Music
The final track of D12's last album, Devil's Night, summed up the expressly offensive attitude of the entire album, and also foresaw the direction Eminem's raps would take on their sophomore effort, D12 World.
Here, Eminem no longer incidentally disses other rappers whilst talking about his own life: his life is now a never-ending series of insults and beefs, and his subject matter mimics this. In true Eminem-style, however, he is fully aware of this transformation, and so willfully characterises his own life as a soap opera, each episode more complicated and internecine than the last, simultaneously getting angry yet impressively maintaining a distanced self-irony.
In fact, the whole group and their album must be taken in this context. They fit into an ever-increasingly tongue-in-cheek, yet evermore violent and disturbing corpus including The Marshall Mathers LP, Devil's Night and a plethora of songs done for 8 Mile and Eminem's last solo album. As such, the feel here is familiar, and if you liked the last one, the chances are you'll like this.
Maintaining close family links in the game has guaranteed them consistently high-quality producers including the legendary Dre, and more and more, Slim himself. The bouncy beats and sonic-soundscape-funk, hallmarks of Dre's music, sound at odds with the trashy filth of the lyrics and high-pitch rants of Em and Kon Artis, but this is part of the effect.
Indeed, contrast carries this album. The lead single My Band relies on the ironic juxtaposition of a purposefully mediocre but catchy pop beat with exceptionally clever rhymes. The exchange between Kon Artis and Kuniva on this track is symbolic of an ever increasing ability to weave complex rhymes as a team, playing off the differences between their styles: Bizarre's low, laconic potty-mouth sounds more powerful when juxtaposed with Swifty's reedy, languorous flow.
And power is what this album is about. Pure effect is the goal of the work - if it doesn't have something to say, preferably offensive, it hasn't been recorded. 'Shit', 'fuck' and 'bitch' nestle next to 'belligerent', and 'intellectual transsexual' in a CD that isn't short on impressive lyrical games, but isn't without substance either. Anyone who actually owns a copy of Devil's Night and still listens to it regularly should get this CD - just to keep up with the storylines if for nothing else. Within the hip-hop world, people who previously viewed the last D12 album as a fluke should take note: these guys can rap, and aren't afraid to do something different with it. Anyone who finds the word 'bitch' genuinely offensive, or thought that the last Eminem song they heard was nothing but childish filth, steer well clear.
Coming from the same post-rock Manchester scene that produced Oceansize's magnificent Effloresce last year it's not surprising I had high hopes for Amplifier, especially given the singles The Consultancy and Neon. Such bands aren't typically to be judged on radio-friendly singles, however, so the proof comes in the self-titled album.
Although as epic and brooding as you'd expect, Amplifier aren't as experimental as some of their peers. They can generate a lot of noise for a three-piece, but for the most part keep it fairly traditional, recalling the classic rock tag of bands like Soundgarden or Hemano, but occasionally rambling on too long, spending too much time on needless instrumentals
Opener Motorhead is suitably one of their heavier efforts, but also one ofthe candidates most suited to slightly off mainstream rock radio. The recently released 'Neon' boasts another prominent chorus, and shows the band can produce fairly standard verse/chorus songs, rather than simply more or less tuneful musical indulgences like some that try too hard to be inaccessible.
In fact though, it's lack of experimentation that holds the band backslightly. They're too sophisticated to write throw-away catchy pop-rock, and the album as a whole does rather blur into a single mass which, while pleasant, lacks many really distinguished flashes of genius to elevate the band to the top.
So this week Altered Radio returned to the FM airwaves, complete with a licensing deal for Xfm that finally brings the London station within reach of us poor, music-starved students. About time. For too long my radio has sat gathering dust, faced with the enticing choice between nameless egomaniacal 'c-raaazy' DJs who ignore the fact that we tune in for THE MUSIC, not to hear Sharon from Essex guess how many gimps it takes to fill a Vauxhall Nova. Real people aren't paid presenters for a reason: they'e irritating gormless scum who sit at home redialling Johnny Vaughn and waiting for someone to ask them what they think. We don't care!
But the paid gimps aren't any better; the choice in the morning between Wogan's mad ramblings and Moyles' sexist beer-swilling banter is more than enough to drive you to the safety of your CD collection. And even if you turfed out the idiots, you're still left with the AOR hell of the playlists. From Dido to Black Eyed Peas, Radio Scum have really got bad taste covered, and come on, something's wrong when Radio 2 are breaking more new indie and rock bands than the 'voice of youth'.
Here's to the joy of student radio, where at least the annoying DJ is just a kid in a cupboard, rather than an overpaid self-important tosser and his no-brainer sidekick. Now that the AR crew have their playlist online, you can even badger them to play that obscure Beta Band b-side live cover you have always wanted.
Hearing Alex Kapranos and Nick McCarthy sing 'This fire is out of control,' one can't help but imagine that they wish they themselves were out of control. However, with over two months gigging in front of them, there have been mutterings in the music press that the much-hyped Glaswegians are becoming weary from over-promotion of their debut eponymous LP.
Franz are a solid live band, there is no mistaking that, but efficient musicianship can only go so far. Catchy songs, played well, are pleasing to listen to.
One feels that something extra is needed to take them beyond merely satisfying to something special though. And this is where the band fall down. There is nothing particularly exciting about watching them play. It's difficult, perhaps impossible, to say what the missing 'x-factor' is. But Franz did not thrill.
They played a very professional set, with well (perhaps over?) choreographed group poses, and hardly hit a bum note. Sadly, though, that was all they played. Transitions between numbers were sickeningly clichéd, though the Oxford fans did seem to be taken in by the age-old practice of appealing for requests. Kapranos only really seemed to come out of his rather stiff routine when responding to a cry of affection from the front row. Disappointingly, though, he quickly retreated into the safety of his program, eliciting no further communication with the adoring individuals gazing up at him.
Their set, unsurprisingly comprising mainly of material from Franz Ferdinand, was bulked out by a few non-album tracks, of which Shopping for Blood stood out, due to McCarthy's tenacious assault on the keyboard. Judging from the crowd's reaction to these relatively unknown songs, however, it seems unlikely that they will ever find themselves on HMV's shelves.
Better received were opener Cheating on You, and other crowd favourites such as Jacqueline, the much-demanded Michael, and, predictably, the ambiguous Take Me Out.
The increasing intensity of Jacqueline did provide a burst of interest, even shaking the laconic and self-proclaimed non-musician, Bob Hardy (bass) out of his slumber. Again, though, it was the sad irony of Franz that came out of their performance. The lyric, "We only work when/We need the money" could not have been less incongruous in the midst of their marathon schedule.
Franz's tour manager may have had the band's potential fatigue in mind when booking support bands Sons and Daughters and The Fiery Furnaces. Surely, no-one could be bored watching these stimulating four-pieces. The originality of Sons and Daughters' electric mandolin coupled with their grunting blend of blues and rock worked well, although the contrast with the headliner's professionalism was marked.
The Fiery Furnaces, meanwhile, have managed to produce a manic creation, which might be described as psychedelic fairground punk rock. Influenced heavily by The Undertones, there are also hints of the Moldy Peaches and Eels.
The sheer vibrancy of the Furnaces' set, aided particularly by charismatic drummer Dan, threatened to over-shadow Franz Ferdinand's headline set.
With a crowd of adoring fans, though, Franz Ferdinand would have struggled not to please that night. A tad of excitement is all that is needed now for Franz to progress to the next level. It's sincerely hoped they find it somewhere on their travels.
"Are you the girl from Exeter?" a somewhat confused porter asked. No, I wasn't the girl from Exeter, but I was the girl from Christ Church who was supposed to be reviewing the Millennium Orchestra at St Peter's and who couldn't find them in the chapel. Thus began my first experience of the orchestra as I finally located them in Exeter chapel (a result of a treble booking of St Peter's) with severely depleted numbers, having lost half of their members in transit.
Of course I'd heard of the Millennium Orchestra, but had never actually heard them play and wasn't really sure what to expect. Oxford's largest non-auditioning orchestra, I expected something in between the standard of a college orchestra and the University orchestras themselves. And even with half of their players missing, and the fact that they had only had one rehearsal previous to me hearing them for their current programme, (and were rather harassed after their trek across Oxford) I was genuinely impressed.
The programme they will be playing in the Sheldonian on Tuesday 11th May is perhaps not the most groundbreaking- Beethoven's Fifth symphony, and Mozart's piano concerto Number 24. But previous over-exposure to these pieces shouldn't detract from their originality or sublimity, particularly in the case of the Mozart, and certainly shouldn't turn you away from the concert. The virtue of the choice of these pieces is they are well within the orchestra's technical capabilities and consequently the rehearsal I saw was not focussed on bypassing technical difficulties, but on interpreting the music and realising its full potential. Particularly impressive was the variety of string sounds achieved, especially the cello section, whose rich, sonorous lyrical phrases in the second movement were contrasted by an impressively light and shimmering execution of the final movement.
The whole of the strings showed a sensitivity to the rest of the orchestra, particularly in the most intimate, chamber-like sections, resulting in a satisfying balance for the majority of the piece. Their sensitivity was also demonstrated by their accurate tempo changes, led emphatically by conductor Nick Mumby, which gave the first movement an excitement not always realised in performance. There were times when the conductor seemed to be aiming for extremes of dynamics which weren't quite matched by the orchestra, but effective contrasts were still achieved, and adhered to by the whole orchestra.
The Millennium Orchestra may not be as technically sound as the university orchestras, but if you are looking for a concert with a tried and tested programme which is bound to please, executed with real
musicality and sensitivity, and well within the players' capabilities, I would highly recommend going along to the Sheldonian for what is
bound to be an enjoyable and polished occasion.
Keane - Everybody's Changing
Of the vast host of similar groups strutting their heartfelt, easy listening stuff at the moment, Keane are one of the best. They do so by not succumbing to any of the pitfalls afflicting so many of their soft rock piers. They are neither cheesy (The Thrills) nor whiny (Athlete). The result - a pleasing blend of lush piano choruses and rousing melodies - is excellent. This classy, well written single proves that middle-of-the-road bands don't all make middle-of-the-road music. A great song, with more to come from upcoming debut album Hopes And Fears.
Lostprophets - Wake Up (Make A Move)
Another energetic guitar track from the Welsh nu-metallers (although the genre is so 2001), fusing the usual optimistic Straight Edge lyrics with the kind of infectious chords to have you bouncing along, until it ends and disappears from your brain to the place where year ten algebra and the date of your mother's birthday reside. Oh well, its only music.
The Charlatans - Up At The Lake
After what seems like 207 albums now from a band, that, in most people's opinions, should have died a death a long time ago with the rest of the Madchester scene, Tim Burgess keeps the Charlies rocking with this, the first single and title track from their new album. It takes a few listens, but when Burgess' heartfelt lyrics take hold, soaring over a lively and addictive hook, you'll probably be singing it for the rest of the day.
6th May 2004