This week the British Tinnitus Association aims to raise awareness of a condition that affects one in ten people across the UK – and of which musicians, DJs, and music fans are particularly at risk.

My ears have always been iffy. Gigs seem to affect me more than they do my friends. Particularly loud shows disorientate me, producing the odd sensation that I am stuck behind a thick sheet of glass, or wandering around like Travolta in his Plastic Bubble.

Until about a year ago, after virtually every show I would hear that familiar ringing – two frequencies, one slightly higher than the other, one in each ear. It would normally last 24 hours at most. Then one day, I’m not exactly sure when, it just didn’t stop. Now, tinnitus is something that I live with, rather than something that comes to visit.

My tinnitus isn’t particularly debilitating. It’s only really a problem in total silence, making it occasionally difficult to sleep. Luckily I live in the middle of a block of flats, in the middle of a four-block estate, in the middle of the East End. Silence doesn’t happen that frequently.

Tinnitus is one of the UK’s most common medical complaints – and yet it is also one of the most misunderstood. Around 10 per cent of the population suffers from the condition, which can manifest in countless ways. Everyone’s tinnitus is different. Some people hear a buzz, others the noise of waves. Others still hear bird song, or even music – auditory hallucinations which science is still yet to adequately explain.

There is also a significant range of potential causes. While exposure to loud noise is the most commonly cited, for many people the roots of the condition lie in existing complaints like stress, high blood pressure, or depression.

Tinnitus Awareness Week is dedicated to building understanding of the condition amongst GPs – many of whom lack the training to deal appropriately with tinnitus care. According to a new study by the British Tinnitus Association (BTA), there are some 750,000 tinnitus consultations in England every year. The BTA identified inconsistencies in assessment techniques and referral practices amongst GPs, suggesting that the care tinnitus sufferers receive can vary dramatically – despite the existence of clinical best practice guidelines. Following consultations, a third of patients are unsatisfied with their GP’s response – and just 37 per cent are referred for further assistance.

David Stockdale, CEO of the British Tinnitus Association, said: “The BTA has long suspected that tinnitus management offered by GPs throughout the UK varies significantly. This study confirms this and has also identified that, shockingly, a large proportion of people who experience tinnitus are not given information about tinnitus management.”

Anecdotal evidence suggests that GPs’ treatment of musicians and DJs is particularly poor. Doctors reportedly often tell patients that they will have to change their lifestyle – which, in many cases, means changing profession, and leaving behind the thing that you love.

In reality, though, tinnitus can be managed and mitigated such that patients can continue to enjoy and make music. Many of the world’s most successful artists suffer from tinnitus or related conditions. Thom Yorke, Neil Young, and Mike Patton are amongst the countless musicians who have developed strategies that enable them to cope with tinnitus, without having to turn their backs on music.

This year the BTA is focusing its efforts on building awareness of the condition amongst primary care professionals, and encouraging cooperation with specialist audiologists. But, while improving care is a key priority, it is also important to raise awareness of tinnitus and other audiological conditions amongst those who suffer from them, and those who are particularly at risk. Musicians and music lovers need to take seriously the risk of tinnitus – but we also need to develop better strategies for coping with the condition, and for ensuring that tinnitus doesn’t prevent us doing what we love.

Tinnitus tips from the British Tinnitus Association 

The BTA recommends that musicians, DJs, and concertgoers should use ear plugs. Personal experience suggests that you need to invest in good quality, flat response, fitted plugs if you are to reduce the risk to your ears while still maintaining a realistic listening experience. ACS are one of the largest providers of musicians’ plugs. You should speak to a qualified audiologist to make sure you end up with the right product.

The BTA has also compiled some tips for those who have already developed tinnitus, which you can read below. I find troubling their suggestion that homeopathy might be a reasonable response – but potential quackery aside, their recommendations seem useful.  More information is available on the BTA website.

1. Exercise. Exercise regularly to boost “feel-good” endorphins, to gain a sense of well-being and lower stress levels.
2. Relax. It is well documented that stress exacerbates the experience of tinnitus so try to relax as much as possible. Many people try acupuncture, homeopathy and reflexology to help manage stress levels, and in turn improve their experience of tinnitus.
3. Use music. Listening to music can help as it distracts from the tinnitus noises, but be careful to avoid prolonged exposure to high-volume levels which can make tinnitus worse.
4. Consider your diet. Take steps to improve your health through diet so that you are healthier and fitter, which can make you feel better when you experience tinnitus. Stick to soft drinks and herbal teas, and keep well hydrated
5. Investigate products. The BTA sells a range of products which can help. These include sound therapy systems; mood lights; pillow speakers; and CDs – e.g. relaxation and beach sounds
6. Get expert help. The BTA is a world leader in tinnitus support. Use the BTA’s freephone helpline (0800 018 0527) and website. Also visit the BTA’s online forums for further advice, support and help from other people who experience the condition
7. Join a support group. Join a tinnitus support group in your area or start one if there is not an existing group in your locality. Visit www.tinnitus.org.uk/directory to locate the nearest one to you, and for a free copy of the BTA’s ‘Together’ magazine which advises on setting up a support group
8. Talk to family and friends. Make sure your family and friends understand tinnitus. Point them in the direction of the BTA’s website. The more they know, the more they will be able to help you.

The Deaf Institute, Manchester

Like most Mancunians, I’m packed with civic pride. And like a typical gobby Manc, I’ll happily spout absurd notions to anyone who’ll listen. So, when I say that Manchester is one of the best places in the world to watch live music, I mean it. And, I’ve got three reasons to back such a wild claim.

Firstly, Manchester is big enough to attract almost every touring act. It is rare that a band undertaking even the shortest UK tour doesn’t play a show in Manchester. Secondly, the city is small enough to facilitate a visit to any venue. In London, schlepping across the river for a weekday gig can result in a very late night. In Manchester, most of us can be tucked up in bed a matter of minutes after that final rapturously-received encore. Also, the compact city centre means that gig-hopping is a regular treat. On mumerous occasions I have been to two gigs on the same night and once managed to see three different bands at three different venues over a two-hour period.

The third reason why Manchester is such an excellent gig city is the venues themselves. Within a couple of miles of the city centre, Manchester can boast a complete range of music halls, bars, clubs, churches, art galleries, parks and sports stadia for every type of event. From the tiny back room at the characterful Castle Hotel in the city’s chic-shabby, hipster-harboring Northern Quarter, to the grand 70-year-old Apollo (with its art deco design and scene of my very first gig – Depeche Mode in 1983) and onto the soulless concrete of the M.E.N. Arena or Heaton Park (which will accommodate 225,000 nostalgia junkies for The Stone Roses’ shows in June), Manchester can host concerts of all sizes.

What’s even more impressive is the diversity of small venues in the city. Fans of up-and-coming bands or niche genres have a myriad of interesting spaces to stand and gawp. The Soup Kitchen is a cozy basement beneath an achingly hip café, Kraak Gallery mixes music and cool art, the venerable Band On The Wall has re-opened to showcase jazz and world music, while Salford’s St Philips Church combines jaw-dropping architecture with perfect acoustics. The Ruby Lounge recently hosted Lana Del Rey’s first UK show and always boasts impressive listings, while the University of Manchester student’s union houses a complex of four stages – Nirvana played at the 1,800 capacity Academy 1 in 1991 (I know, I was there), and Coldplay once graced the tiny Academy 3 before they went stratospheric.

Perfume Genius at The King's Arms, Salford

It’s not all good. The Roadhouse is a filthy, dingy fleapit with appalling sightlines and toilets akin to a scene from Trainspotting, while the fanfare that surrounded the re-opening of FAC251 – the site of Factory Records offices – proved to be short-lived. The music room is a long corridor and unless punters are within the first few feet of the stage, they might as well retire to the upstairs bar and watch the gig on TV. I’m almost heartened by the one constant throughout Manchester’s music history is Factory’s never-ending ability to make inept business decisions.

Amidst this impressive canon of choice, there are a couple of stand-out places in Manchester. Both venues have resuscitated old buildings and strive to be creative and independent. Perhaps one of the best small venues in the UK is The Deaf Institute. A gorgeous renovation of a three-story Victorian building, The Deaf Institute is peerless. It is simply a wonderful place to watch gigs, with its stunning décor (flock wallpaper and vintage speakers are de rigueur), bleacher seats and great sound. The artists love the venue too – backstage is a fully equipped apartment for their use and the rider food is straight from the venue’s highly recommended restaurant.

The other venue which really shines is Islington Mill. Technically, the five-story cotton mill is in Salford and while Salfordians will correctly assert that Salford is a city in its own right, the venue snuggles up to the edge of Manchester’s city centre. Geographical pedantry aside, Islington Mill is a fantastically inventive space housing artist studios, galleries and a 300-capacity gig venue. I once interviewed EMA on the top-floor of the mill – a vast, junk-filled storeroom with views past the Manchester skyline and onto the Pennines – and it was strikingly eerie.

“In many ways we never really saw ourselves as a music venue, we just simply cleared out a space and started having some parties there,” Rivca Burns tell me. Rivca is the marketing manager for Islington Mill and fondly recalls the Mill’s recent history. “It has been with its current owner, Bill Campbell, for ten years. He took the shell of an old cotton spinning factory, emptied it and created over 50 artist studios. The music venue was an afterthought when certain projects, such as a recording studio, didn’t seem to work as well as impromptu parties. We loved the parties and wanted to do more, so the venue grew organically from us simply having fun.”

The Islington Mill

What is particularly impressive about Islington Mill is the breadth of music offers. As the building has other uses during the week, it can, perhaps, be slightly more open to new ideas. “Our tastes are incredibly varied,” Rivca says, by way of explanation. “Over the last few months alone we have collaborated with local promoters to bring debut shows from acts such as Death Grips, Shangaan Electro and Maria Minerva. If there is anything that sums up our preferences it’s that we seem to always gravitate to the outsider, the stuff that maybe everywhere else might not be prepared to book or host.”

“The vision was to open a venue that people would want to spend time in,” explains Ruth Peacey, the booking manager at The Deaf Institute.  “We wanted it to be comfortable and serve nice drinks and be a refreshing change from ‘toilet venues’ for both bands and customers.” The space opened on February 29th 2008, so is just about to celebrate a fourth – or first – birthday, and The Deaf Institute is already a huge favourite with Mancunian gig-goers and musicians alike. “The vision was also about putting on small touring bands that perhaps wouldn’t have had the opportunity to play in the city without The Deaf Institute. We wanted to work with and support independent promoters and look outside of what was happening already in Manchester and bring something new to the city.”

However, what most people are blown away by when step into the first-floor Music Hall is the delightful surroundings. “The interiors were designed by the owners Joel Wilkinson and Adelaide Winter,” Ruth reveals. “The building is Grade II listed so we worked with what was already there to create the character of the new interior. A lot of the decor was inspired by the original features which we wanted to remain sympathetic to; the tiered seating, the old staircase and domed ceiling. There is a grandeur about the room that fits the ‘music hall’ look, with the velvet curtains and posh wallpaper. But, also, because of environmental and financial considerations, a lot of the interior is reclaimed or recycled - from the doors that became a bar to the vintage speakers that were found in junk shops and eBay.”

The Deaf Institute, Manchester

The result is stunning. On many an occasion I’ve been undecided about a certain band but been swayed into attending a gig just because it was on at The Deaf Institute. It always seems that the artists are in high spirits too  – bands love playing at a venue which looks after them like no other. “It’s nice to offer a bit of comfort,” Ruth says, alluding to the backstage apartment. “A lot of the bands are embarking on, in the middle of, or just finishing long tours when playing with us. At our level, touring can be a bit of a thankless task. If bands sleep over, it can make it a bit cheaper for them and easier logistically for the evening – drivers often love that they can have a drink.”

I have seen many amazing shows at The Deaf Institute but Ruth is slightly unsure on how their booking strategy has evolved. “There isn’t a list of criteria,” she admits. “It sounds silly to say we book bands that we like, but that’s pretty much it.” Indeed, some of the great nights at the venue shed little light on how to define a ‘Deaf Institute act’.  “All different kinds of acts have worked perfectly from heroes like Stephen Malkmus to brand new locals like Everything Everything and Dutch Uncles,” Ruth says, rattling off her personal highlights. “From Girls, The Black Lips or Deerhunter to electronic stuff like Caribou, SBTRKT, Fuck Buttons; from Emmy The Great or First Aid Kit to Wild Nothing, Warpaint and Washed Out. I don’t know if there’s a thread?” The only thread is that they are all shit-hot bands. Someone has got taste.

However, amid these evenings of gig euphoria, virtually every venue in Manchester is operating in a vicious economic climate. I’ve stood at numerous gigs in town with 30 other people, having paid a fiver for my ticket, and wondered how anyone makes money in this sphere of the music scene. Both Rivca and Ruth are constantly battling to balance the books. “It is hard,” says Ruth. “We are an independent with a big impressive building that costs a lot of money. We do have the bar and café but still heavily rely on the nights.”  “It is incredibly hard,” Rivca admits. “But we just make the program as varied and exciting as we possibly can and then keep our fingers crossed. You just have to have faith in doing a good thing.”

Both Islington Mill and The Deaf Institute are two wonderful examples of how and why Manchester continues to do very good things for its gig-going community. I’m sticking with my claim – my hometown is an amazing place to watch live music.

To find out who you can catch at The Deaf Institute in the near future, click here and to see upcoming listings for Islington Mill, click here.

Gil Scott-Heron‘s career fits this mould perfectly. Success as a poet and a novelist, and a string of strong, socially conscious jazz-influenced soul/funk albums in the 70′s and early 80′s screeched to a halt as Scott-Heron succumbed to the damage dealt by the same inner city “vultures” many of his greatest works rail against, his long-delayed return with 2010′s excellent I’m New Here album curtailed by death at 62 last May.

Anyone expecting a conventional “My Drugs Hell” lamentation has picked up the wrong book. Apart from the odd reference to personal upheaval, the hows and whys of Scott-Heron’s downfall aren’t discussed. The Last Holiday is far from a conventional memoir. Written in stops and starts between the ’90s and 2010, it started life as a third-person narrative (the one chapter that survives from this stage proves this wasn’t such a hot idea), evolving into an account of Stevie Wonder’s 1980-81 Hotter Than July tour, part of Wonder’s ultimately triumphant campaign to have Martin Luther King’s birthday recognised as a national holiday in the US. Autobiographical elements – Chicago-born Scott-Heron’s childhood in racially segregated Jackson, Tennessee, early interest in music and writing, youthful days as a student activist and budding author – were eventually added to explain how Scott-Heron ended up playing an active part in these events. There’s little space spared for the sad confusion that gradually took centre-stage in Scott-Heron’s life after the tour concluded in February 1981.

It is telling that Scott-Heron’s opted to place someone else’s tour at the centre of the book. The Last Holiday is quick to praise others, whereas the author’s own accomplishments are often skimmed over. Seminal albums like Winter in America barely get a look-in, pioneering anti-Apartheid anthem (and big hit) ’Johannesburg’ doesn’t get a mention, the furious – and very, very funny – protest-funk gem ‘The Revolution Will Not Be Televised’ is brought up mainly because Scott-Heron feels it painted him into a proto-rap, overly-politicised corner where his subtler, musically diverse talents tended to be overlooked.

Scott-Heron’s generosity of spirit in crediting key collaborators is hugely endearing, as is his inability to take himself too seriously. Then there’s his talent for observing events from an unexpected angle. For example, rather than play up his own role in the momentous day in the time-honoured traditions of autobiographical ego-massaging, Scott-Heron’s account of the mass rally staged on January 15, 1981 (MLK’s birthday) in Washington, DC during the Hotter Than July tour focuses on the trials and eventual triumph of a young essay competition winner, making for riveting reading even if you’re already familiar with Wonder’s Martin Luther King Day campaign. Scott-Heron’s gifts as a writer mean he manages to make even the tedium of touring into an engaging read, and the few star-studded anecdotes – especially the one starring Bob Marley and The Wailers – are interesting and thoughtful.

When Scott-Heron finally zooms in on his personal life during the last few (the only post-1981) chapters, describing a stroke and estranged relationships with his children and ex-partners, the impact is all the more dramatic. In stark contrast of the overall high spirits of what has gone before, the introspective regret of the final chapter is especially unforgettable in its heartbreaking candour. From eyewitness accounts of key events in recent American history to unforgiving self-analysis of a recovering addict, The Last Holiday is a key addition to the Gil Scott-Heron canon.

It’s nearly upon us, that glorious weekend that kicks off the year by celebrating the music and culture of our neighbours français in Brighton-by-the-sea. A couple of weeks ago, Vive la France‘s line-up was unveiled and as the festival weekend is drawing nearer and nearer, we’re going to take this opportunity to introduce you to some of the acts that will be appearing during the event. Some will be new to you, some will feel like old friends, but all are very worthy of your attention.

Frànçois & the Atlas Mountains

We’ll kick off with Frànçois & the Atlas Mountains, who we’ve already talked about a fair bit here at The Line of Best Fit. We first came across Domino signed four piece at XOYO where they filled a mesmerising support slot to Electrelane. Ever since, we’ve caught them at every possible opportunity to witness them mix afro-pop beats, French chanson and lovelorn indie into their uplifting live performances. Frànçois & the Atlas Mountains will be headlining the opening night of the festival at the Green Door Store on Thursday 26 January, and if you fancy popping down, entry is free!

Mesparrow

Mesparrow describes herself as a “one girl band with a loop choir, a human trumpet and a piano”.  This is certainly a fair description of her on stage act, however she fails to mention her wholesomely powerful soul vocals and ability to silence a packed room so that one could hear a pin drop. Charming, understated and thoroughly talented, Mesparrow is sure to capture many a heart at her appearance at Brighton’s Green Door Store.

Polarsets 

I know what you’re thinking. “But Polarsets are Geordies!” Correct. But they also release through Paris’s trendiest electro label, Kitsuné Maison. So don’t worry about the fact that they’re not actually french, let not the technicalities hinder your enjoyment. Polarsets are here to entertain us with their alluring electro and  infectious energy, and they’ll be appearing at The Hope on opening night.

Air Bag One

College

You’ve seen Drive, right? We’ve all seen Drive by now. What was one of the best things about that film? The soundtrack. And where did that sumptuous, sexy soundtrack come from? Well, it came from this guy. Paris’s College. Already hailed as a French electro heavy weight, College will be appearing at The Hope for an intimate showcase of his smooth and dynamic electronic sounds, one not to be missed.

Sing Sing My Darling

Sing Sing My Darling are a youthful four piece hailing from Southern France’s sunny ville rose, Toulouse. They’ve spent the past few years mixing a spritely brand of colourful, sun soaked pop with lilting guitar hooks which they’re now bringing to UK shores. You’ll be able to catch the band at the Green Door Store on Friday 27 January, and even better than that, it’s free!

Turzi

Concrete Knives

Coming from Caen and currently being aired by the likes of Rob Da Bank and Steve Lamacq, Concrete Knives are certainly a band with a buzz about them. Known in France for their catchy anthems and boundless energy, Concrete Knives are ready to take on the UK so catch them at The Hope on Friday 27 January, a ticket link is available below.

Further performances are planned from The Zuts, Justine Taton, Phoebe Killdeer & The Short Straws and with DJ sets from Halfway, Transformer DJs and Melanie Pain, everything is in place to provide a thoroughly French, thoroughly inspiring weekend’s worth of music.

To purchase tickets for Vive la France! clickity-click right here and for times, venues, prices and further details on other events happening during the festival, click here.

Keep your eyes peeled for a competition to win tickets to this year’s Vive La France! festival right here on The Line of Best Fit, but in the meantime, have a listen to this handy playlist featuring a selection of this year’s performers. We’ll see you there.

Last week we revealed our top 50 albums and tracks of 2011 – an outstanding year for new music. The lists were drawn up and carefully ordered over several weeks – we wanted to encapsulate the year in terms of the songs and bands that we felt took leaps musically and, to be frank, blew our minds personally.

Atop the long players of the year sits I Break Horses‘ Hearts – a breathtakingly beautiful record that makes us as giddy as a schoolgirl at the Twilight premiere every time we listen to it. We reached out to the talented creator of Hearts, Stockholm resident Maria Lindén, just before Christmas to find out more about the record, three months after release.

“For my first record, I’m happy with how things have gone,” Maria told us. “It just feels good to have it out there, but of course I’m already thinking about new songs and I’m eager to move on.

“For everyone listening to the record in the last few months and for all those still to discover it, the songs are all fairly new thought for me some of them are 3-4 years old so it’s a hard balancing act!”

While the lyrics come courtesy of the band’s percussionist Fredrik Balck, Maria is the primary musical force behind I Break Horses and took her time to find the right scenario for recording Hearts, trying out a solitary bedroom set-up as well as an analogue studio in Poland with a sound engineer. “I think in hindsight it was good to try some other ways,” says Maria, “even if the result was to realize that I needed to do most parts of it myself. It can be quite difficult to be happy with anything because self-critique is something I specialize in!”

Uniquely, the record saw its release prior to any live dates being played and Maria’s resolve to wait until the right time saw the band’s first London show sell out at the 300-capacity Cargo venue back in December – a monumental achievement for their fifth ever gig. “I’ve always heard how playing songs live ahead of recording can be a massive help,” Maria explains, “but as this record came out of late night bedroom sessions, that was never going to be possible! I want the live shows to be special and rushing into it, it wouldn’t have worked so I’m thankful we waited a few months. It will be an ever-evolving process I think.”

And for the future? “I have a lot of ideas for new songs and the next record,” Maria enthuses, “and I’m super-excited to get working on that!”

Read Maria’s thoughts on each track from ‘Hearts’ below and make sure to enter our amazing I Break Horses competition at the bottom of the page.

‘Winter Beats’

“I wrote ‘Winter Beats’ in Poland, while we were there recording the first parts of the album. I suppose that even though I pretty much scrapped everything I recorded there, once I came home some good did come of it and that was this song. I ended up liking it so much I made it the album opener.”

‘Hearts’

“I wanted to create a song that blended the aggressive with the romantic. ‘Hearts’ is the only song I felt I didn’t need to go back and change after writing it. The album version is the same as the first demo.”

‘Wired’

“This was the very first track I wrote for the album. It’s got a very simple rock groove and I mixed that with a very floaty chorus. I had an idea of detuning/pitchbend effect at the end of the song that maybe only I like…”

‘I Kill Your Love, Baby’

“I like the paradox feeling this song results in – as the phrase, the same as the title, is being repeated almost like a hymn, but with a more aggressive, textual content.”

‘Pulse’

“This song was a complete pain to record. I think I did about ten different versions of it before I ended up with the final one. Naturally, it’s not one of my favorite on the album.”

‘Cancer’

“I wrote it after a cheap, last minute trip to Greece, inspired by the sound of charter tragedy. It was a bit off-season when I was there and the town was closing down. Still, some places tried to maintain the high season leisure mode by playing Mediterranean disco its over and over. And through my bedroom window it sounded so sad…”

‘Load Your Eyes’

“It was practically written by itself. Very quick and easy to put together – it has a playfulness about it that I like.”

‘Empty Bottles’

“A little poem about now and then for some people. All the takes are one-takes I kept to make sure I got the intimacy and urgency you have for a part when it’s first being recorded.”

Stream Hearts in its entirety below.

Competition

I Break Horses’ label Bella Union are giving away an amazing package of prizes to celebrate the success of Hearts on our end of year list.

Just leave a comment below telling us what you’re most looking forward to in 2012 and you could win everything the band have released to date (a vinyl and CD of the album plus 12″s of ‘Hearts’ and ‘Winter Beats’) as well as a lovely band T-shirt and – best of all – a day pass to see the I Break Horses play at this year’s End of the Road Festival.

The competition closes at midday on 13 January. We’ll pick a winner at random soon after!

So 2011 has finally come to an end, leaving a superb musical legacy and very exciting prospects for the music to come in 2012. As we all try to avoid concentrating on that January back-to-school feeling, The Line of Best Fit’s writers take a look at the year ahead and shed some light on what they’re most looking forward to. Uncovering the vast range of tastes and influences that make The Line of Best Fit what it is, our writers talk about music from Breton through to Bad Religion, Chad Valley and Paper Route to Pet Shop Boys and  Nicki Minaj. So read on for hints and tips of what 2012 is going to bring, and to find out what exactly makes our writers tick.

Anika Mottershaw

2012 will see the release of a debut record from Trust and I am jolly well excited about that. The Toronto duo (Maya Postepski and Robert Alfons) put out a couple of singles on ultra hip New York label Sacred Bones last year, but their full length will be making its way into the world through Toronto titans Arts and Crafts in the spring. Bulbform is a filthy dance party jam that sounds fit to soundtrack a spaceship flying through a barren dystopia in a noir sci-fi adventure. Candy Walls adopts a Julee Cruise-esque beauty, with warmer synths and dreamy melodies; it reminds me of all my favourite things. Trust will release one of the best records of 2012.

Michael Hall

In the last twelve months they’ve released a single in the format of a DIY keyboard, been courted by not only the major players in the music industry but also by fashion and sneaker giants, as well as having toured with Ghostpoet and Tom Vek. All the while Breton have been pushing the envelope in terms of what’s musically and aesthetically possible in their world of ‘post-step’. That they make beguiling, hard, street smart music is clear but thus far only proven in the short form- whether they can translate their South East London squat scene sound into a classic debut for Fat Cat this February is another question altogether. However, judging by their most recent single ‘Edward The Confessor’ it’s very easy, and extremely exciting, to expect a classic.

Andrew Hannah 

In a world where bands are reforming left, right and centre (Jesus Jones, anyone?) the only one you know that won’t involve a world tour robotically recycling the ‘hits’ will be the 2012 return of Ohio’s Guided By Voices. Leader Robert Pollard has reunited the ‘classic’ GBV lineup (from 1993-96, in case you’re wondering) for the first of not one, but two new albums in 2012. First out the blocks is January’s Let’s Go Eat the Factory, to be followed by the tentatively-titled Class Clown Spots a UFO. GBV were a power-pop powerhouse in their classic heyday, and it’s wonderful to have them back and prolific as ever. This is the band The Who wish they could have been. Have a listen to the latest tracks here.

I’d also like Jason Molina to get well and get back to making music in 2012. An artist that means so much to me personally, it was sad to hear that he was suffering from addiction problems and struggling to pay his medical bills. With two of Songs: Ohia’s records – Didn’t It Rain and Magnolia Electric Co – amongst my favourite albums, I really hope we’ll hear some more music from him in the very near future. But first of all, just get well soon, Jason.

Ro Cemm

There are a great many releases to look forward to already in 2012 (some of which have already been outlined already in Oh Canada’s 2011 review) but one of the releases I’m most looking forward to is the sophomore effort from Evening Hymns, Spectral Dusk. Their debut album Spirit Guides was one of our albums of the year in 2009, and the follow up promises much if the performances we’ve caught this year are anything to go by. NXNE saw an expanded band turn in an epic and heart-wrenching show, while you could hear a pin-drop during the stripped down duo show in support of Timber Timbre at the Union Chapel later in the year. Hopefully 2012 promises much for them, both on record and on tour.

John Freeman

Two years ago, Mike Hadreas –the fractured soul behind Seattle’s Perfume Genius – released his debut album, Learning. Listening to the naked, confessional ballads almost seemed like an act of voyeurism – as if we were peeping through the keyhole of the bedroom where Hadreas had exorcised his inner fears. A second Perfume Genius record (check out the Prince-style title) – Put Your Back N 2 It – will be out on 20 February. Initial snippets suggest that while it contains more masterful Hadreas ballads, Put Your Back N 2 It, is also a  lush, crystalline affair with forays into gospel and straight pop. February cannot come too soon.

Tom Hannan

The recent news that 2012 will see Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band tour in support of a brand new album had me thinking. If his 2009 effort Working on a Dream is anything to go by, man is the record going to suck. But judging by the gigs that accompanied it, these shows are still going to be incredible. Long time Boss devotees will be holding back the tears upon first seeing the E Street bunch line up without the recently departed Clarence Clemons, but rumours are rife as to who will step in on saxophone duties in the Big Man’s tragic absence. A browse of the message boards reveals early front runners to be everyone from Prince collaborator Maceo Parker to Bleeding Gums Murphy, but my money’s on Bill Clinton.

Matt Conner

Paper Route, a synth rock trio from Nashville flung the doors wide open on their 2009 offering, Absence, but rumors are that their latest longplayer The Peace of Wild Things will feature a more pop oriented sound for the masses. Given how ridiculously catchy their last release was, this should bring a new legion of fans to their door. And given that Anthony Gonzalez likely won’t release any new M83 material in the next calendar year, Paper Route provides a nice distraction.

Phil Gwyn

It should say a lot of the quality of Chad Valley’s Equatorial Ultravox EP that his promised album is un-named, unconfirmed, and without a release date, and yet just the idea of a full length crammed with his immersive, retrospective dance music is one of our most anticipated prospects in 2012. Mr Chad Valley himself has tentatively suggested that he wants to release the album in ‘Spring 2012’, setting himself up for a busy start for the year as March 5th will finally see the unveiling of the debut album of his other band, Jonquil, titled Point of Go. Whenever the Chad Valley full-length eventually surfaces, hopes will be high, because the euphoric 7 tracks of Equatorial Ultravox marked him out as one of those rare hyped artists who actually has the vision and potential to create a great debut album.

Francine Gorman

Having closely followed their progress over the past couple of years, I’m dying to see what 2012 will hold for Errors as they release their latest album Have Some Faith In Magic. They’ve grown from a Glaswegian bedroom band to a bona fide mind-blowing live act following extensive touring both at home and in the States with label masters Mogwai. The wisdom gathered along the way has been slotted around their consistent ability to write an unforgettably catchy hook, making their latest effort nothing short of brilliant. Live shows are pencilled in for February, the album will drop on 30 January, so that’ll be just enough time for me to cancel everything else happening in my life to loyally and constantly listen to the new album. Can’t flippin’ wait.

Chris Jones

Queen of Scots folk, Karine Polwart, is a true luminary of the British scene’s authentic twenty-first century resurgence – but her solo career has been on hold since 2008. After a host of collaborations with other leading lights, including Chris Wood (The Darwin Song Project), King Creosote (The Burns Unit) and Lau – and a spell of maternity leave too, 2012 arrives with the promise of an as-yet untitled fifth full-length release sometime in the summer. Not only a skilful and tender interpreter of songs from the tradition, her original song writing has produced poignant, perceptive and compelling contemporary folk for the best part of a decade. Polwart’s keen intuition, impeccable ear and stellar delivery deserve attention far beyond folk’s inner circle.

Simon Tyers 

“With all my heart and soul, I promise a new album in 2012! Unless something crazy happens. But let’s not get crazy, let’s just get creative!” So excitedly claimed Ed Droste on Grizzly Bear‘s Facebook wall in mid-December of a follow-up to 2009′s Veckatimest, just after they were announced as End Of The Road headliners. Nobody’s given any further details yet, though suggestions are studio work has already started, but the prospect of a step forward that retains the carefully detailed kaleidoscopic melodies and glorious sun-dappled harmonies while taking them somewhere fresh is intensely exciting.

Melody Lau

Cloud Nothings’ 2011 self-titled album was grossly underrated and was MIA on many best-of lists but thankfully we’re given a second chance in 2012 with their follow-up, Attack on Memory (out January 24). Taking a decidedly different turn sonically, frontman Dylan Baldi enlists the help of producer extraordinaire Steve Albini to create a darker sound that harkens back to 90s grunge but still keeps his pop-punk roots intact. With the few tracks that the band has already released online, it’s already apparent that Baldi’s craft is only getting better and with every track we hear, fans and critics alike are salivating for more.

Nicki Minaj is easily the most exciting and successful female MC right now and clearly, her upcoming album Pink Friday: Roman Reloaded is highly anticipated. With the criticism that she churned out a pop record with her debut, almost completely devoid of the hard raps that she had become so acclaimed for, one would hope for more appearances from her alter ego, Roman, on this follow-up. I mean, his name’s even in the title. That being said, I personally have no problem with Minaj’s pop half either; she needs both in order to succeed and who doesn’t want another “Super Bass”?    

Let’s be honest, 2009’s Vapours was a bit of a disappointment. Where was the Islands that we fell in love with on Return to the Sea and Arm’s Way? Where was the pizzazz? Well, the pizzazz probably won’t be found on the band’s upcoming album A Sleeping & A Forgetting but I have hope for this one. Frontman Nick Diamonds had made a complete overhaul and starting anew with this record, a more sombre affair written in the wake of a breakup. So don’t expect sparkling pop gems to dance to but do expect something different and, hopefully, something that’ll reignite our love for Islands.

Rich Thane

Aside from last year’s teaser single ‘What Do You Expect’ – written as a reaction piece to the London riots that took place in August – all has been quiet from El Perro Del Mar since her stunning Love Is Not Pop back in 2009.

Returning in 2012 with a new full length entitled Pale Fire, Sarah Assbring again teams up with Rasmus Hägg on production duties. Hägg, one half of Gothenburg duo Studio, co-produced Love Is Not Pop and in turn replaced Assbring’s almost retro doo-wop stylings in favour of a tight, focused collection of heartbreaking musings – held together by a groove and knowingness that have led Hägg (and his partner in Studio: Dan Lissvik) to receive a cult-like reputation and following amongst Scandiphiles.

No previews of Pale Fire have been made public yet and it’s unclear whether the aforementioned ‘What Do You Expect’ will feature on the record. Regardless, on the strength of the three albums that precede it, we wait tentatively with the knowledge that come Spring 2012 we’ll have fallen in love with El Perro Del Mar all over again.

Jen Long

New Year is a bleak time. Hangovers, rain, and change, everyone needs a little light at the end of the January tunnel. For me, said light comes in the form of Tough Love, the sophomore album from Pulled Apart By Horses, out January 23rd. Produced by Gil Norton, it promises to deliver a more mature version of their cheeky hijinks and if first single ‘VENOM’ is anything to go by, it’s going to be a killer ride. Add to that the attention the band put into the artwork on their first LP, it could be a thing of beauty too. Buy, play, repeat.

Alex Wisgard

Pet Shop Boys‘ last album saw the duo finally finding their way out of the wilderness – through curious yet ultimately unsatisfying genre excursions into tropicana, clubland, indie rock or the dreaded adult-contemporary - and finally return to doing what they do best. Littered with collaborations with the likes of Johnny Marr and Owen Pallett, Yes was a proper pop record – produced by Xenomania, no less – and their absolute best for fifteen years. The duo have since been keen to dip into the past with a live album and another pointless best-of (with obligatory, yet oddly disappointing, new track ‘Together’), but a new LP proper is due in Autumn. Until then, you can whet your appetite with a b-sides compilation, entitled Format, which is due out mid-February; a fascinating alternative history of the band’s post-Imperial phase, it features, amongst others, the glorious pomp of ‘Delusions of grandeur’ and the sixties-tinged ‘I didn’t get where I am today’ – one of the best tracks the pair have ever penned. Format works as both the sequel to previous rarities comp Alternative and a tantalising stopgap until album number eleven from arguably the finest British pop group of the last twenty five years.

Luke Morgan Britton

Andy Johnson 

Although they celebrated their thirtieth year in the game in 2010, Bad Religion are far from out of ideas. Still led by singer and evolutionary biology professor Greg Graffin and his longtime colleague and Epitaph Records founder Brett Gurewitz, the veteran Los Angeles punk rockers will unleash a sixteenth album in 2012. Recent records have seen the group change their well-worn formula a little – upping the song lengths and broadening the sonic palette – and with the lineup increasingly stable there is every reason to believe that this year will see the band develop just enough while still losing none of their righteous rage.

Josh Hall

Last year it was impossible to leave the house without someone telling you protest music was dead – a pretty stupid meme that reached its apotheosis with Krissi Murison’s breathtakingly daft Guardian piece. When people say there’s no-one writing protest music anymore, what they actually mean is that there are no ‘credible’, white, middle-class guitar bands writing songs about industrial disputes, as if music can only possibly be thought to exist in a social context if it’s played by people who look like The Clash.

In 2012, then, I am (perhaps over-optimistically) looking forward to two important realisations by people like Murison. First, the realisation that there are deeply felt, fascinating social documents being made by musicians across the country every day; generally infuriated, and frequently infuriating. It’s just that they tend, like Millbank anthem ‘Next Hype’, to be more likely to emanate from E14 than from NW1. And second, the realisation that music needn’t be screeching about Capital P Politics in order to be born of a social conscience. Mainstream politics is dead; mainstream political artists like Billy Bragg won’t be far behind. The most political music is, to borrow from the sadly missed DSG, post-political music; the little fragments that go some way to describing the odd, precarious, atomised and angry lives we lead.

Andy Slocombe

Not so long to wait for this one, and it can’t come soon enough. When Sleigh Bells‘ ‘Treats’ surfaced in 2010 it was dismissed as a hipster record by, well, pretty much everyone, your writer included. Yet we just couldn’t leave it alone, and in time such lazy slights became an irrelevance, for beneath the obnoxious production lay the best bubblegum pop of that year. This Valentine’s Day heralds the release of ‘Reign of Terror’, the sophomore effort by the sassy and menacing Alison Krauss and mastermind Derek Miller. And judging by the title and lead single ‘Born to Lose’ we can expect more of the same – blistering beats, screaming guitar and massive tunes, in the truest sense. Anything less would only serve to disappoint, after all.

Jude Clarke

I’m currently craving a bit of ATP goodness in the early part of 2012. Having opted for the Jeff Mangum December festival last year, the event’s subsequent postponement has made for a very long gap between visits to the hallowed ground of Minehead’s Butlins. Curated by the man behind what is arguably one of the most amazing indie records ever made (In The Aeroplane Over The Sea), the line-up for the re-scheduled festival is looking very promising. I’m severely tempted to buy this magnificent skirt in honour of the occasion.

The other big news for me is the forthcoming release of David Sylvian‘s ‘Best Of’ compilation (out at the end of February). I can’t think of another artist (short of Scott Walker, maybe?) whose career has evolved in such a fascinating way from the glam-wannabee days of early Japan to the cerebral, tortured, minimalist improvisations of his work in recent years.  The fact that he’s also playing a gig at the Albert Hall in March is just the icing on the cake.

John Skibeat

When a new musical style begins to form, it’s rare that many take notice until it is well and truly established. This hardly seems to have been the case for the onomatopoeically-termed genre of ‘djent’. It first appeared in the early noughties, inspired by the signature palm-muted string hammering of the Swedish metal band Meshuggah, and has rapidly grown into a goliath with new bands piling on board each and every year. India’s Skyharbor and England’s The Safety Fire are two you may not yet have come across. Both have debut albums popping up in 2012 and both promise to be real game-changers. Having seen and heard the the former’s numerous little burps and squeaks popping up on various media sites of late and having experienced the latter’s storming “Sections EP” and explosive live show, I for one am already experiencing palpatations at the prospect of the pair taking djent to the next level.

David Newbury

The guitar died when Mclusky split up; over shadowed by fey electro duo’s and High Street skinny jeans, the axe became whining, maudlin, frankly pussy Samaritan for bored acoustic loners, but in 2012 crunching distortion pierces the air again. Take the last great single of 2011, Radiohead’s ‘The Daily Mail’ with its Pablo Honey climax, then put in next to the upstarts-Fanzine’s jangly grunge, Fear of Men’s ethereal art-gaze, or even Ringo Deathstarr who decimated the Smashing Pumpkins from their support slot- and you see an instrument oozing re-educated charisma. The guitar’s resurgence may have had a false start with Yuck and awful Airship, but everyone starts on a shit PC before getting a Mac, right? With rumours of Kevin Shields material, a new Shrag record and Pulled Apart By Horses finally hitting the right gear, a pair of decent earplugs will be 2012’s fashion de jour.

“It started with Studio’s ‘The End of Fame’, sounding like a lovesick whale in the depth of the ocean. Try making a ring tone out of this, you bastards, we said. With no particular ambition, but with a strange confidence, some kind of culture was created and (dis)organized, spontaneously but in a certain direction. And Service rapidly took shape as the leader of Swedish pop in the early 21st century.”

And so went the opening quote to mark the celebration of Service’s ten year anniversary last month. A Swedish independent label recognised moreso for the discovery of Jens Lekman, The Tough Alliance and The Embassy, it actually all began back in 2001 with the release of ‘The End Of Fame’ – a baffling six minute ballad with a guitar solo so abrasive and destructive, it beggars belief that its creators would go on to carve (and indeed influence) the genesis of some of the most essential and forward thinking progressive dance music of our generation.

Studio (or The Studio as they were shortly known as) released three 7″ singles on Service. ‘The End Of Fame’ (SERV001), ‘The Jungle’ (SERV002) and ‘Down Here, Like You’ (SERV003) which was backed by the ludicrously titled ‘Popular Women Get What They Deserve’. All three releases sounded like personal love letters to the duo’s inspirations rather than the future of Swedish underground music. Scratchy, spiteful and taught garage rock with Dan Lissvik’s drawl coating the songs with all the passion of an angry teenager, it was the b-side to ‘The Jungle’ that really seemed to kickstart what would become the “Studio sound”. Even today, ‘Shake U Down By The River’ still ignites a curious excitment within its deep veined bass groove and distant melodica chords. It was the sound of paradise. The marriage of Dan Lissvik and Rasmus Hägg’s love of early Factory Records  set against the cold abrasive prog of Can and Neu somehow blended into something beautiful. Suddenly, the much talked about but rarely defined ‘balearic sound’ had a new home, nearly 3000 miles north of Ibizia. Gothenburg was all that mattered.

Studio – ‘The End Of Fame’

Lissvik and Hägg split from Service before the official release of their debut (and only ‘official’) album West Coast. Forming their own label, Information, in 2006 and releasing  ‘No Comply’ (INF 001) b/w ‘Radio Edit’ – Studio had metamorphised from awkward geeks to cooler-than-thou shit kickers with hardly any press, sales or indeed fan fare. Coupled by stunning artwork, mystique and of course incredibly crafted songs – when the initial (highly limited) vinyl only release of full length West Coast (INF 002) sold out, it was re-pressed in 2007 and indeed given its offical CD release and in turn birthing a legion of ardent fans.

Eager to embrace this curious sound that Studio had dreamt up, it was only a matter of time before artists started to approach Lissvik and Hägg for remix duties. From Shout Out Louds to Kylie Minogue, Love Is All to A Mountain Of One – they quickly became known moreso for their expertedly executed remixes than their own music. Yearbook 1 (2007 – a collection of singles, re-edits)  and Yearbook 2 (2008 – a collection of remixes) followed, but sign of a new album ‘proper’ became something of a myth in itself as Lissvik and Hägg began working apart more and more.

Studio – ‘West Side’

As the more active of the two, Lissvik’s production credits over the years have piled up, with notable work for Taken By Trees, Lake Heartbeat, The Mary Onettes and Young Galaxy. His remixing abilities remain as in demand now as they were five years ago with Korallreven, ceo, James Yuill andSerenades all benefiting. Not forgetting Lissvik’s own solo album 7 Trx+Intermission from 2008 and 2009′s The Crêpes project – a collaboration with The Embassy’s Fredrik Lindson.

Rasmus Hägg lent his wonderful production techniques to El Perro Del Mar‘s highly acclaimed Love Is Not Pop in 2009 and continues in the production chair on the forthcoming El Perro record Pale Fire.

Today, in an official statement on Dan Lissvik’s website, it was finally stated that Studio (and indeed Information) are no more.

Thank you for the music.

Listen on Spotify:
Studio West Coast
Studio Yearbook 2

Last week or the week before I forgot my closed-back headphones when I was off out to get the train somewhere. The headphones I took instead are these open backed ones that leak sound like crazy. I hate wearing them on the bus or the train because I hate the idea that anyone can hear what I’m listening to, so to be quite honest they served no purpose whatsoever that day, all they did was take up space in my bag, which is already at permanent capacity what with all the important dust and twigs I like to carry around. I wasn’t annoyed though, I was actually relieved not to have to listen to anything, so relieved that I wondered if I hadn’t strategically brought the wrong headphones as some kind of secret favour to myself. Now, I’ve been listening to headphones plugged into one device or another since my earliest years. In the old days it was such a travel necessity that I would steal the batteries out of remote controls, alarm clocks and, notably, other people’s walkman’s in order that I not miss out on “Slave New World” five times in a row on the bus. Over the years I’ve still always taken something to listen to, but choosing what to listen to has become more and more of a problem.

The basic reason is this. Say you’re a friend of mine and at one time or another you have passionately expressed negative views about a band, if I then listen to that band I will irremovably have you in my head going on and on about how bad they are. It doesn’t alter my own opinion of the band, it just damages the listening experience to have someone in the other ear giving you a load of grief about how that band rip off the Fall or how in all honesty they’d rather listen to Nickleback. One way of escaping this is listening to bands that no-one ever says anything bad about. The Nerves, for example. I think I would die of shock if I ever heard anyone really slagging off the Nerves. The problem with this is that it has the effect of making the bands seem “safe”, and this is boring so what I tend to do most is not to listen to seemingly unassailable stuff, like the Nerves or Raekwon, but to listen to things that it seems like it doesn’t really occur to people to think about, not obscure stuff, just things that don’t come up a lot in conversation. For example the song “Bad Reputation” by Thin Lizzy – I probably listen to that song five to ten times a week, or the opening three tracks from At The Gates’ “Slaughter of The Soul” or Big Juss stuff from after Company Flow. However, when I catch myself doing this it seems so stupid that I get down on the whole thing which is how I’ve ended up with these ridiculous situations in which without my knowledge I’m secretly taking the wrong headphones in order that I don’t have to listen to music on the train, all because I’m attempting to avoid getting abuse from a load of imaginary idiots. I should most likely just stop worrying about it, but it’s become habitual.

The one thing that seems to be exempt from this stupid stuff is the Simeon Ten Holt piece “Canto Ostinato”, which is a really amazing minimalist(ish) piece for four pianos which is over an hour long and, to my knowledge, has never been described in the pub as “by the numbers Khanate” or “beyond emo-rap”. In my mind it’s weirdly untouchable. There is literally nothing that anyone could do to it. Which is why it makes me think of Christmas. People are down on Christmas. The same cunts who say that pigeons are “flying rats” or say that Ringo Starr was a bad drummer or declare every funny video on youtube to be definitely fake will tell you that Christmas is awful but they’re wrong. Well, they aren’t wrong, but they’re wrong to think that their bad vibes could have any impact. Christmas is just there, there’s nothing you can do about it. It’s like if people complained about the moon. It’s like if people complained about the moon and how much they hated it and how much the moon puts pressure on people to spend huge amounts of money and how the moon gets earlier every year. That’s why I’ve always been such a big fan of it (Christmas I mean, although the moon has its moments). Obviously I like all the stuff surrounding christmas (mince pies, decorations, that film where Michael Keaton rises from the dead but in the form of a snowman etc), but I think what I like best is that its just this unstoppable force and I don’t have to worry about it. Christmas will never be routinely accused of being “hardcore for people who don’t like hardcore” or be criticised for using valve emulation software on it’s guitar tracks. It’s beyond all that, and when people have a go at it I just stop listening. Maybe a solution to my travel music problem would be to listen to christmas carols all year round, I might make that my news years resolution.

I hope some of that made at least partial sense. Merry Christmas!

Fairewell’s superb debut album Poor, Poor Grendel is out now via Sonic Cathedral.

And just like that, the year was over. Twelve months of strangeness – to be followed, one suspects, by twelve more months of even more acute strangeness.

2011 will be remembered for a host of events that might previously have been thought unthinkable. The fall of ostensibly unassailable dictators. Insurrection in the capital. Goo Goo Dolls in the charts AGAIN.

But it will also, we hope, be remembered as a year of unexpected, often frustrating, but always exciting music. This list is a selection of some of the records we’ve come to love over the course of the last twelve months. Some clicked for us immediately, while others needed some work. Some we agree on, others we absolutely, unequivocally do not (sorry, Merrill Garbus).

We hope there’s something here you love. Either way, we look forward to the flurry of tweets telling us how irredeemably shit our taste is, and how we oughtn’t dare publish anything of the sort next year or else. Happy Christmas.

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50. Rustie – Glass Swords

With four years behind him, 2011 was the year that Glasgow-based producer Rustie finally unleashed his debut album. In Glass Swords Russell Whyte – under his alias of Rustie – has created a modern dance album for people who don’t even like ‘dance music’ in its standardised form. Each track is varied and versatile, complete with epic build-ups and breakdowns, and a dizzying array of influences. Released via Warp, Glass Swords is a constant 46-minute high, demonstrated most audibly in standout tracks ‘Surph’, ‘All Nite’ and ‘After Light’. Indulgent yet effective, Glass Swords is pure euphoric escapism.
-Heather Steele

Listen on Spotify | iTunes

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49. Ben UFO – Rinse 16

In a year of great mixes, there was one to which I kept coming back. Ben UFO’s Rinse selection is a lesson in expertly executed eclecticism. Full of unexpected shifts, this collection is defiantly genre-neutral: at one moment it’s Berghain, the next it’s Bristol. The sound of one of the capital’s best-loved DJs at the very height of his powers.
-Josh Hall

Listen on Spotify

48. And So I Watch You From Afar – Gangs

Seldom has an album been more aptly titled. Gangs is the sound of a band against whom the world has seemed to conspire; a band who have done it all themselves, and who have fostered a true sense of us-against-them grit in the process. While their debut was the sound of four young men overcome with the power of ridiculous distortion, Gangs saw them whittle down their excesses until they were left with a beautiful, tender, very human core. Surrounded, of course, in ridiculous distortion.
-Josh Hall

Listen on Spotify | iTunes

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47. Julianna Barwick – The Magic Place

Fairly ludicrous Enya comparisons aside, Julianna Barwick’s first full length for Asthmatic Kitty is a strange, ethereal trip through looped choral vocals, haunting, Lynchian soundscapes and restless melodic and rhythmic repetition. It’s an album that demands your attention and lulls you with it’s mesmeric qualities. A bright future must be on the cards for this hipster-friendly new-ager.
-Michael James Hall

Listen on Spotify | iTunes

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46. Nils Frahm – Felt

The release of Felt marked a sincerely welcome return for Nils Frahm, who kindly indulged our desire to hear lovelorn, yearning piano melodies through an extremely sensitive microphone. Picking up the dust and the crackle as well as the poignant heart and soul of his music, Frahm endeavours to place tone and ambiance on the same pedestal as melody and in doing so, creates a truly wonderful body of work.
-Francine Gorman

Listen on Spotify | iTunes

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45. Other Lives – Tamer Animals

Despite their expansive Americana leanings, pastoral harmonies and Jesse Tabish’s wispy, wisftul voice, Oklahomans Other Lives owe less to the post-Fleet Foxes brigade as they do to Grizzly Bear’s inventive sonic field. Gorgeous production nuances tint every corner of their lush chamber folk arrangements, multi-instrumental washes that create a slow burning stillness amid the sonic equivalent of vast prairie spaces.
-Simon Tyers

Listen on Spotify | iTunes

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44. Mogwai – Hardcore Will Never Die, But You Will

The seventh studio album from the Glasgow post-rockers, Hardcore… was instantly heralded as a jewel of the Mogwai record collection upon its release back in February. Masterfully moulding together the band’s incomparable ability to create intricately produced, super-modern arrangements with their love of a face melting hook, with this record, Mogwai have created their most accessible but also arguably their most ambitious work to date.
-Francine Gorman

Listen on Spotify | iTunes

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43. Iceage – New Brigade

Iceage haven’t made a pop record, at least not in the traditional sense; there’s too much bedlam, too many patches of noisy clangor for their songs to be rock-radio friendly. But the pure propulsive energy, and the palatable devotion to their heroes (basically a checklist of every revered noise-leaning post-punk act of the last few decades) have them verging on something universal. New Brigade is harks back to an era where punk spirit was just as unwavering as it was enthusiastic.
-Luke Winkie

Listen on Spotify | iTunes

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42. Three Trapped Tigers – Route One Or Die

I was settling into my cosy little “contemporary guitar music = almost exclusively shit” prejudice quite nicely before Three Trapped Tigers turned up. But then, over the course of three EPs and the stunning Route One Or Die, the trio made six strings interesting again. With one foot in post-hardcore and one in the noisier jazz hinterlands, Route One… is one of the most exciting, best-conceived records of the year.
-Josh Hall

Listen on Spotify | iTunes

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41. Modeselektor – Monkeytown

Gernot Bronsert and Sebastian Szary must surely rank amongst the world’s luckiest musicians. From inauspicious Berlin roots the pair have become a certifiable German institution – and Monkeytown marks the final stage in their transformation. A glorious mix of big-room techno, hip-hop, and 22nd Century pop, Monkeytown is everything Modeselektor have ever promised to be.
-Josh Hall

iTunes

We’re not going to be so trite as to rehearse the old argument about iTunes having killed the album. That’s been done to death, with pretty unedifying results.

But (and it’s a decent sized but, if you’ll excuse the crudity), the way in which we listen to music today is undeniably very different from the way in which we listened to music just a few years ago. Single sales might be collapsing, but with mp3 blogs still going strong and the cult of the DJ enjoying a resurgence, the stock of the individual track, as opposed to the album, seems to be on the rise.

That trend has been pretty well represented this year. While there have been dozens of albums deserving of your love, it seems like 2011 has been the year of the single – or, more accurately, of the single song. The last twelve months have seen some of our favourite artists honing the art of the discrete track to perfection, while a handful of newcomers have quietly birthed undeniable delights of their own. Some of the biggest albums of the year might have struggled to hold attention over the course of twelve songs – but the 50 beauties here have kept us rapt.

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50. Kathleen Edwards – Sidecar

One for the lovers… or indeed, anyone with a penchant for glorious melodies smeared like butter over a power-pop backing. That’ll be anyone with a pulse, then. Forget its middle-of-the-road leanings and just enjoy it for what it is: Americana at its absolute finest. Guaranteed to stay floating around in the caverns of your brain for days on end.
-Richard Thane

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49. Joe Goddard – Gabriel

Joe Goddard has enjoyed something of a creative burgeoning since Hot Chip went into hibernation. But if The 2 Bears provides a comedy outlet, his solo work is where the floor-fillers are made. A relentless, UK funky-indebted track that manages to simultaneously sound like an illicit pirate radio rip and the biggest pop song you’ve ever heard.
-Josh Hall

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48. Kenton Slash Demon – Daemon

Future disco from one half of the Copenhagen based quartet When Saints Go Machine. Think of Kenton Slash Demon as the alter-ego of When Saints’ tightly wound electronica. With ‘Daemon’, they’ve created a sprawling, arms aloft floor filler with one of the greatest drops of 2011. Add to that an irresistible vocal line that sounds like the ghost of Arthur Russell and a bass line so fat you could feast off it for weeks – you’ve got yourself the perfect recipe. Dig in.
-Richard Thane

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47. Kurt Vile – Puppet To The Man

“Sometimes I get stuck in a rut too, it’s ok girlfreeeeynd” – sneers Kurt Vile over one of the most irresistible guitar motif’s heard in the past twelve months. A highlight on a sure fire future classic album Smoke Ring For My Halo, ‘Puppet To The Man’ is a masterclass in lazy swagger and sees Vile at his nonchalant best. Also: Hands down the best haircut of 2011. There’s magic in them follicles, kids.
-Richard Thane 

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46. Nicola Roberts – Beat Of My Drum

The first fruits from a debut solo album that didn’t quite deliver, there’s no doubt that ‘Beat Of My Drum’ is an absolute beast and one that saw Miss Roberts glide effortlessly from the pages of HEAT magazine to the NME in one flawless swoop. She’s secretly always been everyone’s favourite Girls Aloud member and ‘Beat Of My Drum’ – for a short period of time at least – saw Nicola crowned as the UK’s princess of snotty-nosed pop music. Wherever your musical loyalties lie, there’s no doubt that this is a bonafide classic pop gem.
-Richard Thane

‘Folk Opposition’ is a timely call for the reclaiming of folk culture, from both left and right – but first we need to reclaim it from the music industry.

At the heart of ‘Folk Opposition’, Alex Niven’s recently published first book, is a call for the left to look to folk identity as inspiration for new networks of working class solidarity. It’s an important suggestion, and one that recognises the metropolitan left’s chronic inability to connect with life outside the M25. As Joe Kennedy’s review in The Quietus points out, Niven’s book is also a lament for the theft of folk culture – co-opted as it has been by an acutely southern elite, fetishising the idea of folk while propagating a laughable misinterpretation of the countryside as some peerless idyll, populated by noble peasants and ripe for cultural pillaging.

There are, of course, few areas in which this fetishisation is more pronounced than in the crashingly dull wave of faux-folk music that arrived tsunami-like around 2008. A quick perusal of this week’s many end-of-year lists proves that the wave is yet to subside. Spurred on by the catastrophic success of arch barndancers Mumford and Sons, major labels have spent the last couple of years throwing cash at anything with a beard, a guitar, and vague sense of rusticism – and we are still feeling the results.

Distaste for the faux-folk revival is nothing new. For every broadsheet music correspondent boshing out a couple of hundred words on the ‘maturity’ of the second Emmy The Great record, there have been a thousand snippy blog posts wishing death, or at least enforced silence, on the West London brigade.

But faux-folk is more than a mere irritation. It is not ‘just’ another depressing major label construction to be ignored; not simply another passing phenomenon to keep The Sunday Times magazine ticking over. As Niven says, the lionisation of this painfully upper middle class clique is indicative of the fact that we apparently care neither about the creative industries being dominated by the offensively moneyed, nor about the fact that they are currently amusing themselves by siphoning through the rubble of English heritage in order to find something marketable.

But it is also the apotheosis of a strategy of diversion; the absurd embodiment of efforts to paper over the widening fissures in a fundamentally unjust society by appealing to some latent Albion-lust – and the culmination of attempts to distract us from our chronic atomisation through the construction of manufactured shared experiences.

The enormodome performances of cash cow artists like Mumford and Sons are little more than the final opulent act in the gradual recuperation of the folk tradition. This preternatural absorption of ideas or expressions of rebellion or outsiderness into the very heart of the consumer system is one of the foundations on which our ‘post-political’ society has been erected.

We live, as Mark Fisher so convincingly writes, beneath the pall of capitalist realism. As the well-worn phrase would have it, it is (or rather, it was until about six months ago) easier to imagine the end of the world than to imagine the end of capitalism. This is in part because capitalism positions itself as post-ideological, as the only common sense solution, and in part because of its talent for assimilating cultural rebellion. Folk music was about communication between ‘ordinary’ people; about telling stories and, frequently, about stirring insurrection, in a manner totally removed from commodity exchange. Its value was in its lack of quantifiable value. It is an illustrative testament to capitalism’s extraordinary strength, then, that the country’s supermarket aisles are now stacked high with products that are marketed as folk records. The old tools of peasant communication are seized, bastardised, and mobilised for capital.

This is, of course, nothing new. Capital has always been good at cooption, and there are few industries in which this is more aggressive or pronounced than in music. But the faux-folk pox is particularly troubling because it aims to reconstitute the very things that capitalism destroys – solidarity, humanity, co-operation without a profit motive – and sell them back to us.

Nowhere is this more evident than in the live arena. The faux-folk live show is an exercise in manufactured shared experience. The gigs are heavy with the fug of self-satisfaction, laden with unbearable pseudo-profundity. The crowd go expecting an ‘event’; a moment of breathtaking humanity under the thousand watt floodlights. They will tell each other in the car home how real it all was, how alive they felt, because that is what they think they should do.

The sepia-tinged promo shots, the endless self-satisfied tours of windswept Scottish islands, the fucking waistcoats: these are all illustrative of what Elizabeth Outka calls the commodified authentic. The labels behind these acts (and, of course, the acts themselves) aren’t just selling music. Rather, they are selling a feeling of realness; a sense of connection with the rustic England of some imagined yesterday, away from the consumerism and vulgarity in which their predominantly middle class audiences otherwise embroil themselves.

Companies are trying to sell authenticity everywhere, from Fender’s Road Worn guitar series (bashed up during manufacture to give the impression of years of whiskey-soaked gigging), to the backwoodsy packaging of coffee chain food, to the Lomo-aping Instagram – Lomography itself, of course, a way of selling an evocation of Soviet Russia. We lap up this manufactured authenticity because we lack realness in our lives – the genuine human connection of social solidarity. We are aggressively instructed to define ourselves not by our relationship with other people, but as the nexus of a web of interests: as the unit of consumption connecting the music we buy, the clothes we wear, the blogs we read. Instagram, coffee packaging, and Mumford and Sons are the means by which we are encouraged to persuade ourselves that we are still human, still connected with tradition, with history, with the earth, and with each other. The undeniable enthusiasm for the manufactured shared experience of faux-folk suggests that there remains an appetite for genuine human connection – but the version we are sold is an animatronic approximation, built solely for profit. We travel to the arena to experience a ‘moment’, before getting back into our car and driving back to our flat, where we live alone, where we worry alone about work, about money, about waning youth. The grand faux-folk event draws on the imagery of egalitarianism while leaving us fundamentally atomised.

Today, the spectacle is more offensive than ever. The nauseatingly engineered folksiness, the all-in-this-together wink; they are unbearable because they play on the very basic human structures that we will need if we are to kick back against the Conservative-Liberal project – a project that has in its sights no less than the return of pre-Victorian wealth inequalities.

We need genuine human solidarity if we are to respond to this. By encouraging us to satiate this need with a plasticky corporatised pastiche, the faux-folk vanguard quickens our death march towards social oblivion.

When it comes to hobbies and obsessions, people have varying tastes. A lot of the people reading this will count music among their main interests, some people pick sports, others like travelling or cooking, or collecting. My personal obsession is Serge Gainsbourg. As a writer, I find him to be an enthralling subject. From the perspective of a music fan, he’s had an untouchable, if often invisible influence over a huge amount of the music that we listen to today. And as someone who’s always up for a bit of controversy and scandal, his life and story is a gossip goldmine.

One of the most interesting things to observe about the legacy of Serge Gainsbourg is the difference in reaction to his presence and work in his home country of France and in the UK. In France, the man was and continues to be regarded as a legend. Without Serge Gainsbourg, the French music scene wouldn’t be what it is today for many reasons; Serge Gainsbourg was amongst the first to release a reggae album in France, he wrote Eurovision winning songs, he got Brigitte Bardot to make noises like these, and he caused worldwide outrage with just one, four minute song.

Back here in the UK, even if he wasn’t particularly well known for the majority of his musical output, he was the first person to have a UK number one single sung in a language other than English, and he was also the first ever artist to have a number one single that had been banned from being broadcast by the BBC, the country’s most influential radio programmers. For a long time, the majority of British people knew of Gainsbourg because of his scandalous antics, but his reputation here in the UK has begun to change over the past few years. This is, in part thanks to Joann Sfar’s wonderful biopic Vie Héroïque which was released in independent cinemas across the UK in 2010, and the fact that his daughter has grown up to be the outstanding actress and musician Charlotte Gainsbourg has also cast a great deal more favour in the French crooner’s direction.

His life was certainly colourful, it was certainly full of controversy and it inspired some incredible music. 2011, more than any other year has been the opportune moment to reflect upon the life and times of this chanteur as the 2nd March was the 20th anniversary of the death of Serge Gainsbourg. This year also marks 40 years since the release of his seminal concept album, Histoire de Melody Nelson which, in commemoration and celebration of this anniversary, has been remastered and reissued.

As is the case with many great albums, when Histoire de Melody Nelson was released back in 1971, it wasn’t a huge commercial success. This wasn’t of particular concern to Gainsbourg and Jane Birkin, who provided the voice of the main character Melody Nelson, as in 1971 they were still very much reaping the rewards of the gamble that could potentially have killed both of their careers, the 1969 release of the highly controversial single and album ‘Je t’aime… Moi non plus’. Having awarded his record company substantial success, Gainsbourg was given license to create more or less whatever he wanted to with his next album. The result? An orchestral based concept album, featuring a Lolita-esque story line and some of the most beautifully woven string arrangements to have ever found a home on a pop record.

Serge Gainsbourg – Melody Nelson.

Histoire de Melody Nelson opens with a spoken word, electric guitar led song which introduces the plot and the main character of the album, the young, red headed Melody Nelson who is knocked from her bicycle by the Rolls Royce driving narrator (Gainsbourg). As the album progresses, the listener is taken on a journey through genre and through time, a twisting and sometimes twisted tale of a middle aged man falling in love with a young girl. The relationship develops over a series of 6 stunning tracks, before song seven, ‘Cargo Culte’, delivers the young girl’s untimely death. Poor old accident prone Melody.

Clueless as to what they were hoping to achieve with this new record, Gainsbourg and a bright, young composer named Jean-Claude Vannier embarked upon the creation of Histoire de Melody Nelson, enlisting the intriguing, childlike vocal of Jane Birkin and not allowing themselves to be constrained by any manner of genre constricting practice. The record sold respectably well upon release, but didn’t reach anywhere near the commercial success of Gainsbourg’s previous album. The record company, and to an extent Gainsbourg and Vannier themselves considered the record to be a flop.

What the duo didn’t count on was the enormous influence that the album would have over musicians in the future. Histoire de Melody Nelson is a record which has been cited as hugely inspirational for a large number of modern artists. Beck’s 2002 album Sea Change for example was heavily influenced by Histoire de Melody Nelson, both musically and conceptually. Artists from Portishead right through to De La Soul have either used recording techniques, taken inspiration from or covered tracks from the album. In 2006, the album was reproduced live at the Barbican in London, with chief string arranger Jean-Claude Vannier performing alongside artists such as Gruff Rhys, Mick Harvey and long time Gainsbourg advocate, Jarvis Cocker. A similar project was undertaken at the Hollywood Bowl this summer, featuring performances of tracks from all throughout Gainsbourg’s career, performed by the likes of Zola Jesus, Mike Patton, Beach House’s Victoria Legrand and Grizzly Bear’s Ed Droste.

Histoire de Melody Nelson has very quietly, very unexpectedly but very deservedly become heralded as Gainsbourg’s most important work and on its 40th birthday, this reissue is a great way to celebrate that fact. Along with a track that was omitted from the original release of the record, ‘Melody lit Babar’ and plenty of alternative vocal and musical edits, this latest edition of the album provides a real insight into the recording sessions of Histoire de Melody Nelson, as does the 40 minute long DVD that’s included. Featuring interviews with all of the major players on the record, a Gainsbourg super fan is given the chance to witness clips of the recording sessions and to hear about the unwitting path that Gainsbourg and Vannier trod together in Vannier’s very own words.

For an album which many considered to be among Gainsbourg’s least successful releases, Histoire de Melody Nelson has become something of a cult classic. The superb quality of the recordings, enhanced even more on the recently released, remastered edition of the record is remarkable upon each listen, as is the poetry of Gainsbourg’s spoken word. This album is a mere 28 minutes long, but one of the most absorbing journeys that one will travel, one that has stood the test of time, and one that becomes more and more important as time goes by.

The remastered version of Histoire de Melody Nelson is available through Mercury, along with a 40 minute DVD featuring inteviews with those involved with the creation of the record and featuring plenty of brilliant footage of Serge himself.

Photo Credit: Ro Cemm

While Les Rencontres Trans Musicales was taking over every other corner of Rennes last weekend, a plush theatre by the city’s airport was playing host to a rather special event. Kütu Folk is an artist led record label based in Clermont-Ferrand, and is the home to such delightful acts as Kim Novak, Soso, St Augustine, Evening Hymns, Leopold Skin and The Delano Orchestra. It’s a label renowned throughout France not only for its consistent output, but also for the care and attention attributed to the creation of its physical products which appear in hand embroidered cardboard sleeves. To celebrate the work of the label, Les Rencontres Trans Musicales invited a whole host of acts from the Kütu Folk family to take over an extremely comfortable theatre, L’Aire L’Ibre.

The Delano Orchestra

Each night began with two sets from artists on the label, before all of the bands took the stage to form a ‘Kütu Folk supergroup’ who would then reproduce a song from each artist in the catalogue.  Incorporating like-minded artists from France, the US (former Minus Story and Shearwater man Jordan Geiger) and Canada (Evening Hymns and SoSo) the shows truly felt like a family affair. A five day run in the same place clearly created a special bond between the artists and their energy, engagement and enthusiasm most definitely transferred to the audience. Once St. Augustine had brought the crowd to their feet to sing along to his sprightly indie-pop workout, the audience remained standing for the rest of the set, with the joy of the artists lending the show a feeling of communal catharsis.

One of France’s most successful and original indies, Kütu Folk are more than worthy candidates to have hosted this special series of showcases at this highly prestigious event. With the new year promising a whole heap of new releases from the label’s outstanding roster, it’s only a matter of time before the name ‘Kütu Folk’ becomes as celebrated here in the UK as it already is in France.

Have a listen to what exactly it is that this marvellous label produces either by downloading a free sampler or by listening to the stream below.

By Ro Cemm and Francine Gorman

Photographs provided by Les Rencontres Trans Musicales.

Whoever wrote the script for 2011 deserves an Oscar. Riots, revolutions, the collapse of global capitalism, POTENTIAL TIME TRAVEL…this year has pretty much had it all.

2011 was also a year of great music, with fantastic records from some of our favourite established artists and exciting early salvos from some newfound loves – and next year promises to be even better.

We have spent the last 12 months falling in love with a host of new artists, each of which is doing something new, something exciting, something audacious, or sometimes just something really fun. Every day for the next couple of weeks we will be telling you about one of those artists. 12 new acts for 2012.

Each of our editorial staff has nominated an act they think you should be keeping an ear on next year. The remaining slots were filled through a mixture of motorbike jousting and a vote. One of them lost a hand. Bear that in mind while you read.

Theme Park

Over the course of the last two weeks we’ve introduced just some of the artists we think you should be paying attention to over the next twelve months. Think of it as our class of 2012.

In that lovely bunch we’ve veered from the loud to the languid, from the beat-based to the string-plucked, providing what we hope is a decent glimpse of the extraordinary breadth of talent on offer today.

We can think of few better ways to end than with a band that will collectively be vying with Dave Grohl for the title of Nicest Guys In Music – the lovely Theme Park.

Theme Park are delightfully short on pretention. The tooth-grinding self-absorption that characterises so many guitar bands is entirely absent here – and in its place we are given grin-inducing fun. They’re not trying to reinvent guitar music, but actually, with tunes this compulsively good that really doesn’t matter.

The last couple of months have seen Theme Park grow from a nice little pop curiosity into a band that we can see playing every festival stage in the world next year. For now, though, they’re still writing in their parents’ basement – which is where we caught up with them, just before their debut live show, for this exclusive interview.

Like every other self-respecting journal of popular music criticism, The Line of Best Fit was planning on writing glowing reviews of Summer Camp’s outstanding debut album, Welcome To Condale, as well asIcona Pop’s fantastic Nights Like This EP. In the course of research, however, we discovered the following manuscript at the bottom of a trunk in an attic sale following the death of a reclusive filmmaker somewhere in the American Midwest. We decided to cancel the reviews, as there was really nothing more we could add to the literature on these two records.

EXT. DAY. A HIGH SCHOOL IN AMERICA. FRONT STEPS.

It’s the first day of school. ELIZABETH, 16, emerges from a bright yellow school bus and adjusts her neon headband. She unfolds an official-looking paper from her purse and checks it over carefully.

THE GEEK, a gangly teenaged boy with big glasses, comes up behind Elizabeth and reads over her shoulder.

THE GEEK

I see that we have the same teacher for biology. His name is Harold Richard. That means it is within normal parameters to refer to him as… get this… Harry Dick! For real!

ELIZABETH

Um… Okay.

The Geek’s nice-guy friend, JEREMY, intervenes.

JEREMY

Sorry about him, he doesn’t know any better.

ELIZABETH smiles at them both and continues on her way inside.

THE GEEK

Did you see that? Something tells me that before this year is over, I will interface with her.

JEREMY

You’ll interface with your dad’s stack of Playboys.

THE GEEK

You know, I’m getting input here that I’m reading as relatively hostile… Hey… Wait… What’s wrong with this scene?

JEREMY

Besides you being a total embarrassing freak?

THE GEEK

Listen. There’s no theme music.

JEREMY looks at THE GEEK quizzically.

CUT TO:
INT. DAY MR. RICHARD’S CLASSROOM.

MR. RICHARD

…and that is why, class, you should always spare a thought for the mitochondria that work so hard for all your cells, each and every day.

The bell rings. ELIZABETH and CAROLINE snap their heavy textbooks shut.

ELIZABETH

I’m so not ready to be tested on this.

CAROLINE

Aw, really? We studied all this stuff when we were, like, six back home.

ELIZABETH

Home? Where’s that? And by the way, how do you look so happy and good all the time?

CAROLINE

I’m an exchange student from Sweden. Everybody there grows up speaking two languages, kicking the world’s ass in education rankings, and mixing and matching designer apparel with cheap complementary pieces from H&M.

ELIZABETH

Wow.

CAROLINE

Say, I have an idea. Let’s have a study party. You can tell me what life is like in America, and I’ll tell you about the Krebs Cycle.

ELIZABETH

It’s a deal!

THE GEEK approaches the two girls, followed by a very shy JEREMY.

JEREMY

(To THE GEEK) Don’t do this, please.

THE GEEK

Hey ladies, can we come too? I promise I don’t have Krebs.

JEREMY

Dude! Shut up!

CAROLINE

Ummm…. Yeah, sure, why not?

ELIZABETH

(Quietly, to Caroline) Boys? Are you sure that’s a good idea?

CAROLINE

Oh come on. Let’s invite my friend Aino over too, she’s the other mysterious Swedish exchange student in this film.

ELIZABETH

Oh gosh, I don’t know about all this.

JEREMY pauses to collect his thoughts.

JEREMY

You know, now that I think about it, this could be an occasion for young teenagers from different social backgrounds to get randomly thrown together and learn life lessons in hilarious but poignant, sexually awkward circumstances, eventually forming the core filmic narrative of a generation and inspiring the music of European indie pop acts 25 years in the future.

ELIZABETH

Well, when you put it like that, it sounds like a pretty good idea, I guess.

CAROLINE

That’s what I’m trying to get through to you, my dear.

ELIZABETH

Hey, I like the sound of that.

JEREMY

And to think I was going to study alone tonight.

ELIZABETH and JEREMY lock eyes. In a magic moment, young love is born.

ElIZABETH

(To JEREMY) Nights like this, you will never be alone.

CAROLINE

Hey, I like the sound of that.

JEREMY

You know what, gang? I think I sense theme music and a group montage coming on, in which through the magic of editing we establish our unlikely comradery and carefree, youthful joie de vivre.

Suddenly, AINO bursts through the doors and slides into the classroom on one knee.

AINO

Did someone say montage? I’m in.

CAROLINE

You and me had some good montages when we went to summer camp in Sweden together last year, didn’t we?

ELIZABETH

You Swedes are so gorgeous. You’re like my pop icons, or icons of pop. Or something like that.

MR. RICHARD

Well, it looks like you’re all about to start a beautiful friendship. And in a way, you have my class and the bold initiative of The Geek here to thank for it.

THE GEEK

So… whose underpants do I get to sniff?

MR. RICHARD opens a desk drawer and pulls out a big package.

MR. RICHARD

How about, Geek, I give you this box of premium 5.25-inch floppy disks instead?

THE GEEK

Really?

MR. RICHARD

Really.

THE GEEK

Yyyyyyyyeees!

As the gang smiles and THE GEEK jumps for joy, we freeze-frame and cue a rush of synthesizers, drums, and major chords.

END TITLES.

People stream out of the movie theater upbeat and optimistic, ready to purchase large quantities of legwarmers, shoulder pads and cocaine.

Music convention and festival Music & Media/Lost in Music attracts more than  700 delegates and international visitors to Finland each year for seminars and panel discussions. Launched in 1989, it’s frequented by the likes of SubPop, Spotify, Rolling Stone and Beggars Group and more than a hundred acts are showcased, performing in a series of venues scattered around the centre of the city of Tampere.

Located on a narrow piece of land between picturesque lakes Näsijärvi and Pyhäjärvi, Tampere boasts a population of roughly 200,000, making it the country’s third largest. A former centre of textile and metal industries Tampere gradually became known as the ‘Manchester of Finland’, which led to the widespread use of its Finnish nickname ‘Manse’. Similarly the term ‘Manserock’ was coined in the early 1970s to describe Tampere’s buoyant rock scene ranging from its early musical representatives Juice Leskinen to later arrivals like New Wave accolades Eppu Normaali, and Popedaand and subsequently to the creation of the local label Poko Records that largely contributed to the development of the scene and its reputation all over Finland. Based on this rich musical tradition Tampere naturally became the home of the main music event in Finland.

A unique role of the event is the link between East and West. “In 2011 there were delegates from 24 countries, including territories such as China, Japan, Southeast Asia, Russia and the Baltics, along with a substantial delegation from the UK, Central Europe and North America.” explains Tuomo Tähtinen project manager at Music Export Finland.

Finnish indie and alternative music have always been overshadowed by the success of Finnish heavy metal – therefore this writer had admittedly little knowledge and no preconception of what to expect from the local scene. Following a couple of failed attempts and a handful of mediocre acts Tampere finally revealed some truly interesting discoveries.

Zebra & Snake

Matti Ahopelto and Tapio Viitasaari make honest music from the heart. As Zebra & Snake, they croon their life experiences to the sounds of vintage synthesizer arpeggios reminiscent of Simple Minds, early U2 and Depeche Mode. It’s so difficult to capture the sheer emotions, energy and frustration of their captivating live performances on record. Brilliant stuff.
Zebra & Snake – Empty Love Song

Siinai

One of the newest propositions from local experts Kaiku Studio are the kraut-rockers Siinai that count in their ranks key-members of the renowned phychedelia band Joensuu 1685, as well as from the aforementioned Zebra and Snake. Their epic noise and endless feedback are delivered passionately and with precision, making their live set an intense live experience.

Siinai – Anthem 1 & 2

Vuk

Finnish-American Vuk (stage moniker for Emily Cheeger) is an experimental artist making music true to the legacy of Kate Bush and Björk. Cheeger’s quirky, assertive presence and alien gaze, combined with her unique organic style result into a mysterious chamber pop full of auto-harps, tambourines and Hammond organs.

Vuk – Year of The Gourd

Murmansk

Murmansk provide the missing link between A Place To Bury Strangers and My Bloody Valentine channelled through a Nordic filter. Their brand-new material is heavier and more melodic than ever, yet Murmansk still refuse to introduce choruses in their songs. Still one of the best alternative Finnish bands around.

Murmansk – Before Kitchen Knives

Ewert & The Two Dragons

Ewert & The Two Dragons are not Finnish and actually come from the neighbouring Estonia. Neat-looking and confident, they showcased their carefully crafted folk-pop compositions full of playful soothing tones. Their music is certainly much better than their name.

Ewert & The Two Dragons – Jolene

Want to dig deeper into new Finnish acts? Check out hopeful shoegazers The New Tigers, relentless prog-pop mentalists Kiveskives, haunting electrogoths Nightsatan, and Regina’s catchy indiepop.

Oh, the high life of an indie music writer. One minute you’re rubbing shoulders with your favourite bands (not literally, unless they’re into that), then the next you’re bumping into fellow journos in Chicken Cottage or on Cardiff’s St Mary’s Street with a bag of chips in hand, having just visited the city’s infamous Caroline Street while desperately trying to hold to scraps of remaining dignity in a tug-of-war of professionalism. But there are obviously the major perks, as this very photo shows. Oh the life of an editor must be a cruel one.

Trying to find the right balance between work and play at festivals is always a tricky one. You start off walking around with all the speed and urgency of a banker during lunch hour, trying to get from stage to stage without bumping into anyone you know who will only waste your valuable set interlude time, and sooner or later you’ll find yourself stood at a bar drinking on the job, trying to convince yourself that the headline band you’ve been going on about all day will be too busy to get into anyway just so you can slump into a corner with a drink.

Saturday was one of these aforementioned days. Theoretically the longest of the four days, a damning combination of a terrible hangover, needlessly staying up until near dawn procrastinating sleeping by reading the entire previous day’s worth of #swn tweets and striving to convert caffeine into comprehensible words and sentences. You see, I didn’t take any Science-based subjects past GCSE so I don’t know what the easiest way of chemical conversion is – but there must be a way surely. My strive to scientific breakthrough means that I miss a chaotic set from DFA-esque punks DZ Deathrays – ironically one of our pre-festival ones-to-watch.

Thus once I get my act together, it’s already getting dark and Summer Camp are the first band I catch at 5pm. What happened to our twee darlings Elizabeth and Jeremy, eh? They’ve gone and grown right up. Their set shows them as bonafide popstars, but with a sinister edge. The duo start in the audience, kicking off with an acoustic rendition of ‘Better Off Without You’ – a perfectly brash number about a needy ex. It’s a totally crushing blow to anybody who’s ever drunkenly cried down the phone to a past girlfriend – which is, of course, every single one of us. Gone is the coy shyness that made the group pretend to be a bunch of Swedish teenagers – now, backed by a live drummer, Elizabeth struts in and out of the crowd, luring and unnerving the audience, even inviting one person up onto the stage with her. Set closer ‘I Want You’ ends on a suitably dark note, emphasising how much the group have come from the sunny bedroom pop band they formerly were. Shockingly this is the first time I’ve seen the London couple in action, only now losing my Summer Camp virginity –  a late bloomer as it were. But by the end you can bet that my cherry is good and popped and like the formerly-innocent protagonist at the start of a 80s coming-of-age movie, I’m totally spent.

We head over to Undertone, the rock club-esque basement underneath the parent venue Ten Feet Tall to catch Mammal Club, who I had heard a fair few mumbled words about over the weekend. Soon it becomes apparent why people had been talking about then, as we’re met by the news that the band had to cancel their performance at the festival. While it seems quite rude to walk straight in and out of a place, but when that place merely consists of bar staff idly checking their smart phones and event organisers seated doing likewise – all of which to the soundtrack of The Postal Service- it seems to be the only viable option and we quickly flee upwards before our buzz is killed for the entire evening.

In this SWN chess game we’re all playing, we’re strategically pinpoint Clwb for Gallops as our next move – talking into consideration that it leaves us enough time to get a pint in during the interval. Bladdy lovely. But by the time we finish our drinks and move onwards to North Wales’ Gallops!, they have already started and have seemed to have somehow acquired a Bez-like dancer. That would be good fun and all except that I don’t actually think he’s part of the band, instead he just appears to be a jaw-clenching weirdo who’s had one too many but damn, can he throw some shapes. As for Gallops!, despite fulfilling one of my major pet peeves in music, and that is unnecessary (read alternatively as “post-modern” or “just annoying”) use of grammar, they are still, however, pretty! damn! good!

Next up is Esben & the Witch, and if you wanted a witch-based pun, you could say this is pretty SPELLBINDING stuff. Oh, you didn’t ask for one? Well you got it anyway. The threepiece is much better than anything that’s ever been labelled witch-house, 10x more haunting too, and their music too pure to be compared to MBV or J&TMC as per. Instead, they transfix the entire crowd with their hour-long enslaught that features a neat little trio-drumming session interlude and their heavy guitars and feedback make the floor shake continuously, repeatedly making me mistakenly check if my phone’s been vibrating.

Just as Esben comes to an end, our very own editor arrives in town which only means one thing: shit is going to get #messy. You’d think that your boss would encourage you to stay on course, to look down on you for craving a beer, to make sure that you see every band possible – but on this instance, this isn’t the case. Instead, within around 12.5 minutes of arrival shots and Jagerbombs are already mentioned, which means everyone’s quietly aware that everything is about to fall apart altogether.

We do however, manage to drag ourselves from the cosy wranglehold of the Buffalo Bar and head across town to see the hotly-tipped Zulu Winter at the ever-brill upstairs at Dempseys. I can’t pinpoint the exact reasoning but somehow the band don’t grab me. Maybe it’s that their brand of alt-but-accessible anthemic indie is not really my cup of coffee, or perhaps it’s just simply that I already got getting pissed firmly in my head by this point. Sorry, Zulu Winter, but everyone else thought you were great. I promise to see you again, another time, at another place, perhaps with a closed bar and an open mind.

With all of the TLOBF staff phones quickly dying in unison, we work out a plan for the rest of the evening so we know where we’re going to be and when, knowing that we’ll soon be without the breadcrumb trail that is Twitter. We plot Y Niwl / Ugly Duckling  as our remaining destinations but then almost like destiny, everything takes a turn for the weird. Technical failures, electricity cuts and temporary blackouts mean that a number of venues run late. At Dempseys, the tills aren’t even working to serve alcohol! So instead of sticking around to catch amazing North Wallian surf-rockers Y Niwl (who play on three separate occasions over the weekend, none of them I get to see) Team TLOBF alternatively opt for a bag of chips each and the Silent Disco – basically the ‘When in Rome’ motto appropriated to a Cardiff night-out. After a darkly comic stroll around the city centre (highlights including two men urinating up against a bin and one onto the other, women trying to put the “sex” back into “war” and “death” in the form of army-themed miniskirts, and drunken steroid-pumped lads kicking crates and proceeding to fall over onto their 50p-shaped faces), we’re finally at the Student Union for the silent disco. Outside there’s already two Freshers throwing their little guts full of former hopes and previous dreams up, splattering all over the pavement. So it’s pretty safe to say that by this time we’re all feeling pretty awful. Luckily Jen Long, pictured above with her band Effort, is on hand with a gem-case full of 90s and 00s pop-rock hits. We all know we’ve reached the Catch 22 of our lives when on one channel is Kanye and the other Katy Perry. Every decision will be a piece of piss from the day forth.

Sunday comes, with another headache attached, and we decide to meet at Spillers Record store because that’s the type of indie site we are. All the others buy vinyls and the like, but I do not have the cash – making me appear a complete phoney. Record store browsing faux-pas out of the way, a couple of us head over to pub/small venue ‘Gwdihw’, which – we later find out –  means owl in Welsh. Good music tip-offs and linguistic facts, oh we do spoil you lot. The first band of our last day happens to be Mechanical Bride, who are utterly pleasant on record but to an empty midday pub (to the extent where the singular handful crowd are hesitant to whom will be the first to clap at the close of each track), the atmosphere subdues a slight rather than energising for us for the day ahead.

We tiptoe out halfway through, hoping that nobody will take it as an insult, and head to see the first of our lovingly-curated The Line Of Best Fit Stage, taking place at the recently-refurbished (and sadly Legowall-less) Arts Institute. The premier act is Dancers, another band from North Wales who vary between the numbers of 1 and 10 depending on the gig. While nothing wholly original in terms of the muzak – influences can be clearly heard from Titus Andronicus, Pavement, Elliott Smith and someone else said Los Campesinos! but I think that’s just because there’s a girl with a violin involved – it’s singer Dafydd Myddleton’s raw sincerity that sets them aside from any cover-band types.

The second act of the line-up are a name that any blogger would recognise – Copenhagen’s Battlekat. Don’t recognise them? Well, they were briefly known as the mysterious ‘Just A Number 05272011′.Yep, now you’ve got it. The blogs go silent and the internet must run itself for a brief while as everyone congregates to see what is the Danish group’s first UK appearance – and one of a fair few over the coming week. It’s not everyday that you see a popstar in a pub – unless you count catching a glimpse of Pete Doherty through the grubby windows of the Hawley Arms – but Battlekat are bonafide popstar and if there was any justice in this world then they would be huge and the Rasmus would have never existed. Their set is a spooky one, with singer Matilde’s robotic dances backed by a dreadlocked dude in the back playing with static feedback of 80s mobile phones, sucking a florescent tube that changes the pitch of the music and generally staring at the audience very eeriely. These are definite 2012 Ones To Watch.

You know what, I had heard a little snippet of boy-girl duo Big Deal beforehand and to be quite honest I didn’t know what the, wait for it, BIG DEAL WAS. But easy punning aside, as I sit at the back of a mellowed-out Arts Institute waiting for the London-based pair to start, surrounded by repeatedly overheard Slow Club comparisons lingering in the air, I’m getting ready ready to rip them apart limb by ever-so-pretty limb. Metaphorically-speaking of course, I’m cynical – not homicidal. But don’t you just love it when you’re pleasantly surprised and your preconceptions are totally thrown out the window? It makes you feel a whole lot better about the state of humanity, like in Uni when I used to leave my laptop idle in the library thinking that if it got stolen then my thoughts on human beings would hurt a lot more than the few hundred pound spent on replacing it. The band’s modest set-up consists only of two guitars – one acoustic, one electric – completely juxtaposes the surprisingly bulkiness of their music. But it’s their honesty and down-to-earth nature that truly impresses, as everyone sits and listens, absorbing all for a good 45 mins.

Deciding to venture elsewhere, bringing free from our own stage having a monopoly over my day – I decide to check out glitchy, bassy producer Dam Mantle who I’ve seen many times but every single performance having been brilliant. I guess this is why people watch re-runs of TV comedies like Friends, because they know what to expect and they are guaranteed a laugh or two. This is what I expect from this outing – but sadly, and not to any of the Glaswegian’s own doing, this is not the case. I arrive to a completely empty dancefloor, with Marshall (REAL NAME DROP ALERT) about to step up to the decks. The subsequent performance is peerless but it’s a bit like watching a sitcom without the laugh-track, which is a damn shame as the newer tracks from the WE EP would have sent any crowd into a shuffling fit.

So as the night and weekend comes to a close, I decide to tone things down a little –  my head is too weary for any more electronic music. Instead I find in the programme that American folk-punk singer and ‘Conor Oberst’s Favourite Songwriter TM’ David Dondero is about to begin at Ten Feet Tall. I’ve liked Dondero for a long time, and am adament that his song ‘Rothko Chapel’ is one of the most beautiful ever written, from around the same period that my Bright Eyes fandom reached pathetic heights, leading me to listen solely to anything linked with Conor or Saddle Creek – Cursive, The Faint, Son Ambulance, even Maria fucking Taylor for crying out loud! So standing in the Cardiff cold, you can bet I’m pretty psyched to see the songwriter, but it seems nobody else really knows who Dondero is, thus explaining the sparse crowd. But as the set, comprising of anarcho numbers and some heart-wrenching others, progresses, I guess word has spread – god bless the internet – and Dondero finishes his specatular set to a room twice as full as when he started.

So there you have it, my weekend at SWN in diary form – or a series of articles loosely pieced together by combining the old tweets with “and”s and “then”s in between each. The festival is rare for its sheer community nature, a line-up that treats the bigger name acts just as equally as those starting out, a layout that means no transport needed between each venue and no dreaded nightbuses at the end of the night, enabling you to have a royally good time with no transport worries hanging over you; and one that you can find the organisers in the queues and at the back, trying to worm their way to the front just like the rest of us. Same again next year, SWN? What? You’re gonna make it even better than this one? You crazy, guys. But see you then!

Photos by Luke Morgan Britton, David Breese, Lauren Down and Laura Snapes.

Nika Roza Danilova and her sublime music has our hearts racing – we’re head-over-heels in love with Connatus, her latest release under the Zola Jesus moniker. We want to share the love and so we’ve blagged some marbled-vinyl Connatus LPs and snazzy accompanying tote bags to give away to three lucky readers.

All you need to do is tweet this page from the button at the top or leave a comment below. We’ll choose some winners at random on Monday.

Zola Jesus is over in the UK for three dates in late November. South Dakotan songstress and blog darling EMA joins her on all dates.

November
23 – Heaven, London
24 – Academy 3, Manchester
25 – Kazimier, Liverpool

You can watch the dramatic video for Connatus‘ standout track ‘Vessel’ below:

H. Hawkline

Battlekat

As the brooding, glacial sounds of Danish noir pop quartet Battlekat begin to filter through the speakers of a packed Cardiff Arts Institute it quickly becomes clear they are the ones to beat today. Playing an incredible debut UK show without a soundcheck the enigmatic four-piece exceed expectations with tightly wound beats, almost abrasive, shrill vocals and an entirely mesmerising aesthetic.

Zun Zun Egui

Having produced an exhilarating and utterly captivating debut album I expect nothing less than a stand out performance from Zun Zun Egui to round off this weekend’s festivities. I can barely see a thing as they take to the stage at Cardiff’s intimate GWDIHW bar (which we now know is pronounced “Good-dee-hoo” and means “owl” thanks to the wonders of twitter) but the atmosphere is electric and the sound is as wonderfully cacophonous as I had hoped.

H. Hawkline

One of the many things I have learnt whilst in Cardiff is that O’Neills – yes the pub chain– can in fact put on one hell of a show. It was there we found Friday’s pick Niki and The Dove performing and it is back here again that we find H. Hawkline. The kraut rock infused brainchild of local man Huw Evans, H. Hawkline’s blend of pyschadelica and traditional folk music not only fills the tiny room upstairs but also sees a long line of people gather outside to listen through the open window.

As the mist clears after a late night spent dancing at the Silent Disco and exploring the delights of Chip Alley (or Chippy Lane depending on which side of the argument you sit!) we’re here with a big mug of coffee to recount three of the best show’s we caught yesterday.

Three Trapped Tigers

There is just something so incredible about music that finds an entire crowd searching for some rhythmic consistency to which they can dance. Watching the sonic onslaught of ever changing time signatures, ferocious guitars and relentless percussion from the vantage point offered to me by a chair at the side of the room, I can see the wonderfully frantic movements of an incredibly packed Clwb Ifor Bach. I have not seen a contagious, frenzied intensity like this since Battles.

Summer Camp

Elizabeth Sankey and Jeremy Warmsley have gone and grown up. Gone are the coy glances and endearingly shy shuffles that once accompanied their sepia flecked dream-pop and present is an over riding confidence. Stepping out into the crowd, serenading fans with beautiful, assured vocals and the soft tones of their recently released debut the duo (backed with a live drummer) hold the crowd in the palm of their hands.

Cut Ribbons

It’s 1985, you’ve somehow been transported into a John Hughes movie and this is the soundtrack. Ok maybe not but even though Llanelli natives Cut Ribbons have very little to do with nostalgic American cinema and everything to do with magnificent indie pop it is movies like The Breakfast Club that spring to mind when listening to their irresistible boy/girl vocal harmonies in a packed out Buffalo Bar.

I shan’t bore you with some little anecdote of what I was doing between this piece and the first day’s segment but it basically consists of me sitting in other people’s houses, outstaying my welcome, totally contradicting my living-out-of-a-bag status by asking for an iron to de-crease shirts and generally just seeing a few bands and stuff. Which, luckily, is what I’m now supposed to actually talk about. So without further introduction-filler delay, I bring you some snippets and sentences on the bands we caught on Day 2 at SWN.

We arrive at Clwb for noise-rock duo Run, Walk. There’s no drum kit in sight yet and considering the outfit consist solely of bass and drums, that means they’re probably not about to launch into song any time soon. We settle into a beer with the journo contingent and discuss the Welsh Music Prize – the ceremony to which just ended and was attended by a few around the table. We’re informed by our good friends at the NME that Gruff Rhys has won for his album Hotel Shampoo. So you can count this as your third-hand account of the awards.

Run, Walk kick into gear after a good half-hour delay, but by golly do they make up for lost time. Once everything is set up, soundcheck seems as swift as a Ramones intro as the band plunge into a deep surge of feedback and distortion. Sadly the delay has meant that we have to leave to head upstairs after a few songs, but we’re ensured by those that stayed put that the band’s stride continued to the last.

While a few of our team head off to see Brandyman, who I’m later told was their highlight of the night, I decide instead to cut my journey a bit shorter and venture just up the Clwb steps to catch Gross Magic. If you’ve heard Gross Magic (you know Gross Magic, the band from out of the Eighties films, seemingly with access to a time machine) before then you probably have your own firm opinion of them, as their recorded material varies from the brilliant to the downright unlistenable. But live, they totally outdo expectations that even firm fans would pre-empt. Sounding like the bratty Stifler’s brother of Ariel Pink, the baby-faced fourpiece are considerably easier on the ears live – but it’s their youthful exuberance and unashamed enjoyment that make them so captivating in a gig context. And despite his John Hughes cast attire, be-capped-frontman Sam McGarrigle somehow manages to steer clear of any pretence and merely comes across as damned cool.

We’re definitely going to have much argument about this back at HQ (which could be deemed by some as a hostel room) with one editor possibly choosing Beardyman and another likely to push for Niki & The Dove, but these kids in Gross Magic were definitely this writer’s highlight of the day.

Heading over to the Irish-pub-by-day-super-awesome-gig-venue-by-night Dempseys, Breton are about to start. Feeling a bit parched and with a water bottle emptied, I decide its the right time to start the night’s irresponsible drinking on the job. The band begin as I work my way to the front of the bar, providing me with an excellent sideview of the set. Multi-tasking to the max, right? Musically, Breton are good – but sadly nothing engrossing despite hearing great things about them (including recent studio time at Sigur Ros recording complex in Iceland). A highlight instead comes in the form of a remark from a certain electronic musician playing later in the evening who says that they “look like early 2000s Lostprophets”, the first overheard and clichéd Welsh analogy of festival. Luckily he was stopped in his tracks before he could utter a comparison to Feeder.

If you were wondering, a ‘brontide’ is a “sound like distant thunder, due to seismic causes”. Yep, I just googled it because this was puzzling me all evening after seeing London band of the same name but with a capital letter and all that, Brontide. But how they plucked that name seemingly out of thin air seems to all make sense now as it’s exactly how the instrumental guitar-heavy (drums-even-heavier) trio. In this respect they could so easily just have picked any synonym of “huge”, “colossal” or “catastrophic” from the thesaurus, but all those would sound a bit shit – so I guess they should stick with what they got.

After the tour-de-force just witnessed, indie-rock revivalists Veronica Falls provide the perfect tonic to our previous straight-gin. After taking a few snaps (the above photo being the only one that didn’t feature a backdrop advertising a rival publication), I had to put my writer’s cap on. But it’s hard when staring through a lens at people for several minutes uninterrupted to then not dwell on appearance. And Veronica Falls – just a matter of fact – a very good-looking band, making you wish that all Shoreditch dwellers looked like they are from early-2000s Brooklyn rather than late ’80s Detroit. Oh and I’d like to point out that drummer Patrick resembles a celtic Sufjan Stevens, just another of the oh so astute observations that these diaries have come to offer. With all seriousness though, Veronica Falls are just sublime – well-crafted pop songs with a delightful do-wop feel. ‘Wedding Day’ in particular is sensational live, with the crux of the chorus “You don’t look at her like you’re looking at me” hitting like a crushing blow to the chest.

As Niki & The Doveengage in some very comical, but nonetheless frustrating, language barrier exchange with the sound guy, those able to get in to see the Swedish duo are idly checking their tweets and texts in what was definitely a not full-to-capacity O’Neills pub. After waiting twenty minutes on the stairs queuing, I ponder make shirts with “I Got Into Niki & The Dove, Swn 2011″ across the front – who wants one? I’m not sure if it was a dispersal ploy or just some misunderstandings, but the night seemed to feature a lot of bouncers telling little white lies about how full venues actually were: a prime and shocking example was a Clwb bouncer telling an acquaintance of mine that he wouldn’t be letting anybody else in for the rest of the night, no matter how many exited the place. This was at 10pm.

But as the Scandi pairing of Malin and Gustaf, equipped avec une drummer, eventually dot the i’s and cross the t’s of their extensive display of keyboards, pedals and mic, everything goes a bit quiet on the Twittersphere. If you’re keeping up with our #swn coverage at home and were wondering why suddenly your news feed looked empty, well it’s because Niki & The Dove were just that damn good. Malin pulls off her killer signature moves, which seems a little out of place in a pub context, but the music sounds huge and even attracts the attention of a drunk rugby fan who has been drowning his sorrows since Wales lost a good 16 hours ago and decides to sit at her feet like a cat whose had too much catnip at the foot of the bed. Our special guest leaves before the last song, but not before putting his headphones in and laying back on the floor beneath the feet of the audience, allowing Niki & The Dove to go out in true theatrical style.

After some more queuing, we finally make it into Clwb for a DJ set courtesy of Ifan Dafydd. The Welsh electronic artist dropped on the scene under an air of mystery and rumours of him being a back-to-the-bass(ics) moniker for James Blake. This was kind of like speculating that some new shoegaze band is actually My Bloody Valentine reforming, the only common thread between the two being a R&B infused dub influence. But we’re glad to announce the breaking news that Ifan Dafydd is not actually James Blake. Shock horror.

Next on isStay+, an electronic group who’s name nobody was wholly confident of pronouncing outloud. You’d assume the + sign stood for “positive” right, like a battery, and that it was a nice, quirky warm-hearted name. But no, supposedly the proper way to say it is “Stay Plus” – which is a terrible name. But I guess it’s for the best really because – and I know SWN isn’t a place for outright negativity – but Stay+ is simply a terrible, terrible band. Earlier in the evening, queuing for in one of the numerous lines of the night, I overhear conversation that the group started “as a joke” and I really have to hope that this is true. But joke or not, when your entire set involves the overuse of a smoke machine to uncomfortable breathing levels, a topless man throwing a crutch at a fellow “band member”, a backdrop of Nathan Barley-esque visuals, flaccid drone music that sounds like Prodigy never happened, and a tendency of clearing an entire dancefloor altogether, it’s just not really that funny is it. The atrocity of a performance (which makes you wonder what Midas-like PR group are doing their publicity) is made worse by all my friends leaving me with bags and coats, making the 25 whole minutes that they outplay their designated time slot an entire lifetime. But really, we try not to be a negative site here at TLOBF – if we don’t like something we will just normally walk away, but when you feel like the punters, promoters, festival and fellow musicians alike are all being taken for a ride then we alter our ethics accordingly. Life, at the end of the day, is too short for shit music. So if you’re thinking of seeing them, by all means go ahead if you wish – nobody should take another’s opinion as gospel – but be warned, you may suffer a similarly agonising fate.

But, got to stay positive right? And on next to by this point an admittedly quarter-filled Clwb is Seams – a firm favourite here, that much you already know. But despite his fringe-flicking intensity, even his superb newer material sounds a bit flat. A fellow muso remarks that maybe we’ve just invested too much emotional attachment to the guy and this is definitely the case. It’s just a total mood killer to see a great act perform to a lacklustre crowd. But those who were in attendance replied with their feet and a nice little dance to ‘Focus Energy’ is a good way to close any evening and raises our spirits to end what was largely an excellent SWN night.

Photos by Luke Morgan Britton.

Swyn? Swuhn? Suhwuhnuh? No no, it’s pronouced ‘Soon’, and it’s brilliant.

A couple of hours in Cardiff and it was already clear that Swn sits at the very top of the UK’s burgeoning city festival pile. The venues are excellent, the security is friendly, the drinks are cheap (oh god they’re cheap) – and the attendees are a delight. At one point last night I met my mirror image: identical (quite fringe) politics, identical music taste, identical degrees. He wins though, because he is going to Berlin to do a PhD on the interface between krautrock and ’70s radical German politics. This lovely little encounter sums up Swn pretty perfectly.

Here are three of yesterday’s best.

Brandyman

There are few things better than going to see a band you’ve never heard of, on the frothing recommendation of a friend, only to find that they are even better than promised. Brandyman are the ultimate ATP band. They sound rather like a sludgier Shellac – but fronted by a snarling, predatory, besuited man who appears to scream the details of some pseudo-steam-punk parallel dystopia, while shuffling around the stage in a manner that is 50% fey office worker, 50% straitjacketed axe murderer. Plus, any band that has a song about the Peterloo Massacre is worthy of your attention.

Brontide

I was pretty close to packing up and going home after Brontide finished, confident that I would see nothing better over the course of the festival. The band take the smile-inducing intricacies of post-hardcore, and the melodic sense of the most euphoric pop imaginable, and rearrange them into something that resembles what the much-missed Meet Me In St Louis might be doing today. Utterly spectacular.

Matador by Brontide.

Niki And The Dove

We’ve made no secret of our love for Niki And The Dove. The Swedish trio will undoubtedly be next year’s defining pop success – but last night they played to about a hundred people in the back room of O’Neills. Their gripping combination of cathartic simplicity and carefully whittled esoterica has expanded in the few months since I last saw them – and now, with the addition of ‘The Drummer’ (one of the very finest pop songs of recent years), it represents one of the most forward-thinking, honest, exciting live shows doing the rounds today.

The Drummer by Niki & The Dove

After some seriously impressive festivals this summer, it’s safe to assume that we’re all a bit wounded from sad sacrifices necessary of which band to see and which to miss when two or more clashed with each other. Well, even the urban-based city-trotting weekenders can be as painful as this, when the sheer geographical matters means that you can’t just traipse between a handful of neighbouring stages.

So with Cardiff’s annual SWN festival kicking off with #5 this weekend (20-23 October), we’re here to save your mental and emotional bacon with a handy printable guide so you can prepare your journeys to-and-fro the Welsh capital’s best pubs and clubs.

Finding it hard deciding between Friday night’s late coupling Veronica Falls and Other Lives? Racking your brain over who to pick between the perpetually-brooding Esben & The Witch on Saturday or the tinnitus-inducing Three Trapped Tigers? Fancy spending Sunday with us guys at our The Line Of Best Fit Stage over at the Arts Institute but worried you’ll miss the wealth of talent elsewhere?

Well, we can’t decide these tricky choices for you but the least we can do is give you a heads-up with all of the SWN stage times to help you in your decision-making and allow for a stress-free and band-packed weekend. All you have to do is click on the link below to download the clash-finder in PDF format. The only thing left for you is to get the pen out, make some notes and maybe pour yourself a pint of Brains SA in true Welsh prep.

Click photo to download our printer-friendly SWN guide.

Read our ‘Essential picks’ from this year’s offerings here.

Re-cap on the coverage of last year’s festival here: Day 1, Day 2, Day 3.

The brainchild of Huw Stephens and John Rostron, Cardiff’s SWN Festival is back for its fifth year. Sprawling from Clwb Ifor Bach to the Cardiff Arts Institute and most places in between, this year’s line up boasts over 150 artists both local and from further afield. A growing favourite amongst festival-goers, especially those who prefer a soft bed to a wafer thin roll matt, SWN was designed to be Wales’ answer to SXSW, albeit on a much smaller scale. Set to kick off a day earlier this year, we’re here to guide you through the winding streets of the capital from Thursday 20 October to Sunday 23 October and what better way to start than with our essential picks for the weekend.

Elephant

Slick, glacial pop that exudes a subtle sensuality.

Assembly by Elephant

The Assembly EP is released via Memphis Industries on 14 November.
When/Where: Thursday 20:30, Dempseys

And So I Watch You From Afar

An innovative, intricate and captivating listen, And So I Watch You From Afar (or ASIWYFA) create guitar music worth listening to.

Beautiful Universe MasterChampion by ASIWYFA

AIWYFA’s second album Gangs is out now on Richter Collective.
When/Where: Friday 19:45, Solus @ Cardiff University.

Theme Park

Crisp, Talking Heads inspired pop from this fresh-faced, paradYse-signed quartet.

A Mountain/Wax by Theme Park

‘A Mountain We Love’/’Wax’ is out now on Transgressive imprint paradYse.
When/Where: Friday 20:45, O’Neills

Brontide

Tightly wound, guitar driven pop of the Don Caballero variety.

Matador by Brontide

Brontide’s latest album Sans Souci is out now on Holy Roar Records.
When/Where: Friday 21:00, Clwb Ifor Bach (Downstairs)

Veronica Falls

Because for every “tired”, “derivative”, “C86” band that is thrown our way their will always be gems like Veronica Falls – offering up plaintive, oddly morbid pop songs that are just absolutely irresistible.

Beachy Head by Veronica Falls

Veronica Falls’ eponymous debut is out now on Bella Union Records.
When/Where: Friday 22:00, Dempseys

Niki and The Dove

Brilliantly flamboyant eighties inspired pop from Stockholm duo Malin Dahlström and Gustaf Karlöf.

The Fox by Niki & The Dove

The Drummer EP is out now via Sub Pop/Mercury.
When/Where: Friday 23:15, O’Neills

Seams

Ok, so you know the deal by now – just go and see Seams live already!

Focus Energy / Motive Order by Seams

When/Where: Friday/Saturday 01:15, Clwb Ifor Bach (Upstairs)

DZ Deathrays

Spitting thrash-pop noise for fans of DFA1979.

Gebbie Street by DZ Deathrays

Their debut EP Ruined My Life is out now via Kissability/Big Scary Monster.

When/Where: Saturday 14:30, Buffalo Bar
Saturday 20:00, Dempseys

Deaf Club

Haunted by a slow burning intensity the dramatic, beautifully textured efforts of Welsh natives Deaf Club are not to be missed.

Hana by Deaf Club

You can download their Lull EP for free here.
When/Where: Saturday 16:45, Buffalo Bar

Summer Camp

Elizabeth Sankey and Jeremy Warmsley offer up swoonsome romantic pop drenched in nostalgia and filtered through a sepia lens.

Nobody Knows You by Summer Camp

Welcome To Condale! Is due out on 31 October via Apricot Recording Company imprint (in association with Moshi Moshi and pledgemusic).
When/Where: Saturday 17:00, Cardiff Arts Institute

Esben and The Witch

Brighton’s resident dark, expansive, intelligent pop creators Esben and The Witch will be playing their first ever show in Cardiff.

Hexagons EP will be released on 7 November via Matador.
When/Where: Saturday 20:30, Buffalo Bar

Three Trapped Tigers

Not only might Three Trapped Tigers “have the best music video of all time” in ‘Reset’ but Route One or Die might jus be one of my favourite albums of the year. Bottom line, you would be foolish to miss even a fraction of this…

Click here to view the embedded video.

Route One or Die is out now on Blood & Biscuits.
When/Where: Saturday 20:45, Clwb Ifor Bach (Downstairs)

Battlekat

Photo credit: Sebastien Dehesdin

Mysteriously appearing as Just a Number 05272011 before revealing themselves as Battlekat at this year’s SPOT festival, the Danish noir-pop quartet are all set to play their first UK show this weekend.

The Pain by Battlekat

When/Where: Sunday 17:00, Cardiff Arts Institute

The inaugural “micro-festival of future sounds” takes place this weekend at The Old Blue Last (which is, incidentally, newly equipped with Funktion 1s), providing an unmissable opportunity to see every band you’ve read about on a blog over the last six months, but missed live.

The festival has been described as a tiny (very tiny), British cousin for SXSW. Certainly, what it lacks in Texan drawl, it will undoubtedly make up for in forward-thinking music and a veritable waterfall of the Old Blue’s legendarily dodgy beer. Curator Russ Tannen likes the comparison. “That’s very flattering,” he says. “If we can capture some of the energy and excitement of a huge event like SXSW I would be very happy.”

The lineup, certainly amongst the year’s best, demonstrates not just excellent taste, but also a laudable knowledge of the music that has been sailing just below the surface in recent months, in London and beyond. Was there a set of criteria against which acts were booked? “We made a list of the most exciting acts we’d discovered this year, and started emailing people. I guess to start with we were leaning towards more ambient and experimental electronic sounds – but then Sunday has turned into much more of a ‘band’ day.”

So can we expect this to be the first of many Binnacles? “Who knows. Let’s see if we get to the end of the weekend in one piece.”

Not sure when to pop out for chips? Check out our 10 essential acts below.

Saturday

Seams

Christ, if you’ve even skimmed this site before you’ll know full well who Seams is. Can Border Community just sign him now please?

Sun Glitters

The only acceptable chillwave act left in the Western world, making their UK debut.

Sun Glitters – Eventide (feat. Niva & Charlee) by The Line Of Best Fit

Mafia Lights

Primary colour-drenched remixers du jour.

Spiriting by Mafia Lights

Halls

The glassy reverb enthusiast brings an entirely new live set to Binnacle, in preparation for a new EP release.

Swan (Nobody Wants To Know) by Halls

Essay

They were the first act booked for the festival, so it would only be fair to go and see them. A fist-pumping salve – and another UK debut to boot.

Morning Mountain by ESSÁY.

Sunday

Active Child

The reason many people will be turning up. Globe-trotting synth-tingler playing an uncharacteristically small venue.

She Was a Vision by Active Child

Acid Glasses

Straight from Memphis, but channeling more Flaming Lips than Tina Turner. Yet another UK debut.

Acid Glasses – Jpeg Hoarder by The Line Of Best Fit

Patten

London producer responsible for one of the most most adventurous, claustrophobic, exciting records of the year.

patten – Fire Dream by The Line Of Best Fit

Torches

Delightfully dour, soon-to-be-huge East London World War II enthusiasts.

Torches – Towerblock Confetti by .Torches.

Slime

Unfairly overlooked woodwind botherer, soon to release his second effort on Tough Love.

Slime – Next Time by Slime Music

Iceland Airwaves is one of the highlights of the Scandinavian music calender and is fast becoming established as one of the best festivals in the world. For five days each October, Reykjavík is overrun with the cream of Icelandic talent and some of the most acclaimed international bands.

This year’s proceedings see three grand dames of music – Bjork, Sinead O’Connor and Yoko Ono – waltz into town and take their place at the head of a truly stunning line up. While we’re buzzed about the likes of Beach House, Active Child, Caged Animals and Niki & the Dove, there’s a wealth of homegrown music dominating the festival.

We’ve picked out five amazing Icelandic bands we’ll be checking out. Over the next few days we’ll be bringing you exclusive content live from the festival too.

Snorri Helgason

Who?
Honey and sawdust voiced singer-songwriter from Reykjavík. Snorri’s equal parts Paul Simon and Conor Oberst, strung up by the blues. After his former band Sprengjuhöllin went on hiatus, Snorri ran with his love of folk and Americana for 2009′s solo record I’m Gonna Put My Name On Your Door.

When and where?
Wednesday night/Thursday morning 00:10, Harpa Kaladaloon
Thursday night/Friday morning 00:10, Glaumbar
Saturday 15:00, Reykjavík Downtown Hostel

He’s also in London for two shows at St Pancras Old Church on 24 and 25 November.

Hear more at Snorri’s soundcloud.

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Útidúr

Who?
Quirky orchestral twelve-piece folk-pop ensemble. Think Beirut but with bigger balls and more quirks. We actually caught them by chance last night and they were just incredible. Music to fall in love and get your heart broken to.

When and where?
Friday 15:00, Reykjavík Backpackers
Friday night/Saturday morning 01:20, Iðnó
Saturday 17:00, Reykjavík Downtown Hostel

Hear more at the Útidúr soundcloud.

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Samaris

Who?
Áslaug, Jófríður and Þórður are a bunch of students from Reykjavík who trade in dramatic, downtempo electronica, swathed in the lulling tones of clarinets and a distinct vocal. It’s an interesting and compelling take on the more left-field European dance movements of the last decade and unlike much else you’ll hear coming out of Iceland right now.

When and where?
Wednesday 18:30, KEX
Wednesday 19:30 Kaffistofan
Friday 20:00, NASA
Saturday 22:00, Faktorý Ground floor
Saturday 16:00, Reykjavík Downtown Hostel

Hear more at the Samaris soundcloud.

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Just Another Snake Cult

Who?
Thor Bogason mixes Brian Wilson with Ariel Pink and comes up with something truly compelling and original. Just Another Snake Cult’s sound pulls off that rare and peculiar trick of balancing the right influences with just enough originality to blow minds and capture hearts. We like this a lot.

When and where?
Wednesday 17:00, KEX
Wednesday 19:30, Barbara
Thursday 22:00, Reykjavík Backpackers
Friday 16:30, Kaffistofan
Friday night/Saturday morning 01:10, Cafe Amsterdam

Hear more at Just Another Snake Cult’s bandcamp.

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Retro Stefson

Who?
We have to be honest, the first time we heard Retro Stefson live, it didn’t quite make sense. They looked like they’d been put together by some weird Scandinavian battle of the bands-type committee. They played such a radical mix of musical style (and all at the same time) that it kinda baffled us. The second time was when they played our sister site Ja Ja Ja’s monthly London clubnight and the difference was more than noticeable. Buoyed on by an inhibition free Scandi-crowd, the band cut loose with a set that was probably the most fun we’ve had this decade. Anyone that can get a crowd doing synchronised dance moves is alright with us. Catch them somewhere hot, sweaty and drunk if you can.

When and where?
Wednesday 20:30, KEX
Thursday 22:00, Reykjavík Art Museum
Friday 18:00, Kormákur og skjöldur
Sunday 22:00, NASA

Hear more at Retro Stefson’s bandcamp.

The past year has seen the release of an astounding number of albums from the Bella Union fold, be those from very well known artists such as Explosions In The Sky or Fleet Foxes, or the debut albums of bands such as I Break Horses and Veronica Falls. Here, The Line of Best Fit takes a look at some of the fresh, new talent to have emerged on Bella Union this year – Bella Union’s ‘Debut’ants.

I Break Horses – Hearts

Photograph by Sébastian Dehesdin

It didn’t take long for I Break Horses to capture our attention here at The Line of Best Fit. The Stockholm based duo, comprising the immense talents of Maria Lindén and Fredrik Balck had us at ‘hej’, and we’ve been completely entranced by them ever since. Their debut album Hearts was released in August and we’ve had it on constant rotation ever since. To find out a little more about the band, have a read of our interview with I Break Horses, and then have a look at the clip below to see exactly what it is that’s made us fall so very deeply in love with them.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Zun Zun Egui – Katang

It’s not often that a band can cite influences ranging from Japanese underground music to african and jazz rhythms, but that’s exactly what Zun Zun Egui keys player and vocalist Yoshino Shigihara stated in our interview with the band, published this week. Colourful, vibrant and massively entertaining, Zun Zun Egui’s debut album Katang (released this week) is a technicolour breath of fresh air from the Bristol based band, who will be making their way around the UK at the end of this month. Absolutely not to be missed.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Jonathan Wilson - Gentle Spirit

Jonathan Wilson by Nick Walker

Gentle Spirit actually marks LA based musician/producer Jonathan Wilson‘s second solo album, but it’s his first for Bella Union (which is why we feel we can justifiably shout about him here). His music is a harmonious union of pianos, flutes, guitars and gorgeous vocals. And that’s before we even get onto the richness and integrity of the lyrics. After having conducted many highly scientific tests here at TLOBF HQ, we’ve concluded that it’s absolutely impossible to listen to this record and not become completely engrossed, captivated and touched. Jonathan will be making his way around the UK at the end of the month supporting Wilco, and Gentle Spirit is available to all good homes right now.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Cashier No. 9 – To The Death of Fun

We move from LA to Belfast now to catch up with another recent signing to Bella Union, Cashier No. 9. Their album, To The Death of Fun was released in June, capturing the euphoria and energy that so much of their music represents. In their louder moments, the band’s music is full of vigour and intensly rich layering. The quieter moments are delicate and divine, with the combination of the two approaches making for an excellent live show. Cashier No. 9 will be making their way around the UK throughout November, exact dates and places can be found by clicking here.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Treefight For Sunlight – Treefight For Sunlight

Treefight For Sunlight have been gifting us tracks packed with epic harmonies, intricate instrumental builds and sumptuous melodies for the best part of the past year. They hail from Copenhagen, and since the release of their eponymous album back in February, have been wooing audiences throughout Europe with their gorgeous tunes. And anyone that’s had the good fortune to catch the band at a festival this summer will concur that their live rendition of  ‘Wuthering Heights’ is a truly, truly magical event. For those unaware of the band, they can currently be found playing dates all over Europe, so do make sure to have a listen to the session that we recorded with them earlier this year. Their

Click here to view the embedded video.

Heidi Spencer and the Rare Birds – Under Streetlight Glow

Heidi Spencer is from a breed of musicians that seem to be all too rare nowadays. She’s a traveller, a creator, a maker, an artist. Many of her songs were written on her wayward travels, sleeping in cars as she made films whilst wandering a around the US. Her music consists of beautiful compositions led by guitars, piano and her gorgeous, sultry vocals.  Under Streetlight Glow was released back in the wintry depths of January, and not too long after she joined us to film the beautiful session below.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Veronica Falls – Veronica Falls

If singer Roxanne Clifford’s vocals sound familiar, that might be because her tones are currently doing the radio rounds as the lead vocal on Metronomy’s latest single ‘Everything Goes My Way’. So for those of you that have been sat at home, trying to figure out why that voice sounds so familiar, that could be why. Aside fom helping out Metronomy, some members of Veronica Falls were involved with Glasgow’s Sexy Kids, another with Your Twenties and even more interestingly, bassist Marion Herbain had never even played the instrument before joining the group! (She’s very good now, though). Nowadays, they’re based in London, but can currently be found in the States where they’re supporting The Drums and preparing for the release of their eponymous debut on the 17 October.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Thousands – The Sound of Everything

Having been pointed in their direction by Fleet Foxes guitarist Skye Skjelset, Bella Union were quick to snap Thousands up and to go about setting their sumptuous harmonies and delicate guitar work to wax. The Seattle duo, comprising the musical talents of Kristian Garrard and Luke Bergman subsequently released The Sound of Everything in March, which they recorded in a number of weird and wonderful venues across America, be that a barn or a riverside. The result? An album which entices you in and smothers you in comfort, before sending you back on your way feeling much lighter and much wiser than you did before.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Lanterns On The Lake – Gracious Tide, Take Me Home

Hailing from the north-east of England, and specialising in a gorgeous brand of heart-breaking, delicate folk, Lanterns on the Lake have already gained a reputation for being creators of beautful music. Combining delicate, intricate melodies, soft tempos and lush vocals, their debut album Gracious Tide, Take Me Home was released in September to rave reviews. And deservedly so. The band are soon to join the legendary Yann Tierson on tour, so click below for a taster of what to expect of their beautiful live show.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Click here to read what Simon Raymonde has to say about the Bella Union family.

Over the last week, we’ve been celebrating everything to do with one of our favourite independent labels, London based Bella Union.

We’ve chatted to Lanterns on the Lake about the label, we’ve shown you an exclusive Veronica Falls session, we’ve spoken to Zun Zun Egui  about their newly released  album, Katang and we caught up with John Grant.

To top it all off, Mr Bella Union himself, Simon Raymonde, has offered us a brilliant insight into the inner working of the label, as well as rounding up the year and giving us somethrilling hints of what we can expect from the label in 2012.

To round off the week, we’ve got a brilliant competition for you all, offering one lucky winner NOT ONLY a bundle of Bella Union goodies (including T-shirts and CDs), but also a pair of tickets to any three Bella Union UK shows over the next 12 months!

So what do you need to do to win?

We’ve thought long and hard about this and decided the best way to find a worthy winner is to get you to draw your favourite Bella Union artist, and post it to our Facebook page.

Here’s in an example that I’ve drawn, and frankly – you’re all just lucky that I’m not allowed to enter this competition…

Chosen medium: Biro       Chosen style: Realism.          Title: Midlake, Mid-Lake

Competition closes at 12 noon on Friday 14 October, and please note that the tickets will only be available for UK shows.

Good luck!

Our Broken Garden, the band created by former Efterklang keyboardist/vocalist Anna Bronsted, have released two albums on Bella Union. They’re perfect pop records, for those of us that like our pop to be dark and brooding rather than too light and shimmery. Recent release Golden Sea has, in fact, some wonderfully dark and broody yet shimmeringly spectral lights shining right through it – just in case you were wondering!

Click here to view the embedded video.

Some bands take longer than others to gain the recognition they deserve and while it is a mystery to me why bands like Treefight for Sunlight, The Acorn, Our Broken Garden etc. haven’t received wider acclaim to date, I have faith that ALL will in time. One only has to look at John Grant of The Czars who, at the tender age of 42, is showing us all that perseverance DOES pay off! The Czars released three albums on Bella Union that barely registered with an audience, and yet we always knew, believed that with the right record at the right time, singer John Grant could make a CLASSIC record and Queen of Denmark showed what is possible. Even Beach House and Midlake, two of our biggest bands took 2-3 albums to get widespread acclaim.

Our Broken Garden, I believe, will be the next band to deliver on all that promise. Those that witnessed their festival performances this summer will agree with me. The two videos shown here of songs from Golden Sea may have passed you by, so maybe now is a good time for a brief re-appraisal!

Simon Raymonde

Click here to view the embedded video.

The past year has been an extremely busy one for Bella Union, with huge releases coming from some of the label’s most well known artists, as well as the launching of a whole host of stunning debuts. Here, label leader Simon Raymonde glances back over the last 12 months and has a look at the very exciting things in store for the coming year.

“2011 has gone so quickly, it’s hard to believe it’s almost over. A quick re-cap for those of you coming back from a coma or from active duty:

We began the year with a flurry of brand new artists, and the return of The Low Anthem with their marvellous Smart Flesh. Heidi Spencer & The Rare Birds, Thousands (both from USA) and Treefight for Sunlight (from Denmark) are all very different from each other. Heidi Spencer had lived in cars, made experimental films and self-released three albums in her home town of Milwaukee before she came to my attention. I am drawn to her rawness, her honesty as a songwriter and her all-or-nothing delivery as a singer. Heidi doesn’t just sing her songs, she lives them.

Click here to view the embedded video.

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Thousands (from Seattle) were recommended to me by their friend Skye Skjelset, the guitarist of Fleet Foxes. The Sound of Everything was recorded in several different public spaces around Washington and Seattle – libraries, stairwells, that kind of thing. It’s a strange and wonderful secret of a record. Secret, because no-one played it on the radio, and barely anyone reviewed it. It goes like that sometimes. Those who DO own it adore it, and their live show – equally quiet and lovely – is a rare treat. Duelling nylon acoustic guitars play with intricate patterns and on top of all this rides Kristian Garrard’s unusual voice, like a young Kurt Wagner.

Click here to view the embedded video.

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Treefight for Sunlight’s debut came out in February but this was not a cold, wintry sound. With nods to The Beatles and Beach Boys, Floyd and The Who, this four-piece all sing beautifully and play their pyschedelic sunshine pop with youthful energy. I loved how positive and summery their sound was. It felt like, and it was, a breath of fresh air.

Click here to view the embedded video.

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Then Alessi’s Ark, Fleet Foxes, Explosions In The Sky, Vetiver  and latest signings Cashier No. 9 released new albums. Alessi has made a wonderful new record, Time Travel with producer and engineer David Wrench, and confirms all that we have known for 3 years already (and she’s only just 20!) We will let all our artists grow at their own pace and I think that’s important. I see so many artists jettisoned on to the scrap heap even just a few short months after their first record has been released! Sometimes even before.

Click here to view the embedded video.

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The return of Explosions In The Sky was celebrated with a truly special launch night at the Royal Observatry in Greenwich where we had a playback of the album Take Care Take Care Take Care inside the Planetarium to a uniquely designed stars & planets show.

Click here to view the embedded video.

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Fleet Foxes‘ brilliant second album Helplessness Blues took our breath away and the addition of Morgan (from Blood Brothers) has also given the band extra dimensions live. Of all the shows I saw them play this year, I would say Brighton Dome was my absolute favourite. The venue was of course beautiful, atmospheric, and they filled every crevice of that room with sounds so divine I found myself wiping tears away all night long.

Click here to view the embedded video.

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Vetiver‘s The Errant Charm is already my favourite creation of Andy Cabic and his band. Vetiver do certainly suffer with press and radio, because they just write wonderful songs and play them with love, care and attention. That isn’t particularly fashionable these days, and without it having been ‘heralded in a fanfare cos it was recorded in a tent in a snowstorm in Alaska’, great music can sometimes drift past people.

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Cashier No. 9, I believe are destined to be a great band, both live and on record and I owe the producer and composer David Holmes a big favour for telling me about them. Holmes has invested a huge amount of love and energy into the Belfast five piece and it shows all over their debut record. I am told it’s not an a-typical Bella Union signing which makes me smile.

Click here to view the embedded video.

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The last quarter of the year has been non-stop, as Jonathan Wilson, I Break Horses, Veronica Falls, Lanterns on the Lake and Zun Zun Egui all have debut albums being released.  Much has already been written about some of these in recent days so I won’t labour on, except to say that I don’t recall our roster being this consistently strong before, nor have we ever had so many bands from these fair isles before.

Click here to view the embedded video.

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September saw John Grant finally getting to perform Queen of Denmark with the band he recorded it with, our Texan friends in Midlake and that has to go down as one of the finest shows I have seen at the Royal Festival Hall… or anywhere for that matter. The new songs aired at this and his other recent shows, suggest that the next album, set to be recorded in January 2012 should be something very special.

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2012 will see the return of Beach House, Midlake, Andrew Bird, Peter Broderick and a brilliant new album from Xiu Xiu, as well as a couple of surprises I cannot mention just yet!

A few changes have been made in this last quarter. From September onwards, all Bella Union vinyl albums will come with a free CD too. Then, next year, we’ll be celebrating our 15th anniversary with some very special gigs and unique limited edition releases. The Line of Best Fit will be the first to know exactly what we are planning as soon as we release the info.

Thanks to all of you who continue to support our bands.

Simon Raymonde

 All week, The Line of Best Fit is looking at the life and sounds of Bella Union, so stay tuned for exclusive videos, interviews and a very special competition.

Now into its tenth year, POP Montreal – International Music Festival has proved that through its short life span, the festival has gone from strength to strength. The Line of Best Fit looks at the top 5 performances from this year’s edition.

Arcade Fire

Wanting to do something special for POP Montreal’s tenth anniversary, and also for their hometown of Montreal, Arcade Fire did a two-night stand on the Wednesday and Thursday night of this year’s festival; the latter being a free outdoor show which, needless to say, drew everyone’s attention. Packing an entire street full of fans and supporters, leading people around the block and climbing onto building ledges to watch, the recent Polaris Prize winners didn’t hold back on the grand set ups they’ve been known to have. From theatre marquees to the numerous screens, it was all there – they even concluded their set with the light-up balls from their Coachella set earlier this year. Arcade Fire has an incredible ability to transform every song they perform into an energetic experience, one that’s fresh and exciting every time you see them. They never lack focus, enthusiasm and most importantly, fun, in their sets and that’s immediately infectious. A free performance from one of the best live acts today was truly a gift to their most loyal fans.

Photograph by Melody Lau

tUnE-yArDs

Merill Garbus has a magnetism that makes you want to watch her perform for hours despite the buckets of sweat pouring down your face. The queen of looping, Garbus creates a sound that’s all her own and can only be pulled off with a voice like hers; the strangest and most beautiful vocals to be heard since Bjork. Though not an exact hometown show, Garbus (the one-time Montreal resident) was received with a massively supportive audience inside the packed church. Her enthusiasm that night was evident as she even felt the need to treat everyone to a new song, performed with the help of additional singers. This might is probably said about all her shows but this was definitely a special one that people will remember.

Grimes

The Montreal electronic singer-songwriter often shows her nerves onstage and if things go wrong, she’s the first to apologize, profusely, for any glitches. But her set Thursday night in her hometown showed a more matured and confident performer than the one I saw open for Lykke Li months ago. Unabashedly weird, the one-woman act of Claire Boucher embraced her quirks and showed that, with nerves aside, she is one hell of a musician. Crafting layers of beats and harmonies together, Boucher sent the energetic crowd into a hypnotic trance of fluttering melodies and moodiness. If she continues on this road, she can kiss those opening slots goodbye and finally step into the spotlight she so deserves.

Photograph by LP Maurice

 Japandroids

It’s been two years since the Vancouver duo’s last record Post-Nothing so the anticipation alone made the show well-worth its spot on this list. Giving little snippets of the band’s new material – four songs, to be exact – guitarist Brian King and drummer Dave Prowse reminded us of why Japandroids are one of the most exciting duos in music. Their punk rock aesthetic calls for an intense reaction that hits you like a ton of bricks – lyrics that make you want to scream along and a thick wall of reverb atop heart-pounding rhythms. 2012 better watch out because the boys are back and they’re looking to destroy some eardrums.

Yuck

Nostalgia comes in handy sometimes and clearly, the members of UK garage rock band Yuck took their love of the golden days of Pavement and Superchunk and channelled it in the best way possible. Throwing back to the melodic garage-pop songs of the 90s before full-on grunge took precedence, Yuck’s sound might not be too original but they make up for it with their impeccable ability to translate something good into, well, more of that something good. Similar to bands like The Pains of Being Pure at Heart, Yuck is heavy on the guitars, distortion and all – as a critic put it, “Dinosaur Jr Jr” – but with an even heavier focus on a catchy melody.

Photograph by Melody Lau

Simon Raymonde with The Duke Spirit - Photograph by Richard Thane

I am fast-approaching my 50th year on this strange planet of ours and yet I still feel like an excitable child in a sweet shop most of the time. For all the waves of doom and gloom that lap at our shores on a daily basis, desperate to erode what remains of our fragile musical universe, I am still buoyed by the astounding beauty that grows in seemingly, surprisingly fertile soil, and I am a willing tiller. With a very sweet tooth…

I have resisted the temptation to expand the label in the past year or two, not for fear of going too fast nor conversely because we know the industry is in some sort of a decline, simply because I love the intimacy of what we do, and the close relationships we have with our artists. Bella Union operates from a very small office in London, and is a label run by just four of us. Mark, Luke, Anika and I, with Duncan our redoubtable head of press sat close by.

It’s long been my contention that what lets this business down most times is when all the different factions and elements fight against each other. For example with antimatter, when an electron and its antiparticle – the positron – collide, they destroy everything. When management, agent, label and band have separate agendas, chaos is always just one breath away. I have seen it at close hand, as a musician, as an observer, and as label.

Yet when we all work together, incredible things can happen. We use the word fusion in music, to describe occasional hybrid styles coming together but thinking beyond that back to the physics analogy, fusion is a process by which two or more atomic nuclei come together to form one single, more impressive nucleus which is then accompanied by a release of powerful energy. When we work hand-in-hand together in the music business, we can achieve anything. The energy of us all working together can conquer most things.

Bella Union at the Independent Labels Market - Photograph by Paul Bridgewater

Small IS best for Bella Union, though I realise it isn’t necessarily so for other labels. Seth Godin says “Small means you can tell the truth on your blog, and small means that you can answer email from your customers ” and whilst there’s a lot more to running a label than either of those examples, they do sum up my reasons for loving ‘small’ pretty well.

The last few years have been clearly fantastic for Bella Union, the runaway success of the wonderful Fleet Foxes in 2008/2009 no doubt bringing more attention to some of the bands who released records in their wake. I recognise this from my own days in Cocteau Twins and the residual exposure it brought other bands on the 4AD label. While Bella Union has since been flooded by demos from bands who seem to think we would like nothing more than to sign another band who sound awfully just like Fleet Foxes but not as good, we have just gotten on with what we have always done.

So what do we do and why?

We love to discover our own bands. We love the word-of-mouth we are able to build, simply because it is real. We don’t, where possible, go to shows that other A&R go to. We love the remarkable. And mostly we love adorable and nice considerate people,  and that’s not just for the bands, we feel the same way about managers and booking agents. We could work with a ton of great bands but if it doesn’t fit us as people, we wouldn’t go there, no matter how awesome the band were. (Done it and won’t be doing it again!)

We don’t look at numbers or estimate sales, as I believe this is counter-productive and probably a total waste of time. We want to build something long-term for our bands and the way to do that is to get music out to as many places as possible and to generate as much awareness and attention as possible. Most artists we work with appreciate that the biggest issues are not about getting paid, but about getting attention. Once you have people’s attention, only then you can start seeing the model changing into one that has a financial element. That may take a month or three albums and this suits us fine because ultimately, we are in it for the long-haul.

Simon Raymonde

All of this week, The Line of Best Fit is taking a closer look at the work of Bella Union, so keep an eye out for exclusive sessions, interviews and content over the coming days.

Hello, and welcome to the first of a collection of week long features that will take a look at the people bringing us the music that we champion here at The Line of Best Fit – in other words, the good stuff. Over the coming months, we’ll be celebrating some of our favourite independent labels and the incredible music that they’ve brought to us over the past few years, and what better label to begin with than long time friends of the site, and the all round cracking bunch of people that go by the name of Bella Union?

Bella Union was set up by Simon Raymonde and Robin Guthrie of Cocteau Twins in 1997, with Simon taking full control of the reins in 2000. Since its conception, the label has released the likes of Fleet Foxes, Beach House, Laura Viers, Midlake, The Walkmen, The Low Anthem and most recently, I Break Horses, Lanterns on the Lake and Jonathan Wilson. The label has garnered a reputation for offering its artists creative space, and thus giving them the freedom to produce honest, beautiful music. Here, The Line of Best Fit takes a look at some of the bigger names of the Bella Union family, to remind of ourselves of the wonderful sounds the label has been bringing to us over the past (almost 15!) years.

Make sure to check back this week as we take a closer look at the label’s newer signings, as well as bringing you exclusive interviews, exclusive sessions and exclusive content as we celebrate all things Bella Union.

Dirty Three

The brilliant Dirty Three, (originating from Australia but now to be found living all over the place) were one of the earliest signings to Bella Union and continue to release on the label. Fronted by the artistic powerhouse that is Warren Ellis, the band have an outstanding reputation as not only a great recorded act, but also a live force to behold, and that’s without even mentioning Warren’s outstanding beard!

Whilst on the subject of bearded, outspoken musicians, now would be a perfect moment to mention that Bella Union released the records of Lift To Experience, the band of Josh T Pearson. A big fan of Warren Ellis and Dirty Three, Josh interviewed Warren for The Line of Best Fit a little while back, the very interesting results of which can be read here.

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John Grant

Some names have become synonymous with Bella Union, and John Grant is certainly an artist that could be put into that category. The Czars, Grant’s former band were another early signing to the label, joining in 2000 for the release of Before… But Longer. Subsequent albums were also released through Bella Union, until the group decided to go their seperate ways in 2005. Although Grant continued to perform under the moniker of The Czars for a few years, the name was soon put to rest and in 2010, Grant returned with the incredible Queen of Denmark. Keep an eye out on the site this week for an exclusive interview with the man himself. In the meantime, remind yourself of John Grant’s stunning voice and sense of humour by checking out his video for ‘Chicken Bones’.

Click here to view the embedded video.

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Midlake

Over to Denton, Texas now where Midlake hail from. The band have a special relationship with Bella Union, having released all three of their records through the label, so that’s 2004′s Bamnan and Slivercork, 2006′s Trails of Van Occupanther and 2010′s The Courage of Others.  Check out a great interview with Midlake speaking to Mr Bella Union, Simon Raymonde, here.

At recent performances in London and Dorset’s End of the Road festival, the band showcased new tracks from their next album and from what we’ve heard so far, it’s safe to say it’s going to be stunner.

Click here to view the embedded video.

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Fionn Regan

Fionn Regan of County Wicklow, Ireland released The End of History through Bella Union in 2006, with the album then going on to receive a presitigous Mercury Music Prize nomination. The End of History was produced by Fionn himself, with Simon Raymonde stepping in to help with the mixing – a great example of the approach that Bella Union employ when it comes to helping their artists to achieve their best.

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Beach House

Last year’s Teen Dream instantly gained itself cult status thanks to its lush, lush melodies and sumptuous vocals. One of the most revered duos of the past few years, Beach House have found a home in Bella Union, who have released all three of the duos albums in the UK.

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Fleet Foxes

If 2011 has belonged to any of the artists on Bella Union’s roster, it’s Fleet Foxes. Since releasing Helplessness Blues through the label back in May of this year, the group have risen from strength to strength, constantly building on the very well established success of 2008′s Fleet Foxes. A superb live band and a thoroughly nice bunch of chaps, Fleet Foxes is a group that typifies what it is that Bella Union are so good at nurturing – wholesome, outstanding music from great people.

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Explosions In The Sky

Back to Texas now for a look at another of the Bella Union heavyweights to release an album in 2011, Explosions In The Sky, with Take Care, Take Care, Take Care. Their sixth album, Take Care… cemented the group’s reputation as one of the most powerful post-rock forces out there, and the series of live shows and festival dates that the band played over the summer in support of the release has further proved this.

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Keep an eye out for exclusive interviews and sessions over the coming week, as The Line of Best Fit celebrates all things Bella Union.

So here they are – the final four nominees for the Polaris Music Prize 2011! So far in this series counting down to the announcement of the winner on Monday, we’ve mentioned albums from Ron Sexsmith, Braids, Arcade Fire, Galaxie, Colin Stetson and Timber Timbre. To remind yourselves of these albums, check out Part One of our Polaris Preview, and to explore even further, why not check out Part Two while you’re at it. For now though, allow four members of The Line ofBest Family to guide you through their tips for who’s going to take the presigious Polaris Music Prize home.

The Weeknd – House Of Balloons

Released back March, the debut album from Toronto’s The Weeknd rode out the hype out via the Drake connection, an almost Swede-like devotion to its creator’s anonymity and some truly effective aesthetics.

Of course, failure would have swiftly followed were the songs not stronger than all of these elements combined but the victory of Abel Tesfaye’s confident record – both as a Polaris contender and one of the best things you’ll hear in 2011 – lies largely in its transformational nature. It takes the ‘mix-tape’ concept and amps it up to levels of high art, using well chosen samples (Beach House and Siouxie & the Banshees among them) as mood pieces for Abel Tesfaye’s illicitly (and highlight controlled) vocals.

More significantly, it rearranges these elements to make ‘proper’ songs and in doing so blurs the boundaries between any obvious genre and demographic. House of Balloons has been lazily categorised as hip hop for hipsters, rap for the indie crowd. There’s some truth in this: the album’s ultimately a pop record shot thorugh with the bombasity of rock n roll and infused with a hedonistic RnB lyric. The resulting mood and narrative is exotic, disgustingly sexy and very much of the night, with the ‘character’ of Tesfaye cast as some weird lotharial mix of Hunter S Thompson, The Family Guy’s Quagmire and, erm Leslie Philips. While this is nothing new, the execution is slick and focused and the album is cohesive, both on its own merits and as the opener in Tesfaye’s mixtape trilogy, which we’ll presumably seen completed by the end of the year.

By Paul Bridgewater

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Austra – Feel It Break

Even though Feel it Break is the debut record of Toronto electro-dance trio Austra, lead singer Katie Stelmanis and co. have worked on perfecting their sound for years now. Having been a fixture in the local music scene, Stelmanis has been crafting her brand of dark dance melodies since her solo release, Join Us, came out back in 2007. But where Join Us fell short, Feel it Break corrects all mistakes and presents Stelmanis at her best.

Everything comes together on this record – production, melodies and the fine balance of dark, moody atmospherics and over-the-top operatic stylings. For Stelmanis, it is in her nature to exercise her powerhouse voice; that voice is the undeniable star of Feel it Break. Musical range wasn’t the aim, perfecting a good thing was first and foremost what Austra set out to do here. That being said, every song here is perfection; songs like singles ‘Beat and the Pulse’ and ‘Lose It’ leave little room for error and creates a stir of emotions as well as making you move. Tension and breath are inserted in all the right nooks and you can tell that all that labour was meticulously executed to the very last sigh and coo.

It is worth mentioning that even with years of polishing that the band is still very much in its baby stages and this is just the beginning. No, this sound isn’t new and it’s not ground-breaking but, for Stelmanis and for Canada, it is arguably her greatest achievement to date and one of the country’s best highlights of the year. Feel it Break straddles the line between timeliness and timelessness. In a time where bands are reaching for the black lipstick and setting smiles aside for straight-faced, stringent personas, Austra’s aesthetic mirrors the trend but portrays it with authenticity and uncontrived effortlessness. But as much as the band hits the nail on the head in terms of trend, the songs that emerged from this record will be songs that we will listen to, regardless of fads, in years to come. Feel it Break will make you dance today, tomorrow and, almost certainly, forever.

By Melody Lau

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Hey Rosetta!- Seeds

Seeds is the third album from Canadian six-piece Hey Rosetta! and by far their most accomplished work to date. Formed in St. John’s, Newfoundland and Labrador in 2005, the band have gained a reputation throughout Canada and the United States for producing warm, harmonious and uplifting indie rock – a style of music that earned them the accolade of being placed within Billboard’s list of their Top 5 new Canadian acts.

Written on the road during the three year tour which followed the release of the collective’s second album, 2008′s Into Your Lungs, Seeds demonstrates how this group grew into each other throughout their time on the road. Each song has a natural warmth and pull, as the band balance delicately orchestrated dynamics with sincerely soulful words. At times, seeming to look to Grizzly Bear for inspiration, at others, casting a glance back in the direction of 90s Americana, Hey Rosetta! draw on all of their influences in order to produce one of their most technically pristine records to date. Obviously, having Tony Doogan of Mogwai/Wintersleep/Belle and Sebastian producing fame isn’t going to hurt either.

The track ‘New Sum’ very much harnesses the energy and ability that has made this band so popular in their homeland. With a confidence that allows them to glide seamlessly from hushed, slow tones to the frenetic energy found at the end of this track, the band have not only impressed with their recorded efforts, but their live shows have become something special to behold too. Although some of the subjects mentioned in the lyrics might look to the more cynical side of life, there’s an overriding positivity to this album which is contagious and with the energy, passion and spirit that has been placed within this album, Hey Rosetta! would be deserving winners of this year’s Polaris Music Prize.

By Francine Gorman

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Destroyer – Kaputt

I’m not entirely sure what a genius is. (And yes, I’m fully aware of the irony of that sentence.) Is it someone who sees things that other people miss? Is it someone who is just exceptionally, oddly good at something?

Destroyer’s Daniel Bejar is the lyricist most deserving of that plaudit today. He is without doubt amongst the very best songwriters currently working; a man clearly so horribly, laughably intelligent that every line he writes, every couplet, makes you smile and shake your head – not because they’re funny (although the frequently are), but rather because it is exhausting, exhilarating to witness such a sustained tour de force.

Kaputt was the record that took the cult Canadian sage and pushed him further towards actual mainstream success. His fey, self-conscious stage manner, holding the mic limply and intoning his lyrics in an odd semi-monotone, was an uncanny sight on late night television. He turned up looking like a strange reconstruction of a lost ‘80s superstar, every move deliberate and slow.

Musically, the record is fuller, more self-assured than his previous work. The soft-rock instrumentation, unashamedly big sounding but seldom bombastic, is a slightly odd counterpoint to the rambling, occasionally tuneless vocal, while the lyrics are characteristically self-referential, often playing on Bejar’s (apparently quite strained) relationship with the press or calling back to themes from previous records. It is, in fact, an album with which it is easy to fall in love – but one that is also far more rewarding when considered in relation to Destroyer’s output as a whole. Buy this right now – and then buy everything else he has ever recorded.

By Josh Hall

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The winner of the Polaris Music Prize 2011 will be announced at the finalist’s ceremony held in Toronto on Monday 19 September.

Photo by Anika Mottershaw

We’ve been getting excited about Canada’s Polaris Music Prize announcement all week here at The Line of Best Fit as their shortlist is, to put it simply, brilliant. Nominees for the prestigious prize include Destroyer, Braids and Galaxie, and over the past week, a selection of TLOBF’s writers have been taking a closer look at the nominated albums in order to see which artist deserves to be crowned Polaris Music King or Queen 2011 (Part One | Part Two).

Today, it’s the turn of nominee Austra who graciously agreed to be a part of one of our favourite features, Ham on Why? Every so often, our good pal and esteemed colleague Jen Long will track down one of her favourite artists and interview them whilst they construct a sandwich out of a selection of the (sometimes mismatched) ingredients that Jen provides, thus combining some of her favourite things: music and sandwiches. Her latest sandwich making accomplice is none other than Katie Stelmanis of Austra who joins Jen to discuss her thoughts on Britain, life on tour, and of course, sandwiches.

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To check out the rest of the nominations for the Polaris Prize 2011, have a listen to our Polaris Playlist by clicking here.

With the announcement of the winner of this year’s Polaris Music Prize drawing ever closer, three more of The Line of Best Fit’s esteemed writers have put forth their argument as to which of the nominated albums should be named victorious. Battling today are Timber Timbre, Braids and Colin Stetson, all of whom we’re sure are sat on the edges of their seats, desperately awaiting Monday’s ceremony. Or perhaps they’re out doing more productive things (one can only hope).

To read more about the first batch of nominees, including albums from Arcade Fire, Ron Sexsmith and Galaxie, click here.

Braids – Native Speaker

Native Speaker, the debut album by Braids takes the notion of “dream-pop” on a crazy, drunken and…dammit, sexy weekend, turning the genre into something twisted, psychedelic and truly exciting across the course of 7 expansive compositions.

The four-piece from Calgary can be loosely compared to the likes of Gang Gang Dance and Animal Collective for their use of loops, percussion and lack of choruses, but what sets them apart from the blog roll of post-AC bands is the vocal grandstanding and lyrical focus of Raphaelle Standell-Preston. Over the course of the album, her high voice dominates proceedings, especially when she’s singing of basic instincts. Opening track ‘Lemonade’ sets the tone, as Standell-Preston asks “have you fucked all the stray kids yet?” and goes on to state “all we want to do is love” within the same song, with ‘Plath Heart’ then singing of imploring the “golden hole”.

When Standell-Preston really lets go of her voice, things get primal as the closing screams of ‘Glass Deers’ testifies, but then she becomes as equally sweet in the post-coital gauze of title track ‘Native Speaker’. But it’s not all about the singer in this band; drummer Austin Tufts’ tribal rhythms carry the propulsive songs along, with Taylor Smith’s musical nous behind the engrossing loops, synth sounds and refusal to bend to the conventional.

At times Braids sound like they’re exploring their instruments for the first time on Native Speaker, carrying us along on the journey into the unknown as songs expand from the basic throb of bass, or shimmering guitar line, before exploding into life with Standell-Preston’s attention-grabbing voice. It’s never less than a thrilling experience, the elliptical nature of the album ensuring that you return to the opening chords of ‘Lemonade’ once the gentle thrum of ‘Little Hand’ fades away.

Finding the balance between the listenable and the experimental can be trying, but Braids seem to have effortlessly managed it, making Native Speaker the standout release in the race for the Polaris Music Prize.

By Andrew Hannah

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Timber Timbre – Creep On Creepin’ On

Timber Timbre’s self titled debut album was nominated back in 2009 for the Polaris prize, and they’ve landed themselves another potential winner this year with Creep on Creepin’ On, which sees the band progress their unique sound in a far more sinister direction. This is music to accompany graveyard walks, and the long dark nights of winter.

The gloominess of the album is pervasive, and while some have cited its sinister sound as its downfall, this is the very reason that it works so well. Although it can’t be denied that the album provokes an unsettling feeling, it’s executed with nothing short of brilliance. Taylor Kirk’s voice flows over everything like treacle, and his turns of phrase allow glimmers of light into the darker corners of the songs.

The melancholy of these tracks goes deep, and lends the album an ongoing sense of narrative. Instrumental pieces such as ‘Obelisk’ and ‘Swamp Magic’ separate the other tracks like intervals between acts of a play, adding to the sense that this is a soundtrack to a film that was never made.

The darkness of the album is something to be savoured, and while this isn’t necessarily for everyday listening, it’s certain to amaze you anew upon every listen. Creep on Creepin’ On is an album of black magic and dark romanticism, and it’s precisely those qualities that make it work so well.

By Emma Tucker

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Colin Stetson – New History of Warfare Vol 2: Judges

Nice. Along with “I’ll get me coat”, “Nice” was the catch phrase of the 90’s, then along came “jazz hands” to amuse quirky students. The subsequent years weren’t kind to jazz – Jamie Cullum became its figure head, and jazzy house became the soundtrack to mediocre cocktail bars throughout the nation. It changed from comedy to a joke within a decade.  Couple it with a saxophone – the musical outcast since the early 80s- and you had something as appealing musically as Del Boy falling through the bar is funny. It isn’t.

All this changed with Colin Stetson’s second album New History of Warfare Vol2: Judges. Stetson’s take on experimental jazz, is as far from the sax-man clichés as Beardyman’s vocal beat-boxing is from 80s acapella man-band The Flying Pickets. The rumbling bass sax of ‘The Stars in His Head’ sounds as militantly compressive as ‘Anarchy’ by Digital Hardcore Recordings artist Schizuo, while on ‘Red Horses (Judges II)’ he seems to play a kazoo through a didgeridoo to create a dance-hall rhythm.

The Montreal born Stetson has earned his stripes with the greats of the leftfield – TV on The Radio, Tom Waits and David Byrne, and Judges takes their inspiration to create something truly unique and breathtaking. ‘A Dream Of Water’ has the maudlin intensity of God Speed you Black Emperor and ‘Clothed in the Skin of Dead’ is Close Encounters of the Third Kind if Radiohead were used to communicate with the UFO.

Judges has ripped up what jazz is and made it more contemporary and ground-breaking than most cutting edge electronica artists. Most of the album was recorded in one take, yet it sounds like it’s been overdubbed and warped in Aphex Twin’s submarine. With Laurie Anderson’s vocals adding a personal touch, Stetson has created a masterpiece.

By David Newbury

To find out more about the Polaris Music Prize, read our exclusive interview with its founder Steve Jordan here. 

Directly in the aftermath of the announcement of PJ Harvey as the winner of the Mercury Music Prize, TLOBF caught up with Polaris Prize founder Steve Jordan to talk about the forthcoming Polaris Prize. Before TLOBF could get a question out, Jordan’s love of music was immedeatly apparent. What was the reaction like to Peej’s win? Who should he check out? Who do you think should have won? It is refreshing to be able to feel someone’s keenness over an intermittent Skype connection from a country a whole ocean away. And, in it’s own way, it was appropriate timing, given the perhaps surprising influence the Mercury Prize had on the early days of the Polaris.

For some time before the inaugural Polaris Prize in 2006, Jordan had been monitoring the Mercurys as a way of discovering music that hadn’t made it over to Canada yet – the Eureaka moment coming when he discovered The Bees (or, as they are known in Canada, The Band Of Bees), and the idea came that it would be fantastic to provide a similar way for people both in Canada and further afield to discover music that they could fall in love with. At the time, Jordan suggests, there was a growing frustration with what he terms the “uber-familiar” twelve or thirteen artists that were dominating the playlists of the commercial media outlets. Jordan set out to find a group of journalists, bloggers, broadcasters, radio personalities and the occasional professor with a shared love of music to act as a jury to find the critics’ pick of album of the year. “We’ve never claimed to be perfect…” Jordan says, “someone’s favourite is always going to get left out. But we try to be representative and have a good balance of sex, age, geographic dispersal, er…height. It’s about having the conversation about music.”

Rather than artists or labels having to put themselves forward for the prize, the wider jury is asked for their 5 favourite records for the year. Those with the most votes then get put forward to a 40 act longlist. The announcement of this longlist again ties in with Jordan’s initial vision of the Polaris as a way to introduce people to music they might not otherwise have heard. The Polaris website even has a regular feature where individual Jurors are allowed to state their original nominations- allowing even those that didn’t make the cut to be championed. Explaining the logic behind the publication of these nominations, Jordan suggests that people can choose to engage as much as they wish- some may just want to know the winner, some may choose to dig a little deeper. As for what makes it on to the longlist, it seems nothing surprises him anymore. “I can’t be specific but I do go though a heartbreaking process every year where I feel the elation of something really exciting looking like it’s going to make the list tempered by the letdown of something really worthy slipping out of contention.”

With the Polaris shortlist representing a mixture of the debutant and the established, and with a wide spread of genres, it’s difficult to pick out quite what it takes to be a Polaris-worthy record. “Polaris is run on a strong belief that categorization is stifling and unhealthy for artists and music.” Jordan explains. Regardless of genre, release method (The Weeknd’s “House of Balloons” is the first Polaris Shortlisted record without a physical release), or language, Polaris strives to provide a level playing field for the artists, something Jordan is justly proud of. While last years winners Karkwa took some by surprise, he points out that, like Patrick Watson when he beat Arcade Fire to the prize back in 2007, Karkwa were an established artist in their native Quebec with numerous albums under their belt. “Language is not the barrier people think it is when it comes to music.” Karkwa’s performance in Trafalgar Square at Canada Day on July 1st (during which they were joined onstage by Mike Myers) seems to be testament to that fact.

So, 6 years on, how does Jordan feel Polaris has fared? Has he had any ‘Bees’ moments as a result of Polaris. “Ahhh.” he says “ those moments are legion. I think overall I’m proudest that our original vision has not been compromised. And that vision was to execute a critics’ prize for music that engaged music fans in a transparent and exciting way.” With Polaris running ‘Listening Salons’ for new releases in Toronto, they hope to bring the debate about records that happens within the jury to the audience at large. There are also promotions running for the prize in Rough Trade and Resident (Brighton) where you can pick up a limited seven inch featuring some of the shortlist nominees, all in the name of spreading the brand and in doing so introducing more people to music that they might not have otherwise known about.

And what about the prize itself? The man himself will not be drawn on who he thinks will win. That’s for the grand jury of 11 people to decide. “Bottom line: no matter who Polaris picks, it’s going to be a surprise.”

The Polaris Prize ceremony will be broadcast live on www.cbcradio3.com on the 19 September.

Following the heady excitement of the announcement of 2011′s Mercury Music Prize winner, some amongst our musical brethren may now find themselves feeling a little lost. “What am I going to do now?”, “what will I place bets on at the bookies?”, “what will I have to argue about with my friends in the pub?” are the kind of questions on the lips of many a music fan throughout the UK. But friends, don’t worry. Our buddies in Canada are here to save the day, by occupying our melody seeking minds with their very own version of the accolade, the Polaris Music Prize. Now into its sixth year, the Polaris Music Prize has established itself as a pretty important event in the world’s musical calender, celebrating the best of recorded music being produced in Canada. Past winners have included the likes of Caribou, Fucked Up and Patrick Watson, and their 10 album shortlist for 2011 is pretty good looking too.

Here at The Line of Best Fit, we’ve taken it upon ourselves to present to you the ten albums up for the Polaris Music Prize this year. Our esteemed writers will try to win hearts and support with their statements of adoration, as we look at the nominees, and the work of this diverse range of acts and artists.

Arcade Fire – The Suburbs

After the big themed albums addressing death (Funeral) and religion (Neon Bible), at first glance The Suburbs threatened to be a bit of a comedown for Win and Regine’s third outing.  However, the more that it was played, the more the overlapping themes of this nuanced, complex, thoughtful and involving album emerged.

Rich with a sense of youthful impatience, an urge to escape those suburban childhood days, the sense of frustration is palpable, convincing and authentic. “Grab your mother’s keys, we’re leaving”, they say; talking of urges to “jump the fence and leave it behind”, along with the “kids on buses longing to be free”.  At the same time, though, something still draws them back to these streets, these scenes from their earlier days.  Perhaps with one eye to their own future as parents (“I want a daughter while I’m still young”, Win tells us), the pull of the suburbs is obviously still strong.

That all this – the teenage disenchantment, the grown up impulse to settle down and more – comes served with a huge dose of Regine’s flighty, and frankly joyous disco euphoria only makes it exponentially more brilliant.  Channelling Abba (‘Empty Room’) as much as their standard touchstone Bruce Springsteen (whose presence is still, nevertheless, felt on tracks like ‘Month of May’), the utter delight of the frothy, synth-led ‘Sprawl II (Mountains Be…)’ sees the band break out into a playfulness that is wonderful to behold.

Smart and considered, but with heart as well as brains, Arcade Fire are looking more and more like one of the 21st century’s defining and essential bands.  In The Suburbs, then, they appear to have have once again pulled it off, producing a resonant work that nourishes both the mind and the musical soul.

By Jude Clarke

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Ron Sexsmith – Long Player, Late Bloomer

Before making Long Player, Late Bloomer, Ron Sexsmith knew something had to change. He’d been the subject of fervent adoration for years – but from a distinctly limited amount of people. Granted, among those people were critics and professional musicians (Elvis Costello compared Sexsmith’s sense for melody to that of Paul McCartney and Feist recorded his “Brandy Alexander” for her album The Reminder), but despite their combined efforts, sales figures for his first eleven albums (!) failed to reflect the quality of his deeply soulful, touching, and incredibly melodic songs.

So, with crunch time approaching and his 50^th birthday only a few years away, the Canadian songwriter brought in the big guns – or, more specifically, a single, one-shot cannon in the form of veteran producer Bob Rock. That’s right, the guy who produced Bon Jovi and played bass on Metallica’s Some Kind of Monster.

Rock turned out to be just the guy to help polish Sexsmith’s gorgeous songwriter pop – just listen to the slide guitars and harmonics in ‘Heavenly’, the almost-but-not-quite cheesy handclaps and the vocal harmonies in ‘Middle of Love’. The tone Sexsmith strikes on Long Player… is often wry (“And as for heaven, well/If seeing is believing/I’ll believe it when I see it with my own two eyes”), sometimes melancholic (“In every Nowhere Town/There are somewhere dreams”), but always heartfelt. The title track deals explicitly with the fact that he has been working below the radar of 95% of music fans for years, but that he is giving it his best shot now: “I’ve heard the penny drop/I’m a small player with a tall order/To come out on top”, he sings, and sounds both confident and self-deprecating at the same time. It would be heartbreaking (and daylight robbery) if he didn’t win the Polaris prize – but we can take comfort in the thought that he’d probably turn the experience into another beautiful album.

By Matthias Scherer

Galaxie – Tigre et Diesel

If the star that burns brightest, burns fastest then Montreal’s Galaxie will vanish in a flash. Ten tracks in 30 minutes and it’s gone, but not before exploding with energy and distortion.  Galaxie’s third album, Tigre et Diesel, is effectively the jazz choice in the sense that it’s the only Francophone album on the shortlist, and as such avoids any hipster name dropping, but look back at the Polaris and it’s the French speakers who always surprise – check out Montreal’s Malajube.

Tigre et Diesel is a dance floor swagger. Daft Punk riding Primal Scream. It’s equally at home in a neon super club as a sticky floored indie disco. It opens with ‘Piste 1’ a fuzz-box, 70s glam stomp of Slade battling Alec Empire, complete with prog-rock synths tuned in to Jodrell Bank. ‘Clamoufour’ likewise is laden in distortion with a thunderous throbbing riff straight from ‘Jailbird’ era Scream.

Pounding electronica permeates Tigre et Diesel. ‘Diesel 2’ is reverberating nu-trance, with rolling snares and a growling vocal breakdown between frantic, discordant, hard-house beats. ‘Encore’ even repeatedly proclaims “Encore une fois”, an unmasked homage to Ibizan euphoria with a catchy-as-hell, funky house bass line beside a heavily distorted guitar solo. The dance element shouldn’t be over sold, this is still essentially a rock record – ‘Jusqu‘a la Fin’ is even a mellow acoustic ditty.

Galaxie’s success with Tigre et Diesel is its fearlessness to skip between genres, mainly because it knows language will be a turn off to many, and it doesn’t care. Yes, it mainly relies on glam rock stomps, electronica and layers of distortion, but it transposes these through rave into hillbilly-country. It packs more into half an hour than many do in a career. And what’s more, it’s a fun, energising record worthy of the all of the acclaim that it receives.

By David Newbury

Check back throughout the upcoming week for exclusive interviews and reviews of the Polaris Music Prize.

Sometimes it’s hard to hide your love of something or someone. You know those times when you become aware mid-conversation that you keep mentioning a certain friend, girl or band. And so you have to stop yourself, while your sentence trails off to nothing… Well, San Fran duo Girls are kind of like that. They’re the friend-crush you sometimes get when you meet a new person and are so enthralled by them with a mix of male envy and happiness that you’ve found a physical manifestation of your own reflection that the sensation tiptoes dangerously around being homoerotic.

With this in mind, we’re going to throw caution to the wind and talk a whole lot more about the band, whose second full-length album Father, Son, Holy Ghost has just been made available for streaming, embedded above.

The duo – comprising of Christopher Owens and Chet ‘JR’ White – have never been adverse to opening up a little. Their debut single, the upbeat pop hit ‘Lust For Life’ sardonically longed with morbid black humour for a man in their lives in the wake of Owens’ ex-girlfriend’s new relationship. But already being flourished with rave reviews by everyone from Pitchfork to The Guardian, this record is their ultimate break-up album, their Rumours, their Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, or their ‘every Bright Eyes release’ – brilliantly documenting the highs of  infatuation and the rock-bottom lows of loneliness.

Here’s a track-by-track rundown of the album’s turbulent ups and the downs:

‘Honey Bunny’

It always seemed a bit far-fetched when Girls were repeatedly compared to Elvis Costello, Buddy Holly, and The Beach Boys, didn’t it? Well, not so much anymore. This opening track kickstarts the album with pockets full of blue jean swagger and deserves to be played on the car radio of a ’58 Cadillac (a car that may or may not actually exist). But don’t think they’ve gotten all High School quarter-back on us quite yet. Nope, despite the cocky strut of the music the band remain hopeless outsiders. Some records are records to have sex to, like, I don’t know, Marvin Gaye? You can clearly tell that my experience in this subject is rather limited, can’t you? But it’s pretty damn clear from this very starting track that this album is not one of those to have sex to. You don’t want such select lyrics like “Mama, she really loved me / Even when I was bad / She’d hold my little hand / And kissed me on the cheek” serenading your conquest. They really don’t need another moaning girl in the room. If anything, it is rather an album to not be having sex to; a manic proclamation of love, a lament of loss and crying over grazed knees and the like.

Lyrical highlight: “I’ve been messing with so many girls / Who could give a damn about who I am / They don’t like my boney body / They don’t like my dirty hair / Or the stuff that I say / Or the stuff that I’m on”.

‘Alex’

After the ’50s-infused opener we’re back to a more familiar Girls as Owens’ vocals are lost in a sea of distortion. It’s a song of teen-like obsession and infatuation. Owens sure does have a knack of name-dropping these mystery muse-like figures in his songs, like ‘Laura’ from the first record and ‘Jamie Marie’ later to come on here. It’s kind of like when people don’t @tag friends in their tweets. ‘Alex’ sounds like it could soundtrack that scene in Donnie Darko when Donnie and Gretchen are walking down the stairs into the party after they’ve done the deed. Yeah, you know the part, right before Gretchen goes and dies… Happy mating, kids!

Lyrical highlight: ”If somebody somewhere cries / Well who cares? / No you don’t”.

‘Die’

Errr, okay, this is still Girls right? We’re not being tricked here, are we? We haven’t been given a decoy press copy as punishment to the album leaking a few weeks back, have we? The track throws us in the deep-end from the beginning, drowning us in shreads of heavy metal guitar more suited to what Owen-lookalike Wayne’s World’s Garth would listen to rather than that which Girls’ more natural fanbase would. It sounds like someone’s using Kerry King’s bald head to play milk bottles, all lined up in a row. You kind of expect Tom Araya to yell “raining blooooood!” at any moment. Right, it’s a good thing we’re not having sex really or that would just ruin the mood completely. And then the words come in after around a min and a half of not-quite-headbanging-but-nevertheless-headmoving glory: “No, nothing’s gonna be alright / No, we’re all gonna get fucked up tonight”. Okay, yep, it’s still Girls alright.

Lyrical highlight: “No, nothing’s gonna be alright / And we’re all gonna die / All gonna die / All gonna die / All gonna die!”

‘Saying I Love You’

Now how do you follow that guitar solo? With the post-coital comedown of ‘Saying I Love You’ that’s how. The song seems like a generic radio-friendly sickly number until the crux of the chorus hits you like a fairground hammer to the chest.

Lyrical highlight: “And how can I say I want you / Now that you’ve said I want you / Now that you’ve said everything I said to you / To somebody new”.

‘My Ma’

One thing you should know about Girls’ lead singer Christopher Owens is that he was raised amongst the new age cult ‘Children of God’. That said, this song isn’t just a 20-something guy crying into his beer about missing his mama. No, it’s more than that – a metaphoric manifestation of his divided history and self, between his isolated childhood where everything seemed so simple and the life he has fallen into now; drug-addled and confused wandering around the modern world, from city to city, country to country, singing in front of rooms full of total strangers who actually encourage his digression into insanity and despair.

Lyrical highlight: “I’m here in darkness / And I want to see the light of love”.

‘Vomit’

This one, pre-album single ‘Vomit’ , feels a lot like a daydream when you don’t know the boundaries of what is real and what isn’t. It’s an epic 6:36, culminating in a euphoric burst of female gospel-choir vocals sounding as if he’s fallen asleep listening to Nina Simone. In the accompanying video, Owens drives around LA like a fringed Travis Bickle out of ‘Taxi Driver’ – just, you know, looking for love, not teenage prostitutes.

Lyrical highlight: “Cause there’s something that I get for myself / And there’s something that you give to me / Well, I got one without the other / Well, it’s not enough to be / I need your love”.

‘Just A Song’

From its childlike guitar strumming intro, the song bursts into an emotional languish as Owens laments the emotional decline of not only himself but all those around him. You remember all those pretty, perfect Californian hipsters that flooded the videos from Album with their shoplifting and their nocturnal sleeping habits, well it turns out they get sad just like the rest of us normal folk. The lines “Feels like it’s gone / Yeah, it’s gone, gone away / Seems like nobody’s happy now/ Feels like nobody’s happy now” has enough power and intensity to silence an entire room. Seriously, do not run the risk of allowing this track to creep up on shuffle at a party, you will not be able to have fun afterwards. And you will be drenched by your own and others’ damp tears.

Lyrical highlight: “Keep me up / Keep me down / Keep my feet on the ground / Love, love, love, love / It’s just a song”.

‘Magic’

“Just a look was all it took / Suddenly I’m on the hook”. That’s all it takes really and we’re done for, hook, line and sinker. This is Girls’ reflective take on the truly pathetic nature of our male neediness. Like when a girl asks what the book is that you’re reading in a coffee shop. Or when an attractive woman sits by you on the train even though there’s a good two or three seats free down the other end of the carriage. Or even when the lady behind the till in Sainsbury’s asks if you need cashback. I try to reply “Yes, twenty pounds please” in the most seductive way possible and then they ask if I want the receipt in the bag – a clear double entendre if I ever did hear one.

Lyrical highlight: “I must confess / If I manage to forget / Everything from as of yet / Then what a success”.

‘Forgiveness’

Sometimes when you’re so immersed in your own problems, you find it difficult to measure quite how long you’ve been talking about yourself. Owens definitely suffers from this on the record, with three songs topping the 6 minute mark. This one is two seconds short of a whopping 7 minutes. ‘Forgiveness’ comes across like a confused mind quite literally stuck on an endless loop, with neither Owens or the listener being able to or wanting to break free.

Lyrical highlight: “And I can hear so much music / And I can feel everything now / And I can see so much clearer / When I just, close my eyes”.

‘Love Like A River’

Okay, so these last few lyrical highlights have been hard to pick out. All early reviews are championing Owen’s great penmanship but I’m not entirely convinced by this. As much as I love the band, jeez – just look at all the gushing above and below, the power doesn’t lie in the words on the page as so much as the feelings conjured by the way and how they are sung. “My love is like a river / She just keeps on rolling along” is hardly a line that neither you and I could have ever written, I mean, come on, it sounds more Cat Stevens than Cat Power. But Owens’ pop sensibilities and his inclination to the kitsch render him as more comparable to Stephin Merritt. Yep, unashamed, inhabited and unapologetic outpourings haven’t sounded this good since… Nearly tricked you, they’ve never sounded this good.

Lyrical highlight: “Too many times I’ve fallen in love / Just to wake up and find it all falling apart / Too many times I’ve given my heart / To someone who never wanted it from the start”.

‘Jamie Marie’

‘Jamie Marie’, perhaps some relation to the ‘Lauren Marie’ of Album, sends us off with a little bit of a lullaby. Owens bemoans “I guess I didn’t realise they way I loved the way you moved /Until I moved so far away, I could see you anymore” , ultimately proving the the album to be not so much of a catharsis after all. From start to finish Father, Son, Holy Ghost is Owens rattling his brain, with all the songs falling out but evidently there seems a lot of hurt still remains at the close. Not that we’re complaining, anyway, in fact one day I wish I could make a break-up record somewhere as beautiful as this. It’ll be the aim of the next relationship I commit to. And with Los Campesinos!’ new record, the upbeat-sounding Hello Sadness, also coming out soon, what exactly are the guys at Turnstile Music trying to do to us? Man, I’m gonna have to fall in love and get my heart broken all over again just to be ready for Round 2.

Lyrical highlight: “And I know you are gonna be just fine / You know they say it’s better to have loved and to lose it / Than to never ever know it / Easy come and easy go – whatever!”.

Father, Son, Holy Ghost is out now on Turnstile. Our review of which will be up later in the week.

“Is this the way they say the future’s meant to feel or just 20,000 people standing in a field?”  16 years ago these words rang out across Leeds’ Roundhay Park as Pulp headlined the hottest day of the year at the forwardly optimistic, brit-pop oozing Heineken Festival. On Sunday night in 2011, in a field down the road, Jarvis sings out those same words to a sludgy field as a near climax to the retrospective, heritage weekend that was the main stage at Leeds. Was this really the imagined future? Mainstream guitar bands clinging on to any credibility they once had?

Friday

The guitar may currently be the dirty old man of music, lurking sinisterly against the bedroom walls of teenagers, tempting them into a dark, post primary school world. But on Friday at Leeds Festival, it’s a machine which still kills fascists. The day starts with real ale and Danananakroyd who appear not so much anarchic as polished. Gone are the wall-of-hugs mosh pit and the second drum kit, and what emerge are near anthems and screamo showmanship. Next, Fucked Up play the set of the weekend. Despite being early on Friday, it’s clear it won’t be bettered. Pink Eyes’ stripping semi-naked and his spending all but the first song with the crowd is inevitable, but the ferocity of their hardcore was excelled by even their own standards.  ‘I Hate Summer’ becomes an appropriate anthem for this soggy day, and as Pink Eyes tells the tent, “Every one of you in this tent could be in a band,” we don’t believe him. No one could be as good as them.

Disappointingly Best Coast’s Californian dream-fuzz is an uninspiring follow up, coated in too much distortion and sounding frankly awful. A trip to the main stage for Frank Turner’s desperate balladeering sees the crowd cruelly urged to sit down on the swamping ground during the sing-along cliché of ‘Photosynthesis’, a gimmick which even indie-folksters James stopped enforcing years ago. Luckily Dutch Uncles bring some much needed angular quality to a rammed Festival Republic stage for a set which they are visibly glowing through. Back in the NME/Radio1 tent Warpaint exude warmth and hazy days, so as the weather deteriorates, their set provides a summer shimmer and warm cidery embrace. As ‘Undertow’ and ‘Billie Holliday’ breeze across the wild flower crowd as they have done throughout the festival season, we are gifted a rare glimpse of genuine musical beauty at Leeds, before Warpaint flutter back across the Atlantic.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Friday’s real excitement is aimed at Death From Above 1979’s frightening return. Although their backdrop gives the dates 2001-2006, this is no nostalgic reunion, this is unfinished business. They are a band of legend, of obtuse infamy, which took noisecore-electro and played it live with drums and ravaged bass, but split after concussing and confusing the adoring hipster minority. Tonight Jesse F Keeler and Sebastian Grainger are frankly pummelling, yet teetering close to nova as if it’s only their own momentum keeping it together. Starting with ‘Turn it Out’ sets the precedent for heavy piercing distortion, but even the slower ‘Black History Month’ has enough rough dirge to propel it to epic depths.  During ‘Romanic Rights’’ extended bass crunch Grainger stalks the stage before his drums set the feral pit loose. A set filled with crowd pleasers like ‘Little Girl’ and rarer tracks ‘Do it’ and ‘You’re Lovely (But You’ve Got Lots of Problems)’, it is a monstrous spectacle worthy of their return.

After enduring Muse widdle and whine in front of cartoons and tinfoil sticks until they do ‘Plug in Baby’, Descendants are a welcome relief.  Although they seem like five dads who play punk in a back room of a provincial boozer, their angular Californian hardcore sounds as relevant as ever. Thirty three years in the making these icons, which influenced Black Flag, Rival Schools, Fugazi and every kid with a guitar since, show a sincerity in melodic, poppy punk rock which lesser bands mass-marketed and belittled.

Saturday

Saturday sees mud lakes turned into sludge dunes, and the punk aimed Lockup Stage morph in to a Tribal Gathering halcyon. D/R/U/G/S start the day with the sweeping bleeps and veering beats of Orbital whispering in one’s ear. Next, a quick trip to see Frankie and The Heartstrings reveals them as superstars worthy of a much higher billing, with Frankie Francis prowling the NME/Radio 1 stage and laying his scent in declaration of ownership. Mount Kimbie need no such raw animal energy; the numbers in the dance tent say it all. Crowds gravitate toward them, magnetised by their rolling rhythms and building ambience with precise layering.

For a dance stage show, Crystal Fighters’ set up seems awfully band like: guitar amps, keyboards at the back, drum kit and bongos galore, and with the audience swelling, a tingling atmosphere develops.  This potential is swiftly ignored by Crystal Fighters by being too quiet and threadbare, a basic volume problem which isn’t fixed in the mix- a problem Grandmaster Flash would no doubt be appalled at. The music is there and a sub-bass wobble can be detected but none of it deployed with the energy needed to bring their excellent and exciting album to life. A trio of ‘Swallow’, ‘I Love London’ and ‘I Do This Everyday’ should be an epic highlight but simply sounds lacklustre.  A diversion to see Naked and The Famous provides the opposite experience, a clean cut, corporate electro suitable for a car or tampon advert, but at a volume to get the tent truly energised.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Patrick Wolf doesn’t need to worry about fickle aspects like atmosphere and volume, he has perfect pop song writing on his side. An effortless multi-instrumentalist, Wolf is comfortable with a ukulele, violin, piano and swooning vocals. ‘Bermondsey Street’ in particular propels him into the 80s with its  Talk Talk and Aztec Camera pop, with the rest of the set veering from the soaring sound of The Associates to the melancholia of The The. Katie Sky Larkin also makes a guest appearance in this wistfully soaring show, but it’s all been a bit too pleasant, so a visit to Henry Rollins is in order. This bison man stands centre stage with a microphone held solidly and appears to own the fulcrum of gravity around him. The fifty-year-old delivers his vivace critique of his time in Black Flag with a literally eye popping anecdote, buying ladders in Costco and war, and it’s objective fact rather than merely a man’s opinion. Rollins is the voice of authority – if he says jump, you run away because he will jump higher, onto you.

The trio of great men concludes with Tom Vek’s phenomenal live return. Although he’s promoting new album Leisure Seizure the electro Darren Hayman starts with the familiar ‘C-C (You Set the Fire in Me)’ assumingly by way of apology for a six year absence. As he moves into ‘We Do Nothing’ the fruits of this absence are apparent – intricately crafted electro pop with slacker drawl. The gentle rave of ‘Someone Loves You’ uncovers the key of what he’s been doing, sitting out nu-rave’s glo-stick obsession until a time when innovative electro was in charge.  Old songs ‘If You Want’ and ‘I Ain’t Saying my Goodbyes’ sound like classics alongside new epics ‘ A Chore’ and set closer ‘Aroused’ in an exquisite performance from a true innovator, which makes next act Digitalism now sound dated. Their lazy Trash electro hasn’t aged well since their mid to late noughties peak and harks back to a time when people still gave a shit about the Klaxons.

The Horrors’ Festival Republic headline slot is a comfortable place for them. Opening with ‘Changing Rain’, it’s clear that they have a classic on their hands. With its reverberating bass and krautrock tinklings, it’s a long term indie disco stand out tune. It’s appropriately dark in the tent, and with the stage backlit in purples and greens, we see Farris Badwan’s silhouette eagerly skulking around the stage – and he’s relishing it. The tent is being swept away in blissful nu-gaze, but during a potentially career defining performance of ‘Still Life’ there’s a sudden power cut. Seizing their chance to show their adoration the whole tent repeatedly sings back the chorus of ‘Still Life’ while the band, sensing this is the career defining moment, remain on stage bathing in arguably their first rock-star sing-along moment- something Jim Kerr will never again receive. After what seems like an eternity, and to a power surge roar, The Horrors valiantly complete ‘Still Life’ and Badwan towers triumphantly, thanksing the tent for being the best crowd they’ve ever played to.  They leave the stage and Saturday’s true headliner has been revealed.

Sunday

Sunday has the feel of merely killing time until Pulp headline, with a main stage line up seemingly cobbled together from a shit iPod on shuffle – why else would the Pigeon Detectives be playing?  Especially above the blisteringly phenomenal Joy Formidable who turn into fully fledged rock royalty before Leeds’ early risers. This Welsh trio make a big, big sound and Ritzy Bryan has the rock kudos to control any crowd. ‘A Heavy Abacus’ batters any post Horrors fuzziness out of the assembled brains, and the already classic ‘Austere’, wins them sing-along points. But it’s ‘Whirring’ which proves they’re not afraid to rock-the-fuck-out more than any other bands on ‘rock’ day.

Photo by Jodie Sims

In 2011, it can’t be right for Seasick Steve to still be peddling his hobo gimmick – he tours the world, hangs out with Dave Grohl in VIP bars and even brings his rock behemoth John Paul Jones on as special guest bassist. ‘Diddley Bo’ is still a great song but the novelty wore thin in 2007 and has been degraded to a Radio 2 jingle. Madness’ gimmick has been ground for much longer but theirs is tolerable up to a point. They are the consummate professionals, starting with two biggies, ‘One Step Beyond’ and ‘Embarrassment’ but then sedately meander through lesser known and unenthusiastic ska-pop leaving their remaining classics until the end. However, they maintain a huge bounding crowd throughout, and essentially, isn’t this what festival bands should do?

Sunday’s indifference continues with a tiring set by Cults who only muster a modicum of the enthusiasm felt around their emergence. Brian Oblivion still has energy and Madeline Follin’s voice can always woo the coldest of hearts, but a mid-afternoon set in a half empty stage was the wrong slot. Finally a much needed boost comes from Jimmy Eat World who surprise with their alt-emo. They’ll never be as hip as Death Cab for Cutie nor as big as Weezer, but in ‘The Middle’ and ‘Sweetness’ they’ve produced some indie classics as recognisable in the disco as ‘Cannonball’ or ‘Debaser’. Today from the main stage they declare ownership Bramham Park.

As evening starts to draw in, the mood tenses as The National settle into their recently acquired penthouse. Third on the bill at Leeds and headlining Latitude, these lofty heights are well deserved by these New Yorkers.  It’s not a huge crowd (by Madness standards) but those here know it’s a major event as soon as Matt Berninger’s bar room croon on ‘Start A War’ echo’s into ‘Anyone’s Ghost’. But it’s an early appearance of ‘Bloodbuzz Ohio’ which sends Leeds into a spin and becomes an unexpected sing-along as the battling drums and milling guitars cascade relentlessly. It’s a set which honours all their albums, not just the breakthrough ‘High Violet’, with the same debonair gratitude. During ‘Mr November’, the bar room chic descends into a gentleman’s brawl with grappled agitation and sharp bursting hooks. Berninger’s composure returns as he dusts down for ‘Terrible Love’ which is delivered as an impassioned epitaph to tragedy and hope. With that The National leave, knowing that although they may have been preaching to the converted, the gospel will be spread.

Leeds festival has already provided many sing-along anthems from the likes of Fucked Up, The Horrors and The National, showcased enigmatic frontmen with Tom Vek and Henry Rollins, and celebrated reunions with DFA 1979, but they were all strategic- warms ups for this. Windy and synthesised voices are audible as neon letters reveal themselves one by one from behind a curtain. As the curtain falls Pulp are revealed and expectedly delve in to ‘Do You Remember the First Time?’ and it sounds as perfect as ever, before Jarvis Cocker greets the crowd with “We are Pulp, you are Leeds. We are here to keep you warm”.

Click here to view the embedded video.

The magic within Pulp’s comeback shows lays with their set lists. There is a core set of songs but the opening quarter, bar ‘Do You Remember the First Time?’, are interchangeable, indicative of the quality of their catalogue. Tonight’s second song is ‘Pink Glove’ – one of their best, then ‘Razamatazz’ – the pre His ‘n’ Hers epic and then into the voyeurism of ‘Pencil Skirt’. This is wonderful for the aficionado, but it’s ‘Disco 2000’ where the wind is ignored and Leeds is truly propelled upwards. Amongst the mesmerising set, Cocker’s charisma is constantly prevalent as he relays tales to those who choose to ride the twirly fairground, about how they could have the honour of throwing up during a Pulp show, and later nearly choking on a mid-set pear.

Cocker brigadiers Pulp through their set, straddling monitors and letching over his microphone as he writhes across the stage. It’s awe inspiring and exactly what we want. Pulp are outclassing everyone who’s been on this stage as they punch ‘F.E.E.L.I.N.G.C.A.L.L.E.D.L.O.V.E’ and seduce with ‘Babies’.  Former Pulp touring guitarist Richard Hawley joins the group for the ever seedy ‘This Is Hardcore’ – a song with the puissance to make hardcore bands, punk or digital, doubt themselves. Hawley remains on stage for the remainder of the set in which ‘Sunrise’ sounds more Ibizan rave than indie anthem.

Of course it’s ‘Common People’, which Cocker claimed in 1995 was, “An anthem for the Netto Generation”, that instigates the greatest serotonin hit of the whole weekend. It closes the set with its euphoric yelps and pleads, and its place as the UK’s unofficial national anthem is secure.  With the wealth gap widening back in the real world, ‘Common People’ is as relevant as ever, a timeless statement of social division. But delivered at a festival in 2011 where young and old can be hypnotised by the simplest of things – a man on stage – it proves Jarvis Cocker was right. 16 years ago just down the road, when he sang, “Is this the way they say the future’s meant to feel?”, he knew Pulp’s songs were meant to be heard en-mass with gusto and joy, forever. Whether it be in a field in Hampshire, Yorkshire or Berkshire, Pulp’s songs belong here, and after tonight’s show, let’s hope they stay.

With the recent re-issue of The Radio Dept. back catalogue on heavyweight 180g vinyl, The Line Of Best Fit take a look back at the three albums that have shaped and carved an undeniable arc in modern alternate pop culture. Here, Luke Grundy re-appraises Lesser Matters, Pet Grief and Clinging To A Scheme in detail whilst delving deep into the transcript of a lengthy and rare conversation The Radio Dept. founders Johan Duncanson and Martin Larson had alongside TLOBF editor Richard Thane and Sonic Cathedral founder Nathanial Cramp back in the of winter 2010. What follows is a wonderful insight into one of Sweden’s best kept secrets. 

Huge thanks to Johan Angergård of Labrador Records for granting access to the rare photographs used to illustrate this piece.

Scandinavia has undergone something of a renaissance in the last decade or so. Perceptions of its freezing climes have been altered by a surge in cultural significance: its exports in film, music and literature have changed it from ‘that place where it’s dark all the time and people kill themselves’ to a globally recognised hub of ingenuity, intelligence and invention. From the endless reams of commuters reading Steig Larsson’s books to a steady stream of Scandinavian directors migrating to Hollywood’s eternally sunny shores, the ascendance of these northern European nations as artistic powerhouses is as impressive as it is indisputable.

However, the most meteoric rise has surely been that of Scandinavian alternative music. Recognised as a foremost exporter of metal bands – Norway’s early 1990s black metal scene, Swedish acts like Yngwie Malmsteen or Opeth – and pop music, there were precious few Scandinavian bands, outside these two disparate genres, who had found global success. Over the last ten or twelve years, however, the quantity and quality of indie music from Scandinavia, especially Sweden, has steadily risen; alongside it, interest in this sub-genre has exploded. Whereas once your choices were Björk or, well, Björk, now those who carry a torch for Nordic music have a wealth of options, as TLOBF’s Nordic sister site Ja Ja Ja makes abundantly clear.

Indeed, such is the choice now available that every genre is catered for, each imbued with the peculiarly beguiling melancholia of the isolated peninsula: there’s the conversational pop of Jens Lekman; the folk strains of The Tallest Man on Earth; the soaring scope of Sigúr Rós; the minimalist electronica of Röyksopp; the list goes on and on. The unfair musical typecasting of Scandinavia, as a bipolar place where it’s either A-Ha or In Flames, is in the rearview now. Who do we have to thank? Well, certainly we should all raise a glass or two of akvavit to The Radio Dept..

The Radio Dept. began in 1995. Well, sort of. Johan Duncanson, the group’s founder and lead singer, was in a band at the time called The Radio Dept., named after a local gas-station-turned-radio-repair-shop in his hometown of Lund, Sweden. He later began playing with guitarist Martin Larsson, and their new partnership took the same name, although as Duscanson said in an interview with TLOBF founder/editor Rich Thane last year, “it’s not really the same band. We’ve been making songs together since 1998 or something, but we didn’t take it seriously until 2001.”

Were you to draw up a timeline for The Radio Dept., that “take it seriously” moment at the start of the 21st century would be the true starting point. Larsson and Duscanson’s group, at the time with Lisa Carlberg on bass and Per Blomgren on drums, released their debut album Lesser Matters in 2003 on Labrador Records, who’d signed them up after hearing their self-distributed first EP, Against The Tide, just two years before.

The Radio Dept. – Why Won’t You Talk About It

Lesser Matters was met with considerable critical success, its mixture of haunting, mournful synths and lo-fi vocals combining to create one of the year’s most distinctive records; it subsequently made several ‘album of the year’ lists. The appeal of a band intentionally stripping songs back to their essence, choosing to blur and muddy their sound rather than purify it with studio effects and post-production, was strong and refreshing. “If it feels like too much of a song, we definitely try to pull it down,” says Larsson. “We’ve always said that it should be difficult to listen to good music – it shouldn’t just go right through you.”

Duscanson elaborates: “It’s not just about putting some fuzz on top of everything to make it more indie. I like sounds that distort and they almost break… something more happens in that moment. You get pictures in your head from that kind of sound. It’s more poetic to me to listen to music that’s almost out of reach.”

The Radio Dept.’s preference for partially destroying their own music may strike some as a deliberately obtuse decision, one designed to make them more inaccessible and thus narrow their listenership to just a group of knowing aficionados, but listening to Lesser Matters, what becomes most apparent is that, whatever their initial intention, the Swedes turned out a hugely enjoyable and communicative debut LP.

Tracks like the infectious ‘Ewan’ and the contemplative ’1995′ – of which Duncanson remarks, “maybe I had some kind of premature mid-life crisis” – are exemplary on an eminently listenable and re-listenable album which still sounds fresh, even eight years after its release. The rough-by-design edges of songs like ‘Keen On Boys’, which is accompanied by a constant background drone and fuzzy static, give the album a homespun vibe; in a manner befitting the group’s name, it feels like we’ve discovered a poorly-boosted radio signal from another country by chance, as if we’re the only one lucky enough to have found this oasis of hazy musical bliss. As ‘Keen On Boys’ closes, we’re even treated to a few super-clean guitar notes, the signal clearing for a moment until the thudding bass of ‘Why Won’t You Talk About It’ takes us back into this imagined world of songs being eked out through indistinct feedback. Much like the early strains of groups like Pixies or Weezer, The Radio Dept.’s first record – in fact, each of their three studio albums to varying degrees – feels personal, like a friend giving you his band’s badly recorded EP, only for you to find that it’s actually brilliant. The Radio Dept. may be far, far more talented than your average garage band, but they foster that same connection between themselves and their listeners.

Musically, the first album is barely classifiable, combining maybe a half-dozen genres. Dream-pop? Shoegaze? Perhaps both, perhaps neither. Such is the difficulty of placing Lesser Matters in one easy category. Trace it back from 2011, however, and its influence is telling; groups like Beach House and Phoenix, whether they realise it or not, owe a huge debt to The Radio Dept., as do poppier acts like Lykke Li, The xx, even The Killers. Lesser Matters is a benchmark for showing how to combine pop style with post-punk substance without blindly supergluing them to each other, and its unique appeal endures, sounding like a lovechild of Wilco, Beck, Pavement and Sonic Youth. The ’90s revival wouldn’t start in earnest for years, but The Radio Dept. should be credited with helping pioneer a style which would dominate the indie scene six years later.

Elements of electronica, lo-fi rock, post-rock, ambience, even grunge can be found within Matters’ unrefined exterior, like finding rare vinyls buried at the bottom of a box of old blankets in your attic and putting them all on the stereo at once. The Radio Dept. don’t want you finding their brilliance too easily, after all, that would take the point out of it.

The Radio Dept. – The Worst Taste In Music

Three years later, and follow-up album Pet Grief is on record store shelves. Unfortunately for the band, it’s largely staying there. “The band were reluctant to promote or do any tours for the album, as a consequence it made little waves around the world,” as The Radio Dept.’s website explains.

Though it never quite matches the highs of Lesser Matters, it would be churlish to describe the group’s second album as a sophomore slump. It retains the same ethereal ebb and flow which lilts through their debut, but sounds a little clearer, a little less obscured by static and hiss.

The result is a paradoxically more expansive, more introspective and more instrumental record. Carlberg and Blomgren have now gone, and been replaced not by a new rhythm section, but by Daniel Tjäder’s keyboards. We get tracks like the sparse, solo piano ‘Gibraltar’ which bear little resemblance to previous efforts, counterbalanced with the electronic whimsy of familiarly catchy head-nodders like ‘Sleeping In’ or the title track. Duncanson’s breathy vocals and Larsson’s reverberant guitar lines are far cleaner, and thus more audible, for the muting of some of the sonic roadblocks which populate Lesser Matters. Of course, that same self-destructive element is still present – noticeably on ‘Every Time’, certainly the record’s fuzziest track – but it’s impossible to ignore the increased clarity of the recordings. It’s a lot crisper, and musically a departure from the first album, receiving far more mixed reviews than its universally lauded predecessor.

It must be said that Pet Grief is less fun to listen to. Tjäder’s keyboards are deftly deployed, but the band are still re-moulding their sound without a traditional band setup, and don’t find their mark as firmly or as definitively as they did with their debut. To an extent a poppier effort, but simultaneously a more melancholic one, Pet Grief offers a few more questions than answers: parts of it sound like Joy Division, parts of it like ’80s pop.

Duncanson’s thoughts on the record bear this contrast out: “When we released Pet Grief, we thought we’d made a really pop record. We were almost ashamed to release it because it was too pop. But after releasing it we realised other people found it rather depressing and very mellow and calm and then we realised they were right!”

Uncharacteristically awkward in a few places, Pet Grief is cleaner-sounding but less sure of its direction that both Lesser Matters and the group’s third album Clinging To A Scheme. It’s still a good record, helped by injections of uplifting melody (‘A Window’) and sardonic humour (‘The Worst Taste In Music’), but the high standards set by Lesser Matters dictate that it’s a little disappointing by comparison. It’s certainly a transitional record, tracking the movement of the group from their band-oriented beginnings to their current, more electronic guise, and a considerable achievement, but it’s fair to say it’s the weakest of the three albums to date.

The Radio Dept – Heaven’s On Fire

The third of these albums, 2010′s Clinging to a Scheme, might be the best. A product of a mammoth writing and studio process – resulting in “120 or 130 recordings,” estimates Duncanson, and “probably 40 almost-finished songs,” reckons Larsson – the group’s third full album is a triumphant mixture of the styles which preceded it, and features a handful of superb tracks worthy of inclusion on any ‘Best of The Radio Dept.’ mixtape (or perhaps more realistically these days, iTunes playlist) you could fashion.

Kicking off with the wonderfully balanced ‘Domestic Scene’, a track combining the spectral guitar lines of Lesser Matters with Pet Grief’s clean recording style, Clinging to a Scheme follows up a brilliant opening with one of the band’s most accessible, and also perhaps best, songs, the irrepressible ‘Heaven’s On Fire’.

It starts inauspiciously enough, with a sample of Sonic Youth guitarist Thurston Moore urging us to destroy the “bogus capitalist process” he believes is destroying youth culture (a sentiment The Radio Dept. agree with: “We should destroy the bogus capitalist process,” Duscanson says, “but we’re lazy, so we make music instead and leave the destruction to others”). As the first off-beat notes of the synth line drop in, however, the complexion of the song changes entirely.

Fuzzed-up drums and echoey vocals are matched by a duelling synth and bass melody which pretty much demands that you tap your feet, not to mention a brilliant and wholly unexpected sax solo from Mattias Oldén which comes squarely from nowhere and lifts the song to its resounding close. A three-and-a-half minute gem, it’s one of those compulsive songs you’d happily stick on repeat for a couple of hours without thinking anything of it, letting its joyous refrain wash over you time and again.

From the alternative anthem ‘Never Follow Suit’ to the lo-fi sass of ‘David’, Clinging to a Scheme is full of such memorable tracks and moments, incorporating some of the longing wistfulness of Pet Grief, with the pining ‘A Token Of Gratitude’, but not letting it overwhelm the whole album. The amount of effort that’s gone into shaping the sound on Scheme is telling: tonally, it’s the most cohesive record the Swedes have put out thus far, and feels like the crossing of a musical threshold, to a time where you can truly define ‘The Radio Dept. sound’. The lo-fi distortion of Lesser Matters returns but is used more sparingly, to augment the frenzy of ‘Four Months In The Shade’ and the early-90s rhythm parts of ‘This Time Around’. This more considered deployment of The Radio Dept.’s favourite self-destructive weapon increases its effectiveness: we’ve returned to that far-off radio signal we found years before, this time with better reception and a clearer understanding of what we’ve tuned into.

Three albums into what will eventually be five released on Labrador – the group’s record contract is a complex tale not without controversy, best left for the band themselves to explain – and we’ve reached a tipping point, where The Radio Dept. are turning out tunes which tap the upper regions of their talent. Yet, for many, the band themselves remain a mystery.

One reason is their scant press appearances. The media “know what they want from you and want you to fit in,” says Larsson, and The Radio Dept., unsurprisingly, are keen not to be pigeon-holed, as Duncanson explains: “We got a bit tired of every journalist writing Jesus and Mary Chain and My Bloody Valentine in every review, even when we’d just released a single that didn’t sound like any of those bands, or anything from that scene.”

The Radio Dept. – The New Improved Hypocrisy

Their frustration is understandable. Listening to Passive Aggressive, the group’s massive, double-disc singles and rarities compilation released in January 2011, it’s clear that while there are common threads weaving through all the group’s output – extensive use of synths, Duncanson’s resonant vocals, that indistinguishable fuzz – there are a wealth of different sounds on show, from the wailing synth-pop of ‘We Would Fall Against The Tide’ to the mellow strains of ‘The New Improved Hypocrisy’. To offer the group’s catalogue a cursory glance, and make bland holistic judgments about it, is to do the music and the men (and woman) behind it a grave disrespect.

By the same token, placing The Radio Dept. is extremely difficult. They’ve not enjoyed the fiscal success that other Scandinavian exports have – Duncanson and Larsson once worked in a mental hospital “full of people who should have gone to prison but were mentally ill” to make ends meet, and have “been broke for such a long time, even having a little money is like being rich to us”. Yet they have a very solid fanbase, and as much talent as many groups who’ve made the leap from critical to commercial success.

Will it happen? It’s impossible to say, in all honesty. It might even be a year or two before we hear any new material, the band’s extremely high self-set standards sometimes obstructing progress. “We’re quite hard on ourselves, very self-critical,” reflects Duncanson. “I remember fighting over one note on ‘Keen on Boys’. “[We had] this big massive argument for two hours,” continues Larsson. “I just went home afterwards. The day after I had a listen and I couldn’t find the note we were arguing about… Sometimes you just want to fight. Like a sibling relationship.”

Despite the occasionally fractious relationship between the pair, their passion for their craft remains as unquenchable as ever, manifesting itself in side-projects as well as The Radio Dept.’s music: Tjäder is also in Korallreven, and Duncanson maintains other bands in his native land, “some of which aren’t very serious,” he admits. “We could get proper jobs and I would still make pop music,” the singer opines.

For all those who enjoy listening to The Radio Dept., not to mention all those groups who owe a huge debt to the band, it’s comforting to know that someday in the future we’ll be able to find that mystic radio channel once more. And to those who are yet to tune in: re-adjust your antenna. You won’t regret it.

Visit the Labrador shop to view the complete Radio Dept. back catalogue, including the all new 180g vinyl re-issues of Lesser Matters, Pet Grief and Clinging To A Scheme.

To read Part One, which sees an Odd Future-Steve Albini moment in a taxi with a certain South London grime act, click here.

The next morning my film marathon antics are upstaged by my press compatriots, all with a different story to tell about how their nights unravelled. Key highlights include a certain writer from a certain webzine being accosted by a fat, racist prostitute and taken to Burger King to meet her pimp. Another entails one particular Scottish writer getting back to his en-suite blind-drunk and drawing a few crude and/or offensive images on the god awful photographic print that hung above his bed. I consider top-trumping them all by conjuring up a fake love affair with Susanne Sundfør, in which I seduce her by showing her a selection of my latest tweets and providing a play-by-play account of why each is really funny, but eventually decide against it. It wouldn’t have convinced anybody anyhow. I’m far too needy for fake love affairs.

Our afternoon sees us taxied back and forth like some yuppie blaggards, as we go from festival to the Norwegian Museum of Rock Music – or Rockheim, as the punned name has it – and from here to an advertising party in a plush, white, open-plan modern office in the city centre. We are greeted with beer and nibbles on entry and the orphaned side of me shows through, as I punctuate each sentence of a conversation with a huge gulp or bite.

Saturday

Several free beers later, we finally arrive on-site to catch Trondheim trio Pelbo open the main stage for the festival’s second day, operating more as elevator music for the most punctual of their neighbours with an enigmatic helping of percussion and electronics. Sadly today the sun doesn’t grace us, and the band may as well be Elbow for all most care right now as they delve in their bags for umbrellas and waterproofs. Alcohol seems to have lowered my self-restraint and I decide another drink is needed.

Taking refuge under a light covering of trees, mainly to keep my beer from being watered down by the rain, Sweden’s The Tallest Man On Earth serenades me and those sheltered nearby with a set of Dylan-esque acoustic numbers. If the weather had been different then Kristian Matsson’s wispy voice could have fallen on deaf ears, drowned out by a sea of idle conversation, but with the rain heavily pouring there’s little else to do but sit and listen, and we all feel the better for it.

Lissie

We turn our heads a little to the right to cast our eyes upon folk-pop singer Lissie, who can be seen a little in the distance on the main stage. The American beauty woos the audience with repeated declaration of her love for the country, which does much to warm the shivering crowd to her. But it’s all pleasantries and a little lacking in substance as the singer comes across like a female Ray LaMontagne, it’s a shame she’s been too forcefully and strategically marketed as the polish masks and marrs the possible depth underneath.

Jamie Woon, whom a colleague remarks makes James Blake look dangerous in comparison, suffers from the same sort of fate. Surrounded by endless numbers of dedicated fans who have taken to their feet to see the swoony London smoothie, it’s hard to see how music that enlists such a passionate response from its fans and that takes a lot of inspiration from soul can somehow come off as a touch contrived and even heartless. Sorry, Woonie, but this just sounds like Q Magazine’s take on dubstep.

Håkan Hellström

Neighbouring Nordic hero, Sweden’s Håkan Hellström raises my otherwise bleakly cynical spirit with his brand of jolting Scandi-pop, but a chance encounter with Autolazer (no prizes to whom the name – and indeed sound – is a crass imitation of), and his attempts are all in vain. They’re an electro trio, although only one of them (a man stood behind some decks wearing a hockey mask) seems to be doing anything musical as the other two (presumably friends, although I got here late so they could well have been audience members that took things too far) dance in front of him, trying to drive the crowd into a frenzy. And a frenzy they do create, with everybody dancing away, making me feel like a right Scrooge. But then just at the close of the set, the masked performer runs to front to join the other two, leaving the music to somehow play behind him, rendering the whole live set pointless. The rug has been pulled from under us and nobody seems to even care as the crowd dances away on a bare and vacuous floor.

But thank the lord (or should that be thank the Lordi?) for The Roots, come to raise spirits after a lacklustre few hours, which could have dampened what had been a pretty bloody good first day. The larger-than-life US group and Jimmy Fallon’s backing band swagger on stage, providing blast after blast of cool and intelligent hip-hop/soul hybrid. As the festival comes to a close and I join the swarming masses on the walk home, I can’t help but notice the localised and insular nature of Pstereo, unlike Oslo’s Oya, making it akin to Britain’s Green Man. Walking past the local cathedral and the wartime draw-bridge, I’m buoyed by the physical beauty that surrounds.

The Roots

I get back to the hotel room and the setting of last night’s existential crisis, where everything comes in individual single packaging and where everything is so tiny. Hotel rooms are sometimes as if you’ve walked through the looking glass and into a world where social norms and etiquette are twisted or disregarded altogether. Who needs one pillow when you can have about a million? Who needs a small version of a bar in their room? Everyone! And who needs manners when you’re actually encouraged to throw your towel on the floor and wait for the maid to clean up at your Do Not Disturb-sign whim? Nobody! I think I could get used to living in a hotel after all, I guess. Although as I settle down to a thing or two from the mini-bar (this could just be poetic license, really – don’t send me the bill), I get a twinge of homesickness and thank my phone’s lack of network coverage saving me from tweeting or texting something melodramatic like “This is just me in another place”.

Up at 5 in the morning, I expect to cross paths with DFA still partying from two nights before at the reception, but sadly do not. I also get excited at the prospect of, as I am told by the festival representative who meets me at this unflattering hour, sharing a taxi to the airport with the girl from Glasser. This, to my fanboy-ish dismay, falls through also. And so I’m back in the taxi with my Nordic adventure well and over, keeping my eye on the red-eyed driver who keeps nodding off and drifting the wheel to the right, frighteningly close to a sign that says Rosenberg (who I know from my geographic/footballing knowledge have a football team). On the plane I try in vain to block out the noise of three babies simultaneously crying as we take off. I give up trying to read a Sunday paper within the radius of an economy flight cabin as it seems I still cannot manage to read broadsheets without causing a crumpled mess. I’m obviously not quite a true man yet, three days and still no facial hair either. I open my laptop, load Football Manager and wonder who I should manage.

Photos by Jannica Honey.

“Nah, bruv. He’s got beef with the guy. I think he’ll ghost him, you know, but he may just mug him instead” is a snippet of a conversation I didn’t think I’d hear in the middle of Norway, as I carpool from Trondheim airport to a luxury hotel in the centre of the country’s third largest city, with three South Londoners talking about things that I would need to look up on Urban Dictionary to ever understand.

Cooped uncomfortably in the back of the 8-seater, I’m next to another muso with a first name exactly my own. My namesake counterpart is larger than I am, with a beard too, juxtaposing my weedy posturing and complete inability to grow any excuse of post-pubescent facial hair. We look quite ridiculous – like a farcical comedy duo – as we try to dodge the bullets of social awkwardness and maybe even the grave matter of becoming accomplices to some future gang crime.

Pstereo is a strange foreign festival excursion and an unlikely choice for my first continental writing job but Norway and I, well, we’ve always had a special bond really. By this, I mean that it’s an imagined relationship based solely on my adolescent (sometimes creeping into adulthood at times of weak-willed relapse) Football Manager addiction.

As a young ‘un, you see, I was a Manchester United supporter – which I think was the cause of my complete and utter attention-seeking and self-obsessed nature later in life. And so my favourite players included a whole host of United’s Norwegian names – Ole Gunnar Solskjaer, Henning Berg, Ronny Johnsen, Erik Nevland…etc Fergie must have had a mistress based in Norway, right? Or at least a scout. This fascination with our Nordic neighbours culminated in my proud managerial stint of the international team on the 2010 game, qualifying and progressing to the semi-finals of the World Cup and in the process making Norway a defiant Stoke City-like, lump-it-up-there-and-hope powerhouse. Sadly just weeks after this legendary achievement, my laptop was stolen and with it the saved game and our fond memories were all gone. My honorary citizenship was lost forever.

I still like to think that in some alternate universe there is a statue erected of me in the capital, so I prepare to be greeted by my trusty captain John Arne Riise waiting at Arrivals with a sign that reads “Sjefen”, or “The Gaffer” in Norweigan, with big John Carew by his side to take my bags. I think of my defensive midfielder Alexander Tettey teary-eyed, still haunted by that penalty miss against Portugal, with my promising centre-half Vadim Demidov there to comfort him. “There, there”, Demidov would say – but in Norwegian, “There, there”.

Instead as I step outside into the crisp Nordic breeze, there’s no Carew, nor Riise, just a runway and some conifer trees. So I cast my daydreaming aside, leave my disappointment at Departures and continue my advance to Trondheim.

Honningbarna

Friday

Western necessities and my complete unsuitability to jet-setting means that I take a lengthy shower at the hotel and miss openers Norma Sass. But press accreditation sorted and wristband donned – which, incidentally, remained on my wrist for another nearing on two weeks afterwards, causing me to develop a nervous tick of playing with it when confronted with an awkward situation that lasted even days from when I finally took the thing off – I arrive just in time to catch the latter half of local favourites Kråkesølv’s set. They get a warm reception except from the person to my left, who goes to the local college – which is actually in sight from the festival’s grounds – and tells me that the band are quite big in Norway but that he doesn’t see why. I’m with him and deciding that I’m not going to gain much from what seems to be a bit too generic-rock-by-numbers, I abandon my cross-armed posturing and decide to get a drink.

Having been forewarned that most things in Norway are hella expensive, alcohol seems one of these “most things”. So I look at my wallet and the feeble amount of Krone I exchanged back in England and then again at the price signs, trying to work out the exchange rates in my head like I’m taking a Mental Maths test at a house party as someone holds a beer to me, encouraging me to chug. It depresses me that I can’t afford an alcohol habit. These two things should come together: the depression and unemployment brought on by recently graduating and an increasing alcohol dependence. But seemingly not. With my stay appearing beerless unless the beer becomes free, the festival’s handy bar system provides some comfort of interest as I stand there empty-handed, showing off the Scandis’ ever-efficient way of living. With tents split into those selling beer coupons and those selling the beer, the system means that there’s no queues in sight and your order is pre-empted as you walk near the tent, leading to a swift exchange of token in one hand and receiving of a pint in the other, like a drunken relay race.

Susanne Sundfør

Fed up of being tempted by all the beer and tokens from baiting festival workers, I wander over to the second stage to catch Honningbarna, the locally-sourced punk heroes who I’ve heard be compared to Frank Carter-era Gallows but whose name conversely translates to the much less harsh-sounding “Honey kids”. The baby-faced six-piece enter the stage, looking young enough to be refused entry to any of the festival’s late-night after-parties. Well, at least someone else is sober too. Their appearance totally juxtaposes the crowd of largely bearded metal and punk types. Then they play and their unbridled onslaught of yelping punk rock proves my initial prejudgement as ignorance. Singer Edward Valberg, dressed in a sweater-and-tie combo like he’s playing a high school concert, has the stage presence of a psychotic Scrappy Doo, who has been chained to the fence outside Tesco while Shaggy has popped inside to stock up on some Scooby snacks, snapping at passers-by.  Every couple of songs, he pulls out a cello; but these interludes don’t subdue the frenzied atmosphere one bit as Valberg hacks at the strings in a way that would make his music teacher’s skin crawl.

Taking a breather at the press lounge, I monitor the Scandi spread and consider breaking the unspoken code of buffets and banquets – only take a little. Luckily Larry David isn’t around to stop me, so I fill my plate to bulging levels. Sat on the outdoors decking I hear, and vaguely see the top of the head of Therese Aune on one of the smaller stages. Sadly her wafer-thin acoustics are completely drowned out by obnoxious blasts of bass from the tent adjacent. Trying to hear Aune is a pointless cause, even after strategically working my way to the centre of the tent, so I give in and head to see where all the noise is coming from. If I am being forced to hear it, I may as well see it too.

The hoopla happens to come courtesy of London’s Newham Generals, whose UK grime is met by a boisterous response from the Nordic crowd that sits ambiguously somewhere between novelty and mockery. The song on arrival is ‘Bluku! Bluku!’, I know this because the track is largely them just repeating those words over and over. These are also words which seem to be the group’s catchphrase, meaning “bang bang” in the same way that Odd Future’s “Swag” means “cool”. The new single features none other than Dizzee Rascal and the group’s shout-out to him invites an overly-optimistic response from a few locals to my right, obviously hoping the UK star had travelled all that way and would jump on stage any second,you know, just for a few minutes. Dizzee never does come and neither does the material that must possess to have gained them an obvious cult following. Instead the Generals just come off as regurgitatory, out-of-touch and quite clearly out of place with the rest of the festival.

Washed Out

Following a last minute cancellation from LA’s Best Coast, another Norsk native Susanne Sundfør fills in at the 7pm slot. The Oslo songstress, whose intimate solo albums have seen her commonly compared to Joni Mitchell, is supported by a backing band and the expanded result comes off something more in the region of White Hinterland. It’s a spellbinding performance but the kind of set that transfixes you with some sort of magic in the moment but that you may forget all about afterwards.

Washed Out, the touring band of which I was actually asked to join this weekend, is up next on the secondary stage. Well, I say “asked to join” when I really mean that a case of mistaken identity with a confused member of staff at the hotel(which involved the two of us getting deeply lost in translation and then resorting to a frustrating game of multi-lingual charades) meant that he repeatedly tried to give me the keys to the band’s room. Once there, I’m pretty damn sure they’d respond to a total stranger walking into their room by asking that person to join the fold. I’m sure of this, I have seen many rock biopics in my misspent lifetime.

The show, while absent of one potentially brilliant member (the fools!), is enticing enough to make me forget all about my intention to leave halfway to catch Team Me. But Ernest Greene repays with a performance that perfectly soundtracks the mood as the sun sets behind the conifer-clad mountain tops that surround the park. The set features a mix of both the old, the new, the borrowed and despite my memory failing me, at least one of his live band must have been wearing some item of blue, right? Alas, Washed Out’s earlier material, from when the performance consisted basically of Greene and his backing band of a laptop, still appears to me more interesting than the newer tracks showcased from recent album Within and Without.

Jump to 9pm and Santigold can be seen strutting around the main stage, flanked by a set of twin female dancers. Her kooky stage presence is not something totally definable and extinguished as uniquely her own but rather assembled of borrowed bits from Gaga and Minaj both. Nonetheless it’s thoroughly entertaining and gripping enough to hold your attention for a good 45 minutes plus a seemingly-impromptu encore. Her 2008 hit ‘L.E.S Artistes’ remains the biggest crowd-pleaser, kick-starting the party for this increasingly tipsy audience. She even managed to coax an awkward two-step or two from this old sober grumpy guts, which – I feel – is the biggest compliment of all.

Death From Above 1979

With the sun well and truly set and dusk turning into pitch darkness, Glasser rounds off the Basstionen billing. The singer captivates the understandably sparse crowd; the few that have risked the prospect of being left with a terrible view for the looming headline act. For me, it’s totally worth it as the artist otherwise known as Cameron Mesirow shimmies and shakes under intense red lighting . For any equally red-bloodied male, what’s not to like?

Turns out I am indeed left with the prospect of viewing the recently reformed Death From Above 1979 with the help of binoculars, as I try to find a dry patch of grass to rest my tired limbs in front of the main stage. DFA are kicking up a ruckus as ever, that’s clear as hell from here, which if you somehow worked your way into the mosh pit centre of the crowd would have a stimulating experience, but here is a bit marred by the sound of the wind and the natterings of the bored few and tired many leaving. That said, they still get some good ol’ seated headbanging from me – which looks quite ridiculous but roughly translates to a thumbs-up.

Getting back to the hotel I’m disappointed to see there’s no rockstars partyin’ it up in the bar. Where’s Santigold and her two twins? I mean, I do have a double bed and there’s only one of me. Also, where’s the Newham Generals? We could close all the windows, spark up a doobie and stain the walls a murky shade of green. Oh and where’s those pesky kids out of Honningbarna? I thought they’d be here sniffing lines of sherbet right off the counter. But no, I enter the lift and resign myself to sleeping alone tonight. Norway isn’t that different to the UK after all. Getting into bed I decide to flick on the TV and watch a whole host of weird, but when deprived of sleep wonderful, foreign films. I may even throw the TV out the window after I’ve finished – rock ‘n’ roll! But probably won’t.

Read Part Two here, including an imagined fake love affair with Susanne Sundfør and even more self-reflection in hotel rooms.

Photos by Jannica Honey.

Aphex Twin - Photograph by Nicolas Joubard

Festivals have come in for a bit of a bashing this year. Apparent over-saturation, date clashes and too much choice regarding events are some of the factors which have been blamed for poor ticket sales, and sadly, in some cases, the cancellation of events. As such, we’re venturing to Saint Malo in Brittany, to La Route du Rock festival where the organisers have stripped the festival formula back to its bare bones, and left it to the music to do the talking. No gimmicks, no comedy or cabaret, no shopping area serving up the best of local fodder, just one very large stage and a pretty special line-up.

Friday

Anika - Photograph by Nicolas Joubard

It’s Anika that welcomes us to the gloriously sunny festival ground, which is set in the Fort de Saint-Père, an 18th century fort built by Louis XVI to guard against attacks from the English. Not very effective, as there are plenty of rowdy Brits that have made their way to the festival this year – a fairly easy trip, as Brittany ferries offer a deal on travel and tickets. But back to the music, and Anika greets us with a demure set, dead pan, new-wave, static – but captivating, none the less as she and her band make their way through tracks from last year’s Anika. As her set draws to a close, it’s the moment to wander off to check out the rest of the cosy festival site, as the next of the bands prepare for their turn on the massive, imposing stage.

After a well-received, set from Sebadoh, it’s the turn of Electrelane. This is a band with an enormous following in France, and the anticipation for their show has been apparent ever since our arrival on site. The audience space is filled to bursting in the moments before their show begins, and when it does, the sense of adoration in the air is so strong, it’s almost visible. From the first note struck to the closing resonances, Electrelane entrance and woo their audience, proving beyond any doubt that their comeback has been a resounding success.

The ever mighty Mogwai are next up, delivering a precise and perfect set and sound, which has been extremely well rehearsed during the solid 8 months that the band have spent on the road since the release of Hardcore Will Never Die, But You Will. This stage was made for this band, with a rendition of ‘Rano Pano’ proving exactly why this group are so worthy of such a high billing on such an expansive stage. They’re powerful, completely entrancing and put on a show that’s so technically masterful, that we can’t help but wonder where they could possibly go next.

Mogwai - Photograph by Nicolas Joubard

Suuns from Montreal are a little disappointing. The band seem a little immature to be playing such a high ranking spot, and although musically, the show is good, it’s a long way from perfect. Their singer, Ben Shemie is so uncannily similar in both vocal style and movement to The Servant’s Dan Black (incidentally, another act which has enjoyed much more success in France than in his native UK) that more time is spent concentrating on this comparison than on listening to the music.

The first night is rounded off by a highly anticipated set from Aphex Twin. It’s a visually spectacular performance, with lasers, intricate graphic projections and colours shooting from the screens in all directions. But as for the music, there’s something about the show that doesn’t quite gel. There’s no question about the fact that Richard James is the master of his craft, but with the visual decoration adorning the show and the driving, battering relentlessness of his synth constructions, we could easily be standing in some derelict warehouse of the early noughties. It feels a little dated, and the attention required of an Aphex Twin show doesn’t feel as though it’s rewarded.

Saturday

There’s no way of pussy-footing around this, there’s no nicer way of phrasing it – on Saturday, it’s pissing it down. All day long. And it’s not ‘that fine rain that soaks you through’, it’s huge drops that penetrate any layer of protection you might have donned and soak every single by-stander to the bone. It’s in these conditions that Still Corners take to the stage. Although well known to The Line of Best Fit, the band are fairly fresh faces on French territory, and despite the torrential conditions, are very well received. There are mutterings of “Broadcast…” to be heard throughout the crowd, as French spectators attempt to figure out where to place the band’s hazy brand of dark dream-pop.

Low are also faced with the battle of keeping a soddened crowd entertained. Not an easy feat when your band is called Low and all of your songs are slow, building tales of tragedy and heartache. That said, if the rain did anything, it was to separate the wheat from the chaff, with the respectable sized crowd embracing and adoring every second of the smooth, haunting and unfathomably beautiful music emanating from the stage.

After a fairly tepid performance from Cults, it’s time for Blonde Redhead. Still battling against the beating rain, Kazu Makino, alongside band mates Simone and Amedeo Pace manage to entrance, and incite breathy sighs of contentment from pretty much everyone gathered to watch them. Visually, the stage looks beautiful – illuminated by sparking, glowing light bulbs as the group offer up tracks from 2010′s Penny Sparkle, amongst other gems plucked from the bands 15-year-spanning back catalogue.

Blonde Redhead - Photograph by Nicolas Joubard

The Kills are the next to take the stage, and it’s unclear whether this is something that the duo have engineered or if the festival Gods have a particular penchant for Alison Mosshart, but The Kills stop the rain. Incredible. From the size and reaction of the crowd gathered, it’s pretty evident that this is the band that most of the festival goers have come to see, and to be fair, they put on a decent show. Their set is frenetic, moody. It’s just so ‘rock n roll’. But it’s also quite transparent, with Mosshart’s ‘edginess’ feeling a little contrived at moments. All in all, it’s an enjoyable show, and we’ll be forever grateful to them for making the weather turn.

Dirty Beaches have been invited to fill the spot in between the last two bands on the main stage, and as much as we try to concentrate on their set, the cold has forced a move towards buying anything edible and hot, before firmly taking up position to see the band that we’ve endured rain, mud, the threat of hypothermia and the potential downfall of a seriously old fort for, Battles. From the moment that Battles take to the stage, the atmosphere lifts. Older tracks are slowly but surely appearing in the set, and the apparition of ‘Tonto’ and ‘Atlas’ alongside newer tracks ‘Ice Cream’ and ‘My Machine’ are a complete treat. As is the predicted, but very welcome on stage collaboration between Battles and Blonde Redhead’s Kazu Makino for a mesmerising rendition of ‘Sweetie & Shag’. We may end up in hospital with trench foot, we may never recover to feel the comfort of warmth again, but Battles, as always, have played a mind-blowing show and are completely worth the torrential conditions endured earlier in the evening.

Battles - Photograph by Nicolas Joubard

Sunday

While activity at the festival site doesn’t kick off until the early evening, the pretty, coastal town of Saint-Malo is overtaken for the weekend to provide day time entertainment for the hoards of  ‘festivaliers’ that have descended upon the region. A stage is erected on the beach, and Le Palais Du Grand Large is taken over to host the likes of Josh T. Pearson, who made a name for himself at the festival following an impromptu performance from the Fort’s walls at last year’s event.

Returning to the main festival after a pleasant stroll along the beach, and rest in the comfort of the theatre, we prepare for the days music. After the heady musical heights that have been hit over the last two days at La Route du Rock, Sunday’s line up provides a welcome slowing of the pace. Here We Go Magic and Okkervil River both provide pleasing sets, on a day which is, weather-wise, treating us much more kindly than yesterday. Okkervil River in particular, having suffered the rainy traumas of Saturday themselves, put a huge amount of effort into making their set as enjoyable as possible and they succeed, with ‘Wake And Be Fine’ taken from their latest album, I Am Very Far being a particular highlight.

A feature that has been unfailingly good throughout La Route du Rock so far is the quality of the sound from the stage – one of the benefits of the organisers having only one stage to coordinate. This, however, isn’t the case for Cat’s Eyes, who suffer from a trebly sound which wipes a lot of the more mysterious, haunting tones that fans were hoping to hear from the mix completely. It’s a disappointing set, and not necessarily any fault of their own, but Cat’s Eyes don’t inspire as had been anticipated, and make way for Fleet Foxes.

Fleet Foxes - Photograph by Nicolas Joubard

Due to the fairly late nature of the schedule at La Route du Rock, Fleet Foxes would transpire to be the final band of the weekend for many of the festival goers. The top notch sound quality has certainly returned for the Seattle troupe, who enthral with renditions of ‘Mykanos’, ‘Lorelai’ and ‘White Winter Hymnal’. Having had the good fortune to have seen Fleet Foxes on numerous occasions this summer, the most remarkable feature of their set is always the power that they transmit from stage. The incredible richness of the vocal harmonies and vast musical talent on display turn the show into a memorable, impressive set, and for those who had to leave after their performance, is a staggering close to the festival.

For those with the stamina, it’s Dan Deacon, followed by Mondkopf who tie up the festival – a festival that had proved to be quite the test of character. It’s a shame when atmospheric conditions detract from the musical experience, but La Route du Rock took it all in their stride. The line-up was spectacular, and the simplicity of just having one stage made a the festival feel laid back and comfortable, removing all of the ‘rushing around fuss’ that tars so many events. With a proven track record of outstanding line-ups and good atmospheres, we’ll certainly be checking La Route du Rock out again next year.

August bank holiday is a special time. It traditionally marks the end of the festival season and it opens up the future of da Yoof as GCSE results are revealed. It’s a period of joyful reflection and intellectual enthusiasm. I remember receiving my results sat on the bank of the Thames via a, then rarely owned, mobile phone call from my then girlfriend: “I passed Latin? No way, I actively tried to fail Latin.” These were sedate times; Reading Festival had only just got a third music stage and the posters were still a ‘Wanted: Dead or Alive’ snapshot of excitement.

In 2011 it’s a different state of affairs. As the dust settles on the shameful mob mentality and socially offensive behaviour seen at sites across the country – namely V festival, it is time to brace ourselves for yet more groups of marauding teenagers, loose, at Reading and its 12-year-old evil twin Leeds Festival. Leeds was meant to be in the past, my denied history, but a carelessly entered competition prize meant one last trip ooop north was due.

I already had my weekend planned. I was going to look at Twitter, listen to The Weeknd’s Thursday, maybe pop to Rough Trade East and not watch BBC3 festival coverage at all. Generally go ‘Meh’ and practice shaping my dapper new quiff. But now I had to look at the garish yellow line up the festivals have been using since losing the hipster cowboy look, and work out who I could possibly want to see. After all, I’m a cynical, youngish urbanite North Londoner, not an ‘emo’ from the provinces.

A first look at the headliners and their supports has the ring of indifference not felt since Jo Wiley moved to Radio 2. Muse are just one long strangled cat, Elbow are good-but I’m not my Dad, My Chemical Romance and 30 Seconds to Mars – firstly I’m a grown up and secondly who? Pulp­­ – ok Jarvis is god and they are the best band ever but I’ve seen them many times since they played my first Reading in ’94, and finally The Strokes who we all know they’re just going to embarrass themselves, aren’t they?

Admittedly, the line up isn’t for my demographic. For me there’s the quirky bunting and jollity of Field Day, the folk whimsy of Green Man, and the back to my roots indulgence of The Bangface Weekender. Leeds, as hair metal icons Skid Row may say, is for the youth gone wild: a weekend of bottles of 20-20, Portaloo burning and glow-stick wristbands. But surely there must be something for the name dropping hipster to admit to seeing while queuing for an espresso, rather than being a mardy cynic.

Photograph by Paul Bridgewater

Luckily Friday at Leeds Festival’s has an early appearance by Canadian Punks Fucked Up (aka, not Les Savy Fav but will do in the meantime) whose PA clambering shenanigans could destroy the NME/Radio 1 tent before it even gets going.  Later on the same stage the dreamy LA quartet Warpaint will ease in the evening with their sensual and meandering harmonies. The already legendary Death From Above 1979 will relive those heady halcyon days of 2006 later still, with a set reminding us how they brought raging angst back into electronica.  For the ultimate in unknown name dropping, Manchester’s Murkage on the Introducing stage will, despite being nothing more than local boys done good, bring some welcome much needed dub-step grime to proceedings. Jive Bunny and the Master Mixers will round off Friday when their Macs do that Peaches into Velvet Underground mix from 10 years ago.

Saturday gifts us a dance stage garlanded with afternoon appearances from D/R/U/G/S and Mount Kimbie, pounding our rotting festival gizzards in preparation for SBTRKT’s maniacally bashful beats later in the day. Elsewhere A Genuine Freakshow bring some experimental pop civility and Frankie and the Heartstrings will execute precision indie-pop worthy of a much higher billing. The most exciting thing all festival is The Antlers’ late afternoon show. Expect a beautifully Warp-esque bar room sexuality, plotting to drown you in stumbling drones.

A must see are Metronomy, a Mercury validated album, a slew of summer festival appearances and constant radio airplay has given this London quartet the recognition and billing they deserve and should project them greater still. A special trip should be taken to see Henry Rollins. Just watching the way that man stands still is inspiration enough, let alone his wise words. Saturday night will be The Horrors’ night and with the acclaim deservedly surrounding Skying, this epic set will surely cement them as the ‘nu-gaze Simple Minds’ for good.

On Sunday, we’ll deserve a medal, and we can nearly come home, but not before Saul Williams’ political zeitgeist rhymes entertain the lunch time kiddies and She Keeps Bees turn the site into a beautiful soft-focus bandstand with bunting and homemade fairy cakes. There is a band called The Coopers opening the Festival Republic stage – I’ve checked on t’interweb (as it’s called in Leeds) and they’re nothing to do with those Coopers, but I still wouldn’t bother. With extra dollar in their pockets from advertising fizzy booze with added D’n'B remixes, Cults come to prize us a glimpse into life as a Kindle wielding hipster in Willimasberg with battered guitars, drum machines and xylophones.

Glassjaw are the archetypal band where it could have been so very different. They had the records and the major deal, they could have reached the dizzy heights of, say, Incubus, but illness and internal turmoil caused it all to implode. And I’m glad, it meant they attained a cult status, as did At The Drive In and Refused. Angry, visceral bands protected from the MTV2 apathy of the early noughties.  Sunday’s show could obliterate even Crystal Castles’ no doubt bludgeoning set.  Leeds’ unofficial headliner is The National, a band who are epic without any cliché, yet worldly introspective. Mat Berninger’s laconic drones and shuddering realisation of surroundings will drive tumultuous percussion and precise orchestration across the inevitable acrid stench of beer cup bonfires that typify Leeds.

Having said all that, you know and I know deep down that come Saturday night I’ll be shouting  “You gotta keep ‘em separated” to The Offspring, and spending Sunday doing a cockney knees up ‘Baggy Trousers’ dance to Madness after too many ciders and tequilas. But I’ll have Twitter turned off so no one need ever know.

Country-wide riots that threatened to spread to Leicester; talk of folding festivals due to an over-saturated market; bands left unpaid for performances at earlier events struck by financial turmoil – this year’s Summer Sundae was preceded by a flurry of bad news. However, with a passion and verve typical of one of the nation’s most celebrated small festivals, Leicester’s premier music event was able to overcome the atmosphere of unease and deliver another quality weekend fueled by performances from both experienced heavyweights and promising new bands playing across four stages.

On Friday afternoon, Glasgow’s Admiral Fallow are an early highlight on the indoor stage, more than earning a rapturous response with their soaring, emotive and unquestionably Scottish roots pop; they are undoubtedly ones to watch. Shortly afterwards on the main stage, much-discussed Louisiana outfit Givers make up in verve and enthusiasm what they lack in songwriting experience. With much of her band’s UK tour cancelled owing to the London riots, Tiffany Lamson’s heartfelt declaration that it was not the unrest but Summer Sundae that would be their abiding memory of this country goes down as well as you’d expect.

It would be difficult to conceive of a better introduction to the weekend’s performances in the venerable Last.fm Rising Stage than the set put in by Wolf People. The comparisons to the likes of Led Zeppelin are understandable but simply don’t do this London four piece justice. The exhilarating tightness and sheer power of their precise, pummeling sound demands to be experienced in order to be understood. Found in an early evening Musician stage slot, Raghu Dixit proves to be another good discovery. Fronted by his easy charm and good natured humour, Dixit’s band combine sweltering Indian sounds with universal songwriting smarts and deservedly pack out this smallest of stages.

The idea of hearing ‘Blitzkrieg Bop’ covered by Osaka’s all-female punk heroes is an alluring one – and apparently it was quite something – but getting TLOBF’s photographer through the gates sadly means missing Shonen Knife. This gives us extra determination to stick with far-traveled music and catch Jamaican reggae legends Toots & the Maytals, who are preceded by a slightly bemusing covers set by ‘Toots’ Hibbert’s daughter. At 65, the man himself doesn’t get around quite like he used to, but his voice is undoubtedly still up to scratch and to hear the likes of ‘Bam Bam’ and ‘Pressure Drop’ in the intimate atmosphere of DeMontfort Hall is a rare and special pleasure.

On Saturday morning word spreads around the site that we could expect improving weather for the rest of the weekend, and this further buoys spirits as the musical quality remains high into the second day. Local Leicester trio We Three and the Death Rattle, and especially their mesmerizing lead singer seeth punk fury and throw out free T-shirts on the Last.fm stage, while indoors The Heartbreaks somehow squeeze real rock cool from a youth spent in rainy Morecambe.

Benjamin Francis Leftwich

Earnest but ordinary singer-songwriter Benjamin Francis Leftwich will need a more varied and less glum set to elevate himself above the seemingly endless ranks of thoughtful young men with acoustic guitars, and leaves us unconvinced. Kissmet are a better gamble, and in many ways fulfilled the East/West fusion role Raghu Dixit had done on Friday. Although the band’s Happiness Police tactics are a turn-off – they all but refuse to play until all the main stage audience was stood up – theirs is a thrilling and infectious sound fusing bhangra, rock, reggae and almost disturbingly well-executed dance moves.

A little later, rub-board-wearing Swiss zydeco trio (!) Mama Rosin show off a knack for making incredibly thrilling music look effortlessly easy. “Now this is our only slow, sad song”, they warn in charmingly broken English, before tearing into their roughest, fastest number. The devious sods. 11-piece folk extravaganza Bellowhead make no secret of their plans, Jon Boden gleefully leading this staggeringly polished group of musicians on a rampage through centuries-old, morbid and wonderful tales. ‘Cross-Eyed and Chinless’ and necrophilia love fable ‘Cold Blows the Wind’ are the highlights of what was perhaps the festival’s best set.

Playing to a packed Last.fm stage, Pete and the Pirates are disappointing, not only in comparison but in their own right, lacking the excitement their set put across a few years ago; theirs are ordinary rock songs played competently and little more. Next, Newton Faulkner headlines the main stage still in debt to ‘Dream Catch Me’, and while he plays his hit in some style, the set is padded out with a lot of chit-chat and sketches about love-struck dog food tasters. Given the task of closing the indoor stage I Am Kloot put in a sober but entertaining set, dominated by songs from last year’s Sky at Night record.

Everything Everything

After a slow start Sunday, would soon grow into the festival’s climax in quality as well as chronology. A performance by Brooklyn’s The Antlers goes a long way to wake up audiences on the indoor stage come early afternoon, their emotive songs an invitation to think as well as feel. Clashes are mercifully rare all weekend – a blessing of Sundae’s modest scale – but we can see only half the sets by Scotland’s The Phantom Band and fey Netherlands folksters The Black Atlantic, who impress over and above the somewhat lazy Fleet Foxes comparisons they’ve endured.

Apparently Young Knives are still around, and though they draw a sizable audience for their main stage appearance, Ashby-de-la-Zouch’s finest just don’t seem to have the songs to justify such a high billing. With as few members, London’s post-industrial trio Factory Floor make a lot more interesting noise, and even if they offer very little in the way of visual spectacle, their performance briefly transforms the indoor stage into an underground club that the very hippest would be glad to be seen in.

After two days of family-friendly festival entertainment on the main stage, someone had to lower the tone and The Cuban Brothers step up to the plate on Sunday afternoon. Their close-to-the-bone jokes would grow tiring if they didn’t have the tunes and dancing to complement them, and the cover of N.W.A.’s ‘Express Yourself’ with heavy Cuban accents is… an experience. In their own way Warpaint are just as idiosyncratic, two members of the California band turning up in voluminous shawls before shedding them to let selections from The Fool slowly unwind on the indoor stage. Even if to these ears their sunny dream pop doesn’t quite match that of Cliffie Swan – also all-female and from Los Angeles – the set is still a beguiling listen.

Warpaint

Clinical white lighting, a precisely synthesized sound and matching grey boiler suits make Everything Everything look very serious indeed when they take to the stage, fronted by a Jonathan Higgs giving the set his absolute all. There’s a unity of purpose about this band that makes them compelling, and it shows through in a set which takes in all their major songs so far. Intent on avoiding McFly, a sizable crowd gather slowly but surely for Blood Red Shoes, not headliners per se but entrusted with the task of closing the entire festival. A heavy weight for just four shoulders, but Laura-Mary Carter and Steven Ansell take up the challenge with vigour and put in a thunderous and literally room-shaking set which proves to be one of the festival’s best. Blood Red Shoes put in some of the best evidence yet of how compelling a duo can be and bring to a close another comfortably well-run and consistently entertaining year for one of the UK’s best small festivals.

Blood Red Shoes

All photographs courtesy of Stevie Denyer.

When people ask me where I’m from, I tend to say Middlesbrough, which is usually met with a little grimace thanks to Kirsty & Phil’s non-too flattering indictment of 2008 – and an assumption that I’m either full of drugs/babies or trapped in a cycle of deprivation. I am none of these things, but nor am I actually ‘Boro’ born & bred. My true roots are buried just down the road, in the unassuming town of Stockton-on-Tees, which on August 5-7 hosted Stockton Weekender, a festival of music and comedy for us faithful Smoggies.

Friday
The day kicks off with some glorious sunshine attracting happy crowds, as we arrive just in time to see Chased By Wolves play a laid-back, folk-tinged set that is one part cheesecloth, three parts Americana. It’s a bit ‘Mumford & Sons’, but easy to see why people might enjoy it.

After a spectacularly ill-advised go on the Jumpin’ Frog fairground ride, we take our aching limbs back to the stage for Pete Molinari. The fact that he’s endorsed by Springsteen brings about mixed feelings: Bruce is a pro-union good guy, but also advocates sleeveless denim shirts. This could go one of two ways. Molinari’s fifties-throwback melodies and vocal harmonies are textbook and while it’s pleasant enough, it’s also largely forgettable, receiving an appropriately muted response from the crowd.

Over at The Georgian Theatre is the Stockton premiere of Sound it Out, the Jeanie Finlay-directed documentary about the last independent record store in Teesside that became the lead film for this year’s Record Store Day. Having gained global recognition, the film finally comes back to its birthplace to a packed out crowd in the theatre. Surprisingly moving, funny and unmistakably Teesside, it’s a truly wonderful film that proves to be one of the festival highlights – an ode to passion for music, a fitting message behind this festival.

Back at the main stage, Kitty, Daisy & Lewis illustrate their very particular musical passion with a set that pays tribute to the lost sounds of R&B and jazz. They may have ubiquitous quiffs and winged eyeliner but there’s more than just style to the trio. Their authentic, bouncy throwback songs are a perfect soundtrack to the day and Daisy’s overly-animated drumming helps make them a really sweet live prospect.

As the day draws on, the crowd is really filling out and by the time Seasick Steve takes to the stage, there’s a palpable electricity in the air. He and his drummer blow everyone away with a headline set of blues-howling, 3 string guitar-playing, diddley-bo-strumming, yarn-weaving, one-of-a-kind brilliance. The thing that’s so transparent about Steve is that he’s the real deal – everything is laid bare for all to see, written in a battered old hat and dungarees that nobody can take their eyes off. When he leaves the stage after an hour and a half, the crowd are baying for more. His success and appeal might be baffling to him, but it’s pretty clear for this audience.

Saturday
Saturday is a very wet, cloudy affair so on with the wellies and out with the umbrellas to see Team Me, a smiley six-piece from Norway whose layered indie-pop, xylophones, harps and strings is just the right side of saccharine. Things turn a little darker for native Stocktoner and electro starlet Saint Saviour, whose intoxicating vocals and ethereal stage presence woo the crowd accordingly.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Django Django follow, with their stomping, Cramps-esque drumbeats offset by tribal chants and unashamed weirdness that provides welcome respite from the conveyor belt of mainstream music. These art-school boys can certainly not be put in a box, and are all the better for it. Swinging to the other side of the musical spectrum, The Chapman Family are next, playing their finely honed melodic racket to an enthusiastic crowd. With the addition of a new guitarist and drummer, their sound is much meatier and the whole thing seems to work better on an aesthetic level too.

Finally, headliners Maximo Park take to the stage to a local heroes’ welcome. The crowd shows warm, northern affection for Paul Smith, the local boy done good, who butters everyone up further by telling them he had a Parmo for his tea. As a seventeen year old I adored their debut album and the many songs that soundtracked my formative years in various grotty nightclubs – but now it’s a sound that’s been and gone, a brand of indie that lives off the radar and very much in 2003. Their performance is note-perfect, nevertheless, and Smith’s undeniable energy and enthusiasm provide a visual spectacle and create warm, fuzzy nostalgia amongst the crowd.

What’s encouraging about this weekend is that the introduction of paid admission (to the formerly free festival) didn’t stop the crowds from coming. Neither did the occasionally stale line-up, which didn’t necessarily justify the ticket price. To grow and boost its reputation, the festival is going to need to keep its ear a little closer to the ground and pick a few more bands with some degree of buzz around them – and maybe not be quite so Teesside-centric. The Stockton Weekender has real potential to grow into a great festival, and an even that could put this town on the map.

Reference Points gives some of our favourite new artists the opportunity to tell us about something that has had an impact on their work – whether that is a song, a band, a date, a pair of shoes, or an entire country.

This week: ’60s-loving psychy duo Hyde & Beast – who couldn’t keep it to one influence, so they kindly gave us two.

Fleance – Third Ear Band

It’s like a medieval Velvet Underground song!

I first came across this song on a psychedelic compilation album put together by Amorphous Androgynous and was instantly smitten! The open line “oh your two eyes will slay me suddenly” had me hooked. Anyone that has been besotted by someone before will know the power of this line. I must have listened to the song about 50 times on repeat when I first got it.

Its very simple, only about 4 chords with an acoustic guitar, violin, hand drum and a meandering seemingly improvised flute line. It really, really reminds me of The Velvet Underground. It’s a drone, almost a dirge and I can totally imagine Moe Tucker singing it.

The lyrics are actually taken from a Chaucer poem: “Merciless beauty” and “Oh your two eyes will slay me suddenly, I may the beauty of them not sustain, so pierceth it throughout my heart keen” – just amazing! One night after a few too many gins I attempted to write a song using medieval language. I failed. Perhaps if I had been drinking mead I may have had a greater success.

A couple of very strange facts about this song: it’s actually sung by a very young Keith Chegwin! WHAT? Yup, it’s true, this fact put me off the song for about a day but then I crumbled and started listening again. The song was written for the soundtrack for Roman Polanski’s film version of Macbeth and the character who plays Fleance in the film was a young Cheggers who also sang this song.

Also strangely Johnny Rotten picked this song as a favourite of his when he appeared on a Capitol radio show in 1977.
Its a funny old world isn’t it?

Dead Man’s Shoes

Click here to view the embedded video.

This Shane Meadows film is my favourite film of all time. Just like the song above, I must have watched this repeatedly for weeks.

It’s violent and upsetting at times but also very, very funny at moments and it has some sense of justice. I don’t want to spoil the story for those that have not seen it, but it’s about a character who returns home from the army to discover that his brother who has learning difficulties has been suffering abuse from a gang of hapless drug dealers/thugs.

It has taught me that should I ever need to dish out a brutal revenge on anyone, then it’s best if I spike them with LSD first and then turn up at their house in a gas mask with a hammer!

The soundtrack is gentle and lilting and features songs by Smog, Calexico, Richard Hawley and Aphex Twin. I’m pretty sure that Warp Records released the soundtrack. Anything by Shane Meadows or featuring Paddy Considine is alright by me.

Slow Down by Hyde & Beast is out now.

Local boys The Chapman Family will play at the Stockton Weekender

While London’s Field Day has been the focus of our calendars for this coming weekend, there’s other musical delights underway a few hours north as the Stockton Weekender festival returns to the eponymous Teesside town. Our writer – and local resident – Emma Smith, provides a run down of what to expect in the next few days:

“In keeping with tradition the weather’s bound to be ghastly but us northerners are made of sterner stuff so a bit of rain won’t stop the crowds braving the elements to see what’s on offer.

Highlights will be Seasick Steve and his legendary, yarn-weaving, magnetic live show, Maximo Park playing a homecoming set, The Chapman Family’s guitar-led assault and Kitty, Daisy & Lewis with their brand of vintage charm.

There’s also Collectors Club, Saint Saviour, Team Me, Pete Molinari, Chased by Wolves and tons of local favourites. The Sound it Out documentary – in tribute to the much loved local record store – will be shown and and there’s after-parties in the gothic splendour of The Georgian theatre.”

Tickets are still available from the Stockton Weekender Entrance, Riverside Road, Stockton. More information on their website.