Post-Punk, Funk and Absolute Junk - It's Singled Out!

Like many great outputs, Termites’ ‘Set Yourself On Fire EP’ lives up to the rock n’ roll cliché sounding like it was recorded in a garage. On the opening title track the band produce a curious, zany slice of psychedelic rock complete with Doors-esque keys and a very off-kilter crunching finale. It’s very much the sound of losing one’s marbles. Elsewhere, ‘Wrong’ is both melodic and weird, with a wacky, boundless energy that harks of ‘Doolittle’-era Pixies for its playfulness, while the laid-back ‘Amusement (Lorry Crash)’ starts like a Syd Barratt lilt but soon goes off at an acid-trip tangent. How can something so wrong, sound so right?

For a band that sometimes tread on the wrong side of MOR for comfort, the Kings of unadulterated indie-pop Hot Hot Heat are thankfully in fine, breezy form with ‘Middle of Nowhere’. The Canadians give us a warm, feel-good gem that’s buoyed by a softly sung chorus from affable frontman Steve Bays, and like all the best pop tunes the track has an air of familiarity about it from the first time it spins in the player. True, there’s not too much to get your teeth stuck in to, but on these warm, hazy summer days sometimes there’s nothing better than a happy tune.   

A heavy, chugging riff, a slight electronic pulse, whispery vocals, oh, and then there’s some shouting… it must be InMe. Like most of their tunes, ‘7 Weeks’ sees the British raaaawwwk trio, draw heavily from their American rock influences and stick to the all-too-predictable formula of having a huskily-delivered melodic bit, an angry bit, then a quiet wistful bit complete with a few piano plonks. True, the band have talent and can serve up a satisfyingly noxious din but really it’s all just plain old derivative.

The umpteenth single from their stunning debut album ‘Silent Alarm’, it’s middle England’s very own prodigal sons, Bloc Party, with ‘The Pioneers’. A tense, slow-building affair buoyed by Kele Okerke’s now trademark acute whine, it’s all subtly effective but perhaps works better as a segue in the album rather than a single in its own right. Top marks as well for the drawn out southern drawl of “This will be the laaaast”. The only snag is it’s a pointless ‘deleted on the first day of release’ singles used by record companies to dupe kids into thinking they’re buying a collectors item – only they print 10,000 copies, rendering the single essentially worthless.

We should have guessed from the ominous artwork depicting some devil-like being that Martin Grech is a bit loopy in the old upstairs department. At one point during ‘Guiltless’ the man angelically croons almost as if Jeff Buckley spirit has just wafted into the room – the next and he’s monstrously growling with distorted, evil utterances above some Sepultura like heavy riffage. It’s all like a mushroom trip gone very, very wrong, clearly the 22-year-old Aylesbury chap has issues. Thought provoking and weird, we’d nit-pick at this but we’re far too afraid Grech might get his old chum Beelzebub on us. Definitely a track you won’t forget in a hurry.   

Their ‘Illegal Tender EP’ was a lesson in debauched lyrics and sheer nonchalance, while Louis XIV don’t quite snarl as much on ‘God killed The Queen’, there’s still plenty of lo-fi rock n’ roll petulance to satisfy our depraved needs. Pounding pedal drums, erratic punky vocals, plenty of Jagger-esque “Oww’s” and killer hooks are crammed into two minutes of sonic rapture. As Jason Hill utters “I think I’m seeing double/ Well I don’t know what I’m doing here”, it’s hard to work out what he’s banging on about, but we’re sure it’s suitably warped. Fantastic stuff. Bloody good title as well.

‘Pat Pong’ is a hyper-eclectic funky-as-**** ditty from Pest. Fusing jazz drum beats, with Latino guitars, zany trumpets and a housey bass line, true on paper it may seem like background bar music, yet somehow it exudes a coolness that elevates it above the humdrum of that genre. The spliced vocal “That’s mother****ing tight”, adds an oh so controversial edge to the tune as well. On the flip side Solid Groove do a clubbier interpretation while the Diesler mix uses far too many trumpets ending up sounding like some lame Hed Kandi tune.

No doubt if you’ve tuned into Radio 2 recently, you’ll have heard Stephen Fretwell’s ‘Emily’ countless times. For everyone else, we get a sickly introspective ballad in which Fretwell whines “Emily you’re still inside of me… you’re never gonna change your mind were you Emily?” Bloody hell love, looks like you did well to shake him off he seems a right soppy twat. Undoubtedly, Fretwell is a talent with an acoustic guitar and some might say he’s got a good set of lungs on him – but hell is this boring. It’s the kind of tune that would nestle safely on an insipid British romantic comedy… and that’s about it.

Thank **** for DJ Format then, here to restore faith in the human race. A perfect hybrid of hip-hop with dancey beats, fluid, juggling vocals between the main man, Abdominal and D-Sisive altogether with irresistible flute flutters, ‘Separated At Birth’ is effortlessly dextrous. True, it’s undoubtedly inspired by Jurassic 5 – but, hey, it’s hardly a bad comparison. Elsewhere ‘Now You’ offers some more chilled grooves but lacks the vibrancy of the opener, while ‘33% Boy’ is a meld of cut n’ paste samples, yet heavily regurgitates the lead track.

Featuring the vocal talents of Chrispin Hunt from the indie mini-legends The Longpigs cut and Nigel Hoyle from, ahem, Gay Dad, Gramercy’s ‘Hold On’ promises to be a delectable number launching a renaissance in two stalwarts’ careers. It’s just a bit of a shame then that it’s a tad lightweight melancholy fodder, centred on the drippy line: “How can we hold on if we ain’t got each other to hold on to”. Lacking the flamboyancy and tunesmanship displayed in their formative years, it seems Gramercy will have to do a hell of a lot to match, let alone emulate their former bands.

From the opening, foreboding static feedback to the Frank Black like screams, Scottish trio Alamos’ ‘Photograph It’ is one hell of an invigorating ride. Rhythmic beats and ominous strums give way to infectious loops and scrawling guitars before frontman Chris Keiller barks down the microphone with blood-vein popping intensity. Punky post-rock and extremely ‘of-the-moment’, with tracks like this it’s little wonder Alamos are making considerable waves in the musical sphere. The band are heading into the studio next month with Geoff Allan of Franz Ferdinand and Sons and Daughters fame, on this evidence it promises to be something special, indeed.   

While Dogs’ forthcoming debut album is not be all peaks and no troughs, as ‘Selfish Ways’ confirms the lads are proving to be a damn formidable singles band. In his cockney wideboy drawl sounding like Phil Daniels (from ‘Parklife’ fame) after 40 Bensons a day, frontman Johnny Cooke spouts a clever tale of self-infatuation with edgy lyrics “I’ll bring the fire wood that will burn your house down”. Coupled with the buoyant basslines and guitar hooks, really this is nothing short of knock out. Apparently, the band have been invited to tour with the Paul Weller – please, please don’t do it! 

With that greasy comb over Maximo Park frontman Paul Smith may have one of the dodgiest haircuts in rock, but boy is he a fine frontman. Musically melodic and tuneful, ‘Going Missing’ on the surface is just a great guitar pop song - yet dig a bit deeper and look at the apprehensive lyrics delivered as ever from Smith with plenty of gusto: “I lay my hands across my chest, And dream of you with someone else” and it adds another dimension. Oh and the b-side ‘A19’ is an anti-religion ode. Nice.

Yet another Leeds export, The Sunshine Underground on first impressions may sound a bit too much like The Music, Bloc Party and the likes to gain any recognition but there’s an amalgam of sounds in their palette to win the humble listener over. Unpredictable, incredibly high-pitched, scatty and incredibly liberated, ‘Put You In Your Place’ is a fantastic debut, that undoubtedly would be even more vivacious in its live form. The lads go all pensive on the flip side with ‘They Got A Hold On Us’ and prove they’ve got another side to their cannon.           

Turkey Of The Week: For health reasons all copies of Switchfoot’s ‘Dare to Move’ should be rounded up with records from their kindred spirits, Bon Jovi, Nickelback and co, and positively smashed to smithereens. What we get is a blown-out bombast of a chorus with faux-emotional vocals and baseball stadium-filling guitars, bracketed by a quiet acoustic-driven segue. Vacuous, vapid and lame this stuff isn’t so much offensive or even dire - it’s just so middling it hurts. Likely to sell by the bucket load – if pocket money didn’t exist, surely the music world would be a much better place?