, Free All Angels didn’t really tell the full story of a time which saw the band hit the richest creative seam of their career. The likes of ‘Walking Barefoot’, ‘Cherry Bomb’ and ‘Pacific Palisades’ were stunning pop songs, while ‘Submission’ and ‘Shark’ were cuddlier versions of the tales of excess explored on Nu-Clear Sounds. However, the five singles the album yielded where backed by a slew of songs which were at least as strong as what eventually made the cut. The likes of ‘Stay in Love Forever’, ‘So the Story Goes’, ‘Nocturne’ and ‘The Sweetness of Death by the Obsidian Knife’ meant Free All Angels could quite conceivably have been a fantastic double album.

In 2004, for the second time in their career, Ash followed up a massively successful album with something with a harder edge. Meltdown saw them ditch the strings and pop hooks which were dotted around Free All Angels in favour of straight-up ballsy rock. The album was a straightforward proposition; big choruses and simple dumb fun. Aside from the power ballad ‘Starcrossed’, which never quite sat right on the album, there was little deviation from the formula. As a consequence, the album was only moderately successful, but like Nu-Clear Sounds it was a better album than its reception suggested. The huge driving riff of ‘Orpheus’ and the Queens of the Stone Age-aping ‘Clones’, were wonderful blasts of visceral power. The glorious, surging ‘Out of the Blue’ and devastatingly concise ‘Renegade Cavalcade’ were similarly effective. Ultimately, Meltdown was an arse-kicking summer rock album; no more, no less.

By the time the band reached Twilight of the Innocents in 2007, there was a sense that the momentum was fading a little, which probably wasn’t helped by the departure of Charlotte, who had been a huge part of the band’s success for almost ten years. The album proved to be a bit of a mixed bag. It was certainly not without its highlights, with ‘I Started a Fire’ oozing the typical Ash energy, and ‘Polaris’ and ‘Twilight of the Innocents’ providing proof that Wheeler’s nous with pathos was as strong as it was in his teenage years, with the latter being imbued with an impressive new sense of grandeur. That said, there wasn’t as much of that intangible spark which ignites the best Ash records. It’s not that Twilight of the Innocents was a bad album; it just ended up being the weakest of an extremely strong bunch, and suffering by comparison.

As we have seen, it turned out to be the last Ash long player as they returned to the singles format which has always been kind to them. The songs released so far from the A-Z collection have provided a few glints of their old lustre, suggesting that being freed from the traditional album cycle of albums has reinvigorated the band somewhat. Still only in their early thirties, there is clearly plenty of life left in Ash yet, whether they return to albums or stick to singles. Whatever happens, there are plenty more than me who owe a serious debt of gratitude to Ash for the innumerable moments of sheer joy they have provided for so many years.