Jessie Frye at the House of Blues Dallas

Going out as the support act for Eric Hutchinson at the HOB’s Cambridge room Jessie Frye didn’t come with a great remit to impress; small venue support artists rarely do. The venue was filled to half capacity and people gravitated more towards the bar than the stage for a while, but, slowly but surely her particular gravitas drew people towards the stage.

She seemed so unimposing coming out to the stage dressed in a plain hoodie and accompanied only by her guitarist; frankly their presence made even this little stage seem like a broad chasm. But when she opened her mouth she became transfixing; whether she was at the piano or standing up and singing, almost acapella at times, over the subtle acoustic guitar; she had this almost other worldly intoxicating aura.

Her melodies and timbre have a surreal quality that really captivates you in the way they rise and fall; and from someone so unassuming and petite, her voice is huge and beautiful. This sort of surrealist vibe continues in her lyrics as she twists mundane, homely seeming, subjects into a technicolour vocal performance. Imagine, if you will, a Salvador Dali still life; full of day to day objects contorted into something seemingly even more beautiful.

Her performance closed to a smattering of applause; yet she was so gushing and genuine in her gratitude towards those who attended. This humility in itself was such a refreshing aspect of a young performer; one whom almost didn’t believe me when I said I had come to the merchandise stand for her CD instead of Eric’s.

IN RAPTU_RES

An often-times galling feature of Radioh/ead is that you have to get the feeling that regardless what hoards of joy starved critics and armies of fans say radiohead will always do their own thing;. No doubt the suits at EMI know this feeling better than any after, not only being dumped but then, reliably reportedly, almost stiffed for big wads of cash monies.

As it was that in the post OK Computer years Radiohe_ad lurked in a murky alternative wilderness, admittedly successful, but also dogged by people wistfully muttering: "I liked their old stuff".
With the release of Hail to The Thief came another album cut in the same mould as the Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum albums of Kid A and Amnesiac-rhythmically brilliant and diverse, coloured with psychedelia but short on traditional melody or memorability; Yorke's solo venture, The Eraser, only led to the belief that the group was being led further down the rabbit hole.

Following the release of IN RAIN_BOWS it took me a full three months to actually listen to it; I refused to listen to snippets and highlights in people's cars and homes to avoid missing the over arching effect of the album but at the same time I simply couldn't bring myself to buy it as I agonised over what price to put on art.

What a relief it was when I could finally slide back into comfort and purchase an actual copy via a regular source and for a standard price. From the opening track I really felt that Rad/iohead had at last revived some of the features of their early material that had been cast aside from Kid A onwards. The key and content of the lyrics has lightened and the distinguishable tones of authentic instruments are once again at the fore of their music. These are opinions shared by other music bloggers who equally feel that lyrics are lighter and a more authentic rock style has been revived. It really is an album that melds the best of both Radio_head universi, they have continued using much of the boundary defining experimentation into rhythm, but this time they have also plucked from the back catalogue some of the more main streamesque lyricism and catchy riffs. Lyricism and riffs that granted them the platform in the 90s to be a popular band and a great band in the new millennia.

Dead Elephant Centre Stage


Ever since suffering the minor trauma of having Billy Joel cancel on me at Wembley, and then a mere two days later, him informing the world's entertainment media that he would retire from the live circuit I was sure that my chances of seeing him in concert were little better than my chances of seeing Elvis. So when in 2006 he decided to brush the cobwebs from the Steinway and head out on the road again all I had to do was wait my turn but of course I didn't forgo the opportunity to chant "liar, liar" quietly to my self in response to him leaving me feeling so jilted and bitter all those years ago.


The location was the American Airlines Centre, Dallas and the stage was set; and as had become the feature of this tour, the stage opened up before us and Billy Joel, hammering out the lightening staccato introduction to Angry Young Man rose majestically, and with a good deal of aplomb, from the bowels to be greeted by rapturous applause and a startling amount of standing considering the average age of the crowd. On the subject of standing, I was soon to learn that this was a past time rather frowned upon in the nose bleed seats, whose occupants bore steely glares into the backs of undesirable "standers" and they proceeded to carry on with haughty airs despite knowing few, if any, of the words.


With the examples set by the plethora of other aging stars doing the re-rounds at present I was under no misapprehension as to the energy level that would be present and as predicted it was not the brake failed rollacoaster that it once may have been but instead the energy levels merely built into a slow crescendo like thunder grumbling and rolling in the distance; in fact for the first twenty minutes the tottering and groaning piano stool was less of a spring for him to bounce around on but more an oppressed little crutch that appeared to be a perpetual appendage; but ultimately this didn't truly matter as, at the end of the day, it was Billy Joel in person doing the stuff that millions have loved for years. The operative statement here is that the enjoyable music was the music that people knew and loved while disappointingly the one unloved item was the sole new creation-the dead elephant; a huge invisible carcass, hogging the limelight and creating an awkward sensation that everyone experiences yet of which few speak. This animal even has top billing on i-Tunes and is called Christmas In Fallujah.

Christmas in Fallujah is Joel's anti Iraq war song which superficially seems like a safe bet considering the ever growing populist movement opposed to Iraq but it is really carried off in the most crass manner. It contains non of the subtle lyricism of Elton John's "Daniel" (Vietnam), instead it is built in very square verses and full of clunky, preschool rhyme.
Equally it contains non of the tongue in cheek humour of Dylan's "Talkin' John Birch blues" (McCarthyism), rather it comes across as an in-eloquent rant; this feeling is in no way diminished by the performance and gravelly vocals of Cass Dillon, the American Idol contestant sound alike, charged with singing this song. The only bit of rest bite was when, at the song's end, it was met with a smattering of gentle booing; a rather taboo response to a badly handled taboo subject. Suffice to say the momentum of the show, which already had struggled to get off the ground, was stinted for a number of songs and was only regained as the show neared its close.

Ultimately it was a crowd pleasing performance full of classic tunes delivered in a professional manner which captivated the attention-an affair ultimately marred by a death at the elephants' tea party.

Hagan Hits the Right Note

Shane Hagan is a 20 something kicking it in Florida and this solo singer song writer has released his first cut entitled “Thought I Saw You” and its available to preview on www.myspace.com/shanehaganmusic.

Needless to say at this moment in time there is really nothing original and innovative about reflective lyriced, solo guitarists singing hopeless love songs and in fact I am getting rather sick of them all, especially James Blunt. Furthermore this particular song sounds distinctly like it should have been on the sound track to “Sleepless in Seattle”. But, and it’s a big but, Hagan takes this whinging genre and adds something to it-musical talent.

The intro is catchy and cool and somewhat reminiscent of Jamiroquai’s chilled out summer tune “seven days in sunny June”; straight from the off Hagan shows his touch on the guitar with classy riffs on the harmonics which add a really fresh vibe.

The vocals are beautiful and Hagan really has a fantastic range and can truly improvise which is especially noticeable over the solo. Hagan avoids the obvious choice of having a big anthemic solo to herald the arrival of his first published work, instead the instrumental exudes summer haze and conjures images of a bubbling stream scattering morning sunlight.

I think what excites me most about Shane Hagan’s music, despite the 80’s film vibe, is that with “Thought I Saw You” he is just luring us in with a little cheeky taster of what he has to offer. With such a fantastic voice and real ability on the guitar I’m sure there is room enough for him to make a big name for himself.

This Weeks Movers and Shakers

This article hails the first in a new series documenting the ebb and flow of cuts in and out of my organic top 40. To make it to the organic top 40 is the highest accolade to be bestowed upon any of the 5460 songs who live in my record collection. Once you are there though it doesn’t mean you will stay their indefinitely; as tastes develop and new music is constantly released and re-released you always run the risk of finding yourself unceremoniously returned to the rabble and replaced by a more deserving tune. Last week saw the first major shake up amongst the big boys and of course there were some winners and losers.

Relegated

I am relieved to say that my closet affair with the Sugar Babes has come to end, as the well over due dismissal of “Push the Button” Finally materialised. There is little I can say in defence of this song or my decision to have it in my top 40 for so long other than the chorus is catchy and possesses a real hook; but ultimately I think I was just thinking back to video which I could watch 100 times and probably for most of those I’d, in hindsight, be happy to have the music off for.

The next song to get the chop was the Arctic Monkeys song “When the sun goes down”; it would be unfair to say I had fallen out of love with this song but there is such a thing as serious over play and when a song is released as a number one single, has an eye catching video and then goes on the fastest selling album of all time it is possible to get sick of it. I had always felt the intro to be a little quirky and not entirely to my taste but the crescendo of punk rock guitar with it’s choppy off beats more than made up for it.

Another notable resident who found himself packing his things was 2+2=5 from the indomitable Radiohead. Now I have made my opinions about Radiohead known in other articles in no concise terms but the depression was simply getting the better of me and the order of last weeks cabinet reshuffle was a bit more light heartedness. I wouldn’t be surprised if I catch it trying to wheedle its way back in shortly. In fact 2+2=5 wasn’t the only Radiohead causality last week; also “life in a glass house” was cut and for exactly the same reasons as above. I think in short I love the grandeur of this piece and the mellow nature of the dulcet horns combined with Yorke conjure grainy photo quality images of a smoky Parisian jazz club in the 1920s.

The last notable loser was John Coltrane’s “Mr. P.C.” this song is such a wonderful 7 minute ball of energy whose driving rhythm doesn’t falter once and the recurrence of such a memorable refrain throughout makes for such a holistic sounding piece. The reason he made his exit was because I simply haven’t been in the mood to give music of this calibre the attention it deserves and with 2006 signalling an explosion in UK alternative which is just crying out to be eaten up John had to sacrifice the floor to some younger talent.

Promoted

The first one to get the nod was a straight replacement for the fallen Arctic Monkeys song; “From Ritz to the Rubble”, the song tells just such a compelling story which is nigh impossible not to empathise with; it’s an honest and human monologue that I think establishes a real connection. Again the tempo is a real selling point as it drives relentlessly across its 3.13 course; this tempo is really establishing itself as an expected factor in all of their songs.

Another entry is “Big Night Out” by FLC which can be found on the record “100% Columbian” which despite being a critically acclaimed follow up to come find yourself never had the big tunes of its older brother. Big Night Out has a wonderful anthemic quality about it when at the mid way point it switches into half tempo lighter waving, beer swilling, show stopper. I saw FLC a few years ago and as many will know they regularly perform with just three members, despite this, as the set ended they milked the grand finale of this song for all it was worth; heart stopping stuff.

One of my favourite tunes at the moment and one that makes me sing out loud in public places is “Cant stand me now” by the Libs and is the opening track on their self titled first album. They are a band I was only introduced to recently but it is easy to understand why they achieved such iconic status. The highlight of this song has to be one of the best lyrics ever written which reads “Boy kicked out at the world and the world kicked back a lot fuckin harder”. For me this line smacks with bitter comic irony and is delivered with such feeling; I like to imagine it as an autobiographical line by Doherty.

The last comment worthy addition is “Oranges and Lemons Again” by Suggs and the Jools Holland Orchestra. I have always loved a bit of bouncing ska and coupled with Suggs somewhat laughable cockney accent what could better to lift the winter blues! It is a twee little story about London in more innocent times and the hook of turning out oranges and lemons is a gorgeous analogy for a sunny day in the capital.

Ageism in the Record Industry

My recent article entitled “Fall out, Sell out and Move out” which berated “Fall Out Boy” was not met with open arms from all camps; one such critic felt that bearing in mind the band were only 17 when the album “Take This To Your Grave” was released somehow absolved them from criticism and that my comments were “a little harsh”.

I make no apology for the fact that they felt the sharp edge of my keyboard in this instance for a number of reasons. Frankly just like any other band, and needless to say combined with any other label, their sole purpose of pressing discs is to snatch away the listener’s hard earned dollar from another band; so if they wish to offer themselves up alongside every other contemporary band who have the same profit focus then it only seems fair that they are compared on the same base.

If they want to play at being a band but are intimidated by the competition then frankly they have to suck it up because there aren’t any other options; I for one haven’t seen the “17 and under” category on the shelf at HMV or on I-tunes and I should very well expect them to be cheaper than other albums if the band worry they can’t sell. I am quite certain that no customer is going to buy an album out of sympathy for this group of teenagers who have tried soo hard and have really made a great effort; because making an effort simply doesn’t cut it. The only customers they can guarantee are their mums and I hope even they would think twice.

All this leads me on to pose the question: How old must you be to be considered a “real” band or artist? For example was Bob Dylan too young when he recorded some of his best music and almost single handedly revolutionised folk music? Or perhaps did the Arctic Monkey’s have to show fake ID before they were allowed to have the UK’s fastest selling album of all time? I know for a fact that the answer to both these examples is no. So how does it look from the other end of the age spectrum? Surely artists must develop and mature indefinitely? But unfortunately the evidence is to the contrary once again because frankly even big names such as Van Morisson, The Boss and Dylan have surpassed their creative peak and should be quite happy to live off the royalties that their back catalogues’ generate.

I guess the simple conclusion is two fold: firstly, unlike some people, music isn’t ageist which is a hypothesis best proven by none other than Mozart at 16. Secondly music critique can only ever address the art at hand; I can never give a band the benefit of the doubt just because they are 17 or give the Boss a favourable review for “Devils and Dust” because I know he can do better; ultimately on this site the music is up for review and not those behind it.

Oh those Cheeky Arctic Monkeys!

As many readers will be aware, this will be my third foray into the world of the Arctic Monkeys and I am happy to admit that they never cease to amaze me with their continual stream of edgy indie/punk tunes and their unrivalled success of late. To date I have not written a single word reference whether or not I actually like the band, instead I have looked at them both as the bright sparks set to ignite the punk scene and also as an enigma that could easily go pop. I can clear this up and say that I love them and purchased their album the moment it was released last week. Beyond their music I am still really impressed with the genius and imagination that went into a three year marketing campaign which finally paid off just last weekend when it was announced that they had taken the title of fastest selling record in British music industry history. In seven sweet days they had sold 360,000 copies and stolen the record from Hear’ say who set the bar 5 years earlier. Industry analysts have drawn comparisons between the success of this Sheffield 4-piece and a certain liverpudlian 4-piece who single handedly swept the 60’s, though I fail to recall their names; the bugs or the spiders or something like that! Furthermore they look set to have the first million selling album of 2006 and are presently outselling the rest of the top 20 put together. Even the former Verve front man, Richard Ashcroft, with a very respectable 75,000 copies was lagging way behind.

The true imagination was the driving force behind the success of their marketing campaign. They didn’t set out to target billboards or HMV stores but instead they pursued those who are the grass roots listeners of British alternative. They handed out innumerable demos and published them on the internet; next step, they rerecorded, renamed and reengineered these same songs in readiness for album release. This meant that fans had no choice but to buy the album because it was something new and if there is one group you can rely on to purchase your album it is the solid fan base you have built up over three years.

Despite this initial success I do still have some misgivings. I can’t shake the fact that maybe the band won’t stay together and that the demands placed on them to deliver will simply be too great. As it stands they have pressed one disk in three years with the independent Domino label who I am sure gave them as much artistic lee way as they wanted; and rightly so I believe, as they have produced a sensational and gutsy album jam packed with rebellious, streetwise lyrics and melodies. But almost invariably there are going to be some bigger industry fish circling and smelling all that money. Imagine the scene when Sony have made an offer that the Domino execs can retire on and suddenly the Monkey’s are over run with sound engineers who insist on ripping the heart out of the music and they are on a “5 year 5 album” contract; then I worry that the band’s rebellious streak which has energised their recordings and live performances may be channelled into self destruction. In general I have little sympathy with anyone who joins the music industry because everyone is just there to make a quick buck and stab someone in the back but I think it would be a genuinely sad loss, if an over fed label got their jagged claws into them and tore them apart.