I hate to copy from others, but Rusty Axe was (and, lets face it, should be) spot on when describing Tiger Throat as a metal HEALTH. Actually, they specifically mention Bone Awl and Mono as well. And that’s there, definitely. But I’m gonna simplify and says it’s HEALTH gone metal.

Tiger Throat’s self titled demo is strangely put together. Only three of the 10 songs are proper song length. The rest are 6 second interludes of electronic warble and feedback fading in and out. But those three songs are fucking killer. Huge monstrosities of epic noise rock that’s heavy as shit. Sure, dance a bit, but I’m pretty sure by the end you’ll be air drumming and head thrashing like the unabashed dork in the back of the room at an Oxes show.

Is it just me, or is it kind of weird that a “demo” got released by a label? Does that happen a lot? Either way, I totally understand Rusty Axe for knowing the goods when they hear it. Tiger Throat totally deserve to have their shit put out. Here’s hoping a full length is on it’s way. Although I’m not sure I can handle that much awesome.

Tiger Throat
Rusty Axe

The Drums are a funny band, they remind me of The Cure (without the taste of Goth) in the most unoriginal of ways.  This is a throwback to eighties indie that does not necessary serve anybody or anyone involved very well.

I feel I have to question the mentality behind this band and just why “the kids” are tapping into this music at this time.  As I close my eyes and envisage a stupid skinny kid in a cardigan wearing large coloured glasses and sporting a fringe that reaches his chin I can’t help but think this is not the future solution to the woes of the world.

Do I actually have anything good to say about this record?  I can’t help but feel the record arrived dead on arrival for me, why would a band call a song “I Felt Stupid” while displaying such front and egging on such a response from a listener such as mine?  I felt stupid?  You look fucking stupid.

Flipping over and flipping out I begin to feel nauseous as it appears I am now being mocked as “Down By The Water” is not a cover of the PJ Harvey song but instead some kind of feeble emotional outpouring of a future gang rape victim in a modern doo wop style.

And to think these people get their end away more than me.

Thesaurus moment: snare.

The Drums

Moshi Moshi Records

Kid 606 – GQ on the EQ
Fantastic twiddling of them electronic nobs – this tune features pretty much one beat that never, ever wants to stay in one place. Cue one of the slickest, sweetest but messiest beats thinkable at 4.30. (Pascal Ansell)

The Knife – Heartbeats
A few years old I know but relevant this year for me (and La Roux too it would seem). I’m a sucker for pop music and especially pop music that uses bizarre composite parts to make a palatable whole and this perfectly sums that up. Every single sound on this single, when isolated, is horrible. From the “pom! pom!” drums to the cruddy synth to her whining vocals it should add up to a sizeable audio turd but instead it hangs together so perfectly and lumbers along so patiently as to warrant immediate replays. (Chris Summerlin)

Annie – I Don’t Like Your Band
Not the best song Annie has done, but it’s good that finally someone has managed to express those difficult emotions of going to see your mate’s new band and discovering they’re terrible. Though Annie’s advice of ditching those tedious guitars for a nice shiny synth is not without flaw – do we really need any more tedious synth bands? One to keep aside for your next passive-aggressive mixtape anyway. (Marceline Smith)

Andrew Douglas Rothbard – Wisely Wasted
Super lush electronic IDM psyche unlike anything else I’ve heard. I could listen to this song over and over again (and let’s face it, I have). The song as a whole is utterly fantastic but the point at about 3:30 where it stutters fucking blows my mind. Every time. (Justin Snow)

Fire by Jimi Hendrix then the Buff Medways then Lupe Fiasco
A few months ago I went through a weird phase where this song in various forms appeared to be following me around. First the original popped up in a pivotal moment in Entourage and with the appearance it blasted its way back into my consciousness. Next I came across a live version by the Buff Medways in the Billy Childish Is Dead documentary which I prompted hunted down on both seven inch studio version and a live XFM Buff Medways album. Then the strangest of all was a day or two later getting in my car to hear a bastardized version of the original on Zane Lowe’s Radio One show. Some rapper was now spitting all over the song and amazingly it didn’t sound awful. That was Lupe Fiasco. If you have never heard “Fire” by Hendrix where have you been? It is a wonderfully pounding and mesmerizing with heart stopping breaks and pauses before a pure swing shoots it off into the outer limits. If only all Hendrix songs had been as good as this. (JGRAM)

Goran Bregovic – Kalashnikov
Balkan madness. Just listen to it, listen to it, listen to it, NOW! (Pascal Ansell)

Rage Against The Machine – Killing In The Name
Having been comprehensively denounced by pals in the pub last night for not liking Rage Against The Machine’s ‘Killing In The Name’ [or whatever it’s actually called], it would have to be that song. Not because it’s my favourite, but because it’s my favourite use of a mediocre song in a bizarrely misguided herd-following load of cobblers that wasted a lot of everybody’s time at the end of this year. (Simon Minter)

Animal Collective – Merriweather Post Pavilion
A world in which Animal Collective get played on the radio and in trendy clothing stores may seem to be a bizarre, topsy-turvy one, but they’ve always had great tunes. It’s just now they’ve learned how to calibrate them to be heard by human ears. (Alex McChesney)

Animal Collective – Merriweather Post Pavilion
Predictable. But yeah, this’ll basically be the top of everyone’s album of the year charts, right? Since it’s obviously the best thing released this year and quite probably one of the best records of the decade. If you’ve not heard it, it’s bloody astonishingly brilliant. (Stuart Fowkes)

Sonic Youth – The Eternal
Oh I don’t know, it’s so difficult to remember, especially as my listening habits seem to ping between brand new releases and old records with no degree of logic, and my stringent listen-twice-then-file-for-now policy on records forces a certain lack of ongoing appreciation. I might suggest Sonic Youth’s The Eternal but only because it’s the first thing that springs to mind. I did enjoy the fact that it came on vinyl with another live album included for free, though. And the fact that it’s very good. (Simon Minter)

Boban Markovi? Orkestar – Boban & Marko: Balkan Brass Fest
Serbia’s finest gypsy brass ensemble with 14 arse-kicking tracks, stuffed with rich brass and silly melodies. Have a listen, go on… I know it’s very cool right now to like the Balkan stuff but this trend is justified! Just like Nu Rave. (Pascal Ansell)

The Jesus Lizard – reunion shows
If I’m honest the recordings that have given me most joy this year have been the Chunklet live recordings of The Jesus Lizard reunion shows. To date I believe there have been four including the first set at All Tomorrows Parties. This band’s return surpassed all expectations and absolutely nobody anywhere leads a band quite the way that David Yow does. He is the one remaining badass in rock music. Worship him while you still can (JGRAM)

The Organ – Thieves
The discovery that there was a whole extra EP by The Organ that I didn’t own was certainly an exciting day for me. I fell instantly in love with The Organ when my band supported them several aeons ago and was hugely disappointed by their break-up. This EP is somehow even better than their album, capturing everything good about their sound (and indeed, the entirety of late 80s indie) in six songs. From Katie’s soaring, melancholy vocals to the post-Smiths jangly guitars and warm retro keyboards, it would be a total delight, if it wasn’t so heart-wrenchingly sad. (Marceline Smith)

Dan Deacon – Bromst
I fell in love with Spiderman Of The Rings when it came out. I’m sure I’m not alone on that one. And I had a hard time believing Dan Deacon could make anything better. But holy shit Bromst is absolute euphoria. It came out in March and I still listen to it more than almost any other record that came out this year. Every time I listen to it, I almost expect to be slightly let down by it. I’ve put it so high up on a pedestal that when I actually take a minute and think about it, I’m like “There’s no way the Bromst in my head is anyway near as good as the real Bromst.” But it is. It fucking is. (Justin Snow)

Mos Def –  The Ecstatic
Get a tin, label it ‘The Ecstatic’ and you’ve got precisely that. An unbeatable album from Mos Def that ticks aaaaaall the boxes: ever lyric, beat and sample is top-notch. Mos Def chants those ‘sit-up and listen’ lines, very often so too real it evades instant gratification: “I speak it so clearly sometimes you don’t hear me“. Auditorium’ (featuring Slick Rick) remains the anthem to my insomnia, you can find it here. (Pascal Ansell)

Obits – I Blame You
Seeing Obits play to a room of 70 people this year threw up some interesting debates about the bizarre reformation-craze that is strangling the culture of a generation stone dead. If Rick Froberg had come through town with a reformed Drive Like Jehu there would have been 700 people there I am sure. That’s crazy: you’re making music that is relevant to you now and is honest to you now like you always did and people want you to go back 10, 20 years and play music from a different time and to deliver it with the honesty and integrity that you made it with and made those people like it in the first place. It’s almost like people are having some kind of collective panic attack as they hit the next decade of their lives and are seeking solace in the cultural reference points of a time pre-internet or when they lived with their parents and life was easier. I Blame You sounds fresh and exciting to my ears. It’s a blast of garagey rock and roll and trashy aesthetics and importantly it’s got some killer tunes on it. It taps into a rediscovered liking for simpler and more direct music to such a degree that, coming from someone who is in part responsible for many shitty math rock bands, it’s almost a political statement. If you like old long-gone bands and you like and trust the people involved then dig into what they do now, don’t sit at home wanting to recreate a time gone by because you’ll only want a reunion of what they do now in 10 years time because you missed it this time round. (Chris Summerlin)

With all this festive talk of Rage Against The Machine versus Simon Cowell for the Christmas number one this really should be a time to reflect on what is important in the music industry, of what is pure and decent and away from all these Sony promoted monsters, of what is independent in spirit and ultimately more deserving of being played at the end of the Christmas Top Of The Pops just because it celebrates what is in earnest the happiest time of the year.

More in keeping with Fairy Tale Of New York and (Here It Is) Merry Christmas than the two pieces of shit whoring their way to the top of the charts, Kunt And The Gang is here to save Christmas music for everyone with a crass sincerity that should make X-Factor, Rage Against The Machine and Sony all bow their heads in shame.

This is not the first time I have championed Kunt And The Gang on these fine pages and at this rate it will not be the last.  Once you get past the blunt and puerile humour that fuels these songs things suddenly click into place as the tunes remain fixed in your head and his pop claws dig in.  The premise is simple, this guy is John Shuttleworth mixed with Wesley Willis reading from the pages of Viz all packaged in a wonderfully Essex manner.  For such foul mouthed content the songs are surprisingly upbeat, positive and happily despite the language despatched and involved not in the least aggressive.  Forget raging against the machine, forget being a wet lad covering Miley Cyrus – this is where the real fun in music is come Christmas.

OK, so the sentiments of wishing your neighbour a kuntish Christmas on “Kuntish Christmas” after he borrows and breaks your Strimmer are perhaps a bit negative but schadenfreude rocks in the right context.  Likewise referring to Mary’s snatch as a “sausage wallet” on “Jesus (Baby With A Beard)” is actually quite testing to the senses, exceptional both in the offensive and creativity stakes.

The closer is “Santa’s Sack” which features the tale of Kunt as a child discovering Santa Claus having sex with his Grandma, a song that more than once features the word “disturbed.”  Very apt.

This is as far removed from Scrooge and The Stooges as you can get.  Where’s me jumper?

Merry Christmas!

Thesaurus moment: chuckles.

Kunt And The Gang

Kunt And The Gang live

At some point something really bad happened to Aidan Moffat.  I’m not talking about all the drunken antics and shenanigans his poor man’s growling MacGowan songs were talking about but it was some kind of moment of clarity, a weird epiphany it would seem that spoke to him and told him to “stay the course, you’re doing fine.”  Was it his inner child?  Did an angel Aidan appear on one shoulder and a devil Aidan appear on the other and the angel Aidan won?  Whatever it was that happened to him he just fucking changed.

Personally I no longer feel comfortable around his records.  Is this supposed to be some kind of serenade?  What is going on with the music that accompanies this?  It’s almost as if he is betraying his gin soaked roots.  Be foul, be nasty just don’t be like this.

Thankfully the flipside “The Lavender Blue Dress” saves the day as its Ivor Cutler crossed with Irvine Welsh wrapped up in a Dirty Fan Male delivery is the ramblings of a dirty dirty man, like a nonce reading from Dr Seuss.  Its not that content is x-rated it is that the person doing the reading is, the whole concept of the absurd positioning serves to make it seedy and when the inevitable moment of smut you expect is waiting around the corner never arrives once more you feel tricked by the most cunning of foxes.

The back cover of the single features Moffat lying on the floor in a hospital room next to some bedpans and a fan.  I hope he gets better soon.  There’s a ship coming in, its time to get well.

Thesaurus moment: dank.

Aidan Moffat

Chemikal Underground

Initially I thought I was playing this record at the wrong speed but alas a change of speed did not improve things any and suddenly the realisation hit that Deerhunter do indeed sound like a shoegazing vision of The Strokes.  Forget all the My Bloody Valentine and Pavement comparisons, with warm and fuzzy vocals and train track straightness of the guitar line there is no question that they sound like The Strokes.  Now whether that is something to be treasured and/or trusted is another thing.

I have to concede away from the hype and away from the impossible comparisons to match in aspiration taken without preconceptions this is a joyfully mesmerising thing and as proceedings slowly/subtly grow into a swirling mess there is plenty of charm to be taken from the emissions.

The lauding of Deerhunter this year has served as a painful reminder of just how old and out of touch I really am and to now endeavour to party with the cool kids is running the risk of being viewed as some kind of nonce at a disco (or nightclub as I believe they are called these days).  Its all very warm and subtle, snugly in a manner that feels foreign and difficult to/for me.

Elsewhere on the other side “Microcastle Mellow 3” feels like something of an indulgence, a spit in the face of a person giving the band a benefit of the doubt.  Where am I going wrong with this band?  Should I trust my gut instincts or those of a pale skinny kid in clothes several sizes smaller than my own.  Growing old is devastating me.

Thesaurus moment: nook.

Deerhunter

Sub Pop

There is a distinct air of crappy on purpose attached to Times New Viking and as a result it is a beautifully damaged thing.

“Move To California” for me was one of the standout tracks from their last album Born Again Revisited, an album I initially thought was actually called Born Against Revisited in some barbed tribute to the band of the same name, such is the fractured snap of proceedings.

I’m not quite sure what California holds for these peeps but you do feel it is not much as here appears to be an act that thrives on misanthropy, of not fitting in or having peers or compliments.

The single is housed in a ramshackle package where the inner sleeve is made out of the crappy kind of brown crate paper that in bygone times you would have got your fruit and vegetables handed to you in.  Then slipping out comes the insert which you suspect is going to tell you the name of the pretty girl playing keyboard but instead it is a reprint of an angry email declaring how Times New Viking are the worst band that they have ever encountered.  The suspicion that this declaration is coming from the dude in Kasabian is still to be confirmed.

Boasting four tracks of true enlightenment I have to concede that I think I got my initial perceptions of their album completely wrong.  There is a genuine identity to this recording technique, one away from the origins of lo-fi that only adds to the conceit and methodology.  So as a result coupled with the exuberance and hook display on this single it is win all around.  I love this band.

Thesaurus moment: optimistic.

Times New Viking

Matador Records

This is a truly bold and nasty sounding statement of a piece of vinyl.  Stripped bare there is fuck all information held within the limited packaging giving the vessel something of an air of mystery seemingly with the intention of leaving things pure for the music doing all the talking.  With no Myspace or record label attached there is no dog and pony show necessary.

Charging out of Sacramento this is a severe and frenzied attack on the senses that recalls the heyday of the Butthole Surfers at full strength crossed with a host of acts on Gravity Records such as Antioch Arrow.  Also throw in the sensation of a speeded up Bardo Pond on uppers instead of downers coupled with Pussy Galore gestations and you have quite the sonic soup.

For a while now there has been a real buzz surrounding Mayyors as the band appears to be serving as a vehicle for a number of seasoned and accomplished musicians (primarily Chris Woodhouse of FM Knives fame) to let loose and take off in a new, more experimental direction away from their existing and established outfits.

As with all things swinging on a hype there is the risk the listener may eventually get their fingers burned but for now Mayyors rule the roost.

Highly recommended.

Thesaurus moment: ghoul.

Mayyors

Overspill Poets are an alt-country/indie combo who have dramatically changed in sound since their first incarnation as nineties Kitchenware outfit Hug Their debut album Thompson Falls is released on Revenge Western and was made for listening to on a summer day trip.

The journey begins with the title track that laments lost love. While by leg two the boys from the North show off their instrumental skills. The band are clearly no strangers to the work of Teenage Fanclub as in ‘Sound of Sirens’ they manage to blend that sound with a Jersey Rock feel. Reggae/dub track ‘Summer,’ sees them take another turn in the road. Pastoral folk song ‘Boxing Gloves,’ looks back in time with a narrative comprising the two mythical figures Holly Golightly and Hazey Jane.

‘London’s gear when you grew up round here,’ sings front man Tim Taylor on ‘The Neon Lights are beautiful.’ Curling licks are provided by guitarist George Kitching.  Mid trip ‘Inner Space,’ takes time to reflect on lost opportunity. ‘I don’t need a volunteer to bang a drum and bend my ear, pull me out of here before I lose another year.’  While ‘Independence Day’ is a rousing protest anthem. ‘Northern Star,’ sounds more North Carolina than Newcastle, as the indie boys take to Americana like a fat kid to cake. The experience draws to a close with some psych era Beatles and a ballad which is lead by a heartfelt vocal. The standout track for me is the simple and affecting ‘Ricochets,’ where the instruments literally rebound off each other.

It has been an interesting and varied journey, driven by a band who speak from the heart. Each chapter tells a story and the vocals compliment the surprising guitars.  Lo-fi and lush with an edge, this album will find a place in your heart. Warm beat driven melodies sound track a road trip that is more Interstate 5 than M62.

http://www.myspace.com/overspillpoets