Music
It's official: the 80s are back in. Everywhere you turn, there's a dolly bird in a painful colour scheme and an 'ironic' mullet, or there's somone telling you how much of a fan they are of B.A. Baracus' old skool charms, or there's another bunch of gloomy young men in a band slavishly copying the noble melancholy and patrician chords of Echo and The Bunnymen or The Chameleons. They're all over the place like a rash at the moment: British Sea Power, The Rapture (well, sometimes) and, of course, Interpol. Stately Joy Division-twinged post punk is where it's at at the moment; it might not be original but then what is, these days?
Themes of the moment: love and death. Lucky, then, that The Stills are here. Their sound, for those of you who aren't intimately familiar with their forebears (and if you aren't, I suggest you drop everything and get your hands on a copy of Crocodiles by the Bunnymen), uses mournful slow guitars and creates huge and majestic swirling scapes of haunting, gothic music.
The tone is very definitely introspective and shoe-gazing; this bunch of cheerful young Canadian chaps are evidently not given to smiling. The tracklisting includes such song titles as 'Changes Are No Good' and 'Yesterday Never Tomorrow', neither of which seem to be about skipping or puppies or anything like that.
The album highlight is probably 'Still In Love Song', which sounds like a defeatist version of the current Franz Ferdinand single doing the rounds. It has the same kind of infectious stomp, and the same just-been-dumped tone, but instead of giving off an air of positive defiance, the atmosphere is one of utter crushing misery. This is an unreservedly brilliant thing, as vocalist Tim Fletcher chants "And I'm still in love/Still in love with you" in his sonorous laconic baritone.
Sadly, not all the songs are quite as good as this. While the tone remains the same, the tunes are sometimes slightly lacking: the album is too weak for classic status, but is probably still several million times better than most of the 'alternative' dross that the NME are lapping up every week. Basically, if you like Interpol or perhaps if someone has just carelessly broken your heart, you should definitely have a dibble. The Stills will certainly understand.
This obscure 2001 American release has been ushered out over in the light of the majestically melancholy 'Mad World' making the Christmas and New Year number one, however the songs of the bizarrely-named 'Trading Snakeoil for Wolftickets' are a world apart from the haunting melody of that track which has been added on incongruously as a bonus. Gary's natural territory is revealed to be rambling acoustic/folk tales with his trusty guitar, harking back to the 1970s with his drawled Dylan-esque stories of 'towers floating on a sea of ghosts' and 'old gap-toothed Annie'.
Unfortunately he is afflicted with the common singer/songwriter curse of attempting to fit far too may meaningful metaphors into a line, with the overwrought syllables diluting any significance from the undemanding and repetitive strummed chords. The most interesting track is the gentle 'No Poetry' with is dreamy understated tone, but the dull and earnest forthcoming single 'DTLA' will condemn Jules to a life waiting for 'Donnie Darko' composer Michael Andrew to return his calls.
It's a shame, because after having single-handedly saved the Christmas charts from self-destruction, a lot of people were hoping his own material would be strong enough. It isn't, quite, but at least he's nowhere near as bad as David Gray.
I could take the usual and much hackneyed stance as a dedicated Bobcat. He inspired and shocked a generation in equal messure, from his political anthems on Vietnam to the infamous 'Judas' Albert Hall sessions.
But enough with the beret-wearing-art-student bullshit. Bob Dylan is great because basically, well, he's great. Great tunes, great production and the very great The Band as your backing group. No-one has even come close. OK, OK I concede he should have stopped embarking on that Never Ending Tour when he began to sound suspiciously like a fraggle. And yes, he plays the harmonica very, very badly.
But then that's the beauty of the Bobster. And he's lasted. Forty years down the line and he's still around, inspiring a succession of new musicians and this petty, petty argument. Who would have thought? EB
Bob Dylan? Bob Dylan? Don't you give me any of that nonsense! Why does the man's career continue to exist? Why did it even begin to exist? What is it that keeps the suffering prolonged? What it is about the thoroughly odious music this horrible wizened little man churns out day after day, year after year, that causes ordinarily sane, intelligent right-thinking music-lovers to mistakenly declare it genius? Beats me.
The pock-marked rasp-voiced geriatric can't sing and can't play a tune, let alone write one, yet he is responsible for dozens of practically identical albums and raft upon raft of perma-stoned quasi-intellectual fans without a jot of taste between them. This generation that he inspired? What the fuck did they achieve? This ghastly superannuated hormunculus should be put in a home. Twat. TM
Constantly living in the shadow of The Coral can't be much fun for hopefuls The Zutons. Indeed, as lead singer/guitarist David McCabe articulately explains, it's "a fucking pain in the arse". Not least because, as I was pleased to witness, they are in fact far better than their more famous Deltasonic labelmates.
With a unique sound that one can only attempt to describe as a fusion of rock, ska, funk, jazz, soul, country and Toys'R'Us (All will be explained...), the Zutons are a breath of fresh air in a recently stagnant music scene. Ably supported by over-excited rockers Eastern Lane and extremely promising up-and-coming Brookes band, Fell City Girl, the Zutons provide those of us who braved the wind and rain to see them with more than enough great tunes to justify the £6 entry fee.
Their upcoming single 'Pressure Point' has already amassed a heap of critical praise and it's easy to see why. Kicking off with unbelievably infectious humming (A-Hum!), which quickly has you joining in: the funky guitar riffs, the cheeky voice of McCabe or the notably smoother-than-silk sound of Abi Harding's saxophone. Go see the Zutons and I guarantee you'll soon wonder why not all bands recruit saxophonists. Mesmerising stuff.
As if to ensure that their zany music stays with you long after the gig, the show is brought to a dazzling finale with the band's very own party-piece, 'Zutonfever'. Featuring a drum 'battle' akin to those of The Beta Band and a toy mouth-organ solo (No, really!), this terrific musical concoction ended the show perfectly, summarising an hour of some of the most original and exciting 'rock' music I've heard in a long time.
Though not all of their songs quite matched up to their crowd-pleasing singles, 'Creepin' an' a Crawlin' and 'Pressure Point', they have retained a consistent sound throughout their set without sounding repetitive - something that Liverpool's current faves The Coral cannot boast. With their debut album 'Who killed the Zutons?' out in February, it looks like 2004 could see this band make it big. Let's hope that Michelle McManus leaves some room in the charts for this truly talented group to get noticed.
You may find them in the Z section at the record store, but this band get an A from me. A-Hum indeed!
It's all very well hearing a concert, but where would you actually like to see one? Well, the city of Oxford is nothing if not an architectural showcase. Look around and you'll see buildings ranging from the almost medieval Mob quad at Merton to the modern and pleasant ranges of the Said Business School, not to mention the obligatory sixties essays in concrete integrated, to a greater or lesser extent, into the fabric of almost every college.
Some of the best architecture is to be found in the college chapels, which makes a convenient link to the ostensibly musical subject of this column, and can be found in virtually every college (except for St Catz, which doesn't have one, being modern and that. Bless, or perhaps on second thoughts, don't).
Starting with the comparatively recent, Keble chapel is truly monumental, both outside and in. Goodhart-Rendel described it as "possibly one of the three or four buildings in Oxford of most architectural importance".
Whilst his comments are debatable, there is something exceptional about the interior; Pevsner described it as "moving indeed'. It feels to me like one transept of a cathedral, such is the effect of the soaring roofline and the echoing acoustic. Trinity chapel is one to which the hyperbole could justifiably be attached. Put simply, it is one of the most perfect late seventeenth century ensembles in the country. Most churches which are sufficiently old experienced well meaning, but often ham-fisted restoration by the Victorians. With the exception of its stained glass (1885), Wren's work at Trinity made it through the nineteenth century unscathed. The panelling and ceiling are both very fine, but it is the reredos (an ornamental screen behind the altar) which really stands out. There is no evidence of who created it, but it is so exquisitely carved that Grinling Gibbons himself is the obvious candidate.
Trinity and Keble are both not to be missed, along with Merton, Magdalen, Exeter, and, in my opinion, Worcester. If you only visit one chapel, however, make it New College. This large and beautiful T-shaped edifice mimics Merton in its plan, and is on a par with Keble for the feeling of space. It differs, though, in being not merely big, but also elegant and finely detailed, not to mention its fine acoustic. Whilst its individual elements may be disappointing to purists, with much of the interior decoration actually Victorian and not fourteenth century, and an organ which looks rather out of place, the overall effect is stunning. Go in particular for the huge reredos. This is the largest of its kind in Oxford, and although the current version is also Victorian, the design is faithful to the original. Have a look also at the carving of the stalls, which have original elbow rests and misericords. On the latter, one can see a peacock, a gateway with portcullis and two knights heads, and a six headed monster, among other things. This college's choir is also amongst the best in Oxford, and, served by such wonderful surroundings, will make extremely worthwhile listening.
22nd Jan 2004