Music
A really lazy journalist would immediately make some half-arsed comparison between The Zutons and their more successful label mates, The Coral. A fairly lazy journalist would at least make reference to the fact that both bands are from Liverpool and perhaps make a really obvious joke - although the last time this publication did that, we found out the band were from Hounslow. Yes, that mecca of rock and roll, Hounslow.
But both bands are from Liverpool, both are signed to Transcopic and do plough the same musical field.
The two bands do sound similar, both have that sound that brings images of obscure Sixties pop records, ferries across the Mersey and a psychedelic warm summer that, in all probability, never existed.
Tracks like Railroad are carefully constructed acoustic strums with easy on the ear melodies that slowly grab your attention. However, it's these songs that hardly help the comparisons to the C-band. In fact, the vocals sometimes get a little too similar, the band start pulling off familiar tricks and you slowly realise that Havana Gang Brawl is actually not their song. I mean, these scousers will steal anything, won't they? Moons And Horror Shows even riffs on the slightly country sounding balladry that The Coral resurrected less than a year ago in Pass It On. The songs are good, but nearly every one reminds you of a better song written by another band.
It's in the tracks that have become singles where The Zutons really show what they are capable of. The incessant shuffle of Pressure Point, its 'aah-hoo-hoo-hoo' hook line and nagging saxophone makes it a highlight, while You Will, You Won't stomps along to great effect. These are genuinely good songs, building up momentum with good rhythms and melodies. Penultimate song Dirty Dancehall is another highlight, with the saxophone squawking over verses and a nagging, driving chorus. But before the album ends, you get a final reminder of their more successful labelmates.
This is a good album, but it is not a great one. At times, the lazycomparisons to The Coral appear to have more than a little substance to them. Who Killed The Zutons? is certainly a competent album full of three minute nuggets of good pop music, but if you've already heard all that done better before then what could ever be special about this?
Would you ever buy an album because it is competent?
That is rather like seeing a band because they're punctual.
I'm not sure what is most irritating about Mystic Chords of Memory. Is it that their name reminds me of finger cymbals and meditation? Is it that the cover was drawn by a child? Is it that they have song titles like Pi and a Bee and Sure, Bert? Or perhaps that Chris Gunst's voice sounds like a cross between Wayne Coyne and Neil Young, without the former's strained psychedelic quality, or the latter's emotive bite?
No: it's the complete package. Imagine The Thrills without choruses or a senile Neil Young; asinine and self-content. The lyrics are almost funny: "we've got to get to the shore tonight/our boat's afloat to paradise", and: "we are all tuning forks/we are all tuning forks." The numerous attempts at ambience sound like piped-music from a world entirely populated by vacuous, inane hippies. Apparently Chris Gunst likes: "to become one with the silence." I wish he'd tried a little harder, because Mystic Chords of Memory is a non-entity of a record. We've all wondered whether a tree falling in an empty forest makes a sound, but what about a band playing to itself?
The whole thing exudes California, from the faux-spiritualism of the lyrics to the bland aimlessness of its quiet acoustic meanderings. Indeed, the best use this album will ever be put to is as an ash tray for Californian stoners. This is the sound of having nothing better to do.
Imagine the scene: the phone receiver pressed against her sweaty face, and her index finger programmed to press redial virtually every millisecond. A crazed Glenn Close calling Michael Douglas over and over again in Fatal Attraction? Nope: c'est moi, like everyone else, being forced to become a slave to the system, as I try in vain to purchase some Mr Eavis gold dust - a Glastonbury ticket.
I took the occasional break, although not of the cuppa and Hobnob variety. I substituted the telephone for Aloud.com only to find the most annoying 'This page cannot be displayed' screen.
This inspired feelings of near hatred in me as I thought of the ridiculous Pink Love sculpture near Green Fields at the site. Just when I thought the cogs in the system were turning, I was informed that 'this server is very busy at the moment, please try again a little later'. Yes, I've been doing that endlessly, you decrepit machine! This was almost as traumatic as the incessant engaged tone. The wonders of modern technology my arse. Rumour has it that there were 60 staff manning the phones - that's 60 staff for half a million hopefuls - who did that maths?
Oh well, there's always ebay. Yeah, right. Or join the multitude of teeny boppers in their Slipknot hoodies at Reading? Rekindle your Frank Black fetish at V? Now let's not blame Michael. He's a nice farmer man...who lives with sheep for his keep. If in doubt, blame the scousers. A little bird told me that they are the root of all trouble.
A band described as 'the Swedish Belle & Sebastian' may not appear that essential, but don't stop reading - The Concretes are even more gloriously in thrall to the Sixties than the twee Scots.
Many songs are underpinned by a primal backbeat, more Velvet underground than Motown, but always with a pop sensibility in tow, as on the almost ska-ish Seems Fine. For a mini-orchestra, with nine members including two guitarists, a two-people horn section, and a percussionist/mandolin player, their sound is surprisingly similar in every song, which, although disappointing when considering the opportunities at their disposal, makes for a consistent and unified mood throughout.
The real star is the singer Victoria Bergsman, who, wearing a strange green velvet dress, plays the druggy ice queen to an alluringly high standard despite the fact that her voice is often way out of key.
Just convince yourself that this adds to the ramshackle charm and it'll be ok.
Many of the songs display a romanticism akin to Gorky's Zygotic Mynci but less, well, Welsh-sounding.
The best-received song, the title track from their new EP, Say Something New, is a lush 'wall of sound' pop ballad that in the past would have reached high in the charts. Alas, nowadays, The Concretes will be lucky if they are even stocked in mainstream record stores.
A bizarre though forgettable version of The Rolling Stones' Miss You is the penultimate song, whilst at the end of the final gorgeous semi-waltz, they all exit the stage, leaving only the mandolin player to finish the sing-along melody.
The Concretes are unique, nearer to The Polyphonic Spree than anybody; they just need to be a bit less polite and a little more captivating and then people might take more notice.
While the majority of my college's denizens writhed sweatily to The One and Only at the post collections Entz, I headed up the Cowley Road for something a little different. The Zodiac was already packed by the time I arrive to catch the end of what sounded like a very impressive set by labelmates Animal Collective, who boasted fuzzy, rhythmic, full-bodied electronica with a hint of menace and an impressively follicled drummer.
The Múm set itself began almost without the audience realising it, as a beautiful mist of sound rises up from the ramshackle assortments of musicians on stage.
Throughout the night the band seemed somewhat surprised by the beautiful waves of sound they are creating, smiling coyly as the audience erupted into applause.
Hailing from Iceland, Múm are generally described as ambient electronica, but this label fails to give them justice. For a start, the shear range of instruments employed would appear to stretch the boundaries of such narrow categorisation.
Kristin Anna Valtysdóttir flits from the saw, which she plays with surprising tenderness for a tool designed for cutting down trees and maiming limbs, to a variety of instruments that appear to have originated at Fisher Price, or another of Gary Glitter's old haunts. All this is interleaved with soaring strings, off-kilter drumming and a good measure of electronic wizardry in an intricate, enchanted spell drawn together by Kristin's haunted, whispering vocals.
Tonight's music was long way from the insipid "ambient electronica"-by-numbers that adorns so many chill-out compilations made for people who don't actually like music.
Despite it being Trinity, home of the dreaded Finals, it seems that it will still be a busy term on the music front, perhaps even more so as many of the concerts will be concentrated in the first few weeks.
The first exciting event on the music calendar will be the OU Orchestra's concert on Friday 7th May (2nd week) in the Sheldonian, 8pm. The programme will consist of Rossini's famous Overture to William Tell and Vaughan-Williams' beautiful Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis, written for strings only. Finally, OUO will perform Tchaikovsky's 4th Symphony. Perhaps a somewhat diverse programme but enjoyable sounding, nonetheless.
This exciting symphonic treat will be followed swiftly by another large-scale orchestral concert, as the Oxford Millennium Orchestra graces the Sheldonian with their musical presence on Tuesday 11th May (3rd week), 8pm. This term OMO will keep it simple and traditional, after last term's ambitious foray into the world of contemporary music. Their programme will be Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 24, including a cadenza 'with a difference' and Beethoven's Symphony Number 5. This part of the programme could be criticised as being somewhat unoriginal but, with such a great piece of music, who cares?
Then, I'm afraid, lovers of student symphony orchestras will have to wait until 8th week for their fix of undergraduate music will come in the form of a rather unusual event for the Oxford music scene. The OU Philharmonia will be hosting the Royal Academic Orchestra of Sweden in the second half of their tour exchange, which will culminate in a joint concert in the Sheldonian at 8pm on Thursday 17th June. The orchestras will take one half each. OUPhil will perform Sibelius' Finlandia and Dvorak's Symphony No. 8. Again, no prizes for originality but still entertaining.
The guest orchestra's half will be a 'gift' of some of their native music, including works by Alfvén, Hillberg and two different Larssons! I've certainly never heard of any of these composers and I assume that they are not well known outside Sweden, so this 'introduction to Swedish music' should be an interesting and, I hope, enlightening experience.
On a smaller scale, the OU Sinfonietta will be performing their usual, random selection of obscure contemporary and baroque music, this term on Saturday 22nd May (4th week), 7.30pm, in the Jacqueline du Pre Music Building. The programme will include Schoenberg's Chamber Symphony No. 1 and JS Bach's Brandenberg Concerto No 4. Perhaps not so obscure after all. The OU Wind Orchestra, who must not be forgotten, will perform in the University Church on Friday 21st May, 8pm. Their programme will include Edward Gregson's Tuba Concerto of all things! I have yet to see the tuba as a virtuosic, soloistic instrument and so wait, with curiosity, to be convinced.
All in all, the term looks set to contain a series of pleasing, if slightly traditional concerts. But then, again, would anyone be brave enough to attempt something more challenging at this time of year? I think not.
Four Tet - My Angel Rocks Back And Forth
Four Tet has become renowned for his blending of atmospheric electronica with delicately arranged traditional instruments, and My Angel Rocks Back and Forth, the last single from the Mercury nominated Rounds, is a breathtaking example. It's electronica with soul, but the remixes that follow steer things towards the robotic disharmonious territory of more conventional electronica. In fact, when reaching for the stop button you almost expect your hi-fi to say, "I'm sorry David... I can't let you do that".
The Stills - Changes Are No Good
Their second single has The Stills declare 'I hate my best friends' and 'all the world's deranged'. The track is consequently not exactly a summer 'feel good' anthem. However, if you scorn the sun and all its works then this may be the seasonal mantra for you. Despite its gloomy outlook the song is actually quite enjoyable nonetheless, but lacks the intensity which characterises so much of this band's outstanding debut album.
Tramp Attack - 1471 Tramp Attack probably refers to the unwelcome experience of being accosted on Cornmarket by a dirty, gap-toothed beggar asking for spare change for the night shelter. Or perhaps this equally unwelcome listening experience. Recorded in The Bandits' rehearsal room, it would be endearingly lo-fi if it weren't for the irritating jangly guitars and yodelling chorus. As it is, they're a third-rate Coral at best, and yes, the song actually is about BT's last caller function.
29th Apr 2004