Matthew Herbert: The End of Silence

It is entirely possible that The End Of Silence is not music.

And under this reasoning, it is probable that this is not a review.

This is a war report.

Live from the centre of the conflict here in Libya, imagine the broadcaster, facing, talking to the camera, explaining the situation, and the forces both for Gadafi and opposed, and imagine the moment of horror caught on camera, imagine the shock and the surprise as a bomb is dropped from a pro-Gadafi aircraft.

And now imagine that same moment, imagine reliving it over and over again.

Imagine that you don't have to imagine.

Because the new project from Matthew Herbert is a sound sample of an attack in 2011, a simple 10 second clip repeated over and over in a unique fashion, it has been pulled apart, stretched, crunched, and who knows what else Herbert has done to it, but once he was finished, he turned it over to his four piece band who, somehow, 'play' that 10 second recorded by photographer Sebastian Meyer for 40 minutes.

The fact that more time must be spent explaining this release than can be spent actually reviewing it is part of The End Of Silence's subjective nature as a piece of art, for myself, I found the listening experience to be immersive and harrowing, as ambient sound plays out across three parts, each time building an atmospheric and entrancing groove, and each time I'm anticipating the bomb drop, anticipating the screech and the horror and the noise.

And then it's gone.

But the fact that it will be repeated, the fact that it could happen again at anytime, it means that this goes beyond music, it is art, it makes you feel, makes you feel fear, makes you wonder if this is what life in a war zone must feel like.

Not everyone will feel the same way, not everyone will like this.

And that is truly art.

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Late Night Tales: Röyksopp

How much can really be said about Late Night Tales?

If you are already subscribing to this series of compilations then you already know exactly what you are getting.

And if you are a fan of Röyksopp, lava lamps and jazz cigarettes then you are probably already in a purple haze, reclined, listening to the latest in this long line of mixes rather than scouring online reviews.

For those that may need a little more convincing, here goes...

Röyksopp are here to take you under their most capable wing, perhaps you've had a few too many down at the local Yates', perhaps it has been a hard week at work and you are in need of a bubble bath and massage oils, or perhaps you have another reason to simply want to drift away from the rest of the world until morning breaks, it's ok, relax, Röyksopp are here for you.



Although it may not connect directly with fans of the down-beat, up-lifting duo, the spirit of their music and the comfort of a post-club, post-chill out zone, pre-satisfying slumber early hours crash-pad make this a special mix for a ridiculously niche audience, but as Late Night Tales continues unabated, this drowsy niche audience must be buying in droves.

We have the obligatory exclusive music from Röyksopp to satisfy the completists, and we have track after track of easy listening, because the time to dance is over, we have Acker Bilk, XTC and Vangelis, all at their most mellow, and plenty more besides, and we have Bernand Cumberbatch reading us a bedtime story to bring the release to a close.

Part of me demands more from my DJ mixes, but then another part of me has had enough whisky already and is now wanting to close my eyes, hope the world stops spinning by morning and slide away into sleep.


Röyksopp's Late Night Tales compilation can be ordered here.

Return of The Bush: Live Review

London's Astoria, New York's CBGB, Manchester's Hacienda, Liverpool's Cavern Club and the Bush Hill Park Tavern....

Those living outside of the North London borough of Enfield may have possibly been unaware that the ornate old building that looms large near the tucked away Bush Hill Park rail station holds just as much cultural significance to local music fans as the aforementioned legendary venues do to the rest of the world at large.

Despite not quite carrying the same pedigree as more well known sweat boxes, it is the sporadic and erratic timing of the gigs held in the usually serene boozer's function room that has made this place a firm favourite of my home town.

Last weekend saw The Return Of The Bush ushering in a new age for the Enfield music scene, as familiar faces from familiar bands that themselves were no strangers to this back-room's charms took to the stage in new incarnations, gathering under one roof and kicking to the curb rumours that our beloved scene had faltered and fallen for good.

The vibrancy and diversity of musical tribes converged in unity as a sliding scale of genres was represented over the course of just one evening, from the opening mod-influenced indie rockers Decoy Jet, through the psychedelia-laced Four Sheets To The Wind and the unstoppable funk of Deep Seed. Whilst those that prefer the heavier side of life witnessed the debut gig of Building The Songbird tackling atmospheric post-hardcore, the last ever performance from metallers Red Button Exit, who bowed out in style with a 'Wall of Death' mosh pit and headliners Hands Of A Saviour, who were left to cap the evening off by hitting the Bush with the force of a ten-tonne truck.



Whilst other towns and other venues may boast more consistent musical programmes, it has been the impromptu planning and long absences that makes every small gig held at The Bush feel like an event, with local bands clamouring to get involved, and the punters treating these rare musical outings in our little corner of North London as joyous celebrations, supporting our friends and peers and not having too far to travel home afterwards.

And for now, the scene feels revived, with new bands bearing the promise of carrying Enfield's musical legacy further forward, and loose lips swearing that it won't be too long until we see the Bush heaving, sweating and singing again.

Scrimshire - Bight

From the very first warm tones, my mind moves me to think of the needle dropping on a dusted off record, from the vocals I picture hips swaying seductively alone on an empty dancefloor of a basement venue, and the slowed down DnB style breakdown of the chorus and a creeping electro synth bring this retro-tinged slow-burner bang up to date.

Scrimshire's third album certainly has a devastatingly fresh sounding first impression within lead track Emperor, neatly unfolding into the driven electronica of Convergent, beautifully voiced by the artist himself and with the instrumental melodic shuffle of No More, Bight's place in my list of 'overlooked artists and albums that I shall harp on to everyone about' is ascertained.

As the album progresses and takes shape across the full forty five minutes, the talent of Scrimshire should be apparent to anyone whose ears are lucky enough to be graced by these hybrid dance-soul nuggets, for those less informed, you could be led to believe that what was playing was a compilation album, as loosely connected styles fill out the running time, topped off with a small smattering of alternating vocalists amongst the instrumentals.

The result is perhaps something akin to Fatboy Slim if perhaps his Big Beats weren't so big, the lightly buoyant nature of the albums first half making the tracks as accessible as Norman Cook's without the pop-aimed bravado of the Brighton based DJ's usual productions, instead the crate-digging sound is a much more subtle beast that takes its cues from jazz fusion, soul and funk.

Colliding and colluding styles mean that the album merits a full run through every single time, with each listen opening up and emphasising a new nuance of sound, and the latter part of the album slows the tempo and vaults at a 21st century update of Pink Floyd or two, atmospheric prog-leanings intertwining with a dub-infused time signature to create blissfully modern soundscapes.

All of my showboating is for nothing if you don't experience Bight for yourself, and it should not just be essential listening for music fans but also for music creatives, displaying how an innovative and balanced approach to mining the past can be brought right up to date for today's discerning audiences.

I don't want the party to be over: Flaming Lips @ The Roundhouse, 21.05.13

The atmosphere was at the very same time geeky and jubilant, a mixed crowd of ages filled The Roundhouse in Camden as mirrored domes were brought out and piled up upon the stage and Wayne Coyne's tin foil-wrapped podium was wheeled into position.

It was certainly an unsuspecting crowd that had parted with cash in order to see their heroes or for newer converts to witness what others have so long talked about when it comes to a Flaming Lips live-show.

But this was a changed band and a number of circumstances could have led to this new incarnation of a long standing favourite.

The previous night's performance had been cancelled due to illness that had struck down the psychedic-rocker's usually flamboyant leader, and overnight news told of a devastating storm that had ripped through the band's home state of Oklahoma.

Coyne decreed that he felt 'a lot fucking better' as the sound check progressed into an impassioned speech about how wide-reaching disasters and the loss of lives put things into perspective, that silly rock shows really don't matter in the grand scheme of things, but they were here to put on a show regardless.

Another change of perspective came with the band's most recent album, The Terror, their least commercial offering in recent memory that felt as if all the doom, the doubt and the death that can be found bubbling under the surface of even their most upbeat songs had finally fought its way loose and manifested in droning soundscapes and extreme experimentation.

And it was this outlook that informed the tone of the gig, drawing heavily from the new album, any concessions to former releases were equally dark and mired in waves of glacial electronica and a sense of the morose.

Crowd pleasers and huge bouncing singalongs have gone the same way as fancy dress adorned acolytes and confetti cannons (though hopefully not forever), and the absurd sight of Wayne Coyne cradling a baby doll in his arms with tender care as strobing fills the gloom and dirgy psychedelia blasts from all around, just doesn't seem like the party that I came here for.

perhaps this is a turning point, or perhaps this is just a transitional moment that will pass, but when 'Do You Realize?' no longer sounds like a joyous celebration of our fleeting lives and the ticker tape that rains down is as black as the veil of death itself, it is clear that those gathered here have witnessed a new, altogether different chapter in the Flaming Lips live history.

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.