It starts with sleigh bells. A distant howl of a familiar melody. And just as you’re settling in to the gentle opening, ‘Young Liars’ explodes into life, a post rock wall of guitars signalling the arrival of TV On The Radio. It’s startling. Stunning. You can almost feel the wave of noise knock you back slightly. And it doesn’t let up. Not for the next hour and a half at least. ‘Young Liars’ dies down, replaced by a frenetic take on ‘The Wrong Way’. Sped up and played with complete abandon. An accelerated underground garage punk take that bears little in common to it’s recorded incarnation. It’s clear tonight is not going to be a join the dots replication of their recorded output. Read more
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So for those of you who didn’t manage to decipher the last posts not so cryptic clue about what music is coming up today, I’ll make it clear now. It’s all about Glastonbury. Although, lets get the disclaimer out of the way, any opinions expressed here are based entirely on what I saw courtesy of the BBC’s coverage because sadly I didn’t go this year. Well I say ‘sadly’ but I’ll be honest, sitting on my comfy sofa in my warm dry house watching the rain soaked, mud splattered revellers braving the elements, I wasn’t exactly desperate to swap places with them. Having said that, there were a few pangs of jealousy come Saturday when the sun decided to show it’s face and Coldplay delivered a masterclass in how to headline a major festival. The only consolation was in reminding myself that no matter how pleasant it looked on the flatscreen, in reality the conditions probably remained far from ideal. Still I think half the experience of going to a festival like Glastonbury is forsaking the luxuries of everyday and just throwing yourself into it. Once you’ve accepted that the rain isn’t gonna stop, you can start to enjoy yourself. Whereas if you’re watching at home, you have to accept that the coverage isn’t gonna be great and that the presenters won’t offer any real critical appraisal beyond how ‘amazing’ or ‘game changing’ everything is. So, this here is my armchair viewers guide to a few of the things I saw on TV at Glastonbury Festival 2011.
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I kind of feel like this post should come with a disclaimer. An apology. Possibly even a couple of excuses. Not because it’s over a week overdue but because it’s about Beady Eye, a band with the strangest kind of stigma attached to them. Admit I went to see them and I can sense people judge me instantly. Re-adjust their opinions of me and my music taste. You’ve probably just done it yourself. At the very least, you’re probably a little surprised. Maybe I should start attending some kind of group therapy class. I could easily provide at least 2 good excuses for being there but I don’t want to. Hi, my name’s Richard, I saw Beady Eye live and I really enjoyed it.
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Yesterday, I was lucky enough to see Suede perform an intimate acoustic set while promoting their new Best Of record. To say I was excited would be the understatement of the year. Giddy like a teenager, I must have beaming from ear to ear the entire time they were playing. It’s too easy to forget how important they were in my formative years but seeing them yesterday reminded me what a great band they were. Any reservations about them reforming vanished about a minute into their first song.
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My Dad died suddenly and unexpectedly after a short illness on Friday the 25th of June 2010. He was 67 years old. This last month has been the saddest, hardest and strangest time of my life. Despite his illness, it never occured to me that he would die. The thought never even crossed my mind. He rarely seemed to get ill and was ridiculously fit and healthy for a man of his age. To say that this came out of nowhere is an understatement and I can’t really begin to describe or explain how I feel right now. My emotions are all over the place. There are short moments of respite when I don’t think about him but they are sharply interrupted by the stupidest, most insignificant of things suddenly sparking a memory that has laid dormant for years. I can’t even begin to understand how my Mom must be feeling. Last Sunday would have been their 40th wedding anniversary but I guess somethings just aren’t meant to be. People say that life goes on but right now, that seems like the cruellest and saddest of facts.
I loved my Dad and I miss him so much.
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For someone who belts out her songs, Florence Welch doesn’t half speak softly. She’s six songs into a sweaty, euphoria fulled set before she properly adresses the crowd at any length and when she does, the contrast between voice and her vocals is so stark, that for a moment you wonder how they possibly come from the same person. Not that you could really confuse her with anyone else. For not only does Florence command the stage she’s on, but in the ever saturated world of indenti-kit female singers and Winehouse wannabes, it’s fair to say there’s no-one else quite like her.
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There are loads of words you could use to describe Courtney Love. Loads of words that have been used. Words that cross the spectrum of love and hate. From fanatical idolation to outright loathing, her music, her life and her personality all provoke extreme opinions and reactions. But of all the words you could use and all the words that have been used, it’s doubtful she’s ever been described as mediocre. Until now.
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It’s a shame it’s a Monday night. For LCD Soundsystem are undoubtedly a Friday night band. The kind of act who release you from the shackles of the working week. Infusing you with the need to dance off whatever hassles have ailed your week and embrace the joy of two days away from the office. Shame it’s a Monday night. Not that something as trivial as a day can stop James Murphy and co from getting their groove on. If an erupting volcano can’t stop them getting to the gig, then the start of the week hasn’t got a hope of holding them back. Hell, not even ongoing technical difficulties or illness can stop them tonight.
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There’s something a little disconcerting about seeing Idlewild in the Wolverhampton Slade Rooms. It may be named after Wolverhampton’s most famous Christmas soundtracking sons, but this is the new Little Civic by any other name. The emphasis being on little. With a maximum capacity of 200, Idlewild are hardly drawing the crowds they once did. To make things worse, looking around, it doesn’t even seem to be sold out. I’m almost certain Idlewild won’t have played anywhere this small since their early days. Certainly not to so few people. I may not be the only one thinking this way. Three songs in and Roddy Woomble makes a bemused comment on how small the stage is and throughout the set, he stands to the side of the stage, giving the rest of the band space when he’s not singing.
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You find me in two minds about writing this review. The fact is that I’m not a huge Rufus Wainwright fan. My knowledge of his work is minimal and more often than not, I find him an acquired, occasionally grating taste. Having now spent an evening in his company, I’m not entirely sure it’s a taste I’ve come to acquire. He’s one of those artists that in theory, I should love but in reality, I just don’t. He’s a bit too showy for me. Too theatrical. Undoubtedly, an exceptional talent, but one that I admire rather than enjoy. All of which should probably be leading you to assume that this will be an unfavourable review of an unpleasant evening.
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