James Arden checks out the garage rockers latest album.
The Christian rock band from Brighton bring religion to the masses.
Recipe for modern R'n'B album: liberal helpings of guest rappers and an overdose of sexual euphemisms.
Yet to be consigned to the dear green compost heap in the sky, Glasvegas’ debut album yields ‘Flowers and Football Tops’, an almost-dead-horse-flogging sixth single. Their reverb-saturated wall of sound production combines with Carolyn McCay’s tough drumming to provide a constant source of power, whilst James Allan’s intoning that “flowers… don’t mean a thing” is (probably) not to be taken in any strict plant-hating sense.
Pete Burgess
Ladytron’s 2008 album release Velocifero was their most successful since the electro-rocker’s formation ten years ago. So, naturally, they’re putting their best conservation efforts into keeping it alive for as long as possible with this EP release. And why not? Synthesised these sounds may be, but the effect is one of shimmering, organic cohesion over which the addictive vocals can gracefully soar. The EP contains no fewer than six remixes of the song. Recycle; the possibilities are endless.
Rich Powell
Perhaps influenced by YUSU’s Green Week agenda, MGMT partake in some recycling by re-releasing their hit from 2008. ‘Time to Pretend’ has lost none of its uplifting appeal. The retro synths, heavy drums and trippy vocals come together to create a compelling sound, whilst the satirical lyrics provide an edge as they take an acid swipe at the rock star clichés of sex, drugs and insatiable excess.
Hannah Barrett
Well I'll tell you what I think. If I have to watch what looks like 5 post-op transsexuals prancing about wearing less than I do in the bath, I expect them at least to have some modicum of talent. With beats plucked from the musical land-fill, already part-chewed by the sea-gulls of time, homogenised vocals and an overall sensation of relentless commercialised mediocrity, the ice-cap of my soul swiftly melted into a puddle of desolate boredom. Nevertheless, expect it to be recycled in York's clubs for years to come.
Diggory Dunn
The familiar sound of a duo of rap artist and high pitched chorus-contributor needs recycling for good. Although impressive, I am deaf to the creativity and skill of rap so each verse zoomed past in a rush of white noise, and then Justin Timberlake kicked in, melting the polar ice caps with his sultry (?!) voice. A simple repeated beat means this song offers little in originality; what an inconvenient truth.
Jonathan Wilkes
Check into the Singles Club next week for the likes of Kings of Leon, Will Young and the one, the only, Kelly Clarkson.
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