Under The Influence

There's not much more British than slightly freaky folk music. As if to prove the point, Erland Cooper (along with Simon Tong (Verve, Blur) and (drummer from The Fireman) David Nock) has mined these pleasant pastures for a debut album of depth and weird beauty.

Together, they've taken various bits of existing poetry, lyrics, folk tales and songs, and melded them together with their own organs, guitars and lyrics. The result is a collection of engaging, swirling tracks and stories that sound like the soundtrack to a creepy, dreamy funfair.

The best example of this is The Derby Ram – an update of the traditional ballad about the giant ram which got the city its emblem.

Elsewhere, William Blake's verse The Echoing Green is set to a hypnotic offbeat guitar part that Cooper hides his voice behind. Leonard Cohen's return-to-libido poem Disturbed This Morning is given a curious reworking that makes it more wanderlust than old-man lust, and My Name Is Carnival (featured here) a cover of a track by tragic 60s folk singer Jackson C Frank (which gives the band their name) is a buxom, jazzy, introduction to the Carnival's shtick.

It's a curiosity alright, one you can file next to similarly interesting backwards-looking modern bands like The Decemberists, The Coral and Mystery Jets.

A freakbeat take on sample culture.

Elbowed out of the Clash, Mick Jones responded forcefully with Big Audio Dynamite, a modernist audio-terrorist outfit whose 1985 debut, 'This Is Big Audio Dynamite', seemed all the more futuristic when compared to Joe Strummer’s reductionist retro rejiggering of the Clash on 'Cut the Crap'.

As is often the case, what was once forward-looking seems inextricably tied to its time in retrospect and the clanking electro rhythms, Sergio Leone samples, chicken-scratch guitars, bleating synths, and six-minute songs of This Is Big Audio Dynamite evoke 1985 in a way few other records do.

Nevertheless, BAD’s boldness remains impressive, even visionary, pointing toward the cut-n-paste masterpieces of the late ‘80s and early ‘90s, and since Jones did not abandon his innate gift for hooks -- if anything, he found ways to create rhythmic hooks as well as melodic ones -- it’s quite accessible for an album that is, at its core, avant-rock.

Children of the ‘80s that they are, singer Inara George and producer Greg Kurstin have chosen Daryl Hall & John Oates for the first volume of Interpreting the Masters, a sly move that reveals both their age and intended audience -- i.e., ex alt-rockers raised on new wave and now settling into a tasteful, hipster middle age, hauling around kids dressed in Ramones t-shirts -- and a reflection of Hall & Oates’ increasing reputation as soul-pop songwriters and record-makers.

The Bird & the Bee manage to make these very familiar hits sound fresh without radically reinventing them. That in itself is a much trickier move than turning these all into slow acoustic dirges, but it’s better still because these arrangements are true to both Hall & Oates and George & Kurstin.

The heart of the album lies in these covers of ‘80s staples: they shift the spotlight just enough to prove how good both the original song and singles are, and by never drawing attention to their own performance and arrangements, the Bird & the Bee prove just how good they are too.

On his debut album, Jim Noir (a homage to Vic Reeves' real name, Jim Moir), proves himself to be a first-class mix-and-match master, blending the cheesy drum machines and bubbling synths of indie electronic, the lo-fi guitars and adult-child vocals of indie pop, and the full-bodied and harmony-drenched arrangements of chamber pop into a swirling, soothing, and truly lovely Technicolor pop confection.

There is the pronounced influence of those renowned American nutters, the mid-'70s edition of the Beach Boys. There are comparisons to be made to the anything-goes spirit and sound of contemporary explorers like Super Furry Animals and the Beta Band.

There really isn't a weak song to be had, and the album flows past like a gentle stream winding its way through a summer meadow.

The lyrics are light and breezy throughout, especially the songs about stealing footballs ("Eanie Meany") or the lighthearted threats. They help to bolster the childlike sense of wonder that the album is bathed in. You will be hard-pressed to keep from walking around all day grinning like a fish once you give the album an airing. The featured cut 'Computer Song' is one of my favourites, just for it's harmonies. Give it a listen and you'll see what I mean.

Doctors should prescribe a spin of Tower of Love to chase the blues away.

Wandering through the vault today, I decided to listen to a disc that Aidan had cut together. I'm so glad that I did, as the subject of this review needs special mention.

Prior to 'Biscuits For Breakfast', Fink was happily carving a path through the world of ambient trip-hop. 'Biscuits' sees Fink strike out in a new direction.

Built around his bluesy voice, finger-picking acoustic guitar and the stripped-back live rhythm section, there is a wonderfully intimate smokiness in Fink's approach to his songs. It's intimate, but utterly lacking in sentimentalism.

The featured track, "Pretty Little Thing," on which he plays the whole menagerie: bass, guitar (nylon strings, no less), and B-3 Hammond. The lyrics in this cut are not much to be sure, but as a first track Fink's looking to usher in the set's atmosphere, and as such it works beautifully.

A truly lovely record, 'Hazards of Love' brings the rock opera format bang up to date. Drawing on influences as diverse as Emerson, Lake & Palmer, The Incredible String Band and Fairport Convention, this record tells the tale of a maiden knocked up by a shape–shifting beast who may be her future husband. There's also a psychotic queen and three revenge–seeking ghost kids to keep a look out for.

Grab a seat in front of the fire, stoke your Meerschaum pipe and take a trip.