Brits 2013

It's February yet again, so it must be time for my annual Brits rant.

Thankfully, the award itself was looking more presentable than last years thanks to an overhaul by Damien Hirst and his famous colourful spots.

But in terms of entertainment, the Brits was bland and frankly rather boring.

Sure, Muse kicked off the whole thing in unprecedented style and bombast, and Taylor Swift had plenty of jaws dropping as she owned the stage and set pulses racing with a large scale take on recent single Trouble, both performances took advantage of the award shows monumental stature within the industry, but aside from a mesmerising turn from Ben Howard, the other live sets seemed to be lacking somewhat.

And it certainly wasn't just the artists on parade that left more to be desired, James Corden's abysmal presenting was completely devoid of any charisma, instead playing a good puppet, smiling and mugging for the camera.

Where was the impulsiveness of years gone past, where was the risk that saw Brit-Pop era award shows postponing broadcasting until a day later following the unplanned onstage antics of Jarvis Cocker, Brandon Block and Ronnie Wood?

There is nothing exciting about a polished smooth machine that runs perfectly, why do you think the biggest talking point of last year was the abrupt interruption of Adele's acceptance speech over any other winner or performance?

But where ITV's coverage was lacking, ITV2’s picking up of the baton backstage proved to be the perfect antidote.  Rizzle Kicks' amateur red carpet interviews from earlier in the evening had been replaced by sozzled revelry, an extremely loose approach to scripted questioning and disastrous attempts to read the autocue.

Co-host, Laura Whitmore, seemed panicked by the young pop duo who had clearly enjoyed far too much of the evenings hospitalities, but little did she know that the relaxed atmosphere of post-award show chitter chatter mixed with a free-flowing table service had caught celebrity guests completely with their guard down, resulting in far more honest entertainment, seeing stars as we very rarely do... drunk, witty and very funny.

It was car-crash telly, especially when Robbie Williams reduced .... To tears with his kind words and commandeered the strangely free-form interview, and I doubt Rizzle Kicks will be invited back in the same capacity next year, but we caught a rare glimpse into the real back-slapping culture of the music industry.

So next year, lets run the risk of uncertainty, lets see some more unpredicted behaviour, and lets have an award show that is worth discussing for more than just the predictable winners.

UNX - Divide By Zero

I have never claimed to be, and likely never will be, a true connoisseur of metal music.

I fail to find the subtleties that are inherent in lurching, monster riffs and screamo vocals, yet when UNX, an Enfield band that I have witnessed the very earliest moments of, approach me to cast an ear over their debut EP, then I am overjoyed to have their raucous machinations bellowing out at me from my iTunes.

The brief intro that opens proceedings is the calm before the storm, a slow atmospheric build that precedes an EP of unrelenting intensity that once deciphered and decoded reveals an internal anguish and sense of alienation that has surely fuelled angry young men across the ages and is befitting of a vocal delivery that is akin to primal scream therapy and music that exists as a pure form of raw expressionism, a release of pent up energy and suppressed aggression.

Consisting of three full length tracks, and further buoyed by three other tracks of audio diversions, Divide By Zero clocks in at under thirteen minutes, hardly out staying its welcome, and is rounded out by UNX's crowning achievement, I Think Therefore I Am.

Bringing itself to a natural conclusion, the EP closer feels like what the band have been working towards. Lyrically, it is the strongest and most memorable track on the release, taking thematical threads that have run through earlier tracks, Severance and Incision, yet it feels musically more progressive than those tracks that have come before it, with epic chiming guitars ringing out, whilst incorporating a woozy and unsettling use of experimental sampling.

As the first chapter in the UNX story closes, I hope that this is a prelude of things to come, encompassing more diverse styles into the established heavy rock template and providing Enfield's proud lineage of metal bands with a brand new standard bearer as it marches ever onwards.

The fate of HMV

Sad news this week just passed that the record store HMV has gone into administration.

Many are quick to decry the loss of another high street chain, the latest in a growing list of former town centre staples that has gone the same way as Woolworths and the like, yet it has hardly come as any surprise, if anything, most have wondered how it has staggered on for so long.

Music fans have witnessed dramatic changes to the way that entertainment is consumed over the last fifteen years, with the rise of peer to peer networks, apple's dominance of online legal downloads, and streaming platforms such as YouTube, spotify and soundcloud, all contributing factors that have altered the musical landscape so that it is virtually unrecognisable from that of 1998.

With rental chain Blockbusters, shortly following HMV into administration, no doubt suffering against competition from Lovefilm and Netflix, it seems clear that the age of the physical format is severely in decline, and that perhaps HMV may have been better of concentrating on live music ventures rather than going up against and losing to online prices.

Since record companies, in response to dwindling sales have refocused on '360 degree' deals that incorporate tour earnings and merchandising, I was surprised when I learnt that in late 2011, HMV made a move to sell the music venues and interests that they had accumulated, seeming to miss the changes that surrounded them. More recent developments have seen HMV stores kitted out to shift the focus to technology and headphones in an attempt to keep the business afloat, but it has all been too little too late.

The future is decidedly uncertain as to if HMV will remain on our high streets, and my sympathies genuinely go out to those whose jobs are jeopardy, but the fact that they follow Our Price, Tower Records, and Virgin Megastores onto a list of extinct species is surely a sign of the times.

Frankie Machine

With over a thousand songs being carried around in your pocket, it is astonishing to think that it could still be difficult to find music to suit your mood, yet, quite simply, all this choice can be rather confounding.

And so my story begins on a rather dull January morning, leaving the house and contemplating the working day and how long it is until my next day off, I need something calming, serene, distracting, and I need it now.

I scroll past bands I love, bands I'm bored of, and artists that just don't seem right for right now, and I settle upon the name Frankie Machine.

I remember very little of why, but I remember I liked it, so I choose this, and after a brief offbeat intro, I am reminded of what held so much appeal as the sound of Nineteen Seventy Three is channeled directly into my ears.

A simple acoustic track that I have missed so much that I play it twice in a row, and as I tune into the remainder of the EP from whence it originated, I wonder how I ever came across this in the first place, what website or blog must have convinced me to right-click and save as, and a most audacious thought of all, how, in this highly informed digital age, do I still have no idea who Frankie Machine is.

I literally know nothing at all about him, other than his name, and due to a couple of skits on the EP, that he had been played on radio 1 by John Peel in the era in which emails were being used by the late fan-favourite presenter.

And you know what? I actually kind of like it that way.

it would take next to no effort to google the name, possibly finding more info than I would need to know, but I won't, cos I actually like having nothing more than my own admiration of a few pieces of music to satisfy me in this age where almost everything is shared, re-posted and ubiquitously linked to facebook.


edit:  since it has always been my intention to share music, i did precocously approach google with caution, purely with the sole intention of letting you hear what i heard

i also believe that the whole EP can also still be downloaded, although i didn't hang around to find out

NME is currently reminding us that The Libertine's Up The Bracket was released a distant ten years ago, and in doing so has recruited a handful of acts to cover the debut album in full.

While it was hardly a heavy hitting album at the time that was dominating the charts, the resulting impact on the changing music scene was what truly made it a seminal release, with exciting new bands (and a bundle of lower regarded copycats) following in their wake as London became exciting again, as the usual barriers between artist and fan were being demolished, thanks in part to Internet forums, but mainly down to ramshackle guerrilla gigs and secret parties anywhere from back room bars to bedrooms.

So it is surprising that there are few higher profile artists involved in NME's covermount, what we have instead are presumably a smattering of hot new acts that the magazine are currently touting as the next big thing, but having outgrown NME's trendsetting attempts and penchant for lists I haven't actually heard of that many of them.

Sadly, what should have been a unique homage to a defining moment of British music history is rather more miss than hit, with most acts paying extended lip service to the lovingly held memory of the Libs and sounding like just another bad cover version lifted straight from soundcloud, kicking off with Peace surgically attaching baggy vibes in an awkward manner and progressively getting worse.

Spector and The Milk add something new to proceedings by transplanting the spirit of Albion into far more diverse host bodies, but the female truncating of Boys In The Band by Stealing Sheep, although brave, just doesn't work well for me, and as for Mystery Jets and The Charlatan's Tim Burgess, well, they frankly didn't try very hard and should have known better, delivering rather uninspiring knock-offs each.

thankfully, they did stay true to the albums brevity, and after 37 minutes that could have been better spent listening to the original or scouring the internet for rare Babyshambles demos, it is all over, phew.

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Am I destroying the music industry?

within a matter of hours I have sourced around two and a half hours worth of music from blogs and then set about creating a cohesive playlist for burning onto CD (if only my girlfriend's car still had a CD player instead of the current tape deck and slim choice of Phil Collins, Chris De Burgh and Disney cassettes).

It is an 80 minute masterpiece that runs the gauntlet of folktronica, unexpected cover versions, codeine hip-hop, bootlegs and a smattering of other down-tempo hybrid genres.

and I did not pay a penny for any of it.

this is the strength of the music blog, with it's ability to expose multitudes of people to brand new talent through tidbits and tasters offered up free of charge.

and in this strange no-mans-land that the music industry has found itself in, it is becoming increasingly difficult to tell if this is the right thing to do or not

for all of the success of iTunes, it seems to me that we are still living in the shadow of napster, and the uncertain value of music to many people

ham-fistedly stealing whole albums and back catalogues via torrents still seems wrong to me, and in my old fashioned way, I would much rather pay for a physical product if I feel the music is worth it, yet releases and remixes by smaller artists seem to be worthless

there seems to be a number of reasons for this, firstly may be my placing in the music business as an occasional critic and journalist, unwilling to offer up my opinion on music unless it has been provided to me gratis, and as an unpaid journalist, so should it be... if they want the exposure provided by me, then the music should be my pay-off and my reward.

secondly is the uncertainty of the musical landscape, where some artists and labels have seen the changing tides and decided to swim with the current, providing music for free if it means that artists and songs reach the right blogs and the right people, before crossing over into the paying mainstream, yet how can we be certain which free mp3s have been co-erced and given the blessing by the sanctioned provider, and how many blogs are just towing the line that music is free and effectively stealing from the creator.

and so it is that I seem willing to exchange currency for the upcoming Muse album, a major label release from an already established band, and yet paying for the wares of far smaller artists seems to be somewhat unjustified, as if their art is worth less.

the music business is still clearly in a state of flux, as almighty majors now suffer and new ways and mean of reaching an audience and turning a profit are still being tried and tested in the wake of file-sharing.

so am I getting my own personal views on paying for music the wrong way round?

am I destroying the music industry?

Noel Gallagher, and the decline of the b-side

for the first time in a very very long time, I bought a CD single.

in fact I bought five of them.

all housed within a rather splendid little case, as part of the Noel Gallagher and his Flying Birds boxset.

Having laid my hands on practically everything Oasis have graced the world with since those glorious brit-pop years, I am keen to hear the b-sides that Gallagher senior has delivered with each of his releases to date.

I listen to The Death of You and Me and The Good Rebel, and then take the CD out, and then listen to AKA What a Life and Let The Lord Shine a Light on Me, and then take the CD out... and the process is repeated again and again.

With just the a-side and one sole b-side to each CD single, it is a far cry from the glory days when Oasis singles carried 3 additional tracks, usually of startlingly good quality, making every release an event in itself when such bounteous goods were handed down to us mere fans that were eagerly awaiting a new fix.

even when the media hyperbole died down after the critically derided Be Here Now, Oasis were still churning out tracks on the flipside that would give most band's singles a run for their money.

but as time marched ever forward, this tradition slowly sank into decline, as singles from 2000's Standing on the Shoulder of Giants had its accompanying tracks whittled down to 2 per single, and the unthinkable happened when tracks released from 2008's Dig Out Your Soul were packaged with remixes, an act that was unheard of in the band's long and rich history, save for a small number of hard to find rarities.

and there it is, the sad truth that as the digital age has fully flourished, less value is being placed on the now disposable pop single, and crafting extra material for releases or culling the best of the left-over album sessions is being left far behind us, consigned to the past along with the memory of physical singles stocked in actual record shops and being sought after by collectors and completists.

Even Noel doesn't escape unscathed from the remix syndrome, with two of the five b-sides in fact taking the form of psychedelic reinterpretations by the Gallagher approved Amorphous Androgynous.

Those that have followed Noel's post Oasis career will remember talk of an album made in collaboration with Amorphous Androgynous, an album that now seems destined for the scrap heap after Noel admitted that his touring schedule had kept him too busy to complete the reportedly 'far out' long player that was originally announced in July 2011 and was due to follow his own solo release.

and a pity it is too, since the reworkings of If I Had A Gun and AKA What a Life, following on from the 22 minute remix of Oasis's Falling Down, show a side of The Chief that is far removed from the usual Dad-rock misgivings that he has earned over the past decade and a half.

Yet, despite the pitfalls of these modern times derided earlier, the presence of iTunes playlists in most of our lives means we can neatly collate the three Amorphous Androgynous reproductions into 46 minutes worth of aural bliss that can be played without keep changing CDs, as we wonder just what might have been.