Tubelord - Our First American Friends

Tubelord - ‘Our First American Friends’

Hassle Records

In a music scene which frequently finds itself turning somewhat stagnant, it’s truly refreshing when a band comes along that breathes new energy into it’s genre whilst at the same time happily acknowledging it’s predecessors and influences. Kingston locals, and Banquet darlings, Tubelord, are a band that are generating a lot of interest in exactly the right areas, mainly because of the quality of both their song-writing and their musicianship. Their eagerly anticipated debut has had many scenester-types doing all sorts of sex wees in their super-tight jeans, and now that it’s finally out, it’s easy to see why.

Each song on the album has been meticulously crafted; choosing to openly ignore the verse/chorus/repeat structure that so many bands happily fall into, their appreciation of all things mathematical create meandering, shifting songs that constantly challenge the rigidity of 4/4 time scales and guitar solos. The guitars layer and clash at exactly the same time; I’ve heard it described as 4 different people playing 4 different songs, but don’t let this put you off. The songs work; I don’t know how, and quite frankly I don’t care. Tubelord are a band that haven’t made this album to become yet another Vice ‘Do’, but to write songs that evoke a menagerie of emotions in just 3 or so minutes.

A key example of this is ‘Somewhere Out There A Dog Is On Fire’ (the band have a penchant for Fall Out Boy-esque song titles), which recently featured on the sublime compilation ‘Music Sounds Better With Huw.’ The narrative, if that’s the correct term, of this and every song, is beautifully exclusive. The music isn’t there for empathy, instead it’s there to appreciate the craft that’s been put into it. This isn’t a band that sets it’s goals at your heart, it sets them at your brain.

Lead singer Joe Prendergast has a stunning, ethereal and downright androgynous voice that contrasts the sometimes raucous music perfectly. The drums are as tight as a duck’s arse and the guitar playing is an enchanting mix of Bombay Bicycle Club and a less crack-addicted At The Drive-In. ‘Night Of The Pencils’ is the song that sums up what it means to be 20+ years old: an acceptance that teenage frivolity is over, but that fun is still possible and perhaps now far more worthwhile. It’s an embracement of youth without sounding twee or childish. It’s a stunning soundtrack to being ‘twenteen’ in London and quite simply one of the most charming, seductive debuts in a very, very long time.

9/10

A little bit of prose, for a change.

I wrote this after taking 20mg of Adderall and 2 5-htp's. Sometimes, prescribed medication really can get the creative juices flowing. As Brendan puts it so well, it's a 'stream of subconcious conciousness.'

We'll hang them, those holy ghosts, from the highest tree we can find. But then again, it's never enough. They rise as frequently as the sun y'know. They're the Hydra, they're the fear of the Hydra. I am your Hercules. I am your Perseus. When you look into the eyes of your lover, there I'll be. I am the face of that which you covet, that which you long for. It courses through our veins like souls in the Styx . Pay me the gold; I'll paddle us out. We'll look up and watch the stars die together. We'll watch it all turn to dust and we shall laugh in joyous rapture for we are enlightened and so we are cursed.

The XX-xx

The xx – xx

Very rarely does a band come around that completely stops me in my tracks. Even more rare is this achieved on the strength of one album. The XX, however, are that band. Possibly one of the most interesting bands to have come out of the past 10 years, the four piece perfectly convey the isolation and loneliness one can feel in such a sprawling city as London (originally from Putney, the XX attended the same school as Micachu, Hot Chip and dubstep-hero Burial.) The concept of ‘maximum-minimum’ is bandied about with much abandon, but on their self-titled debut, The XX manage to accomplish it with aplomb. If you were to strip down the band to its key elements, you could hardly believe that the intensity and prowess of the music could come from such simple beginnings. The most glorious aspect of the band are lead singers Romy Croft and Oliver Sim’s dueling, symbiotic vocals that never reach more than a gentle hush. It’s almost as if the Moldy Peaches removed their shambolic elements, took singing lessons and then spent all of their time listening to The Jesus and Mary Chain.

The goth influence, glaringly apparent in their strict all-black attire and ‘Pornography’-era Cure haircuts, does not mean that the album is gloomy. Songs such as ‘Basic Space’ and ‘Night Time’ are genuinely uplifting, with percussionist Jamie layering simple, atmospheric drum samples that sound like a tranquilized Aphex Twin or DJ Shadow. The stand-out track on the album, ‘Basic Space’, sounds like it’s been found on an old tape deck, where the sound quality has aged beautifully. The band’s simplistic attitude make for such delightful hearing when a lot of contemporary music these days seems to be striving to be intentionally garish. Yes, I’m talking to you, Muse, Mika, Hockey, etc. Thank god for the XX, who seem to triumphantly distance themselves from the pretense that is modern music and instead carve their own path without relying on massively over the top production. In fact, samplist Jamie is the producer, and his flair and talent can be seen on the numerous remixes the XX have produced; one to certainly check out is their reworking of Florence and The Machine’s cover of ‘You’ve Got The Love.’

Quite simply, the XX are a band that I have not stopped listening to since I saw them at Reading earlier this year. If you’re going to buy one album, let it be this. It will prove to be one of the most satisying decisions you’re going to make.

10/10

New Reviews. Honestly, I'll do more soon.

Japanese Voyeurs - Sicking and Creaming E.P.

If you already own this E.P, then I seriously think you need to sit down somewhere and have a long hard think about what you have done. This is by far and large one of the most unpleasant experiences I have ever had to endure. There is no merit whatsoever in any of the three tracks. Instead of listening to this, I could have had far much more fun rupturing my bowels or hitting my genitals repeatedly with a meat tenderiser. Seriously, it’s that unbearable.

Imagine the worst Nirvana covers band ever. Like, a band so bad that they seem allergic to rhythm, composition, music in general. Imagine that they were given some good amplifiers and guitar sounds. Then imagine that they’re fronted by a crack-addled Polly Pocket. Seriously, I hate this band so much that I won’t even do them the service of looking up the lead singer’s name. They are quite simply the worst band I have heard in the past two years. It’s the musical equivalent of finding your mum having a bubble bath with Hitler. And there’s only one towel.

Just to boost the word count, a band that are far more interesting are London-based S.C.U.M, a band who, despite owing all of their sound to the new Horrors’ album, make challenging and interesting music that is equal parts Misfits, Public Image Limited and Sonic Youth. Certainly worth checking out. Japanese Voyeurs, on the other hand, will be about as much fun as a lobotomy.

www.myspace.com/japanesevoyeurs

www.myspace.com/scum1968