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RECORDS Music
ALT-POP FOUND factorycraft (Chemikal Underground) ●●●●●
There’s an advert on TV just now, for some fancy car. Its slogan is ‘machines cannot make art’, or words to that effect. Clearly its manufacturers haven’t heard the organic mechano-pop of FOUND. For the past ten years, the Aberdeen-formed, Edinburgh-based art collective have flaunted their creative ingenuity through Fence releases, multimedia spectaculars and a BAFTA-winning rock’n’roll robot called Cybraphon. But factorycraft, FOUND’s third LP (and first for Chemikal Underground) sees them coming of age as a muscular three-piece, a serious rock band, and one of our finest.
It also proves mechanics and art can make good bedfellows. Witness the marriage of homespun folk-rock and wiry (nay, Wire-y) guitars on ‘Anti-Climb Paint’; the accomplished vocals, techno-grooves and Joshua Tree riffs of ‘I’ll Wake with a Seismic Head No More’ and the picturesque soul of ‘Machine Age Dancing’. But space and time are the real stars on factorycraft. The sprawling centrepiece, ‘Shallow’, is incandescent: part motorik perambulation; part MOR anthem; part rain- smeared, pitch-shifting wig-out. ‘Blendbetter’, meanwhile, is a psychedelic swansong from a trio who’ve discovered a nation’s hitherto-untapped love for Celtic kraut-folk. Watch their silhouettes, flanked by The Phantom Band: walking like robots; singing like lovers; dancing in a brave new dawn of Scottische Pop. (Nicola Meighan)
INDIE ROCK KASSIDY Hope St. (Vertigo Records) ●●●●●
Kassidy are an intriguing one, so they are. The blues-folk band are one of Scotland’s brightest prospects – spring-loaded by a major label, ready to be launched – but their sound is a world away from their hometown of Glasgow. The title of this debut album Hope St., is about as close to the Dear Green Place as it comes, although the likes of ‘That Old Song’ sounds better suited to spaghetti westerns than Sauchiehall Street noodle bars.
Their transatlantic twang certainly isn’t detrimental though, and tracks like ‘I Don’t Know’, although predictable, showcase deep production and sublime hooks perfect for the radio, TV and just about everything else. (Chris Cope)
INDIE POP BENNI HEMM HEMM Skot (Kimi) ●●●●● From the opening jangles of this latest magnum opus by Icelandic ex-pat turned Edinburgh resident Benedikt H Hermannsson, one could be forgiven for thinking this was the missing link between the fey-pop joie de vivre of early Orange Juice and the finished article of Belle and Sebastian a decade or so later. As it is, Hermannsson is very much his own man, crooning in a frippish Icelandic over a set of gloriously jaunty piano, horn and string arrangements from his homegrown kitchen-sink big band (he has another version in Edinburgh that he’s currently touring Europe with). Knowing the lingo probably helps, but, throw in a whistling choir or two, and it sounds like a work of pure joy nevertheless. (Neil Cooper)
ALT-FOLK TREMBLING BELLS The Constant Pageant (Honest Jon’s) ●●●●● ALT-FOLK/ROCK THE SON(S) The Son(s) (Olive Grove) ●●●●●
ELECTRONICA RADIOHEAD The King of Limbs (XL) ●●●●●
Like an Iain Sinclair of the North, Trembling Bells songwriter Alex Neilson seeks to evoke the psychic landscapes of his native Yorkshire. And so we find him here on their third album (following Carbeth and Abandoned Love) in Goathland, nursing a broken heart, or in Otley, reeling from a demonic vision on the moors. Yet this is a cosmic Englishness, informed by classic American music as much as traditional folk. Lavinia Blackwell’s superb arrangements encompass courtly Renaissance filigree, colliery brass bands and wailing free jazz. Her vocals have never sounded better, her exquisite soprano complemented by a tougher lower range that lends the songs dignity and strength. (Stewart Smith) It’s always nice to find something interesting, or better yet, a little odd amongst the deluge of new releases. Preferring to be vague in terms of their/his background and personnel and uncompromisingly elaborate when it comes to music- making, The Son(s) are exactly that. Described as a ‘three man solo project’ – loosely explained as the continuation of a disbanded Edinburgh trio’s work through one member’s efforts – The Son(s)’ debut album is warm and already very comfortable in its own sound; drenched in psychedelic influences and buoyed by soothing, yet often haunting, layered vocals. Comparisons to the likes of Midlake seem justified, but this album has a curious and accomplished sound of its own. (Ryan Drever)
It’s hard to isolate The King of Limbs from its context, especially when Radiohead do something like produce it as a ‘newspaper album’ – the £30 version comes wrapped in ‘many large sheets of artwork’ that embrace the distortions of packaging and media. Thom Yorke’s sideways lyrical
references to thievery, accumulation and the ‘empty space inside my heart’ take things into familiar, but not boring, territory. The world is cold and greedy; androids remain paranoid; and Radiohead continue to make great music. By turns awkwardly skittering and straight- forwardly melodic, covering both sadness and hope, this is another quiet (if quite similar) gem from a band you couldn’t pick apart, and wouldn’t want to. (Jonny Ensall)
COUNTRY JOSH T PEARSON Last of the Country Gentlemen (Mute) ●●●●● Besides a few low-key gigs, this Texan troubadour hasn’t been heard since releasing an album as frontman to Lift to Experience ten years ago. The Texas-Jerusalem Crossroads has since acquired cult status, and the band remains a Peel Sessions favourite. Pearson’s long-time-coming follow-up is, in contrast to the musical grandeur of its antecedent, a sparse, pared- down solo effort in which painful personal issues are worked through in seven seriously sad songs. Four tracks run over ten minutes, and Pearson’s lonely vocals and guitar are joined only by mournful violin, making for a difficult listen. Self- indulgent, yes; but affecting with it. (Miles Fielder) ■ Josh T Pearson plays Stereo, Glasgow, Fri 25 Mar.
3–31 March 2011 THE LIST 83