Music
To some extent, it is exactly what we would expect from a manufactured pop band - cheesy ballads, over-produced quasi-R'n'B tracks, and heavily sexed-up dance tunes - most tracks sound like something we've all heard before. Tracks such as 'Impossible', 'Story of My Life' and 'The Poet', are 'album' tracks in every sense, and should stay there.
However, the popularity of the Richard X collaboration 'Being Nobody' hints that there must be more to Liberty X than just an identity-free, talentless package. The group's up and coming new single, 'Jumpin', is, dare I say it, sleek and stylish, with a very sexy and striking video. Taking the two singles together, it seems that Liberty X are indeed producing their own version of pop for older teens and twenty-somethings, influenced by R'n'B and pop, but creating an edgier and altogether more original sound than one might expect from a group thrown together less than three years ago after losing out on Pop Stars.
It would be doing the band down to write them off as producing harmless and unoriginal music for the mass market. The group's promotional literature claims they've managed to capture "the imagination of both the populist and the credible" as "one of the leading lights of cool pop in the UK", and this might not be the piece of outrageous hyperbole those who are "too cool" for pop would like it to be.
Yes, Liberty X are the product of a TV programme, and yes, it seems that appearing pouty and well-groomed is about as important to them as the quality of their music; but credit where credit's due. Of all the swathe of pop acts spawned from the likes of programmes such as Pop Idol, Popstars: The Rivals and Fame Academy, Liberty X have undoubtedly received the most success, especially if we compare them to the disastrous failure that was Hear'say. This is definitely the kind of album that both pop and R'n'B fans are going to be attracted to - that is, it represents the cooler end of pop, and the least credible area of R'n'B. The meeting-in-the-middle of pop and R'n'B recently has produced some real shockers from the music world, including Clea and Blazin' Squad's latest offerings. However, Liberty X have avoided trying to just copy the R'n'B sound, and have added an edge to their pop by using an R'n'B feel with pop hooks and riffs.
Pouty and well-groomed they may be, but the X are hardly the cheesy, shiny, group of over-sexed teens you'd usually expect to find in a pop group. Admittedly, the male contingent of the group seems a little redundant, and the band may be in danger of falling into the 'lead singer with backing vocals' trap that so many pop groups before them have slipped into. But, sleek and chic both in looks and sound as Liberty X are, even those to whom pop is anathema should be able to give the band credit for this polished and stylish offering.
"Stand by for the return of Lee, Anthony, Duncan and Simon this winter..." is the rather dramatic beginning of the excitable press-release I received with my promo CD. The band pout menacingly from the cover, glowering dangerously into the middle distance. What digital delights await me on record?
Maybe you wanted me to be extremely rude about this record. I certainly did. I just can't, though. While it is essentially vacuous R'n'B and balladry, which almost certainly won't be remembered by anyone in five years' time, it really isn't all that bad. Try as I might, I am not that nauseated by the majority of it.
They aren't nearly as objectionable as Boyzone or Westlife - they have some quality muscle on the production duties - and they largely avoid the kind of song that typifies most boy bands: the old sit-down-on-a-stool-and-moan-orgiastically manoeuvre. They seem to be going for the more voguish dancefloor filling fluff. There are several slower numbers, which have little to recommend themselves, but this sort of band never pretends to be anything they aren't, and frankly, if people like them then there is no reason for them not to exist. Even if we did do away with all boy bands, little girls and fat 30 year-old receptionists from Cleethorpes would not suddenly start listening to The Smiths or Cocteau Twins, would they?
Now don't get me wrong, I wouldn't listen to it, much less buy it of my own volition. I'm not that bleeding perverse. But I can't bring myself to hate it. To be honest, I can't get angry about this sort of thing; bands like Blue provide much needed financial support for record companies, who can plough it into small-selling artists who I like. It's bands like The Thrills and other such tossers, filling the 'alternative' consciousness with 'blanditude' that are the real enemy.
Agreed, Blue are twats. They are also preposterously ugly. However, the song-writing is as good as any within the genre, and if you like that sort of thing (which you shouldn't - there's so much more to music than this), then by all means go and buy it. Just don't expect me to respect you.
Since their last appearance at the Zodiac in May, it has been decided by desperate hacks eager for a headline, that the 22-20s are a Next Big Thing. The NME, well known for being liberal with their praise of skuzzy young things, has compared them, somewhat predictably, with the likes of The White Stripes, The Strokes, and The Yeah Yeah Yeahs.
Being awarded this slightly tarnished crown can generally mean one of two things; that the band in question are (shock horror) talented, innovative or that they manage to encapsulate the zeitgeist. Or that they have cool hair, look good in a skinny t-shirt and leather jacket, and can play a couple of pleasant-enough tunes.
I therefore arrive at the Zodiac prepared to be underwhelmed. Since the 22-20s weren't scheduled to play until 10.20pm, the venue is only sparsely populated when support act Dogs Die In Hot Cars take to the stage. The Glasgow-based band appear unfazed, and launch into a set better suited to a stadium crowd - polished, close-knit and professional. Lead singer Craig Macintosh possessed with a gloriously clear, powerful voice a singing coach would swoon over, and long-haired keyboardist Ruth Quigley deserve extra brownie points for her excellent Cousin It dancing impression.
Unfortunately, like all-too-many stadium acts, their performance remains too polished, too professional; flat, lifeless, and unmemorable. In short - soft rock. A band this young should have more life.
By the time the 22-20s take to the stage the venue has filled up. As they break into a fast, bluesy, Stones-like romp, my cynicism begins to melt. The life, the energy, the fire that DDIHC had lacked are displayed in abundance.
The initially wary audience appear to agree, with unconscious shoulder-bobbing, breaking out into full-scale dancing. The pace continues unabated - the band launch into song after rip-roaring song, barely talking in between. While their music may not be particularly innovative (occasionally it seems every other new group are jumping on the blues-rock bandwagon) it's certainly fun.
Lead singer Martin Trimble is an excellent guitarist, and after the first few songs the set shifts up a gear into a more Rock'n'Roll vein. Unfortunately, being a very talented guitarist tends to go hand in hand with a tendency towards guitar wankage, and true to form this section of the set is overly littered with ostentatious, slightly cheesy, electric guitar riffs. Pleased to see them return to the dirtier blues of the opening numbers, the set draws to an premature close.
After a storming encore I am disappointed to see Trimble round off the gig in the now-clichéd manner of the supposedly intimate solo offering. It doesn't gel well with the rest of the show - their main strength has been an incessant, incandescent urgency, and by comparison, this was, well, dull.
So will they be the Next Big Thing? This breed of Stones-inspired blues has always sounded better live than on record, and a couple of listens to their debut live mini-album 05/03 fails to ignite the same passion felt tonight.
They may not be "The British White Stripes", but the 22-20s are certainly worth keeping an eye on.
The Goldberg Variations are a rite of passage for many ambitious young pianists. Andràs Schiff entered this passage and came out the other end to great critical acclaim in 1986. Despite this, he, like Glenn Gould before him, has felt the middle-aged urge to rerecord this great monolith of keyboard music.
In this live concert recording, Schiff emphasises the unity within the Variations, which, rather than sharing a mutual melodic heritage, all instead are formed from the harmonic progressions in the bass line of the Aria which begins and ends the musical journey. He communicates this in a number of ways.
Firstly, the bass drives through the entire recording, often at the expense of the line of the melody. Variation 8 seems to be an antagonistic battle between the left hand and the right and the pounding bass in Variation 12 makes the music sound cluttered. However, Schiff's insistence pays off, for at the end when the Aria recapitulates, one appreciates the wholeness of the piece - "We have come back to our point of departure, a circle has been closed, beginning and end are united", says our pianist in his florid yet heartfelt sleeve notes.
Secondly, he elects to play all the binary repeats of each Variation. He argues that "not doing so would destroy the perfect symmetry and its proportions. Great music is never too long. It is certain listeners' patience that is too short." This balances the structure of the piece, binding all the Variations together.
Thirdly, his choice of tempo is governed by his desire to stress the relations between the Variations. Some pieces are played at the perfect speed - Variation 23, for example, has never seemed so sparklingly witty. However, others seem painfully slow (Variation 28 is described in the notes as a "concert of birds", but Schiff's birds are fat, old and arthritic), whilst other pieces (and here is Schiff's greatest crime) are inexcusably fast. The moving 13th and 15th Variations whistle along, whilst the epic 25th, which chronicles in searing chromatics the crucifixion of Christ, sounds positively jaunty under Schiff's swift digits.
This interpretation of Bach's great work has its strengths. The recording itself is gorgeously warm and resonant and there are no coughs or splutters to belie the presence of an audience. Schiff's playing is at times velvety; at others brilliant, with a singing freshness.
However, it also has its weaknesses. His attempts to unify these 'verschiedenen Veränderungen', these 'diverse Variations', are perhaps misplaced - the delight in the piece is the great contrasts between the Variations that lead us to marvel at Bach's ability to create so much out of such a simple harmonic pattern. Gould's middle-aged 1981 recording captures this variety, whilst maintaining a unifying pulse throughout the whole work and is perhaps the work that Schiff's wishes his own to be.
30th Oct 2003