Sunday, December 31, 2006

To The Future

So, Dear Readers, that was 2006. Was it fun? Did you have a good time? I sincerely hope so. I'd like to take this opportunity to wish you all the very best for the forthcoming twelve months anyways. I would insert something slightly profound here but a) I can't really think of anything and b) inserting an inspirational quote is something of a cliche in all honesty.

Anyways, to 2007! I've a good feeling about this...

Friday, December 22, 2006

The Singles of the Year 2006

Or perhaps that should be subtitled 'What? No 'Jump in my Car'?'. For somehow David Hasselhoff managed to almost score a number one single this year with a dreadfully cheesy song, and a hilarious video. And purely for that reason he almost warranted a position on the following rundown. As did current novelty pop track 'Chacaron' by El Chombo which seems to border that fine line between madness and genius by having someone mumble over a basic backing track whilst someone else talks about Macaroons. Utterly bizzare. However, as will become evident, there is only space for one genius/terrible borderline track as it has been a great twelve months for individual singles. What other songs narrowly missed out? Well Snow Patrol's 'Chasing Cars' was, and still is, a beautiful love song that came close, as did both of the slightly bonkers yet immensely funky singles from CSS, and The Zutons' brilliant 'Why Won't You Give Me You're Love?'. Also, in the name of avoiding overtly favouring my fave bands ,The Bluetones' 'My Neighbour's House' was denied a place on this list despite being a brilliantly bouncy indie track. So, what songs defined and summarised the year musically? Not flaming 'Atlantis to Interzone' by The Klaxons to start with. Read on...

10. The Strokes - Heart in a Cage

From the second that Nick Valenti's lead guitar screams and screeches in to life, sounding as though he's trying to out do Guns and Roses' 'Sweet Child of Mine', this track immediately grabs your attention and inspires air guitar riffing. Whilst Jules croons about feeling out of place and missing chances with a girl, the musical accompaniment seems to veer between heavy metal and Iggy Pop-style punk, to make a track that rocks, swirls and broods in equal measures. What's more, the line "See I'm stuck in a city/but I belong in a field" seems strangely touching from a band so defined by their relationship to New York. The best thing they've ever recorded? Quite possibly, yes.

9. Boy Kill Boy - Suzie

Back in January, the music press was buzzing about this London-based band being the next big thing. However, when their debut single, 'Back Again', sounded like a rejected Editors track, people were right to be sceptical. However, that couldn't hide the fact that the follow up was a glorious three minutes of glam-indie-pop. With it's stacatto guitars, jerky synthesisers and downtrodden lyrics, culminating in the anthemic chorus hook of "count down to the disappointment/I'm your's tonight', it was a very special track. Perhaps if it had been their debut it would have better justified the hype.

8. Robbie Williams - Rudebox

Upon release of this track The Sun proclaimed it "the worst song ever recorded". The first time you heard it you had to check yourself that you'd heard it right. For why on Earth would an alleged 'global superstar' release a song with such quintessentially British lyrics as 'TK Maxx costs less"? However, that wasn't the real lyrical gem of the track, that was reserved for "the R-U-D-E-B-O-X/Goes up your jacksy and splits your kecks". Whilst the track proved once more that white, British men are not in anyway 'gangstas', you were never fully convinced that Mr. Williams also in on the joke, gleefully aware that what he was performing a pile of complete nonsense. Did he trick the world in to thinking this was serious? Is it really a subtle parody of hip-hop culture? Or is it just a really dreadful song? It's that pause that the track inspires that makes it fantastic. Go on, shake your rudebox. Whatever the hell that means.

7. The Holloways - Generator

"I can get a record player/and a generator/to generate the music that makes you feel better". What a fantastic statement against middle class angst this track was. Complete with indie-folk guitar parts that recall The Levellers in more ways than one, this track came along towards the end of the summer and shone brighter than a lot of the sunshine we experienced this year. Whilst some may say it was a little preachy, or a bit too much like The Levellers in fact, there's no doubting that it's a frank, joyous and bouncy reminder to be grateful for what you've got.

6. The Fratellis - Creepin' Up The Backstairs

Perhaps there should be a law that the track that announces your presence to the world should be as chaotic as this is, as it's breakneck chord sequence and quickly-delivered lyrics seem perfectly suited to inspire mass hysteria when played live. However, unlike The Libertines, who seemed to revel in being a total shambles on record, there's something quite ordered about this track that only adds to the energy of it. Whilst they went on to become absolutely huge towards the end of this year, this tale of youthful defiance of your parents and your siblings only underlines what I mean when I say that if I was ten years younger they'd probably be my favourite band, since this would be the reason why.

5. Keane - Crystal Ball

It begins with a wave of feedback and some glimmering, crystaline piano sounds that suggests something fragile and mysterious. From the second Tom Chaplin's vocals enter, proclaiming "Who is the man I see/where I'm supposed to be", it's obvious that the opening music is a good indicator of the rest of the song. What follows is four minutes of astonishing honesty, documenting what it really feels like to look at your reflection and not recognise the person you see. Depending on the mood you're in it makes for either comforting listening that someone else has experienced the same feelings, or a quite harrowing admission of helplessness. A strange, angry and bold choice for a single that seems to cry for help and then turn it away at the same moment. Truly fascinating.

4. The Rapture - Get Myself Into It

When The Rapture appeared a couple of years ago with their 'House of Jealous Lovers' track, I literally ran a mile. It sounded like a dog whelping the same four words over a backing track best described as consisting of an atonal guitar riff and some cow bells. It was only after the constant badgering from a good friend that I grew to appreciate said song. However, when I first heard this track I struggled to believe it was the same band. Slick, funky and intensely groovy, it was both a throwback to the late 1970s and completely of it's time, and flowed with the attitude and style you come to expect of a band originating from New York.

3. The Killers - When You Were Young

Whoever thought that the lyric "He doesn't look a thing like Jesus" would wind up being one of the lines of the year? However, when it's delivered in Brandon Flowers' unimitable hollering wail it just somehow works. The whole song works as a bridge between the downtrodden, slightly sleazy sound of 'Hot Fuss' and the more widescreen Americana of 'Sam's Town', where there's uncertainty about climbing mountains and people riding swirling hurricanes. U2's (ironically titled) guitarist The Edge must also be kicking himself that he's been outdone by the guitar work on this track. It's just a shame they followed it up with the dreadful 'Bones': the most generic indie track in a long time.

2. Muse - Supermassive Black Hole

Muse comebacks are always notoriously impressive. I mean who could forget them announcing their second album, 'Origin of Symmetry', with the massive slap-in-the-face wall-of-sound that was 'Plug In Baby', or the way in which 2003's 'Absolution' was introduced by the brooding, menacing 'Time is Running Out'. Yet, really and honestly, was anybody expecting this as the comeback single for their new album? Gone were those walls of feedback and over the top riffs, and in came angular guitar and bass parts that more recalled the current Indie/art school movement rather than the heavy rock they're associated with. What exactly has it got to do with black holes? I haven't a clue. But it's a phenomenally adventurous and unexpected piece of music. It's place in this list was rivalled by the equally mad riffing of 'Knights of Cydonia', but just for having the sheer balls to produce this type of song warrants it's recognition over the other track. Sci-fi twinged, truly marvellous and featuring some of the best distorted, repressed screaming I've ever heard.

1. Kasabian - Empire

In a year that saw many bands suddenly a go a little bit bonkers (for example, see Muse), Kasabian raised the bar to ten, cleared that bar, and then raised it again with this storming, baffling lead track from their second album. What makes it such a great track though? Well, for starters it begins in a completely boring manner by coming across as a bog-standard indie stomp-fest. Then, all of a sudden and for no apparent reason, singer Tom shouts "Stop!" and it sounds as though you're suddenly listening to a rock cover of the Doctor Who theme (a feeling that only increases as the chorus finishes and the middle eight plays out). Complete madness. Add in the over-the-top video and it only adds to the appeal of the song. Quite what the lyrics have got to do with empires is beyond me (if anyone can explain then I'd be most appreciative), but this is a truly wonderful, mad, piece of music that is perfect for a bit of a pogo when played live or for a bit of a dance at a disco. Either way, it's guaranteed to get you on your feet.

Sunday, December 17, 2006

The Albums of the Year 2006

So, Ladies and Gentlemen the time has come for the first part of this most anticipated list. OK, so that might be a lofty claim but a couple of people have enquired as to when The Bronze Medal would impart its suggestions as to what can be considered the albums and singles of the year. And so we come to the first, and more predictable, part which considers what really were The Albums of The Year.

It's necessary however to note the limitations of this list, as these are only the Albums of the Year according to Yours Truly, and naturally can only cover records which I have heard. It would be pointless to proclaim something as worthy of inclusion on this list because a couple of friends say a record is very good (i.e. Thom Yorke's The Eraser, Guillemots' Through the Windowpane) nor because I've been very impressed with the singles a band has released and feel that the album would be great (Muse's Black Holes and Revelations and CSS' eponymous debut fit this idea). Moreover, this list can only apply to records released this year as I've picked up some fantastic old records (i.e. Interpol's Turn on the Bright Lights) this year, but it would just be a little silly to include them here. So, whilst a brief mention must go to Snow Patrol's Eyes Open and The Zutons' darkly humorous Tired of Hanging Around as they both narrowly missed out on a place on what follows, let's get started.

5. The Strokes - First Impressions of Earth

Arguably this was the most important album so far of The Strokes' career. Whilst the humongous amount of hype generated around Is This It more or less guaranteed the success of its successor, Room on Fire, there was a general sense that maybe the bubble had burst and people had replaced their love of the original art school renaissancers with many of the other bands that have emerged over the past two years. Not the case at all, as from the storming comeback single of 'Juicebox' last year it was evident that The Strokes had grown in confidence, taken their time and expanded their sound. This runs throughout the whole of this record since it sees the band experimenting with synthesisers ('Ask Me Anything'), heavier rock sounds ('Vision of Division') and even nodding towards The Pogues ('15 Minutes') and Franz Ferdinand ('On the Other Side'). However, it still retains those elements that have made The Strokes over the past two albums, such as the simple chord progression played with typical NY attitude on album opener 'You Only Live Once', the 80s synth-sounding guitar noise and Jules' trademark hurls. If anything, First Impressions is two tracks too long, with the band's trademark thirty minutes of music pushed towards three quarters of an hour, and resulting in a couple of tracks that could have been ommitted. Still, it proved why everyone went nuts about them in 2001 all over again.

High Points: 'Heart in a Cage' sounding like a cross between prog rock and Guns & Roses whilst rocking like a demon; Jules' drunken slurs on 'On the Other Side'; 'Electricityscape'.

4. The Bluetones - The Bluetones

A lot of people would probably be unaware that The Bluetones released an album this year, the lack of press attention they seem to attract these days. Some people may even be suprised to learn that they're still together. What this overlooks is that ten years after making, in my opinion, one of the greatest records ever recorded, they made its brother: an unashamedly British, jangly and harmonious guitar-pop record. It's a record that showcases the band at the best of their abilities, from their poetically polite, glass-gazing lyrics ('I had a purpose but I can't remember what' from 'Surrendered' exemplifying this well), to the usual high standard guitar riffing ('My Neighbour's House'), to the glorious vocal harmonies between the Brothers Morriss that exchange throughout, everything is literally in it's right place. What's more, despite the band's tendency for being slightly defeatest this is a wonderfully optimistic record, with tracks such as 'Hope and Jump' and 'The Last Song But One' offering positive outlooks and hope to either friends in need or the world is general. They even manage to take what could be deemed a bog-standard Indie strumalong and turn it in to something that builds to a triumphant climax on the ode-to-David Walliams' Channel Swimming that is 'Fade In/Fade Out'. If anything, this record suffers from the opposite of The Strokes, as you wish it was a couple of songs longer. Oh, and the Hammer Horror-esque keyboard on 'Head on a Spike' is pure Bluetones...

High Points - the polite submissiveness of 'Surrendered'; the mournful chello that sees out 'Thank You, Not Today'; the last minute and a half of 'Fade In/Fade Out'.

3. The Grates - Gravity Won't Get You High

Some music affects you. It can get under your skin, reflect the way you feel about somebody or the world in general and emotionally move you. Is this the sign of great music? Well, sometimes yes it is. However, sometimes you want to listen to something that rocks with a simplicity and innocence that makes you forget about the world. Sometimes, music should just be pure fun, and something that you just enjoy for the simplicity of what it is. Although there's much more to them, this is the core appeal of The Grates: a band that seem to have created and gleefully exist in this almost cartoon-esque world (for further evidence of this look no further than the huge cartoon giraffe that graces the album cover). It's impossible not to listen to a track like 'Trampoline', 'Science is Golden' or 'Inside Outside' and want to bounce around the room like a child high on fizzy drinks at a wedding. Similarly, it's hard not to taken in by the child-like charm of 'Lies Are Much More Fun' (with it's 'I'm gonna go like this to you' bridge) or the school music lesson delivery and use of instruments on 'Nothing Sir' and 'Little People'. However, what's fascinating about The Grates is the way this simplicity and innocence is contrasted with the darkness of the lyrics, which cover rejection ('19-20-20'), one night stands ('Howl', 'Trampoline', 'Seek Me') and even suicide ('Sukkafish'). Throw in to the mix the part-sulky, part-childlike, yet always engaging attitude of singer Patience's lyrical delivery and the heavy dose of knowing irony the band exhuberates, and you're left with a record that seems to baffle you as to what to make of it. And that's just them on record. The live experience works to perfectly underscore what's so fantastic, enjoyable and engaging about this band.

High Points: 'Science is Golden' - the best guitar punk-pop song ever written'; 'Inside Outside' and its coarse nursery rhyme style; the darkness of 'I am Siam' that closes the record, both baffling and exciting as to where they may be headed.

2. Roddy Woomble - My Secret is My Silence

It has been posed to me that Idlewild could record an album of avant-garde bleeps and noises, with no sense of melody, harmony or tone whatsoever and I would still proclaim it the record of the year. This is a somewhat harsh criticism I would say, countering such accusations with the idea that at the end of the day your favourite bands are your favourite bands for a reason: they write fantastic records. Anyways, when one of your favourite bands announces that they're going to take some time off whilst the singer releases a solo album of folk songs, many people may run away scared. When you see the sleeve of that album features every cliche you expect of folk music (beards, rural landscapes, excessive amounts of woollen clothing) then it may well set a few more alarm bells ringing. However, if you'd heard Idlewild's stupendous 2005 album Warnings/Promises and it's wondeful R.E.M. similarities you should well have been excited. Moreover, what this record did was confirm what I'd been trying to say for the past few years, that whilst Woomble remains the most enigmatic lyricist in Britain today, his songwriting partnership with Rod Jones is the most underrated currently in existence.

But what makes My Secret is My Silence so good? The answer to that has to be the sheer feeling it expresses, of growing up and living in a small, rural community where people's faces and expressions say more than the words they say. A place where the wind rustles through with a biting chill and the warmth you feel comes from being around the people around you. It is, in places, a terribly remote record, but it is also in many places a fantastically uplifting record because of the atmosphere it constructs and the feelings that arise out of it. Although written about rural places in Scotland, it's easy to relate to if you've come from somewhere small, or remote, or where life was once more rural and traditional.

High Points: 'As Still As I Watch Your Grave' - the song Idlewild never wrote; the title track and the beautifully haunting 'Act IV' coming one after the other to encapsulate the spirit of the album; 'Waverley Steps' and 'Play Me Something' epitomising the understated positivity of the record.

1. Keane - Under the Iron Sea

It's well documented that when bands come close to falling apart they make the best music. An immediate frame of reference for this would be R.E.M.'s 1998 masterpiece Up, which was made as the band tried to adjust to being a trio and almost went under because of it. However, what they ended up producing was an album that more than stands out from their exceptional back catalogue. When Keane emerged from the studio midway through the year with talks about infighting and arguments, my immediate reaction was 'Yeah, right'. 2004's Hopes and Fears was a good record, but 'Bedshaped' aside it seemed to lack that extra kick that would really make you sit up and take notice. If anything they seemed in danger of becoming 'another Travis', by which I mean a band that were radio-friendly but seemed just too darn 'nice'.

How wrong was I, for Under the Iron Sea is a phenomenal piece of work unequaled by anything I've heard either this year or, in all honesty, I've heard for a good few years. What makes it so good? Well partly it's the way in which it all coheres as a record, creating a fairytale-esque atmosphere that runs through it and identifiable in the artwork and the strange piano sounds that appear throughout. It's an album of mystical and mythical tones, of aquatic subterranean angels, towering cathedrals, crystal balls and frog princes. It's also an album of great longing and hurt that manages somehow to get through it all and end in a truly joyous, uplifting manner.

Thus, Under the Iron Sea represents something of a journey for the listener and this travelogue notion, and atmosphere, is evident from the opening line of 'Atlantic' which, after some eerie, floating piano and swirling synth sounds, begins by proclaiming "I hope all my days will be lit by your face" (probably the best opening line to an album since The Bluetones opened with "I don't have to be feeling down to speak with you" a decade ago) and is supported by the equally eerie 'The Iron Sea' at the album's midpoint. 'Is It Any Wonder?' is something of a bitter tirade about losing a sense of who you are, and this train of thought recurs regularly such as 'A Bad Dream' proclaiming that "I don't even know my strange old face", "Leaving So Soon?" identifying that "I can't turn it on and turn it off like you now as I'm not like you now" and brought to a peak with 'Crystal Ball' and it's bitingly honest middle section.

It's hard, and slightly unfair, to drag one track out as the key song on this record, but it's equally hard to simply overlook 'Hamburg Song' in the middle of all of this despair, since from the initial lonely organ accompaniment onwards it's something of a masterpiece. It's a little ray of light and hope amongst waves of confusion and loss that is hard to express in words. After 'Try Again' has literally ached with loss for an ex-lover (I don't know if it's possible for a piece of music to ache, but if it could it would sound like this), the ray of light identifiable in 'Hamburg Song' finally finds itself realised in the most triumphant, euphoric manner with album closer 'The Frog Prince'. This closing track, drawing its imagery directly from fairytales, leaves you with the impression that after this emotional journey, it's the simple things in life that should be treasured and that through simplicity one achieves beauty, that we should strip away the context that we as individuals inevitably feed into our lives, and celebrate and view things at a simpler level by appreciating things for what they are. Rarely has sorrow ever sounded so beautiful, and rarely has getting out of it sounded so euphoric.

In a year of great music, this record was head and shoulders above the competition.

Saturday, December 09, 2006

"The Great Journey of Life continues"

Hello, Dear Reader. How are you? So it's been a while since our paths crossed and I hope that all is well in your field. The reasons for our avoidance? Well, that can be boiled down to the fact that I'm trying to do three things at once presently (PhD, seminar teaching, work for Disney) I have very little free time. I've not even had the chance to begin to appreciate the wealth of Cult TV I received for my birthday. Ah, I look forward to a few days engaging with these programmes over a whiskey and lime. Nice.

Anyways, below are some photos of my travels and escapades over the last few months. I hope you enjoy them. If not then that's fair enough. There were supposed to be a couple of Kieran included here, but due to her request they have been excluded. Instead you get the usual photo of Newton Abbot clock tower, just without the tale concerning the Portreath of Newton Abbot, as I'm sure you've heard that enough times by now. Ages ago, I was going to heavily criticise the NME's 'Cool List' for the forthcoming year, but as I could only think of about five people I'd put on such a list I didn't bother. If anyone is really that interested, I can impart that information, but it's not that important in the grand scale of space and time.



The Grates playing live @ Cardiff Barfly. Needless to say, they were fantastic.


Patience from The Grates. The coolest woman in rock.


Meeting Alana and Patience from The Grates after they'd played in the Barfly, and looking rather pleased about it.


Ed attempts to impersonate Kenneth Williams. It's still not as good as my Don Corleone. Or Sean Connery. Or Ali Campbell. However, I now get violently attacked for doing these impressions when in the company of this man.


C-Rod after one too many Magners. I think by this point the conversation had passed on to some rather coarse subject matters.


Newton Abbot Clocktower. I expect they've closed that branch of the Alliance and Leicester by now, and don't ask what's probably become of that woman...


Tom, Laura and Kaz.


Enjoying a night out with Kaz and Tom. I honestly can't remember how long it'd been since I saw them both but it was, as usual, a pleasure.


Darren does his best impression of Elvis.


A manly hug from The D.A.Z. on my birthday. We went to an Italian restaurant that was run by a stereotypical Italian chap. I think he thought we were famous for some reason.

Tuesday, November 21, 2006

"Apathetic Bloody Planet"

I was going to write a blog tonite, but the truth is I'm too tired and not feeling witty/profound/pretentious/angry/fannish enough to talk about anything of any great consequence, and as there's no-one on Messenger or MySpace to annoy whilst doing it, as much as I enjoy the company of iTunes, I'm gonna go and watch Twin Peaks.

As Agent Cooper says, you should give yourself a present at least once a day.

Thursday, November 09, 2006

Thank You, America

The title of this post isn't meant as a direct allusion to an Alanis Morissette song. The truth is I can't stand that Thank You track (you know the one, in the video she's stood naked in Times Square as a load of traffic buzzes around whilst she see's how many long words she can fit into a song). Nonetheless, my thanks go out to the people of America who, perhaps, have finally seen the light. When The Idiot stole the election in 2000 I didn't, to be honest, know much about what was going on. I was too young to remember any of the other US presidents, but I do remember that during my teenage years I became an admirer of America not only because one of my personal heroes, Michael Stipe, came from there and always had something interesting and unexpected to say (usually regarding American politics), but because the place really did seem like somewhere to aspire towards. OK, so I'm now just beginning to learn that life under Clintion was still no bed of roses (and some of his military decisions such as those related to Kosovo were questionable to say the least), but during that time there was always a sense of dignity projected about the place (if we overlook the Lewinsky affair, that is).

When 9/11 happened, it scared the hell out of me. However, over the ensuing years what really came to scare me when I started to learn about what was going on was that America had somehow allowed some backwards, red-neck Idiot firstly buy and the bully his way into power. To me, it was the equivalent of putting a character from Sesame Street in power, although that's an insult to Cookie Monster and Count Von Count. Then in 2004, after a holiday where I became fascinated with the election build up and it's coverage on US CNN (believe me, if you've never seen US CNN I can't recommend it highly enough, it really is so horrid that you have to keep watching. I wonder if 'Anderson Cooper 360' is still running...), I was so sure that The Idiot wouldn't get a second term I was literally bowled over when he got back in. I was almost physically sick when I heard the news.

So now, I offer my thanks to the American public for seeing the light and weaking the grip of The Idiot from power. Hopefully these next two years will work as an example of how American society can get itself back on its feet and actually benefit those least fortunate, so that scenes like those evidenced in New Orleans will not be seen again (I realise this is an impossibility due to the imbalance of global power and the poverty of the Third World, but you would at least think that in the alleged 'most developed country in the world' such images would never appear); that innocent people won't be sent on a war to settle a grudge that dates back to The Idiot's Father and the early Nineties, and that innocent people in occupied countries may stop dying as a result of this so-called 'war'; that the American education system may wake up once more and realise that Evolutionary Theory and scientific fact are widely revered for a reason, and that the whole of Enlightenment thought wasn't for nothing; that people deserve a minimum wage which allows them to live above the poverty line, and that stem cell research does not involve growing clones of people.

I hope in time America will look back at The Legacy of The Idiot and try and work out how it ended up in the mess it presently is, as probably the most disliked nation in the history of the world. Then again, in a world where David Hasselhoff is voted 'The Most Popular Man on the Planet', perhaps we should all adopt the approach of Germaine Greer and just call everything rubbish.

CyberControl's Top 5 Post US Mid-Term Election Songs:

CSS - Alala
The Grates - 19-20-20
The Bluetones - Surrendered
R.E.M. - Radio Free Europe
The Long Blondes - Once and Never Again

Wednesday, November 01, 2006

Resurrecting Your Cult Icon

So, Dear Reader, where to start. Should I apologise that I've not written anything here for ages? Possibly, after all I did promise last time a full celebration of a certain Keane record. This, however , is not that review. The reasoning for that is that I've come out of the place I was in where I spent the weekend listening to said record and to review it in my current mood wouldn't do justice to the record's subtle nuances. Fear not though, as soon as I get in that place again such an article shall appear, as the strength of the album doesn't suddenly wither away. In all honesty, there's one song on Under the Iron Sea that is very important to me at the moment, but again there'll be more of a reasoning behind that when I get around to it.

Skirting around apologies for not posting, the truth is I've been really rather busy at the moment. PhD life means that there's always a lot to be reading, thinking about and discussing. Outside of work I have been busy, and a brief summary of this would be: saw the Cooper Temple Clause in Cardiff Union and they're still wonderfully snarly; almost killed by being pushed out in the middle of the road by a 'friend' whilst down at Cardiff Bay; enjoyed a very silly meal out with some friends (the meal itself wasn't silly, the conversation was completely off the wall though); discovered the wonders of decent Earl Grey and/or Darjeeling tea; fiddled around with (and was visibly in awe of) the life-size Cyberman voice-changer helmet; refined my PhD idea so that it's more or less what I want it to be; went to see The Grates support The Young Knives; met Patience and Alana from The Grates (the former is thoroughly lovely, the latter being really cool and friendly) and was so blown away from the experience that I couldn't tell you what The Young Knives were like; spent a week trying to rationalise how exactly in four months The Grates have become my favourite band; enjoyed Torchwood; been thoroughly skint; had a wonderful Eighties-twinged night out with one of my closest friends; joined the local committee regarding climate change; been told I'm something of a cult icon to my closest friends; suffered from god-awful Man Flu (seriously, I thought it was Meningitis at one point); thrown a successful, yet rather sketchy and heavily ironic Halloween party; rejoiced in Doctor Who's second triumphant year at the National Television Awards.

So that's the past then, what of the future? What does that hold? Well, hopefully some photos of some of the above-mentioned events; the more than welcome reunion with Ed, Kieran, TJ, Laura and Karen in Cardiff; starting a new job working for The Disney Store (don't laugh, I can't stop doing so myself); more Torchwood; papers to write and presentations to give for my PhD, and probably a good deal more random silliness at any given moment. Am I in a good place at the moment? Well, it's not quite the post-Grates high, but it'll do. There are other places I would possibly like to be, but they're completely unachievable for one reason or another. Oh, and I seem to be getting more and more intrigued by the music of Sigur Ros, it's just very expressive sonically. I promise the next post will be less 'me me me', Dear Reader. This has been a little egocentric. Finally, we'll end with an old classic:

CyberControl's Top 5 Mind-Bogglingly Amazing Albums That Make You Not Want To Buy Another Record for the Next Fifty Years:

The Grates - Gravity Won't Get You High
Keane - Under The Iron Sea
The Bluetones - The Bluetones
The Cooper Temple Clause - See This Through and Leave
Interpol - Turn On The Bright Lights

Sunday, October 08, 2006

Brief, but More to Follow

Ladies and Gentlemen, after spending a weekend in its company I feel I have to take this opportunity to let you know how wonderfully brilliant Keane's Under The Iron Sea album is. I'm going to provide a full justification for this shortly, but it really is perfect. Watch this space...

Tuesday, October 03, 2006

Equalisers, Indecision, and Stagnance

Well, what a difference a couple of minutes can make to your general state of being. A few moments ago,this post was going to begin with a doom-laden moan about how my beloved Exeter City were never going to get out of the Conference after losing at (one of my mortal enemies) Grays Athletic. Why are Grays Athletic mortal enemies of mine? Well, first of all they're from Essex, so that immediately puts them on the backfoot. Then there's the small fact that they beat us three times last season. Then add in the fact that they've an ex-Torquay United goalkeeper and they really don't have a lot going for them. However, as with the Stevenage game earlier in the season, Billy Jones' last gasp equaliser has completely changed my outlook. So stick that in your shopping centre-sized pipe and smoke it, Grays supporters!

Right, footy banter over and done with, on to more serious issues. The truth is, Dear Reader, I don't really know what to talk to you about as there seems to be so much I could talk about, and yet at the same time there's so little. The problem is I've been spreading myself a little thin by blogging here and on MySpace. As a result you either have to come up with two sets of mind-bogglingly brilliant observations on a weekly basis, or post the same thing there and here thus appearing as not having enough original ideas. However, MySpace appears to me to be too full of people being cool and striking Indie postures for me to be a little geeky and discuss things Who related at great length, such as the news that Mavis from Coronation Street is going to be in Season Three. Bizzare! I wonder if they could get Derek, with his paper-clip topped van, to appear as well? That'd be immensely cool. Oh, and the esteemed Mr. Mark Gatiss has moved from being a writer for the series to being an actor in the series. Surely that, however, was only a matter of time. Oh, and how rubbish was the finale to Season Two of Lost?

I could further discuss Season Three, but I like the way the production team is keeping its cards closer to its chest this time around. I could discuss that I'm rewatching all of Season Two at present, and enjoying it a lot more second time around. I could discuss how things are going in Cardiff, the fact that everyone here is really friendly, approachable and are probably some of the most inspiring and fascinating people I've ever met. I could equally write an appraisal of one of the four brilliant albums that have taken up residence in my CD player, but I can't choose which one to discuss first. I'm tempted to discuss the forthcoming DVD release of the last Tom Baker stories/first Peter Davison stories, but that really does require a full post in itself.

Instead, I'm going to focus on an article I found online yesterday concerning the best songs to play at an Indie club night. I have to say I found the list rather unoriginal and tiresome. The top-rated song was the bloody Arctic Monkeys (surprise surprise), and whilst 'Mr. Brightside' rightly came in second, the rest of the list was your usual suspects, such as the bloody awful Kooks and the song that, if you believe most people, saved British music from whatever it was doing previously, 'I Predict a Riot'. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised by the songs on the list, but my attitude to DJing was to try and play some new stuff mixed in with older, lesser heard songs so as to give people a little bit of range and open their eyes to stuff that's been overlooked by the histories constructed by the NME. The point I'm trying to make is that if you keep to the 'established classics' then every single night you go to becomes pretty much the same, just in different surroundings. Despite the attempts to differentiate the nights in Cardiff, they're all basically an ironic name (either lifted from a cult film character or a popular song) that plays the same stuff in a different order. And if you go along to too many of them you get the impression that the Indie scene is becoming stagnant and begin to lose interest in it. So, Dear Readers, I'd ask people to be brave, take a risk, and play some forgotten classic/overlooked anthem/something you like and no-one else does. You never know, you might get some eejit like me come and congratulate you or enquire as to who it is you're playing, thus opening their eyes to a new favourite band.

CyberControl's Top 5 Anthems from the Undergraduate Days

Queens of the Stone Age - No One Knows
The Coral - Dreaming of You
The Primitives - Crash
The Cooper Temple Clause - Panzer Attack
The Libertines - Up the Bracket

Wednesday, September 27, 2006

Forever Blue

The Bluetones, Cardiff Barfly, 22nd September

Ten years ago a record was released that, despite debuting at Number One in the album charts, remains criminally overlooked in both discussions of the Britpop era and recent British music history. Cruely dismissed upon release as being 'sub-Stone Roses', at a time when The Stone Roses had taken about five years to decide that a) they thought they could be Led Zeppelin and b) they all hated each others guts, this record featured a picture of that eternally flightless bird, the peacock, on it's front cover: an image that captured the tone of the whole album. It was an album for all those who didn't get the girl, those who couldn't find the right words to say to that girl, those who had been trodden on by the world (including those closest to them) and were quietly, poetically, plotting their revenge despite knowing that they'd never get it. It was an album for those who didn't want to pretend they were a cockney, who didn't have the wit and irony to celebrate and criticise the culture they found themselves in, and who had grown tired of the bickering, drug-taking Gallaghers, partly hollowed by realising that there was no meaning behind what a 'Champagne Supernova' actually was. It was a record for the nervy guy in the corner who was liked but never deemed that important. Nonetheless, this was a record of hope, as encapsulated by it's title, 'Expecting to Fly', captured perfectly in that front cover image image, and transmitted through the lyrics and music.

It's now ten years since that record, and whilst all the other bands mentioned above have either come and gone, disappeared up their own artistic anal passages, or become comedic parodies of themselves, The Bluetones remain. They never conquered the world, they never sold millions of records. In short, they became that image that graced their debut album sleeve: an animal that, despite it's aspirations otherwise, is often forgotten although fondly recalled, and never soared to the heights that perhaps it'd imagined.

What they did get was a dedicated fanbase. This is demonstrated by the sold-out audience of devoted followers of the Blue Army gathered together on this bright-yet-cold Cardiff evening, who are treated to a run through of a the old classics ('Slight Return', 'Soloman Bites the Worm), fan favourites ('The Fountainhead') and slightly obscure B-Sides ('Blue') mixed with new material from their forthcoming album, simply entitled The Bluetones. Does everyone enjoy it? Hell yes! Whilst the biggest cheers are reserved for the hits, all material is well recieved and the band clearly enjoy being back together and playing live again. What is remarkable about The Bluetones is how little they seem to have aged over the past ten years, for whilst Scott has grown himself a beard, and Eds has lost a bit of hair, Mark and Adam still look as fresh-faced as they did when they could still get in the pages of the NME.

The new material demonstrates a return to their jangly, reflective, early work, with 'Surrendered' demonstrating this well, whilst new single 'My Neighbour's House' is a tour de force through harmonious, melodic indie-pop. We get the usual random facts attached to certain songs that we've come to expect over the years ('Slight Return' is introduced as being 'the cabbies favourite'), and it all rounds off with the kind of song that sums up The Bluetones' career, 'If...'. With every new album you momentarily wonder 'if' this is going to finally be the time that it all clicks for them. However, part of you melancholically realises that, deep down, they're forever going to remain as grounded, and yet loved, as that flightless bird. Hopefully though, they'll still be around in another ten years though.

Thursday, September 21, 2006

V for the Future

And so, it's now time to draw our quadrology to a close. Despite what you might think, that last post was not meant to be the glorious conclusion. It was instead getting something out of my head that had been lodged in their for a good few days, and aside from going outisde and shouting it out or writing it on my wall in some form I couldn't think of a better way to let it out. Bit like an annoying itch that needs a scratch. Still, it allowed for me to celebrate how great Idlewild are at putting their finger on abstract feelings once more.

The truth is, I'm not really sure how to bring our quadrology to a satisfying conclusion. It could end up like 'The Caves of Androzani', then again it could end up like 'Planet of the Spiders' (Obscure Who-related reference). Eitherways, all the things that could possibly be talked about, such as getting drunk in the back of a Ford Fiesta, kidnappings, inappropriate comments, faux-Led Zeppelin songs called 'Get Yr Arm In, Hairy Woman', and so on, seem both a little old and a little idiosynchratic: the kind of jokes that were hilariously funny at the time but when you try and explain them to other people just come across as a little lame. As a result, we're not looking backwards this time, but instead looking to the future with a sense of optimism and hope, which is always important. There'll always be the memory of a weekend in Stafford, followed by some days in Teignmouth, Newton Abbot and Exeter that won't be forgotten easily.

It's been a good week. Still quite busy as there has been a lot to catch up on that got pushed aside what with finshing my Masters dissertation. As a result, I feel as though I could do with an extra week before this whole PhD malarky starts up on Monday. Nonetheless, I'm getting a real sense of 'returning home' just walking around the Bute building once more and the fellow postgrad students all seem cool. I still can't get my head around the fact that I'm actually going to achieve what I always set out to, as that's a little freaky. I suppose in that respect it's better that I've not had much time to let this all sink in as it may confuse me further.

So, to the future, Dear Readers! If I had a glass of wine handy I'd propose a toast, but it's still a little early in the evening for that. Let's hope that the next three years are as much fun as the last three at Cardiff Uni were.

CyberControl's Top 5 Songs for the Start of a New Adventure:

Gomez - 78 Stone Wobble
Idlewild - A Modern Way of Letting Go
The Grates - Sukkafish
The Bluetones - My Neighbour's House
R.E.M. - Gardening at Night

Wednesday, September 20, 2006

A Statement

"If I know, what I know,
Losing isn't learning to be lost.
It's learning to know when you've lost."

(Idlewild, A Modern Way of Letting Go, 2002)

Right. Glad I've got that out of my system. That lyric has been running around my head for about the past five days and I've been wanting to make it explicit. So there we are. It's out there now. Make of it what you will.

Monday, September 18, 2006

V for Visual


Craig, Stu and Myself sat in my tent on Saturday morning, awaiting the beginning of the V Festival. As you can note, everyone was very happy at this point in space and time.

And, despite the rain, all the smiles remained as the party made their way into the arena for a weekend of musical frivalties


Evidence of the Glow Sticks! Unfortunately, due to the lack of a substantial dance tent there was no chance to properly throw some shapes, but nonetheless this is Stu enjoying The Grates with some glow sticks.


Feeding Time (Lord)


A photograph taken during the aforementioned Barbeque Incident. I think it's important enough to warrant capitalisation now, Dear Readers. It was that much of an abomination.


Keane doing a very good job at being the best band of the whole weekend. I can't remember which song they're playing here...


...however, this was them definately playing 'Try Again' as, from memory, this was the only song they played where Tom played the piano as well. I think...


This is Beck playing on the Main Stage on Sunday. Unfortunately these photos are the only decent ones I have of bands playing at the festival, as I was too far back to get decent shots of people such as The Grates, Rufus Wainwright and The Beautiful South. Ah, the problems of using disposable cameras!


Three weary travellers awaiting to depart on the Monday morning. Note how the tone of the body language has drastically altered from the jovial looks of everyone seen earlier. It seems as though eye contact can barely be made between all members of the party.


"Hello. I'd like to talk to you about The Conservative Party."
This, Dear Readers, is the visualisation of an ongoing joke about Conservative Politicans. My Dad thinks its a work of comedy genius, but I think he's being a little over the top. It's supposed to be an impression of David Cameron.


David Cameron visits The Ness in Teignmouth. Unfortunately, it's not The Family Ness, as that would be cool, but they've not been spotted in Devon since the mid-1980s when a group of disgruntled fishermen attempted to sell them at the local fish market.


To fully appreciate this joke, you have to be familiar with the picture that adorned Morrissey's last single, which saw the singer looking disgusted at an ice cream. This, is a rather half-hearted attempt to recapture that image.


The pavement near the seafront in Teignmouth, accompanied by Craig's trainer. What a dedicated follower of foot fashion that man is!


I thought this man was dead. Instead, it turns out he works in a rather salubrious pub in Teignmouth that used to be frequented by Muse and looks like he should be in Metallica. Wierd.


Newton Abbot Clock Tower, looking quite picturesque in the early morning sunlight. It's not like that come the night, as there's usually some tramps and people having drank too much hanging around it. However, I did once meet the Portreath of Newton Abbot outside of the Clock Tower. Now, I never realised Newton Abbot had a Portreath and was quite impressed, continuing to ask him how one became the Portreath of Newton Abbot, which he duly explained. When I asked him if he'd ever been to Castrovalva, he looked very confused and walked away.


And finally, my Dearest Mother. Quite what she's looking so pleased about is beyond me but she'll be astounded there's a photo of her on the Internet. Good old Mumsy.

Monday, September 04, 2006

V for Very Good

So here we are. Not only is that a nice foreshadowing of comments to come but it also marks a certain frankness to this post, which is supposed to be the sequel to the last, and hence the second installment of our quadrology. Now the law of sequels states either you have to build on and develop the narrative universe in new and exciting ways, developing character and so on, or that you throw a load more money at it, increasing the scope and explosions but losing the heart of the original and making everyone forget how good it was in the first place. Judge for yourself, Dear Readers, where this one falls.

Let's be honest though, the last post went on for a bit and whilst it was nice to review all of the artists it may have been better to have just offered the edited highlights. As a result, that's what you'll get this time. Sunday brought some much needed hilarity to the non-music proceedings, due to the rain dampening the spirits of all involved. This hilarity emerged in the form of the worst attempt at a barbeque I've ever had the pleasure to witness. Not only was said barbeque supposed to demonstrate that a pizza could be cooked in such a manner, but it was also supposed to demonstrate the ability of other foods suitability to barbequing, including amongst others pitta breads and cereal bars. In honesty, it was the biggest shambolic embarassment I've ever seen as one of the party (and I'm not gonna name names as I feel they should escape with at least a little dignity) attempted two pitta breads stuffed with marshmallows (only for one to end up on the grass) and one cereal bar were placed on said cooking implement. When these failed, said individual lost interest and then seem astounded that you could barbeque a sausage roll. Sometimes, Dear Readers, words fail me...

On to the music, and Sunday brought high expectations due to the quality of the bands playing on the Main Stage. Before that could happen though, there was enough time to be re-aquainted with KULA SHAKER who were making a welcome return after their unexpected split in 1999. There's something immensely satisfying about hearing songs you loved when you were growing up, such as 'Tattva' and 'Hey Dude', again, and although their new material was solid and typically them, the biggest cheers were reserved for the old classics.

The rest of the day was spent camped out in front of the Main Stage for various bands. THE MAGIC NUMBERS were pleasent enough if rather twee and forgetable, whilst BLOC PARTY did their utmost best to prove why everybody has been quietly going crazy about them. Intriguing guitar work? Check. Nervy, edgy lyrics displaying a sense of modern paranoia? Check. Great stage presence? Check, and whilst the material from last album Silent Alarm was best recieved by the crowd, new song 'Waiting for the 7:18' - written about experiencing the London bombings last July - displayed a level of poignancy as it covered such communter habits as escaping to Brighton for the weekend. In short, the song proved a touching and harrowing experience at the same time. Probably why they played it first.

The came KEANE, and they blew the socks off me. In all honesty I wasn't expecting them to be the best band of the weekend. Not because they're not a good band, but given the piano-led nature of their stuff, and the other bands playing, they didn't jump out at me as much as some of the other acts. How wrong I was, as they were truly fantastic. Playing a set that mixed the hits from Hopes and Fears with most of the new album, Under the Iron Sea, the undoubted highlight was soaring ballad 'Try Again', for whilst the biggest cheers were reserved for the singles, this song was performed with such intensity it was captivating. A number of people also seemed to have new single 'Crystal Ball' lodged in their head afterwards as well, judging by the amount of melodic humming that followed their performance.

Next up was BECK, complete with puppets and the usual array of innovative strangeness that comes to be expected from one of his live shows: songs start, stop, mould into others, get played in different ways and the general sense is that this is organised chaos at its best. The set consisted mainly of material from last year's (great) Guero album, but added in the expected classics ('Devil's Haircut, 'Where it's At) and a few newies to keep everyone interested. The wierdest moment of the festival had to be the performance of 'Clap Hands' however, which consisted of Beck singing, whilst his band sat around a dining table playing the accompanying precussion on cutlery and glasses of water.

After three great performances, surely it was time for RADIOHEAD to lay waste to everyone else and reaffirm their status as the greatest band, and live act, around at the moment. You would think so, but unfortunately there was something distinctly workman-like about their performance. Whilst in no ways bad, it just lacked something to kick it off. The largely 'Greatest Hits' set gave a feeling that the band were simply going through the motions and, whilst the stuff off The Bends and OK Computer is always warmly recieved, the relative lack of stuff from (in my opinion the most interesting record ever recorded) Kid A was disappointing. Sure, when songs from this album appeared it was great: 'National Anthem' was suitably chaotic, 'Idioteque' as fascinatingly cold as it is on record, and 'Everything In It's Right Place' reaffirming its place as their most enigmatic (and best) song. One thing that was strangely comforting about Radiohead's performance was that, between the end of the main set and the first encore, the entire crowd broke into a simultaneous chorus of 'For a minute there, I lost myself' as though it was some form of national anthem, confirming the general sense of anomie existing in these times. This may be Yours Truly reading too much into a chance occurance, Dear Reader, but it gave me a strange feeling of being part of something and yet totally isolated at the same time. If only they'd have played 'Let Down'...

And so, CyberControl's Top 5 Bands (and songs) of the Festival were:

1. Keane (Try Again)
2. The Grates (Inside Outside)
3. Rufus Wainwright (Hallelujah)
4. Bloc Party (Waiting for the 7:18)
5. Radiohead (Everything In It's Right Place)

Right, enough of the music, now time for the pictures!

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

V For Vitality, Virtuoso and Valiant

"In an interstellar burst, I am back to save the Universe"
(Radiohead, 1997)

A rather bald statement to make, Dear Readers, but fear not as service has now been resumed. What shall then follow over the next few days is a review in four parts. A quadrology if you like. And, like the Alien quadrology, the first two will probably be excellent, the third thoroughly depressing, and the final installment a little bonkers and all over the place. Or maybe not. This has been my experience of the last two weeks, ranging from feelings of slight mania and recurring jokes about Germaine Greer, David Cameron and Morrissey through to feelings of uselessness, introspective self-reflection and the questioning of your own sanity. In short, it's been the usual emotional rollercoaster a trip to Devon usually brings about. And yes, there's even photographic evidence to support it.

So we begin with the V Festival that took place over the weekend of August the 19th in Weston Park, Staffordshire, although if you'd have read any of the reviews or watched any of the television coverage you'd have been forgiven for believing that it only took place in Essex. Anyways, the trip up to V can largely be forgotten, aside from noting that spending twelve hours in the confines of a Ford Fiesta is enough to send Yours Truly thoroughly out of his tree (you see Dear Readers, I started questioning my sanity within a day of being back associated with the West Country). I don't know if you've ever seen the classic episode of One Foot in the Grave entitled 'The Beast in the Cage', where Victor Meldrew ends up stuck in a Bank Holiday traffic jam on the Motorway, but that is the immediate reference point. At one point I was willing to recreate R.E.M.'s Everybody Hurts video and just abandon the car and walk off across the neighbouring fields. I still think the reasoning for this comes from over-exposure to such 'classic' songs as Paul McCartney's Mull of Kintyre (in my opinion, the worst song ever recorded) and The Frog Chorus.

Anyways, after pitching a tent in the dark and the rain on Friday night, Saturday brought the expectation of watching some bands, even though the main acts to be looking forward to were playing the next day. The continuing rain meant spending the entire weekend in Wellys (and, if I don't mind saying, looking terribly nonchalant with it), and a continual threat of downpores to dampen the spirits. This luckily was not to be the case. The music began in light drizzle over on The Other Stage with a band called KEITH. Keith is a terrible name for a band. It's the kind of name you give to a comedic old guy in a sitcom (or maybe that's just my love of the dark genius of Marion and Geoff?). Keith (the band) had won a competiton on Channel 4 to open the festival this day and their lack of experience and nervousness duly shone through. Too many times their drummer resorted to bashing the hell out of some cow bells, or the singer swearing and encouraging the crowd, whilst their songs, although pleasent and energetic, were ultimately forgetable.

It was then time to drag my compadres into the Carling Union Tent to witness my New Favourite Band (TM), THE GRATES. In short, they're absolutely fantastic. An Australian three-piece consisting of guitar, drums and vocals, their very line-up reminds you of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. The key difference being the delivery since they lack all the New York art school posturing and agonising necessity to be insanely stylish and cool. Instead, they have an irresistable charm and innocence, which hides a much darker, coarse subtext in most of their songs, and in singer Patience they've an undisputed star in the making. She throws herself around the stage with such joyous enthusiasm that you can't help but be sucked into their world. The set showcased their album 'Gravity Won't Get You High' well, with my personal faves 'Inside Outside', 'Science is Golden' and '19 20 20' being saved for the end.

With a broad smile on my face, and some rather tasty food in hand, it was time to make the journey back out into the rain towards the main stage to take in THE DANDY WARHOLS. In short, the Dandys are everything The Grates are not. They swagger on stage, ignoring both each other and the crowd, start playing their instruments at different times and gradually come together to start playing a song. In honesty, the set is peppered with such recognisable tunes as 'Get Off' and the crowd-pleasing 'Bohemian Like You', but the can't-be-assed delivery, lack of energy and 'How long have we got left?' comment before set closer 'Boys Better' ultimately produce a distance between the band and the audience.

The SUGABABES appear onstage polished, in more than just the vocal department, pleasing the crowd with a few hits but before too long its back into the dry confines of the Union to witness JIM NOIR, an upcoming singer-songwriter in the Badly Drawn Boy quirkiness style. Noir appears on stage with his band, accompanied by a selection of lamps and garden Gnomes, singing songs about losing your football, computers, and playing music in the key of C. It's an entertaining, pleasent and melodic thirty minutes that culminates in recent single (featuring a video with a man taking on a 10ft fall chicken) My Patch that gets the whole crowd singing along.

Back out into the rain then to witness a band I thought I knew nothing about, DELAYS, on the other stage. One of the best things about a festival is introducing, or being introduced to, great bands by your mates and this was a case of that. A good few times their melodic harmonies and sunshine-drenced synths make you forget that you're stood in the pooring rain, whilst other songs suggest a darker, more epic, U2-esque feel to some of their new material. All this whilst accompanied by some spot-on falsetto vocals from the singer. Although the crowd were most behind recognised hits such as Long Time Coming and Nearer than Heaven, the other material proved popular hinting at a gathering fanbase for the Southampton band.

Over on the main stage, HARD-FI seem to be throwing the rock and roll kitchen sink at the audience to underline how great and down to earth they are. Truth is they're neither. Singer Richard flits between cliche (regularly telling us he 'doen't believing how great this weekend is'), appeals to being 'like the audience' (tedious reminders that they also used to work in unsatisfying jobs), and entries from the F**k Dictionary liberally to underline how horrid they actually are. Seen as though I only caught the last four songs, and three of them were their hit singles, the rest of the set must have been something dreadful as what I witnessed was crap.

There's something about being at a festival that, in my experience anyways, means you end up hankering for a bit of nostalgia in the late afternoon/early evening period. It seems that just as everyone else is preparing for the evening's acts to raise the bar a bit further, I end up requiring something secure and dependable, and what with all these new acts I'd exposed myself to over the course of the day, the chance to see GOMEZ was more than endearing. That and the fact they were playing in the indoor JJB Arena, rather than being stood out in the (incresasingly cold) rain. Now Gomez are a dependable live act. I've seen them three times now, and they've never disappointed. If anything, the sizeable crowd, the reaction they recieved, and their obvious disappointment at only being given forty minutes to play, meant they should have been on later and for longer somewhere else. Having said that, the reason that they're such a dependable bet is because a) they're great musicians that obviously enjoy playing together live and b) they like a bit of a party. Despite the unfamiliarity of their new material, it was warmly recieved by the crowd, the classics never disappoint with Whipping Piccadilly firmly documenting that great feeling you get when you do something totally random like jump on a train and see where it takes you.

Remaining in the cover of the JJB Arena, it was time for the crowd to suddenly age a good few years as THE BEAUTIFUL SOUTH emerged to a thoroughly warm reception. Unfortunately, the popular opinion of Hull's Second Finest Band these days is that their a bit old and a bit dull. True, their new material has been a bit patchy as of late but that hides the fact that they've got one of the most intellegent, biting, yet poignant lyricists this country has ever produced in Paul Heaton. What's more, the crowd seem to lap up his presence, constantly chanting his name and hanging off his every word. The set wisely consists mainly of their best known material, but the presence of fan fave 36D (the song that says more about contemporary feminism a lot better than anything Germaine Greer could ever come up with) is more than welcome. Elsewhere, Don't Marry Her provides a welcome bit of tongue-in-cheek humour and You Keep It All In is greeted rapturously. Shame there was no Song For Whoever, but a great time was had by all.

RUFUS WAINWRIGHT. Does that name mean anything to you, Dear Reader? Aside from his sister's hauntingly beautiful duet on the new Snow Patrol record, and a rather hazy recollection of one of his album's being reviewed on Newsnight Review, I knew nothing. When his equiptment, consisting of a piano and an acoustic guitar, was set up I didn't know what to expect. What was experienced was the most mesmerising display I've ever had the privilege to witness. For one guy to hold the stage with such presence for fifty (too short) minutes was amazing, and whilst I knew none of his material I was at convicned by the end that I needed to hear more. Midway through he covered Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah and I, like a lot of people, thought no-one would ever match the haunting quality Jeff Buckley's version captures. I always liked to be proved wrong, however, for this was a very special, intimate performance.

So it was time for the evening's headline act to be seen, and whilst Morrissey flounced around in his typically airy, self-deprecating manner on the Main Stage, and Razorlight turned the arrogance levels up to eleven elsewhere, the promise of some snarling, raw anger and the best frontman in contemporary music proved too much of a draw. However, THE COOPER TEMPLE CLAUSE were victims of problems from the word 'Go' tonight. Gordon Strachan once said about a humiliating Celtic defeat in Bulgaria that death would be easier than that particular night, and unfortunately that same analogy would apply to the Coopers tonight. Their set was delayed by the previous band over-running. It took an age to set up their trademark wall of electronic equiptment. When the intro music (sounding suspicously like the intro to personal fave New Toys) jammed the signs weren't good. Then the wall of electronics shorted out mid-song leaving them stranded and having to wing the set. The Same Mistakes was started and then abandoned about thirty seconds later as the bass gave up. In honesty, it was testament to the band's resolve that they didn't just walk off and abandon it. Many other's would have. Still we were treated to new material in the shape of Damage, Head and Homosapien which all displayed their trademark snarl. And the sight of lead singer Ben Gautry stood perfectly still, illuminated by a single low red light, brooding in a mix of intensity, passion and anger as he sings is worth the problems since his vocals (and their delivery) literaly ooze authenticity. It was just a real shame that all the other elements were against Team Cooper tonight.

Tuesday, August 15, 2006

A Silence Falls

Just to quickly let you know, Dear Readers, there'll be a temporary hiatus of all things Bronze Medal for the next couple of weeks whilst I take an extended leave of absence. Yes, it's time for me once more to return to that 'delightful' place of origin, Newton Abbot, and see what it has to hold for me this time. It surely can't be any worse than the last trip back, put it that way.

So by the time normal service is resumed many things will have passed: my recent trip to Manchester will (unfortunately) be a memory; the trip to the V Festival, complete with glowsticks and a worryingly small number of tents, will have come and gone meaning I'll have seen Radiohead live for a second time (v. excited about that); my Mother and my Gran will have aged by another year; Ed and Kieran will have experienced a night in Newton Abbot; hopefully, the Savages will also be around so that more hilarity can be experienced there, and at least one evening will be lost to pints of Diesel (that's local cider with the unfortunate ability to inflict immediate amnesia on the person drinking it) . Who knows, maybe the Universe will have worked out what's fundamentally wrong with it by the time normal service is resumed? I've been getting quite worried by all of this war in the Middle East and imminent threat of terrorist attacks. Never forget Dear Readers, there is always hope.

So, that's a nice upbeat note to leave things on. I wish you all well for the next couple of weeks, and I shall hopefully return, with photographic evidence, from my travels.

If not, avenge my death.

Thursday, August 10, 2006

Here We Go Again

Ha ha! So to my amazement someone left a comment here about my Who-related rant. I do apologise for the last post since it was a bit unfocused. Still, opportunities to discuss DVD releases and mention Timelash in a celebratory, yet ironic, manner are always few and far between. Anyways, now attention turns to far more serious things, since we are on the eve of another nine potential months of false optimism, occasional flashes of brilliance, but eventual disappointment. Yes, on Saturday the football season kicks off, and Exeter City once again set off on their noble quest to drag themselves back into the Football League.

Apart from this time I'm being a lot more realistic, a bit like after England going out of the World Cup acting as a sobering realisation of just how rubbish a team is. You see, Dear Readers, last season we should have been promoted. We had the players, the manager, the momentum, and a general sense of optimism coming from ending the season as the league's form team and, of course, that unforgetable draw at Old Trafford in the FA Cup. For the first half of the season, this was the case. We flew through to Christmas, achieving some great results and being second in the league. There's a certain irony that I saw the 4-0 demolition of Aldershot on Boxing Day and tricked myself into believing that we were certainties for promotion. Two days later and Alex Jeannin's left foot did what it rarely did in two years with us: scored a goal, therefore condeming us to defeat against Hereford. From there it fell apart. Spectacularly. And to make matters worse, Torquay didn't get relegated either.

Over the summer, we lost our manager (although some might say this was a good thing). We've also lost our Cult Hero, our club captain and a few other people along the way. We've replaced them with ... well, the players haven't been adequately replaced and the manager is some unproven person with only experience of managing a university team. Although the acquisition of Adam Stansfield from Hereford is welcome, he can still fail. After all, I had high hopes for Craig Farrell last year and he didn't perform. Consequently, I don't expect us to win at York on Saturday. I don't even expect us to win our first home game next Tuesday against Forest Green Rovers, seen as though history is against us there. Some might well accuse me of being pessimistic and, truthfully, I'd agree with them. The only thing is after three years of being overtly optimistic and ending up disappointed I've decided for a different approach. Plus, it's always nicer if you've got lower expectations and they're exceeded. So let's hope I'm proved wrong. Let's hope this is the Grecians year and, more importantly, let's hope that if we do get ourselves up there the usual vertigo doesn't set in. Oh, and while we're hear, let's hope for an end to the good start to the season being experienced by Torquay and Argyle.

CyberControl's Top 5 for (tentatively) approaching the new season:

Kasabian - Empire
Boy Kill Boy - Suzie
Roddy Woomble - My Secret is My Silence
The Cooper Temple Clause - New Toys
Idlewild - Live In a Hiding Place

Monday, August 07, 2006

Why?


Oh dear, Dear Readers, can it really be true? Is someone somewhere in the depths of the BBC sat there laughing hysterically at the trick that they've just pulled? Are people really sat in their houses, gathering their pennies together in a desperate attempt to pool their resources and purchase the abomination to the left of us? Yes, Dear Reader, someone somewhere thought it would actually be a good idea to release Mark of the Rani on DVD. However, what makes it worse is the way in which they're pitching this to the public, under such statements as 'a Historical Epic' and 'the Introduction of a Classic Doctor Who villain'. Ladies and Gentlemen, advertising lies. Please, listen to the words of someone who more often that not triumphs Eighties Who for its tackiness, and avoid this piece of rubbish. If you want to see a better, similar story then buy The Visitation. If you want to see Who at it's most dreadful best (yes, I'm fully aware that's an oxymoron) then go to eBay, type either 'Timelash' or 'Warriors of the Deep' into the search and buy yourself a cheap VHS copy of either of these.

"Surely it's not that bad!" I hear you crying in defence, Dear Readers. The answer is, I'm afraid, that it is. What's wrong with it? Firstly Pip and Jane Baker are about the worst writers the series ever saw in the history of the programme. When a CV contains such 'illustrious' highlights as Terror of the Vervoids (yes, it was the first story I ever saw and gave me nightmares when I was four. Nowadays it gives me nightmares that it gave me nightmares), The Ultimate Foe (probably the biggest load of nonsense from a period characterised by a load of nonsense) and, lest we forget, Time and the Rani (camp, dayglo rubbish featuring Bonnie Langford and Kate O'Mara playing Bonnie Langford) I think you get the picture. If there were any justice in the world they should be locked in a cupboard marked 'Let's Not Talk About This' and left to gather dust somewhere.

Secondly, so much of the story is complete arse. There's people being turned into trees, a baby T-Rex, something to do with Luddites and Eric Saward's by now tedious tendency for tying things into actual historical events. You know what, it's that nonsensical that I can't remember what the motivation of the Rani actually is. Aside from that, you get Anthony Ainley not having learnt anything from Planet of Fire and so still coming across like a pantomime villain, Nicola Bryant's dreadful costume and Kate O'Mara trying to out-do Anthony Ainley in the 'Who Can Overact the Most' competiton (as you probably gathered, no-one in my opinion will beat Graham Crowden in my opinion). I'm going to stop as this will just turn into one long rant against the story and I don't want it to be that. What I'm trying desperately to understand is why the BBC would choose to release this, unless their trying to show fans of the new series (who the classic DVDs seem inherently marketed towards at present) that this is about as low as you can get and to be thankful for what you have at present.

However, as a result of this grievance, I offer a slight variation on an established tradition by positing CyberControl's Top 5 Classic Who Stories That Should Be Out on DVD:

5. Timelash - Oh, it's nonsense! It's such appauling nonsense that it needs to be out on DVD for people to laugh at. To my knowledge the only Who story to be that underlength that it requires the worst twist possibly in the history of narrative. It's got the (always amusing) Paul Darrow in it trying to be intense, a pointless cameo by H.G. Wells and a pathetic looking torture device made from tin-foil. Worrying thing is I've worked out a nice documentary you could add on to this as a DVD extra. Yes, I have too much time on my hands.

4. Kinda - Given my great admiration for Season Nineteen (yes, including Time-Flight) the delay of this behind The Visitation seems strange. In equal places creepy, wierd and moving, it features some great ideas, some great acting from Janet Fielding, a possesed old Imperial and one of my favourite moments in Who history: when (the now deranged) Hindle emerges from his fort and discovers one of his cardboard subjects is broken he disparingly shouts at the suggestion that the 'person' could be glued back together "You can't mend people!" Never a truer word spoken. Oh, and then there's the huge paper-mache snake...

3. Image of the Fendhal - Arguably the series' last genuinely creepy story, and certainly the last of the Seventies Gothic turn. The image of the skull with the glowing eyes still unsettles me to this day, and when it all goes a bit bonkers at the end of Episode Three it's a great pay off: a possesed woman and some large, worm-like creatures, and the idea of mankind being the breeding ground for a greater intellegence all make this an often overlooked piece of brilliance in a period approached negatively by most of the fan community.

2. The Greatest Show in the Galaxy - During Sylvester McCoy's period, when they got it wrong, they got it wrong spectacularly. However, when they got it right, they made some of the best stories since the early Eighties. This is such an example. Arguably a comment on both the programme's status within the BBC (the Doctor forced to perform three Gods of Entertainment for his survival) and on the programme's fans at the same time, it's twists and turns are great, Ace is used well and the shot where the Doctor destroys the Circus is amazing.

1. The Sea Devils - The Master watching 'The Clangers' whilst in prison! Sinister, iconic creatures with cool, Seventies guns emerging from the sea wearing dresses! Some really great episode cliffhangers, especially the one with the diving craft returning empty from its mission! This story has it all and, when repeated on BBC2 in the early 90s, hooked me into the programme. For many years I've tried to perfect drawing a Sea Devil. For many years, I've failed. However, nostalgia aside, if this doesn't come out on DVD soon I'm gonna have to buy the video.

Wednesday, August 02, 2006

Superior Quality Recordings

Right then, in celebration of the fantastic news that the Lads are heading out on tour again in the latter quarter of this year, and as quite rightly predicted by my good friend - the esteemed Savage McCee - this post is dedicated to one of my favourite bands of, well, the last twelve years: The Bluetones. Although their blend of truthful, heartfelt, melancholic lyrics and jangly, harmonious guitars never conquered the world, they 've consistently managed to absolutely nail my experience of life. Consequently, they've had a profound impact on both the outlook and guitar-playing skills of Yours Truly since the youthful days of Bluetonic in 1995. What follows then is a brief taster of some of their best lyrics from the past four albums. I hope you enjoy but in all seriousness just go and listen to all their albums as there are many more gems within.

"Sometimes, I smoke, I drink and I ponder
Can work wonders
When you're down, it takes your frown, and turns it around
And you, when you try, and make a difference
You're so different, to when I try and just die"
(If..., 1998)

"And if you remember me in a while, that's enough
And if you remember me and smile, that's enough"
(One Speed Gearbox, 2000)

"Can't be bought, and you can keep tomorrow
Can't be saved, there ain't no flies on me
Can't be caught, the plague that ate your soul can keep away from me"
(Are You Blue or Are You Blind, 1995)

"I keep my thoughts in little boxes
Boxes underneath the bed
Under the bed with your photograph, and the image is fading"
(Never Going Nowhere, 2003)

""The future is dead", that's what you said
"It's all in your head, you see
Not mine, I'm fine, I've arrived""
(4-Day Weekend, 1998)

"And now my heart's bisect
With eighteen-carrat gold regret"
(Marblehead Johnson, 1996)

"There's no heart you can't melt within a certain little smile
And no challenge should be met without a little charm and a lot of style"
(Bluetonic, 1995)

"Any fool can see that I'm a bad example"
(Ames, 1998)

"Oh, if you'd seen with these eyes and lived with these lies"
(Vampire, 1996)

"Baby's talking, it's what she does best/I'll just sit and agree
Firing insults glide out on her breath/Mostly about me
She says "Can't you look past the mirror sometimes? Take a look at your peers!
Stretching out all their half-assed ideas, into half-assed careers"
(Tiger Lily, 2000)

"I gained a stone cold fright
When it was put to me
Deep down, everybody you meet wants to knock your teeth out"
(Serenity Now, 2005)

"What can I say about being profound?
It's a game that we play, it goes around and around
I shall stick to the rules, but I won't suffer fools
No, I won't lose the plot, and I won't lose my cool
Can you see what I've done? Can you see what I do?
It's not really unique, but it's hopelessly cool
But these are my descisions, these are my mistakes
And I'll fall down again, if that's what it takes"
(The Fountainhead, 1996)

Thursday, July 20, 2006

The Shape of Things to Come


The above is an artist's impression of what can broadly be called 'the shape of things to come'. Admittedly, the artist who drew it is not up to much. You wouldn't really employ them as a Court Illustrator on this evidence, would you? Nonetheless, the above illustration is a vision of the future as its supposed to represent me, in my trademark Tom Baker-esque hat, with a couple of glow sticks, in the Dance Tent at the V Festival. Now you may rightly ask why I'm going to partake in such an experience but I just feel as though it's something that needs to be done. At the same time, one of the fellow festivalgoers is a dance music fan (he was once known to occupy a 'Sphere of Dance', whatever that might look like) and I feel it's only right to endulge in such pleasures. As a result, I hope to be able to bring you the actual version of the above sketch at a later date but for now this will have to surfice. By the way, did you know it's impossible to actually buy just one glow stick? Instead you have to buy a box of 1,000! I mean, who in their right mind actually needs 1,000 glow sticks?

Aside from that it's been another funny week, where I seem to get the feeling that I'm going around in circles and getting nowhere with my Dissertation. It's almost as though I've hit a brick wall and completely lost the plot of what it is I'm wanting to talk about which is worrying. I'm sure it'll come together again soon but for now it all seems a little pointless. I just seem to spend the days idling the time away watching videos and DVDs, and at the end of them I feel as though I'm still unsure of what it is I actually want to say about them, or that some smart person will along and completely dismiss what I'm trying to say. Hmm, sorry if this sounds like a little bit of a whinge, it's not supposed to. It's just that I can't really talk about it to anyone, and my housemates are (rightly) unsympathetic to someone who just watches TV for long periods of the day.

I've been looking at my music collection recently as it needed a bit of a tidy-up and have had the pleasure of revisiting either some songs I've completely forgotten about, or albums that I didn't 'get' when I first acquired them. The best example of this would have to be Do The Collapse by Guided By Voices. I bought this record mainly because I heard the track 'Hold on Hope' on Mark and Lard's show years ago (it's got a great chorus hook of Everybody's got a hold on hope/ It's the last thing that's holding me), and then got a recommendation of them when I bought a couple of old R.E.M. records online. This was years ago, and my first impression of the record was that it was really underwritten and a bit pointless (there are seventeen songs and the album lasts about 45 mins). However, since I've become more knowledgable about the whole American College Rock scene, I've decided it's a great, quirky little album concerning obscure aspects of American culture. I think. Anyways, the guitar parts are quite innovative, varied and inspiring so that always helps.

CyberControl's Top 5 Songs of the Moment:

Shed Seven - Cry for Help
Longpigs - She Said
Keane - We Might As Well Be Strangers
Guided By Voices - Mushroom Art
Spiritualized - Won't Get to Heaven (The State I'm In)