Rumours of the demise of your humble editor have obviously been greatly exaggerated, for I am back and brimming with lustful fervour in this new year! Without further ado, A Sound Review IX.
Lana Del Rey – Born To Die
Much maligned pouty strumpet Del Rey has released a pile of conceited garbage to drown out your fears about being worthless and rich. The lyrical content is something of a modern update on the themes of Fitzgerald’s The Beautiful and Damned—if Fitzgerald was a filthy hack who couldn’t string two meaningful words together. Added to these foul woes, the reasonably interesting production of lead single Video Games is repeated ad nauseum for the almost one hour running time. It’s not nearly as bad as it may have been, but it’s still garbage for people who can’t be bothered finding real music.
Guided By Voices – Let’s Go Eat The Factory
Guided By Voices are filthy and raw, like always. Still recording songs that rarely exceed two minutes on 4-track after all these years, and it’s still an absolutely brilliant and enthralling listening experience. The songwriting is not quite as strong as the Hulk, but definitely stronger than Robert Downey Jnr’s Iron Man. Maybe somewhere around the Colossus as the Juggernaut. Lo-Fi sounds like something of a dirty word in my ears, seeing as it’s pushed down our collective throats by pitchfork on a seemingly daily basis, but here it works like a bowlful of lucky charms won’t… Seriously, it’s great.
Fionn Regan – 100 Acres of Sycamore
This is like the mould behind the ears of my contact-on-the-ground, Trent, who hangs about out the back of the Narre Warren Camel Bottle-O, waiting for a hustle to break his streak. By which I mean, it’s a real grower, and requires a lot of care and attention to really get the most out of it. But if you give it the time, it will reward you infinitely, and in ways which you can only imagine.
2 Bears – Be Strong
Big strapping bears Joe Goddard from Hot Chip, and some other mate of his, have churned out a charming little record of euphoric and silly dance-pop that effectively re-appropriates three decades of dance music. Much to my shame, I can’t think of any good bear jokes so maybe just take heart in that Be Strong being a pretty damn decent listen, and leave it at that.
Leonard Cohen – Old Ideas
As a wise man once said, “For all of you saying ‘Who the fuck is Leonard Cohen?’, it goes ‘Nghhhaaa’ and it’s perfect to slit your wrists too (That wise man was Ben Elton, also notable for saying that unlike Jesus, Hitler could get into any nightclub, what with his nice shiny boots and matching little whip). The grumpy old man of monotone, spoken-word prose—who, if you know him at all, you will know for writing Buckley-bait Hallelujah—has put his first record of new material in eight years, and it’s a cracker. Filled to the brim with the kind of booze soaked prose that makes Nick Cave wet himself like a nancy little school girl in a very odd film that is classified as pornography, but doesn’t actually feature any nudity or sex.
Nada Surf – The Stars Are Indifferent To Astronomy
I had never listened to Nada Surf before, but they seem like the perfect accompaniment to my coke-orgy/beach-side parties where we just talk about the ‘industry’ and how ‘LA’ we all are. We sit by the pool drinking imitation Cristal, all good spiritedly talking over each other about ourselves. Then this girl named Sarah, but spelt Zschara (Producers: I don’t know, sounds kinda ethnic. I don’t know how it’ll play in the bible belt) says we should all go swimming and drowns fitfully, putting a dampener on the whole affair by making it all about her. So predictable, but good nonetheless.
Hospitality – Hospitality
For some reason this reminds me of the Violent Femmes first album, I don’t know why. For the record, Hospitality sound nothing like the Femmes. Perhaps it’s a similar energy, which is a good thing. They sound scrappy and hungry to infect you with snappy, poppy tunes like some sort of pleasant syphilis—if there is such a thing. In any event it’s good like Vin Chaud, sweet and a real pick-me-up, but you shouldn’t have too much because that kind of sweetness leaves a rotten hangover.
Goyte – Making Mirrors
Really getting sick of hearing about this rubbish. It sounds like some white dude put old 4th hand cassettes of Motown, Funk, and Dub in the dishwasher, and then got all white all over it when the Chess brothers turned their backs. It’s silly and superficial, and the fact that triple ghey jizz their pants whenever he does something just makes me hate this more. I heard Somebody I Used To Know all the way over on a bus from Krakow to Prague and even there it was melodramatic nonsense with an inappropriate, conceited, and opportunistic feature. The whole business rubs me up the wrong way like that time I met Steve Coogan at Circuit and he tried to put his hand in my mouth.*
* This may or may not be true.
Childish Gambino – Camp
I know I’m a bit behind the eight ball in reviewing this one, but it came out during hiatus and I haven’t stopped listening to it since. Camp is brilliantly executed hip-hop that adds a new layer to commercial hip-hop’s already a reasonably tasty layer cake. That is, tasty if you ignore the disgusting taste of flat vodka redbull, crappy/expensive champagne, labels on hats, and diamond vomit—the fault of Crunk and Nelly’s lot respectively. Nothing on here is quite as pork-ribs awesome as Freaks and Geeks from the Not Some Kid EP but it really is solid like the opposite of Pete Doherty’s penis after a nice smack-addled night in.
The Cure – Bestival Live 2011
Jeezuz Christ! This is pretty much everything I want in a Cure recording. If you like fat-Bob and the gang, you’ll love this as a live turkey likes the day after those American’s try to kill all of them.
