Music
Fierce Panda were perhaps the record label of my childhood. From Ash and Supergrass in the heady days of Britpop through bands such as Idlewild and Seafood and on to bands like Keane and Winnebago Deal, tipped for future greatness. The label have released tracks by many bands, some destined to fail gloriously, some ... well, Coldplay released their first single through Fierce Panda. The label was formed by Simon Williams and two friends in a pub. The pub was soon knocked down. Fortunately Fierce Panda has survived.
'Decade' is a distillation of 10 years of work. It could have been far more overblown. One of the initial plans was to release a series of double A-sided seven-inch records, chosen from a pool of tracks. But that grand plan would have bankrupted the label before the end of the summer. As it turns out, a simple 20 track retrospective would be enough. The tracklist was eventually easy to work out. "It just made sense," he argues, "when you put the 20 bands in a list, it worked."
For example, Simon Williams points out as an example that Coldplay now have millions of fans but perhaps they don't know about 'Brothers and Sisters', the track featured here. This sadly comes with accusations that Fierce Panda have sold out - but it's worth remembering that he was there first, watching countless shite bands before coming across a gem that eventually turns out to be one of the better - and bigger - English bands. The same album could have been packed with bands with very little appeal outside of the small 'indie' market. But Fierce Panda are a success story - the presence of Ash, Supergrass, Placebo, bands like Embrace and 3 Colours Red who had high selling albums at their peaks, bands like Idlewild who are finally getting critical and commercial acclaim and the aforementioned Coldplay. All of these released early singles through Fierce Panda. All of these bands are on 'decade'.
"We're not there to get bands a record deal," he argues, stressing that the label is there because he loves music. And it shows. At the height of garage rock mania a year ago, he saw Keane - the "anti-Yeah Yeah Yeah's". After a pair of singles, they had raised enough interest to be signed to Island records and were one of the big tips for success in 2004. He describes following the musical trends as the "Anti-Panda" method. Why try to sign a band just because they sound fashionable? Surely you should sign bands because they have Great Tunes (his capitalisation, not mine, but I'd have to agree with him there ...)? 'Decade' is packed with such tunes. It works as a simple retrospective of what a small indie label has released and also as a guide to the best alternative music of the last ten years.
The Divine Comedy's new album, Absent Friends, is so titled because - you'll like this, it's so clever - Neil Hannon has been cruelly deserted by the rest of his band! Horror! Outrage! Somebody start a campaign.
As with all good superstars, Neil's life has been tough. Betrayed by his best friend and his, well, drunken shag, misunderstood by his mobile-library driving father and forced to listen to a talkative cab driver, he has commendably fought back from the brink to produce such breathtaking rhyming couplets as 'words can tear me apart/Spare a thought for my heart'. Who, then, could possibly question his self-comparisons with Steve McQueen and Oscar Wilde?
Victim of strange voodoo practises, Neil was 'slowly slaughtered like a goat' by a woman's tongue! This physiologically impressive dalliance with the killer organ could explain his tendency towards self-pity, although no amount of sacrificial practices can feasibly excuse 46 minutes of such tedious whinging.
Sentimental ballad 'Leaving Today' combines classic Hannon self-indulgence with haphazard ukulele twanging, so with every painful second it becomes clearer why Neil has been left alone with only Benjamin, his imaginary friend, for comfort.
Like his imaginary friend, Hannon's talent is just pretend. Now there's a couplet you can be proud of. Neil, I hope you're taking notes.
The American public turned into rabid dogs this week when Janet Jackson, the more female version of that mangled monkey fiddler, treated Super Bowl viewers to a flash of her pneumatic breasts. 200,000 complaints to ABC suggested that, like the kids stuck in Michael's Wonderland, they'd had enough and wanted to get off. But, surprisingly enough, not literally.
MTV executives, anxious to appease their potential dissenters, insisted it was a stunt gone horribly wrong; but this fright was too choreographed and lacking its usual awkward fumbling and bra clasp cursing for a mere lingerie-related accident. Bill Roedy, the president of London-based MTV Networks International, excused Jackson's peep show by declaring that "the artist sometimes can be unpredictable". Come on, Bill, Timberland's conveyor belt career hardly screams free will, and Janet's so full of plastic that fear of hot lamps keeps her under check.
So, the question posed by officials and outraged viewers alike: did Janet fall or was she pushed? Spurred on by her brother's nursery antics, was the lure of a juvenile just too much temptation?
Janet acts as a lesson to all women: listen to your mother. When leaving the house always wear appropriate underwear: you never know when you might get hit by a bus or be stripped on worldwide TV.
Busted - Who's David?
More guitar based pop-punk from the Busted Boys, and frankly I couldn't be happier. Actual teenagers singing about teenage stuff- rather than their pop-punk daddies, Blink and The Offspring singing about the same things yet being about 100 years old.
Busted bounce about, thrashing their guitars and singing about some girl who cheated on them with some guy called David funnily enough, and who exactly is David? In the words of James Bourne, songwriter and least aesthetically pleasing member - "I just chose 'David 'cos it rhymes with the word 'invaded'." - Genius! JS
Chicks On Speed - Wordy Rappinghood
In a cunning twist of irony, it's almost impossible to find words to communicate how bad 'Wordy Rappinghood' actually is. This is a depressingly awful song that is an insult to the English language.
The 'Rappinghood', such as it is, has a deadpan delivery that's probably supposed to be postmodern and witty but manages to be much, much worse than that. Let's hope that Chicks on Speed morph into Chicks at Speed, and then crash and burn before they can do any more damage. AS
Zero 7 - Home
Not overcomplicated, the voice of the new talent, Tina Dico, soars from its subtle entrance, helped by a mix of strings and Spanish instruments. Proving that they can still provide a polished urban sunset for the Ibiza chill-out generation, this downbeat dance blend is the ideal background music for you to listen to in your humble abode, when dreaming about a sun-soaked island, whilst hearing the drum of rain banging down on the window-pane. JF
An Evangelist would have a hard time converting Jake Shears. Every cell, sinew and bone in his body is gayer than Liberace. The Scissor Sisters' diminutive lead singer is New York camp pushed to paroxysm. Encased in hernia-inducing leather trousers, fur-lined bolero, and fedora, Shears is part Casey Spooner, part Lilliputian matador. Only he could get away with expressions such as "Fierce!", and introduces one song as "better than getting a blow-job in the corner of a festival."
The band's new album should come with a pack of ten ribbed condoms and a porn magazine. The Scissor Sisters have learned that sex, unless you're old and scary-looking like Janet Jackson, sells. Indeed, if the compilers of Viz' profanosaurus are doing their job properly, the moniker 'Scissor Sisters' (slang for lesbianism), would have featured long ago.
Fellatio and feather boa aside, are the Scissor Sisters any good? Mayor Giuliani-baiting 'Tits On The Radio' and Pink Floyd sampling 'Comfortably Numb' are triumphs of substance over style; Shears and his bionic-girl sidekick Ana Matronic's Bee Gees' falsetto delivery and sssssibilant intonation make the microphones hiss and fizz amidst slabs of gurgling, belching bass. And inter-song banter is free of Miss Slocombe style faux-naïve innuendo: "Oxford, are we gonna disco?" Shears and Matronic may be more hyperstylized than a gaggle of adolescent Japanese schoolgirls, but dressing-up is fun, and this is why Britain has never done 'gay' quite as well as this.
Shears is an engaging conversationalist, and tells me: "...as long as we make the audience happy, that's cool..." and is happy to mingle in his civvies with the post-match crowd. Pop stars gave up trying to shock long ago, and have concentrated on the rather more liberated vocation to entertain. When was the last time you left a Coldplay gig with a leather bolero? CN
This rotating headline tour showcases two bands tipped to for higher things in 2004. After the dry melancholy of the first number, DDIHC's problem but also their virtue became apparent. Their style is eclectic, veering from country-tinged indie to Hot Hot Heat-esque disco-ness to almost ska-pop, with some occasional yodelling(!) This is a risky strategy that is hit-and-miss, especially the yodelling, resulting in an inconsistent set. Overindulgence marred a mega long 'epic' that forced the mind to wander.
When DDIHC are good however, they shoot their audience with blasts of ass shaking, wind-in-your-hair fabulousness. This was embodied by their keyboardist. Tinged with something of the crazy dog pianist from the Muppets she plonked with abandon, clearly feeling every note she sang or played.
In the best possible way, The Zutons all had that Muppet vibe, looking like a ragged but tight family. The louche, so-scouse-its-almost-comedy pork-pie hat wearing bass player complemented the country-tinged groove of older material. The manic eyes and insistent dancing of the singer reflect the great newer material.
Crucial to the Zutons' sound is the French-looking, chicken-dancing saxophonist. In addition to the sax, during the long instrumental number appeared a cowbell, a kiddie's bazouka and a very retro 'meet the band'. A mid-set acoustic number brought us three vintage-tinged minutes of summer, displaying this family of misfits broad range. Whilst DDIHC need more time to iron out their issues, The Zutons are in 'the zone', ready to take their unique tune-age far from Liverpool. The frenzied latest release, 'Pressure Point' was too good for some; a kid in the front row passed out during its euphoric chorus. Evidence for the tangible effect of this amazing, consistent and eccentric band if ever it was needed. SU
It's cold, it's February, fifth week blues are descending upon us...We all need a break from interminable essay crises but luckily there are plenty of distractions available over the next few weeks.
If you're looking for exposure to the absolutely new then OU Sinfonietta's concert on the 24th February at the Holywell Music Room won't disappoint. Tell the truth now, hands up if you've heard of Patterson and Boyce? Well, here's your chance and with tickets selling for only £4, there is no excuse. Paul Patterson is one of Britain's most prolific modern composers composing in virtually every genre, while Boyce is unfairly neglected in my view (and let's face it England doesn't have so many composers that it can afford to forget about some of them) and his eight symphonies deserve to be revived more often. The OU Sinfonietta of all Oxford ensembles consistently performs challenging new repertoire as well as reviving neglected masterpieces.
Nielson's flute concerto is an intriguing work, and quite possibly one of the most original concertos ever written for the instrument. Constantly surprising, it has been one of his most popular works since it premiered in 1926. In a programme also including Tchaikovsky's Romeo and Juliet and Hindemith, the Oxford Chamber Orchestra will be tackling a thought-provoking combination of works on the 28th February at the Sheldonian.
Having praised the adventurousness of programmes which disdain to rely on familiar favourites to sell tickets, and instead seek to challenge and surprise audiences, it seems perverse to wax lyrical about the Philharmonia's concert of Brahms and Beethoven's fourth symphonies on the 3rd March. However, it is comparatively more unusual to hear Beethoven's fourth, which has suffered from comparison with its rather more celebrated neighbouring symphonies, the third and fifth. Robert Schumann famously and misleadingly called it a "slender Grecian maiden between two Norse giants", but it too is full of the fire and sensual sonorities that we expect of Beethoven - although our expectations of tragedy from the darkness of the opening are quickly subverted into a bucolic and joyful movement. Brahms' fourth symphony on the other hand stretches the boundaries of classical form exuding Romantic expressiveness throughout. The last movement in particular, a set of 32 variations using a Bach motif, evokes stature, power and the sentiment in his music.
So now that I have planned evenings of pleasure and cultural edification, perhaps I'd better get back to that essay.
19th Feb 2004