Music
Well, she's still got it; at 35 Kylie can still give the likes of Britney and Christina a run for their money. Kylie's latest offering, her ninth studio album, gets off to a good start with the first release being the sexy and sultry 'Slow'. Body Language is full of robotic techno sounds, hard syndrums and squelchy synthesizers. The whole album sounds thoroughly 80s and somehow this doesn't turn out to be such a bad thing. This is no 80s wannabe, Girls Aloud album; Kylie was there the first time and knows what was wrong with it before.
It is unsurprising that this is the direction she has chosen to go, since the 80s revival has worked well for the likes of Liberty X, among others, but this time it's sexier, and that's what the pint-sized pop princess does so so well; sexy. So bring it on Ms Minogue. 'Secret (take you home)', a track co-written by Niomi Mclean-Daley AKA Miss Dynamite(-ee-hee? - Ed), is one of the best tracks on the album and is certainly not an example of Ms Minogue jumping on the R'n'B bandwagon. Even though she tries a distorted rap in the middle part of this song, (which manages not to be as cripplingly embarrassing as you might imagine) it still manages to sound sweet yet sexy, just like the Kylie we know and love. This contrasts with the sweet pop, with added disco whistles, of 'Promises', as squeaky clean as anything she's done.
'Promises' is produced by dance legend Curtis Mantronix whose 'Got To Have Your Love' was successfully revived by Liberty X. However, despite this Kylie's murky past seems to have come back to haunt her as 'Promises' sounds a little Stock, Aitken and Waterman. Curtis makes up for it though on the later track 'Obsession'.
We've still got tracks like 'Sweet Music' and 'After Dark' on here, which make you want to dance around your room shaking your booty like you're Kylie, whilst not being the glitzy disco- sound she's given us in the past. We get dirty basslines as well as 'butter-wouldn't-melt' vocals and she can still pull both of these off! Kylie definitely experiments on this album and it has produced some great results, apart from 'I Feel For You', which is quite frankly just strange. While mini-Minogue sings upbeat, loved-up lyrics, she is interrupted by some strange screechy outbursts; maybe it's a 'grower'?!
While Body Language is a good pop album, what it really lacks is a killer hit single, a 'Spinning Around' or 'Can't Get You Out Of My Head'. It will be for this reason that Body Language probably won't sell the six million copies worldwide that 'Fever' sold, despite the bulk of the songs being just as good.
Irrespective of all that, I like this album and Kylie should be commended given that after eight other albums she's still coming up with the goods. Give her fellow 'Neighbours' Holly Valance or Delta Goodrem nine albums (that's a hypothetical threat, ok?) you would probably want to rip your own ears off. She's certainly come a long way since Ramsey Street. Well done Charlene - Flick and Nina ain't got nothing on you!
The cruel weight of expectation was always going to weigh heavy on the shoulders of a group containing two of Jeff Buckley's bandmates. Although some comparisons can be made, particularly with Buckley's unfinished album Sketches for my Sweetheart the Drunk, the A.M.'s eponymous debut doesn't attempt to replicate their work with the legendry singer. Instead we are given an often glorious amalgamation of white-boy soul, 80s synth-rock and understated glam rock. The A.M. switch styles and influences, flitting from early Bowie to Prince, Roxy Music, the Go-Betweens and T-Rex, with a liberal sprinkling of New Wave, New Romanticism and Jarvis Cocker-style crippled falsetto. Here it struts, cocky, confident and pouting; there it whispers, dark, introspective and fragile. A mixed bag indeed.
The first track, 'Changeling', instantly commands attention with a smooth, rich, heavy baseline, overlaid with whispering Bowie vocals. Singer Michael Tighe wears his heart on his vocal cords, and what a cracked, strained, twisted yet strangely beautiful place it is. 'Changeling' is followed by recent single 'If I Was The Sheriff', a rousing, funky, guitar lead number with darker overtones and a slight 80s influence. This 80s edge comes to the fore in tracks such as the gloriously camp 'Utopia', with smouldering breathy lyrics and counter-tenor backing vocals creating the slightly seedy, velvet-and-leopard-skin décored mood beloved of Prince and Beck.
Unfortunately not every song works so well, with some tracks getting a little too close to The Police for comfort. The A.M. pull themselves back from the breach however with the spikily angular, modish 'There Is A Time'. Overlaid with overblown Glam Rock vocals, this borders on the edge of silly, but somehow comes together well. The album draws to a more introspective end with 'Colors are Beginning To Deepen', a beautiful, heartfelt slice of lo-fi.
Unlike many of their retro-inspired contempories, The A.M. have the musical and lyrical abilities to create a mature and varied album without feeling the need to hide behind repetitive sub-Stones drums and riffs. Don't touch that dial.
Jim Moray is wearing a leather jacket and an acoustic guitar. Billed as Britain's first 'techno-traditionalist', who deftly marries folk with electronica, indie rock, and hard house, at first glance he appears entertaining enough to warrant investigation (or at least causes you to murmur 'Judas!' as the beat drops apocalyptically over 18th century melodies and the sampled lyricism of Sandy Denny wafts over the maelstrom).
Moray's robust, percussive guitar technique stands him in good stead for the acoustic numbers and limited capacity of The Zodiac; pulling out riffs on muted strings, the songs are striped naked and often appear strange. He's daring, confident- he made the whole thing in his bedroom don't you know. Impressive admittedly, but then this is not Jim's bedroom. This is a gig, and Jim is playing it safe.
At times Moray's voice sounds somehow incredulous of the far-flung lyrics. Perhaps it's the subject-matter that causes the performance to be so introverted; folk melodies require an authentic persona - the touring minstrel - and it's to this he plays as he reels off stories and anecdotes to introduce the songs. The audience are dutifully attentive to his patter.
'April Morning' sustains itself through the back-projection of bloody Western and steadily-building melody, but the piece never really takes off. Other songs give spasmodic suggestions of originality; one opens with an off-kilter coiling of guitar and drums; another seems to invent the genre of Power-waltz. But the overriding impression is one of token novelties applied to renderings of pieces chosen for genre rather quality.
But it's a lost cause - music lovers should surely be hoping for those searing, confrontational performances where Jim battles the authorities and wrests folk music back into the arms of the general public. Instead it comes over as pure self-interest. 'Longing for Lucy' is worthy only of David Brent: 'You stuck the needle in your vein,/ Six days on and some things never change.'
"If the mainstream wants him", remarks my friend as we leave, "the mainstream can have him".
DB
The former big-beat merchants Groove Armada (aka Andy Cato and Tom Findlay) transport the cramped, dingy upper floor of the Zodiac to a scene of chaos from the moment of their arrival. Having been considered, classified and finally shelved by the associated music press with that most ser ous of all accusations- 'the chillout tag' (the death to all serious DJs), from the bluesy, riff-laden shakedown of opening track 'Purple Haze' it is clear the Groovers are here to prove Oxford audiences wrong one and for all.
Brought to this humble city by the Oxford Law Society and Clifford Chance, Cato and Findlay choose to go for a crowd pleasing set rather than the innovative tomfoolery they've been guilty of in the past- utilizing jazz, hip-hop, soul, and house to create a suave ambient trance. Launching into raga-house affair 'The Final Shakedown', they wisely follow with the self-assured Big Beat tracks with which they have become associated. 'I See You Baby', complete with FatBoySlim mix, has a packed Zodiac cheering and stomping in its wake while 'If Everyone Looked the Same', with its mellow synthesizer melody, soon hasstrangers bonding in the aisles.
The Armada's renewed enthusiasm wanes towards the end of the set, but as the opening strains of 'Seven Nation Army' enters the fray and three hundred cigarette strained voices attempt to emulate the cracked snarl of Jack White, eager revelers gate crash the stage, conversing and dancing freely with the Groovsters and dancing hysterically. Stunning.
EB
Hello there, old chaps! I've been very cultured and gone to millions of concerts (something that more of you should certainly be doing). The past two weeks have seen some absolutely wonderful music-making, especially in New College. The highlight for me was certainly the HCP's concert there whic proved to be a very pleasant surprise. The standard of the overall sound was impressive: the strong, attractive bass and soft strings, along with some lovely playing from the woodwind and brass all contributed towards a presentation that was musically and physically disciplined. The tuning, especially in the first half of the concert, was often very accurate; another sign that Sam Hogarth's direction was effective and attentive. The very fact that Sam was able to arrange such a successful ensemble, mostly made up of Oxford's best instrumentalists, demonstrated not only the respect that his players and other Oxford musicians have for him, but also his innate aural abilities and initiative leadership.
The Sinfonietta was duly complimented by such factors. The accessible atonality of music student Rees was something which very few of us had experienced before, and just showed that contemporary music is not all bad.
The orchestra were again satisfactory in the Hindemith. However the soloist proved to be a disappointment and did not deserve the hype preceding the concert. His playing was often thoughtful, although there was a complete lack of umph and the projection was minimal. The third movement proved to be better, with both line and phrasing clearer. HCP's leader Clare Osborne joined the cello with a very expressive duet.
The Mozart wasn't the highlight of the evening, by any means. It was often subtly musical, but lacked an overall character. The slow movement was seen, I was told, to be little too fast and, to add, the shortage of flow in the often exposed violin melodies was all too prevalent throughout the piece. But somehow these negative aspects only reminded us of how the HCP's were completely made up of students, which, having already heard some outstanding playing, was only a way of saying that Oxford's music scene can, and will fulfil its potential.
New College's enthusiasm for music was further heightened by another big concert, just two days later, by Fratres. Both soloists were fantastic. Amy Wilson played with near perfect intonation along with some great tone and control. Cameron Burns was mesmerizing in places, and gave a thoroughly introspective account of the famous slow movement. Unfortunately the Mozart was a little imbalanced in places, and the orchestra lacked sensitivity and tunefulness throughout the evening. This said though, it was a concert of immense enjoyment, augmented by Jonathan Bigfoot's charismatic conducting.
So do look out for more gigs like this in the future: it really is a charming alternative to an otherwise repetitive night in the bar... isn't it?
13th Nov 2003