Brilliant Mind, The Notebook and Mansfield Holiday - The Head of Steam, 9/3/10 (Gig)

It's fair to say that local gigs don't always feature entirely complementary line-ups, often shoe-horning a few bands together simply because they all happen to be free on a given night. Tonight's selection, however, would appear to be a little more thoughtfully assembled, rich as it is with sharp, literate guitar pop. Mansfield Holiday are our starting point. They reference any number of classic bands, but imbue it with a touch more aggression and some lovely keyboard noises. They are deceptively melodic amid the clamour, and thoroughly exhilarating. Next up we have the graceful, elegant The Notebook. Their bookish pop comes tinged with lilting Americana, with the exception of the thunderous mini post-rock epic they close the set with. They are a band who already sound fully formed, with the muddy sound of the Steamer failing to mask the quality of the songs. The same can be said of final band Brilliant Mind. The spirit of Pulp is heavy in the air tonight, particularly in the Jarvis-alike appearance of The Notebook's singer, but it is most apparent in Brilliant Mind's sharply-observed and wonderfully lean songcraft. Frontman Calum is a classic English pop star, a squirming, agitated creature whose presence enhances the band's appeal. Their set is truncated slightly by time constraints, but this just makes their playing all the more urgent. The likes of Leave Your Friends Behind and Our Osprey in particular are getting better with every show. All told, a great show. Three cracking bands for four quid - Take that economic meltdown!

Duke Special - The Stage, A Book and The Silver Screen (Album)

Duke Special has always been a curiously enigmatic prospect. His live performances are usually joyous affairs, often seeing his flouncy vaudevillian antics accompanied by maniacal cheese-grater wielding percussionist Chip Bailey. One strength he constantly displays is to make each show seem like a one-off, as opposed to the identikit sets occasionally yawned out by some other perma-touring artists. However, he has always been faced with the dillemma of how to communicate the eccentric charm of his live shows on record, a feat he has yet to fully accomplish really. His previous album I Never Thought This Day Would Come was a classic case in point. The record was so polished that the set of jaunty piano singalongs came out limper than their quality deserved. Nowadays, finding himself free of the big label constraints which presumably played a big part in this, Duke is going it alone for a laudably ambitious project. The Stage, A Book And The Silver Screen comprises two concept albums, as well as a concept EP.

The first disc, The Silent World of Hector Mann is a collection of songs inspired by Paul Auster's The Book of Illusions, which features silent film star Mann. Special sent a copy of each of each of Mann's twelve films to a different Irish artist with a brief to pen a pre-rock and roll style song about each, which he would then record himself. The result, in spite of the slightly disparate elements is surprisingly cohesive and massively enjoyable. By far the strongest piece on the record is Neil Hannon's, 'Wanda, Darling of the Jockey Club', which tells the story of a bumbling waiter's infatuation with a female pilot. Hannon's wit, a playful piano line and the cheery warmth of Special's delivery mingle perfectly to produce one of the best morsels of pop either artist has ever been attached to.

The theme of the oafish suitor pursuing a woman who is way out of his league is a common one on the record, continued more directly but no less charmingly on 'Country Weekend', this time featuring "just a chauffeur who really hopes for the honour of his passenger's hand". This would appear to be a common component of Mann's films, as was the idea of the loveable rogue, a subject covered on the Thomas Truax's ludicrously bouncy 'The Prop Man', an almost slapstick song about a thieving film staffer. The silly fun displayed here is an example of how with this record Special has gone the furthest distance yet towards capturing the merry spontanaeity of his live shows.

Disc two, the Huckleberry Finn EP, is a suite of songs written by Kurt Weill, originally intended for a musical which was left unfinished when Weill died. Where Silent World played up to Special's penchant for quirky piano pop, Huckleberry Finn adds a touch more grandeur. The songs are laced with strings and splashed with brass, but the slightly bigger sound does not make it any less playful. The record might only be a touch over a quarter of an hour, but there's still a lot to savour, from the swaying, swooning, 'Chantry River' to the flamboyantly catchy 'Apple Jack'. It is the EP's closer, 'Catfish Song' which steals the show though, a darling little duet which apes an interchange between Tom 'n' Huck.

While Huckleberry Finn sounds richer than the mischievous sounds on Silent World, it is Mother Courage and Her Children which really encapsulates the depth of ambition of Duke Special's mammoth project. The final disc is a collection of studio recordings of songs from Bertold Brecht's anti-war play of the same name, to which Special contributed music for a recent run at London's Royal National Theatre. The sizeable arrangements are probably to be expected given the context, but what you might not expect is that an artist who a mere disc or two ago was chirruping cheerfully about clumsy waiters can comfortably turn his hand to lines like "We hated the soldiers / Their army took our town / I was sixteen / The foreign occupier grinned as he loosened my nightgown". His voice is powerful and soulful enough not to be lost amid the soaring orchestral backing, something which is exhibited best in 'Mother Courage' and its reprise which closes the album.

The subject matter may be dark, but sometimes you have to listen carefully to realise this is the case. The powerful arrangements lift the tone, adding an occasional air of triumph to the grimness. So too do Special's piano melodies, particularly the driving, forceful 'The Great Capitulation', a common thread which links together all three elements of The Stage, A Book, And The Silver Screen.

With this collection, Duke Special has escaped from the confines of the conventional, and it has clearly done him the world of the good. Each of the three records are hugely enjoyable standalone pieces, but as a trio they serve to illustrate his limitless ambition, versatility and skill with a melody. Lord knows what else is lurking in that eccentric brain of his, but here's hoping his future projects are as gloriously outlandish as this.

The Silent World of Hector Mann - 8
Huckleberry Finn - 7
Mother Courage and Her Children - 8

Trouble Books - Gathered Tones (Album)

There is undoubtedly something magical about a great lost album. Even when you discount the dirty pleasure of indie snobbery, there is still something warming about a really special piece of music which you share with a small number of similarly enlightened souls. Ohio band Trouble Books' last effort, The United Colors of Trouble Books was a thing of almost impossible beauty which fell squarely into that category, missed as it was by many. Given the delicate, unhurried nature of their sound, it is perhaps fitting that the acclaim for the band is starting to swell ever so gradually, including a recent spot in The Guardian's New Band of the Day column, meaning their fanbase is starting very slowly to expand.

After The United Colors, Trouble Books had a hand in two more records in the last twelve months, firstly the Endless Pool EP and then offshoot project Talons' Songs For Babes. Both were similarly lovely, and served as excellent appetisers for the follow-up to The United Colors, Gathered Tones.

As we might have expected, it is quite simply wonderful. The record has a slightly fuller sound than its predecessor, but it sacrfices none of the delicacy Trouble Books have always exhibited. Gathered Tones feels like the soft trickle of rain against a window, while The United Colors was more like the very first sensation of drizzle in the air. Right from the outset with album opener 'Ascending Kidney', it is clear that the band have lost none of their deftness. About a minute and a half into the song, a guitar line comes in, devastatingly delicate, but all the more powerful for it, and this is the most perfect example of Trouble Books' greatest strength. They can create the strongest of emotions from the most minimal of ingredients. This is a huge part of what makes them such a special band, giving them more substance in five seconds of music than some bands manage in an entire career.

The way the band structure the album has not changed from previous releases, and really, there is no reason on Earth why it should. The songs are still constructed from sleepy ambient textures, embellished with elements of noise, drones, and all manner of miscellaneous background chirruping. This is really why Gathered Tones, like all their other work, will stand up to any number of repeated listens. The ingredients might be sparse, but it's very possible you will be too spellbound by the sheer elegance of it all to notice every minute detail, so there will undoubtedly be sounds you miss the first, second or seventieth time you listen.

More than anything else, what really elevates Gathered Tones above their previous best work is its evocativeness. Every song creates its own particular mood, one which you might instinctively associate with its subject matter without even noticing it. On 'Abandoned Monorail Station' for example, even before a glance at the song title, and before hearing the line "and debris swirls around me", you might find yourself picturing a desolate, windswept platform haunted by a forlorn solitary figure. It's a similar story on final song 'Houseplants', a wonderfully spacious piece which conjures up images of a sun-bleached room filled with blanched-leafed plant life. The lyrical content, as well as the music also helps to paint these pictures of an idyllic kind of reality, telling tales about subjects as diverse and commonplace as feeding fast food to stray cats, putting the bins out, and the downright inconvenient sense of timing death sometimes has.

With Gathered Tones, Trouble Books have raised their stock even further. Their prolific release rate would suggest that they have an inexhaustible supply of these dreamy little morsels, which is all the more lucky for us. It was difficult to imagine how they could possibly top an album as perfect as The United Colors, so it would be narrow-sighted of us to wonder how they could improve on this record. All we can do is wrap ourselves in its cosy glow and wait as patiently as we can for everything else they have in store for us.

Midlake - The Courage of Others (Album)

In the three and a half years since the release of what eventually proved to be their breakthrough record, The Trials of Van Occupanther, Midlake have seen the musical landscape shift in a manner which is unquestionably favourable to them. The sort of beardy, woodsy Americana they specialise in has swelled to a wider popularity with the successes of the likes of Fleet Foxes, Grizzly Bear and Bon Iver. It could reasonably be argued that the slow-burning success of Van Occupanther paved the way for these artists to reach mass acclaim. This has made The Courage of Others a much-anticipated album, all the more when you consider the lengthy wait we have endured for its arrival.

And really, there's no doubt that it has been worth the tantalising wait. What they have delivered to us is a quite different record from Van Occupanther, but one which is ultimately an even more enriching and rewarding listen. It might be less immediately obvious than its predecessor (which in itself is hardly an instant hookfest), but the more it slowly seeps into your consciousness, the more spellbinding it is.

The 70s AOR influences which informed the last album have mostly been pushed aside, and have been replaced by a more folky feel. In similar fashion to Van Occupanther, it is steeped in an earthy, natural kind of imagery. This is immediately clear not only in the song titles, but also in the lyrics: “As the spring is made alive, the winter dies” and “Into the core of nature / No earthly mind can enter” serving as but two examples out of potentially dozens. The relatively sparse, and occasionally ghostly instrumentation compliments the lyrical themes beautifully, as does the hangdog vocal delivery of Tim Smith. The whole thing feels more intimate, and closer to the bone. Van Occupanther was a stroll through a crisp autumn morning, while The Courage of Others is akin to being lust in the forest as dusk descends.

The strongest example of the album's stunning mesh of mood and beautiful construction is probably ‘Rulers, Ruling All Things‘, the record’s midpoint which swells gradually until the miserable air becomes almost uplifting. This gives way immediately to the only real example of any kind of tempo in the form of ‘Children of the Grounds‘, which adds a rare splash of light. It's quite telling that this happened to be one of the first songs written for the album, having appeared in live sets towards the end of Van Occupanther's run while the rest of the album was written during the recording process. It is quite possible, had this not been the case, that The Courage of Others could have ended up being a completely different animal. Let us be thankful that it turned out the way it did, then, because it is quite simply a stunning record, certainly Midlake's best yet, and one which will easily end up being one of the most evocative 2010 has to offer.

Frightened Rabbit - The Winter of Mixed Drinks

Ahead of the release of their third long-player, Frightened Rabbit found themselves at a critical sort of crossroads. Their last album, The Midnight Organ Fight was a slow-burner which found its acclaim building ever so gradually as it reached the end of its run. This led to very faint rumblings that FR were all set for a more mainstream audience next time out. This notion gained momentum at the tail end of last year when Swim Until You Can’t See Land appeared with the aroma of ‘breakthrough single’ oozing from its pores. Fortunately though, they’ve steered clear of the terrible path trod by almost-countrymen Snow Patrol (for now at least), because The Winter of Mixed Drinks isn’t the Radio 1 album some feared it might be.

Nothing on here quite matches the highest points of The Midnight Organ Fight (the likes of Fast Blood and The Modern Leper), but all things considered, this is a more consistent affair than its predecessor. Scott Hutchison has previously lamented the faults he finds with the last album, and it’s clear that there has been a concerted effort to fill the holes. In doing so though, his band don’t appear to have lost their edge. The beautifully dour sense of humour which has always permeated their songs still shows itself in fleeting glimpses, never more than on Skip the Youth: ‘All I need is a place to lie / Guess a grave will have to do’

The album opens in gorgeous fashion with Things, which has that wide-eyed, evocative feel normally best produced by The Twilight Sad. The aforementioned Skip the Youth is equally stirring, building from a clattering, noise-heavy intro into another chest-thumper of a song. Fans of swoony guitar lines will also find plenty to like on Foot Shooter and Not Miserable (a little irony in the titling there, perhaps?)

The moments which don’t find their mark are few and far between. Yes I Would is a curiously flat way to end an album for a band who’ve proven themselves to be skilled in the art of creating a mood, while Man/Bag of Sand is an oddly-placed reprise of Swim Until You Can’t See Land which doesn’t do the pacing of the record any favours. All told though, The Winter of Mixed Drinks has neatly sidestepped the banana skin of following up The Midnight Organ Fight.

4.5/5

Blood Red Shoes - Fire Like This (Album)

A little under two years ago, the unlawfully pretty Brighton two-piece Blood Red Shoes released their debut album Box of Secrets. At the time the general consensus (if such a thing could be said to exist) was that it was a good, first effort, if a little overproduced. It’s not unfair to say that the record didn’t quite capture the full effect of their live shows which at their best are deafening and visceral experiences. It might have been that the frustratingly protracted process of getting the album released left them too much time to meddle with the recordings, meaning some of the rawness which made them so enticing in the first place was lost. Either way, while this didn’t exactly spoil the album, it still meant that each listen was accompanied by a very faint feeling of disappointment at what it might have been.

Its follow-up Fire Like This comes with a promise that the superfluous gloss which beset its predecessor has been scraped away, as the record was recorded to analog tape with a bare minimum of overdubs. This seems to be a more logical way for a band like Blood Red Shoes to work, and one which is far more in keeping with their aggressive, elemental sound.

Recording processes aside, the album actually has quite a lot in common with Box of Secrets. The band haven’t reinvented the wheel here, but they’ve taken the blueprint of their debut and built on it. For instance, the effortlessly skilful utilisation of the quiet-loud dynamic is still there, only this time infused with a little bit more subtlety. The vocal duties are once again split fairly evenly between Steven Ansell’s throat-shredding yells and Laura-Mary Carter’s sweetly bolshy singing. The interplay between the two is as effective as ever, which is just as well because their chemistry has always been one of the band’s strongest assets, whether live or on record.

Where Box of Secrets only really had one mode - breakneck speed, this is an album with more layers to it. The most obvious example of this is ‘When We Wake’, on which Laura-Mary’s gently introspective vocals are set to an atypically slow-burning backing which eventually builds to a beautifully colossal outro. The result is one of the major highlights of an album which is hardly short of them. Closing track ‘Colours Fade’ is another departure, clocking in at over seven minutes, taking on a far more epic feel than we’d normally associate with Blood Red Shoes.

The instances of experimentation (with a resolutely small e) have definitely lifted the band up a level or two, but they haven’t forgotten their major strengths either. The album is liberally peppered with their typically punky shoutalongs. Recent single ‘Light it Up’, for example, is Nirvana-esque in its devastatingly simple (and completely exhilarating) make-up.

As noisy as Blood Red Shoes are, they still know their way around a pop hook, and there are plenty here, possibly even more than there are on Box of Secrets. It‘s ironic that a heavier album, shorn of studio trickery should contain more radio-friendly songs, there isn’t much on Fire Like This which would sound out of place as a single. ‘Don’t Ask’ is a breathlessly urgent way to open the album, while ‘One More Empty Chair’ is another exemplary piece of snotty, melodic pop.

To be quite honest, it’s difficult to resist the urge to pick out every song and highlight it as a focal point, because Fire Like This is so strong from start to finish. This isn’t really anything new, because Box of Secrets was similarly consistent. What is different, however, is the focus the band have found. In the past, there’s been an unfortunate tendency to take songs a chorus too far, but that doesn’t appear to be an issue any more. This is one of a few imperfections Blood Red Shoes have managed to overcome with their second album. The only problem they have now is that they haven’t really left themselves much room to improve for album three.

9/10

White Rabbits - It's Frightening (Album)

To many, competence is considered to be a positive attribute. In a lot of walks of life, whether of the everyday variety or in the public eye, the ability to set about your task in a steady and consistent manner is often commended. Even in this minefield we loosely call alternative music, it will always be those wilfully adequate careerist plodders who garner the filthy lucre. However, I’d still like to think that most right-minded music fans would plump for a creative spark over unswerving professionalism every time.

All of which brings me on to the second album from White Rabbits. On It’s Frightening, the New York-based six-piece display an acute proficiency when it comes to the art of song structure. There’s a lot to admire here, from the bouncy pianos, urgent drums and vocals which are delivered in a manner vaguely reminiscent of Hail to the Thief-era Thom Yorke. There are plenty of interesting musical ideas thrown into the mix, too, like the creepily grandiose piano breakdown in the middle of ‘They Done Wrong, We Done Wrong’ or the minute or so of gentle ambience which gives way to the paranoid beat of ‘Lionesse’. The big problem is that for all this professionalism, there just isn’t quite enough of that intangible magic which makes you want to keep coming back to an album time and time again.

Things start off promisingly enough with recent single ‘Percussion Gun’, which in spite of its uneasily self-referencing title is an enjoyable enough song which is carried along by a tribal drumbeat and Stephen Patterson’s vocal hysterics. For a while, the album continues in a fairly similar vein, taking in another of its highpoints ‘Lionesse’, until ‘Company I Keep’ threatens to derail the whole affair halfway through. You can see what exactly what effect they are going for here; the mid-tempo centrepiece which gives lifts things up to the next level and also allows a bit of breathing space after the mildly furious moments which peppered the first half of the record. As it turns out, though, it ends up falling flat and just comes across as a bit drab, undoing a lot of the momentum which has been built up earlier on. The album never really recovers from this frustration, and indeed, it’s not the only moment of mediocrity we see in the second half. This is in spite of the best efforts of the mildly sinister ‘Midnight and I’ on which Patterson coos ‘Get to sleep now’ as creepily as he can.

It’s clear, then that It’s Frightening is by no means a record which is without merit. I suspect that the input of Spoon’s Britt Daniel has infused it with a lot more presence than it might otherwise have had. However, that notwithstanding, the album’s lack of anything substantial to get your teeth into proves fatal. In an age where unfathomable amounts of music are but a click away, I fear White Rabbits might be destined to be one of those bands which fade meekly into the background.

6/10