No longer difficult, or cussed, or looking to smash down walls, Space Siren have decided to dwell in a time of their own. And it really suits them.
I could easily sum this gig up by saying, Franz turned up and played all their popular tracks and big singles to a packed crowd and made everyone happy. I mean that’s what they do.
Somewhere the woods, Rock’s old spirit sat communing with the lions and giraffes, wondering what its new guise should be.
Why they agreed that wearing silver costumes on stage that look utterly off their heads was a good idea - in an “extended” Cosmic Joker/ your mates dressed as Earth Wind and Fire at a New Year’s Eve Party / acid head hospital patients kinda way – is beyond me.
See, WOLVON aren’t just this gonzoid bunch of Northerners whose sound reflects the fact that they wouldn’t know how to eat olives.
It’s good to know that The Generator could add something genuinely different (musically, or in ambience, if nothing else) to Leiden.
Damon McMahon comes on like Van the Man on Astral Weeks; wild, unhinged, preaching but seemingly vulnerable; working out stuff as he goes along.
A new Lust for Youth record! Before you wrap yourself up in your greatcoat and button up the top button of your last clean / dirty grey shirt, let me warn you; this one feels a lot more poppy.
In any case Dirk Polak could sing over the top of an insurance advert and make it sound as if he was discussing Camus with his mates in the pub.
So, a wipe out of a listen; a right mix of things, but really great. Beholden to Nothing and No One lives up to its title in that the record is all-enveloping, something that could completely take over if you let it.
When abstinence and excess had rendered me peanut brittle: as vulnerable as an altar boy hearing the sacristy door lock and the soft thud of liturgical vestments.
Nikoo have started to slowly inject their sound with a tougher set of sonic additives.
WOLVON are one of the most urgent and exciting things to come out of Holland in ages; if only for their upbeat “Kosmische” attitude and refusal to get caught up in the life-sapping balls of their surroundings.
A whole pile of records that got missed due to my MA thesis deadline. Including Hubba Bubba, Zea, Khan, Ausmuteants, Candie Hank, Perfect Pussy, Tobacco, Protomartyr, Secret Cities, Ex-Cult and Olga Bell.
Let me state now; the music on Theo Brown and the Folklore of Dartmoor is wild.
Brilliant, it really is the perfect set of miniatures. Get it, give it three or four plays and you’re hooked.
Spacier, druggier and more (ahem, sorry) “pastoral”; full of semi acoustic strums, passages of phaser and tappety drums. A music perfect for hunting crop circles.
The singer Dale Barclay – wearing some gauzy snakeskin shirt and high-street chain bouncer’s kecks - prowled around like a dog locked up in a high rise.
This show is one of the best I’ve seen from the Bunnymen for yonks, maybe the last decade and a half. The reason? Well, there’s just something in the air, as Thundeclap Newman so quaintly put it.
Laraaji set up a Zen vibe – his famous “internal orchestra” no less, and matters got way out; we were lost by some rippling brook, wandering through a collective unconscious. Mrs Incendiary said “this is what cats dream when they’re happy”.