Intense Drama and Ambiguous Ruminations

I almost certainly need to listen to it a bit more, and I may well come to revise some of these opinions, but seeing as it's streaming in its entirety over at the NME website, I thought I'd jot down some first impressions on the new Arcade Fire album.

The great handicap in reviewing an album that immediately follows a career defining debut is how to deal with the thorny problem of the record's relationship with its predecessor. I suspect that, on the whole, 'The Neon Bible' will be well received (perhaps even rapturously), but there are elements which might invoke reservations or perhaps even consternation in some quarters. The rapidity with which Arcade Fire have escalated from a word-of-mouth cult into big venue superstars is nothing short of astonishing, and there will inevitably be a small group of fans who now struggle to claim this band as their own. It's an understandable emotion, particularly among obsessive followers of new music, but it doesn't exactly facilitate objective judgment. It's also easy to forget that this is as much a problem for band as audience - how do you develop as artists, whilst retaining what made you special in the first place, when suddenly catering to a mass audience. The Arcade Fire have had to confront this much more quickly than might have been expected. That much of 'The Neon Bible' sounds bigger, grander and more ostentatious than 'Funeral' might also imply an element of clinical calculation in its production, although it has its fair share of more considered, nuanced moments too.

The Bruce Springsteen influence I detected during the band's recent Porchester Hall show is definitely here. The pompously titled '(antichrist television blues)' is pure working man's American rock, a distant cousin of 'Workin' On The Highway' perhaps. Even 'Intervention', with its colossal church organ, wouldn't sound entirely out of place on 'Born In The USA', although it mercifully eschews the more bombastic elements of that record's production. There's a lot of rather basic guitar strumming underpinning the big arrangements, and this makes for some other unexpected reference points. 'Keep The Car Running', with its acoustic guitars and mandolins, resembles 'Fisherman's Blues'-era Waterboys, and the chugging gothic fervour of 'Black Mirror' sounds something akin to the Velvet Underground jamming with Echo and The Bunnymen. So many bands resort to these basic chug and strum patterns, but it's because Arcade Fire use them as backdrops rather than formulaic templates that it works so well. These devices, predictable and over-familiar in lesser hands, provide energy and drive here, over which the band's trademark unison vocal chants and unusual instrumentation weave their more elaborate magic.

Whilst the handsomely re-recorded 'No Cars Go' and 'The Well and the Lighthouse' offer familiar theatrical thrills, 'The Neon Bible' does not entirely abandon quirky charm in favour of bold statement. The title track is wispy and mercilessly concise. Given a few more listens, it may turn out to be the album's most audacious and intriguing moment. The medley of 'Black Wave/Bad Vibrations' is unpredictable and admirably risky. It also provides some welcome space for Regine Chassagne's peculiar vocals, which despite the occasionally shaky pitching, never sound less than enthralling. Best of all is the stunning 'Ocean Of Noise', which has something of the tragic melancholy of Roy Orbison in its mariachi-tinged arrangement. The closing 'My Body Is A Cage' is colossal, but, as I suggested in my recent live review, also has a deeply soulful core.

I suspect if there's a major problem with 'The Neon Bible', it's more lyrical than musical. Over on his Uncut magazine blog, John Mulvey has criticised the use of religious imagery to convey a secular message as an over-worked trope. I'm not sure this is so much the problem, as more that the detail of this album's themes are less well defined than those of 'Funeral'. The romantic vision and wonderful imagery that characterised songs such as 'Tunnels' and 'The Power Out' helped make that album uniquely engaging. Here, there's a lot of dour reflection on the state of the world, but the sense of fear and doom is mostly rather vague and undeveloped. It's not disastrous by any means, but songs like 'Black Mirror' are very portentous, it's just not always clear precisely what they might be portending.

For those wondering how 'Neon Bible' will stand in this band's canon, it's worth recognising that its highlights provide welcome signs that they remain imaginative, impassioned and full of fire. It also shows them perfectly capable of expanding their reach. It's not quite a stunning masterpiece, but it's by no means a crushing disappointment either. For most people, that surely ought to be enough.

Blame Canada....

....for producing yet another band with real vision and quality. The oddly titled 'The Besnard Lakes Are The Dark Horse' is the second album on the wonderful Jagjaguwar label from Montreal's The Besnard Lakes, although it represents my first contact with this beguiling and fascinating band. The overall impression is of a neat combination of the languid melancholy of Low combined with the slow burning classic rock of My Morning Jacket. Throw in some inventive arrangements, Beach Boys-esque vocal harmonies and unconventional instrumentation, and you have the makings of a modern classic.

This doesn't mean it's an easy listen though. The eight songs are all lengthy and extravagant, the pace rarely gets above a gentle trot, and the lyrics are peculiarly oblique. Wisely, at just 45 minutes, the album as a whole refuses to outstay its welcome, and, once yielded to, the atmosphere is enthralling and hypnotic. There are all sorts of possible reference points - Jace Lasek's use of falsetto obviously belies the influence of Neil Young, whilst Olga Goreas' more understated, half spoken intonations resemble the contributions of Jill Birt to The Triffids.

There's an essential formula to the songs here, involving the careful development of an expansive, overwhelming texture from minimal beginnings. The band achieve this with control and finesse, and rarely, if ever, does the music descend to posturing or mock grandiosity. There's real rhythmic and melodic invention on epic tracks like 'And You Lied To Me', allied with a complete understanding of American musical tradition, occasionally drawing influence from southern rock as much as North American styles. The band also confidently master unpredictable diversions and false endings that are as entertaining as they are confounding.

The mysterious 'For Agent 13' has an alchemical quality, and with unusually direct lyrics, might be the most powerful track here ('I never meant to feel that way/To be so haunted by a touch/I play it back every day'). Yet it's the opening 'Disaster' that really stands out - oddly melancholic, yet also muscular and driving. The incorporation of strings and horns adds a majestic sheen to a song with a real sense of progression and imagination. 'Devastation' sounds like Sparklehorse in Alabama (and how much more interesting it would have been for Mark Linkous to have attempted something like this instead of the resoundingly tedious 'Dreamt For Light Years...').

This is a big behemoth of an album, but it's creative rather than indulgent, and full of passion and power. Catch the dark horse before it rides away.

When You're Wrong, Admit It

I just want to take a moment to revise my review of the Bloc Party album a little. I think I said something about the lyrics being 'completely central to the record's achievement'. On closer inspection, this isn't really true at all. I certainly take issue with some of the harsher criticisms of Kele Okereke's lyrics, particularly as most of those objecting to the harsh treatment of London on 'A Weekend In The City' are of course fully paid up members of the London media set. Many of these people would find it difficult to imagine a London of real tension and brutality, let alone accept that it is the reality of life for many Londoners. Still though, there are problems with Okereke's approach, exacerbated by his tendency towards earnestness. 'Hunting For Witches', whilst admirably confronting the climate of fear, is a little clunky (although it sounds awesome), and the overlong 'Uniform' is genuinely uncomfortable and unpleasant. Okereke's portrait of disaffected adolescents does little to address the real reasons for their boredom, nor does it offer any solutions to this increasingly dangerous problem. The gimmicky production values on this track (hey, they've discovered vocoders!) only add to the discomfort. Essentially, it's one long angry rant with little substance. I haven't managed to hear 'This Is England' yet, but I suspect its omission from the tracklisting was probably a mistake.

Okereke uses the device of repeating simple lyrical ideas, sometimes to powerful impact, but just as frequently he merely emphasises some of his clunkier motifs. The more personal elements of this album may actually be far more substantial than the attempts at politial and social analysis, however laudable Okereke's intentions. 'Kreuzberg' is dense, compelling and moving, all whilst sustaining a daring lyrical simplicity. Apart from the reference to a 'teacher's training day' (those three words will never be made to sound poetic), 'I Still Remember' is equally affecting, albeit somewhat nostalgic. Whilst Okereke is perhaps confronting his sexuality in these songs, they are full of universal experience too.

Musically, the album has real drama and force, although it does sag slightly in the middle, at the same point at which Okereke's preoccupation with adolescent disaffection and cocaine abuse threaten to spoil the whole thing. Essentially, it's a mixed bag - but it at least provokes discussion, which is more than a lot of the derivitive British music currently plodding around.

Jokes, Reverence and Indifference

I've been out and about a fair bit over the last few weeks, so there are a few gigs to report back on.

I alleviated Valentine's Day blues to some degree by heading over to the Metro Club on Oxford Street to see the kind of bill you definitely don't get every week - The Crimea, Piney Gir and Paris Motel all at the same gig! Unfortunately, despite the fact that ticket agencies were billing this as a Piney Gir gig, John Kell (http://www.kingofquiet.co.uk) and I arrived at the venue to find her just finishing her set, having opened proceedings. The subsequent set from Alexander 'Festival' Hall (see what he did there?), hitherto unknown to this writer, only added to the sense of irritation, being as it was a bit self-consciously quirky and, ultimately, quite dull. So far, so disappointing.

Longstanding friends Paris Motel never disappoint though, and Amy May's malleable musical troupe have now expanded both in number and in sound. They find some room for some old favourites from the '071' EP, including the title track and 'Mr. Splintfoot', which with the beefed up sound now resembles Nick Cave's 'Red Right Hand' even more, but I guess even Nick Cave can't claim to own the blues. The new material is expansive and more muscular, and there's a sense of grandeur to rival The Arcade Fire. The sound engineering isn't so hot in the Metro though, so Amy's delicate but appealing vocals sometimes get drowned out. Nevertheless, it all suggests that the debut album proper from this band should be one of 2007's highlights, and there's a sense that this good humoured, romantic and charming group are becoming really rather special. They end with a lush, swooning take on Yeah Yeah Yeahs' 'Maps', providing further evidence that it really is one of the best songs to come from an American rock band in the last decade - it sounds just as magical in this very different setting.

The Crimea play with a vigour and intensity that never lets up, but their set is stifled by yet another indifferent London crowd. It's not the couples that cause the trouble though - it's the frustrated singles toasting their freedom. For God's sake, if you want to do that, go to a pub, not a gig! The familiar, highly infectious material from 'Tragedy Rocks' is dispensed with a bit early, and maybe with that crushing sense of obligation that often frustrates bands working on new material. The new stuff is a bit more forced and serious-minded - I couldn't decide whether or not much of it worked or not. I suspect the new album will require close attention. There's certainly evidence of development, but the strength of 'Tragedy Rocks' lay more in its melodies than its sonic invention, so I'm not sure they're pushing the right buttons here.

A rather different show last Friday at London's Barbican, featuring justly revered American saxophinist Joe Lovano playing with his Nonet, ably supported by veteran harmonica player Toots Thielmans, accompanied by the expressive, but slightly earnest American pianist Fred Hersch. The 84 year-old Thielmans was a real delight - taking obvious joy in performing, and delivering a set that effortlessly juxtaposed playful nostalgia with delicate melancholy. The musical relationship between Thielmans and Hersch was playful, and the results were frequently inspired. Thielmans' harmonica sound was consistently pure and clear, and he breathed life even into the hoariest of old standards. I particularly enjoyed his takes on 'Ne Me Quitte Pas' and 'Blue In Green'. The duo were joined by Lovano for a couple of pieces, and the subtle musical interplay was quietly inspirational.

I had massively high expecations of Lovano's set, with the saxophonist having just recorded my favourite jazz album of last year. He really is one of the most dynamic and creative improvisers in the world, with a clear knowledge of the jazz tradition, but a force and personality very much his own. If the set didn't quite live up to these expectations, it's almost certainly unfair to condemn it for this, as there were moments of palpable excitement.

I'll start with the bad though - a terrible microphone,which took the word 'unidirectional' beyond literal interpretation, rendered all the trumpet solos unintelligible. If the trumpeter took even a step away he became inaudible, and when he was right against the mic the sound was so muddy as to obscure the notes. My attention was also distracted from the other soloists by the off mic antics of the large band, who often slouched around, talked with each other, and generally looked oddly shambolic on stage.

Still, though, the playing was crisp and dynamic, and I very much enjoyed Otis Brown's very traditional drumming, on a small jazz set-up. When he exchanged 4s and 8s with the other soloists, it made for some inspired creation and release of tension. Tim Garland was also involved, and although the shout of 'let's hear from Tim Garland!' from one particularly moronic audience member riled me intensely (you can hear Garland in London almost every night of the week, given the ridiculous volume of work that comes his way), there's no denying that he provided one of the best moments of the whole concert when he soloed with just Brown's drumming for accompaniment. This was fiery, inventive and thoroughly musical improvising at its best.

Lovano's own soloing was as fluid and controlled as might be expected, and the themes were delivered with passion and clarity. Gunther Schuller's arrangements for the 'Birth Of The Cool' suite predictably provided the centrepiece of the show, although I wondered whether in live performance this seemed more reverent and less inventive than on disc. Lovano's own compositions from the same project fared better, with some really energetic performances.

A trip to Cambridge gave me a rare opportunity to catch a concert in the refined, over-comfortable environment of the Kettle's Yard art gallery. Regardless of the quality of music being performed, I could quite happily have drifted into sleep, slouched as I was on a couch at the side of the stage. This vantage point gave me an excellent view of the rather unconventional posture of Swedish pianist Soren Norbo, although pretty much completely obscured my view of the jovial drummer. Guesting with Norbo's trio was none other than British contemporary jazz legend Django Bates, albeit on a strange valve horn rather than piano. Those expecting a Bates performance may well have been disappointed, although his improvising on the horn was frequently remarkable and always dexterous. He even tried his hand at drums towards the end of the second set, with some more than passable free improvisation.

This was a strange old gig, and whilst the band seemed adept at a plethora of styles, from the broad and abstract to tightly controlled swing, their bizarre case of Attention Defecit Disorder left me a little perplexed. I sense that the main purpose of this gig was really to poke some fun at the jazz tradition by juxtaposing the very conventional with the very weird, and there was plenty of joking around, particularly from the maverick drummer. Some of this was light-hearted and effective, especially Bates' spontaneous and unpredictable bursts into song. Yet, the drummer's insistence on squeezing water bottles and banging on large plastic dustbins seemed unnecessary when his kit playing was creative and musical enough to stand on its own without resorting to gimmicks.

Some seem to cite Bill Evans as the chief influence on Norbo's playing, but I couldn't really detect this too much - I could hear much more of the European and Scandinavian traditions in his improvising than the American. His strange, stubby fingers didn't seem to restrict him too much, although his playing did sometimes match the stiffness of his posture, occasionally seeming more schematic and theoretical than emotional. Perhaps if the band had actually sustained even one of its good ideas to maximum impact, a little more feeling could have seeped through the veneer of slightly po-faced musical comedy. The encore, involving gargling water, certainly raised a few laughs, although mine may have been more in disgust than in amusement - it wasn't exactly pleasant! I'm glad I stuck it out though - Bates' horn playing genuinely thrilled me, and his use of electronic effects was intelligent too. The second set saw the band much more focussed and engaged, and there were moments I really enjoyed.

The Vanguard vs. The Old Guard

Why is it that veteran music journalists so often have to resort to petty dismissals of us poor, insignificant bloggers? It's one of Petridish's hot topics in The Guardian, and increasingly the likes of Krissi Murison in the NME and even Paul Morley have been chipping in (how ignorant and inexperienced we all are! It's like we're all spotty virgins or something...). Is it perhaps because they feel genuinely threatened by the fact that internet writers are helping to establish acts, and that traditional print journalism may be under threat? If so, they are merely contributing to their own downfall. Here's an interesting piece from Paul Morley:

http://observer.guardian.co.uk/omm/story/0,,2012799,00.html

Reading this, it's difficult to comprehend how Morley was ever at the forefront of a Zeitgeist. He now writes, and frequently speaks, in sentences clunkier and more verbose even than mine, and with a marked lack of critical acumen. There's no selective judgement on display in this piece - yes the likes of Franz Ferdinand, Arctic Monkeys et al have been overrated, but exactly who in any journalistic sphere has been portraying Adem as some sort of revolutionary master? He's a lovely chap who writes good songs, and there's nothing wrong with that. And if Morley was disappointed when he heard Spiritualized's 'Feel So Sad' (assuming he was still aware at that point), or even the Spiritualized of 'Ladies and Gentlemen...', I'm a bit baffled as to why, ditto the thrill that comes from the real passion and enthusiasm for music evident in the work of LCD Soundsystem's James Murphy.

Let's not forget that all the really over-hyped, mostly reactionary bands of the moment (The Kooks, Arctic Monkeys, Babyshambles, The (sinking) Feeling, The Hours et al) have all been zealously praised by print journos. Take a closer look at the acts I've found via the blogosphere - Arcade Fire, Burial, Benoit Pioulard, Subtle, Broken Social Scene, Beirut, Susanna and The Magical Orchestra, Bat For Lashes - the difference in judgement and breadth of interest immediately becomes apparent.

Marcello Carlin (an experienced and authoritative writer both in print and online) writes an interesting repost over at Church Of Me (http://www.cookham.blogspot.com), which is all the more fascinating because his subsequent piece on Judee Sill's 'Heart Food' is both passionate and sceptical, as all the best music writing should be.

On a completely different topic, it's of course not just music where amateur writing can prove illuminating. My old school friend Alex Stein maintains a very interesting blog called False Dichotomies http://www.falsedichotomies.com , with some carefully balanced explorations of Israel/Palestine in particular. I don't elect to write about politics much here, but I do try and keep informed! It strikes me that unhelpful schematic presentations of issues rarely help us understand them. My current bugbear is 'the conflict between national security and civil liberties'. The two aren't mutually exclusive - we can and should have both!

Triumph and Tribulation

Arcade Fire, Porchester Hall, 1st February 2007

Frankly, anyone wishing to instigate a premature backlash against this remarkable band really ought to think again. Of course, there's a level of anticipation for these five intimate London shows that could only come with feverish hype, and the critical consensus surrounding 'Funeral' naturally invites suspicion. Yet, whilst Arcade Fire have all the necessary indicators of a major band (a very 'big' sound, a strange mass of ideas which would be rendered chaotic by lesser groups, intriguing concepts and appealing lyrics), what really elevates them to another level entirely is the extraordinary rapport they have built with their audience. It's worth remembering that much of the buzz surrounding them came directly from the audience itself - through the internet, and word of mouth in general. I first wrote about 'Funeral' in late 2004 - it took the rest of the UK music press a good few months to notice its existence, let alone its quality.

Arriving at the venue early, and waiting for a friend, I observe the band of indie kids desperate to pick up a stray ticket by whatever means possible. The touts, however, have all been moved on by exceptionally zealous security, and the extra tickets released at 6pm appear to have already all been snapped up. Relief comes for these boys when none other than Win Butler should open the venue's backstage door. He asks me if I have a ticket, to which I reply that I do and I'm just waiting for a friend rather than loitering for a tout. We exchange friendly smiles and he moves on to the boys still waiting for what would appear to be impossible. When they say they don't have any tickets at all between them, Butler does something entirely unexpected - surreptitously beckoning them forward, he invites them through the backstage door and ushers them quickly into the venue. It's a wonderful, really quite touching moment (although these boys were admittedly very lucky to be there at the right time), and just the start of a gig these kids will surely never forget.

Opting to play gigs in grand old buildings entirely unused to hosting 11-piece grandiose rock bands does have its pitfalls of course. The sound is initially a little muddy, and it later transpires that the left hand stack of speakers has cut out completely. There are a few moments where Win and Regine particularly look a little uncomfortable with the onstage sound, and the whole affair did lack the seamless continuity of their first ever UK performance at King's College London in 2005, with a good deal more time spent on tuning and general faffing between songs.

There's also the more traditional problem of London audiences in general. It's clear from the outset that these are people who really want to be here, to the extent that they all managed to pick up tickets within two minutes of the onsale time. So why does it take so long for them to react to the extraordinary music being played? It's surely no radical surprise that these gigs are used to showcase upcoming new album 'The Neon Bible', but it really isn't until the band drop the more obvious choices from 'Funeral' towards the end of the show that things really get going. When they do, the results are revelatory. Hearing this mostly young crowd bellow back the complete lyrics to 'The Power Out' and 'Rebellion' gives further evidence that we are watching a genuinely significant rock band - one that can connect with people and inspire them in the way that The Smiths or Nirvana, whilst writing about dark and unusual subject matter. This leaves me with a troubling question at the end of the gig though: why are there no British bands achieving this right now?

All the niggles are really insubstantial though given how this band craft their sound, and how carefully they present themselves on stage. Dressed in matching uniform, constantly swapping instruments, bolstered by unconventional, driving string arrangements and French Horn, and often shouting out key lyrics in unison, this is a band every bit as exciting to watch as to hear. Of the new material, some of it chugs along reasonably predictably ('Black Mirror' particularly), albeit with a peculiarly gothic undertone and with energy and passion that elevate it above the indie conventions that underpin it. Some of the songs represent a real shift of emphasis, though. 'My Body Is A Cage' is outstanding, and with a hint of genuine soul that could have come directly from a James Carr or Percy Sledge. Unbelievably, 'The Well and The Lighthouse' succeeds in amplifying the more grandiose elements of the band's sound and there's even one song (possibly 'Antichrist Television Blues'?) that closely resembles Bruce Springsteen in full E Street Band pomp. No bad thing!

They squeeze in a handful of classics to keep people happy, in spite of turning down numerous requests for 'Tunnels'. There's a compelling rendition of 'Haiti', with Regine at her most theatrical and plenty of drum-thumping. Playing 'Cold Wind' (a limited edition single and the band's contribution to Six Feet Under) is a nice touch, and provides an ocean of subtlety amidst the thunderous clamour of much of the rest of the set. The medley of 'The Power Out' and 'Rebellion (Lies)', with Win Butler bursting into the crowd is simply electrifying.

They save the best for last though. After finishing with a typically intense new song, they process offstage with their instruments (including a giant upright bass), and a few minutes later emerge in the venue foyer, leading the crowd in an entirely acoustic rendition of 'Wake Up' (according to the NME, Butler had to scuffle with security to get this to happen, but I didn't manage to see this). The band then snake their way up the stairs and back into the hall whilst performing. We quickly follow them, and end up standing two feet away as they perform an acoustic take on The Clash's 'Guns Of Brixton' in the middle of the venue floor. It's a fascinating extension of the trick they developed in their early live shows, and there are very few other bands with the courage to really make something of their encores in this way.

It's rare to see a band so artistically successful, and so uncompromising in executing their ideas that are also so obviously unashamed to treat their audience to something special, and to make sure they go home satisfied. By descending literally to the same level as the crowd, the band emphasise the special relationship between themselves and their ardent followers. 'The Neon Bible' may or may not equal the achievement of its predecessor, but it promises to be at the very least a damn good album, and there's every sense now that this band can transcend temporal admiration to the next level - they may well turn out to be the key rock band of this time.

Looking In My Rear View Mirror with One Eye On The Road Ahead

First up, a couple of albums that got lost from last year...

'Su-Ling' is the debut album from saxophonist and flautist Finn Peters, and yet another outstanding album from the Babel label (the forthcoming release from Mark Holub's extraordinary Led Bib also looks set to add to this expanding list). The overlapping networks of jazz musicians currently operating in London is making this a most exciting and inventive period for British jazz, and Peters can join the likes of Acoustic Ladyland, Polar Bear, Oriole, Tom Arthurs and Jim Hart's Gemini in successfully translating the fluidity of live performance to a superb recorded collection. It helps that he's assembled an outstanding band - with the effortlessly swinging rhythms and daring creativity of Tom Skinner on drums, the dependably solid Tom Herbert on bass and the Afrobeat-inspired lines from guitarist Dave Okumu, this is a bold and inventive rhythm section. Nick Ramm's rich chord voicings on piano also add depth and feeling. There's also a remarkably sensitive group dynamic at work, and there's a quiet intensity to the best tracks here. With inspiration also coming from more modern musical forms such as hip-hop, it's a particularly fascinating album rhythmically, and tracks such as 'Al Dar Gazelli' and 'Red Fish' seem to develop outwards from a basic rhythmic motif. The latter begins with an outrageously groovy figure from Skinner. Elsewhere, there is a distinctly exotic flavour to the minimalist title track, and 'N.R. Shackleton Goes To The Circus' is as vigorous and playful as its title suggests. Peters' blowing is muscular and committed, and the whole group seems zesty and joyful in its exposition of Peters' intelligent themes. This would have been very high in my 2006 albums list had I actually heard it in time!

I have no idea quite why it's taken so long for Destroyer's Rubies, one of the most universally acclaimed albums of 2006, to gain proper distribution in Britian. At last, it now seems to be readily available, and it's been well worth the wait. It's completely removed from the last Destroyer album (the peculiarly hypnotic, synth-heavy 'Your Blues'), and also a good deal more unconventional than Dan Bejar's work with the New Pornographers. Epic songs with dense, allusive, occasionally pompous lyrics are the order of the day here, and most of the structures are defiantly unpredictable. It's not as perplexing as the recent Swan Lake project though, and there are plenty of enthralling guitar lines and appealing melodies scattered through this ambitious work. Bejar's strangely nasal voice is increasingly Dylan-esque in phrasing and delivery, and frequently the words and music are forced together with increasingly extravagant verve. The stop-start nature of tracks like 'Rubies' and 'A Dangerous Woman Up To A Point' make them sound like potted symphonies for a rock ensemble, whilst the shorter songs add more comfortable and familiar pleasures. It makes for an effective balance, although the inclusion of a 21 minute bonus suite of improvised electronics, whilst showing Bejar's attempts at infinite variety, only makes me head for the stop button.

As for 2007, everyone's still talking about Klaxons of course, although for how long is something of a moot point. Actually, the album 'Myths Of The Near Future' has much to recommend it, even if the group look likely to become victims of their own success. Much has been made of there being a nascent 'nu-rave' scene, and whilst most of these taglines are spurious at best, there may just be something in this. There's something enticing in the day glo clothes and siren horns for those of us slightly too young to have experienced rave culture the first time round (and there's little doubt that there was a genuine subculture at this time, initiated in simple rebellion and later fuelled by anger at the Conservative government's Criminal Justice Bill). There's also a pan-ganerational appeal in Jamie Reynolds' intention to recreate the relentless rhythms and primal assault of dance music on live instruments, a goal also pursued by Hot Chip (albeit with results likely to be much more enduring). The band do sometimes achieve real results to match this admirable theory - witness the minimal, insistent and repetetive melodies of 'Isle Of Her', or the loose groove of 'Forgotten Works'.

Actually, 'Myths...' seems to fit perfectly with another current trend - in its drive to cross-pollenate between musical genres. With its heavily overdriven basslines and vocals set octaves apart, it may actually most closely resemble the work of the acclaimed US group TV On The Radio, although others have also suggested kinship with the modern psychedelia of Super Furry Animals. It works best when at its most melodic - and 'Golden Skans' and 'Gravity's Rainbow' are genuinely sophisticated, whilst 'Atlantis To Interzone' has retained its visceral thrill.

What's most surprising is that, whilst the singles still pack a punch, the group have achieved a remarkable consistency of quality and mood across an album that excites without outstaying its welcome. This is a band I've tried desperately hard to ignore, but there's definitely something compelling and powerful about this driving, restless music.

The problem comes with the lofty pretentions of the lyrics, probably more irritating than intriguing. It's probably harsh but fair to suggest that the bulk of these songs lack depth, and certainly lack emotional warmth or feeling. Like The Manics before them, Klaxons have digested influences well beyond the musical, and there are signs of Burroughs, Bukowski, and Pynchon here, all rather inadequately digested. Still, at least they can think outside the box, and if the media are not too fickle, maybe they will get at least a second chance to state their case.

When I first read about 'Wincing The Night Away', the third album from quirky US popsters The Shins, I was a little worried. It sounded like it would emphasise lush atmospherics over melodic invention. Well, the actual results are by no means bad, and this collection effectively pushes the band into new territories whilst retaining all the elements that made them such an interesting proposition in the first place. James Mercer's lyrics remain verbose and unwieldy, but he continues to marry them to tunes that, whilst enchanting, veer off at peculiar and unexpected tangents. 'Sealegs' and 'Black Wave' may push the band further into electronic territory than we've been accustomed too, but the opening 'Sleeping Lessons', with its Wilco-esque coda, and the single 'Phantom Limb' are as spirited and immediate as anything on 'Chutes Too Narrow'. Mercer's Anglophile tendencies are all too frequently mentioned, but whilst I couldn't really detect the Echo and The Bunnymen influence on 'Chutes Too Narrow' there's the obvious reference point of The Smiths here. Many of the melodies have a Morrissey-esque twang, and the introduction of programmed beats and strange effects on 'Sealegs' may owe something to 'How Soon Is Now?'. Best of all though is the immediately loveable 'Girl Sailor' and the lush, strangely moving delicacy of 'Red Rabbits'. It's another dependably concise collection of winning pop songs - nothing more, nothing less.

Those readers who heard my student radio show and have followed my progress since will know of my admiration for former Appendix Out mainman Alasdair Roberts. His solo debut was a remarkably unfashionable collection of traditional Scottish folk songs that had timeless spirit whilst also having the bewitching and mysterious quality of the unknown. 'Farewell Sorrow' melded borrowed fragments from the same tradition with Roberts' own work, and resulted in something more accessible that retained the distinctive magic of that excellent debut. The subsequent collaborations with Will Oldham on the Amalgamated Sons Of Rest project and the 'No Earthly Man' album (a surreal and thoroughly disorientating reinvention of folk music) made perfect sense.

Roberts now returns with the excellent 'Amber Gatherers', a record which of the three previous albums, most closely resembles 'Farewell Sorrow' in its merging of traditional concerns with original music. It features contributions from regular Roberts sidemen Gareth Eggie and Tom Crossley, but it's the addition of Teenage Fanclub's Gerard Love to the ensemble that really makes a substantial difference. The sound of this album is much brighter and warmer than any of Roberts' previous efforts (indeed, the gorgeous 'Where Twines The Path' could even be one of The Fannies' own acoustic adventures).

Roberts is not a technically gifted singer, but I simply adore his deceptively vulnerable tone, emphatic Scottish dialect and elaborate phrasing. His voice melds delightfully with the delicate pluckings of the arrangements, and the subtle percussive undercurrents at work in many of these songs support his delivery intelligently. As the title implies, there's a recurring theme about gathering amber (or 'Baltic Gold') running through many of the songs. Like recent efforts from The Decemberists or Midlake, there is a tacit assumption that listeners will be able to immerse themselves in this antiquated landscape. Yet, Roberts can also draw magic from the most basic of images, as on 'River Rhine' ('Where does the River Rhine rise, it rises in her eyes/When I look in her eyes, I see the River Rhine/I see the river widen; she sees the Clyde in mine'). His melodies here are also full of warmth and genuine feeling.

Despite being played entirely on acoustic instruments, the music here still achieves an alien and otherwordly atmosphere, perhaps achieved through the deployment of unconventional guitar tunings, which the CD inlay helpfully reveals. In fact, the bluesy 'I Have A Charm' as much resembles the desert heat of Ali Farka Toure's 'Savane' as it does some of the more rural American moments in the Will Oldham back catalogue.

'The Amber Gatherers' is another fascinating addition to what is already a remarkably consistent solo career. Roberts is currently supporting the much lauded Joanna Newsom in the UK. It's a controversial suggestion - but Roberts is every bit as auteurist and unusual as Newsom, and may just be the more natural and convincing of the two. He is acutely aware that moving forwards sometimes means looking back.

Buried Treasure #1

It's not the most original idea I've ever had but, partially because I've been writing almost exclusively about new music here, and also simply because I feel like it, I've decided to initiate a new occasional series focusing on lost or undiscovered classic albums. Here's the first.

Peter Gabriel - Us (Realworld, 1992)

Artists can sometimes never win. They are often lambasted for compromising, and paying too much attention to their core audience, as Coldplay were (perhaps justly) for resisting experimentalism on 'X&Y'. Sometimes there's a much thornier criticism though - that an artist has made a record purely for themselves, and if anyone else likes it, well, it's just a bonus. This is how many approached 'Us', Peter Gabriel's magnum opus dissecting human relationships, when it finally appeared six long years after the commercial triumph of 'So'.

It's certainly a difficult record, and perhaps there are parts of it that are easier to admire than like. Only two of the album's ten tracks are less than five minutes long. I was a mere eleven years old when the album first appeared, and much of its subtle ambience baffled me at that age. Had I purchased it on CD rather than cheapo cassette, I would surely have skipped to the more rhythmic and accessible singles - 'Steam', 'Digging In The Dirt', and 'Kiss That Frog' (the first basically a verbatim rewrite of 'Sledgehammer'), all three of which I completely adored.

Yet 'Us' is a defiantly mature record, rich in wisdom and experience, and something much greater than just a conventional 'breakup' record. The sensory, atmospheric flourishes to much of the music, the meticulous studio sheen and the sheer ambition of the arrangements serve to highlight its emotional and thematic complexity. It's a collection of songs that, challenging conventional wisdom, dare to suggest that as we grow older, we merely become more confused and perplexed by the intricacies of emotion and feeling. As such, it makes perfect sense that the accompanying music is frequently labyrinthine and difficult to interpret.

Thus far, 'Us' is probably the most coherent synthesis of Gabriel's preoccupations with Western production techniques, pop melody and the rhythms of music from around the globe, particularly from Africa. It's a much less schematic and less explicit synthesis than Paul Simon's 'Graceland', or even much of the recent solo work of David Byrne. For example, the combination of Irish intonations and harmony (as emphasised by Sinead O' Connor's longing backing vocals) with the elaborate rhythms of the Boubacar Faye Drummers on 'Come Talk To Me' makes for something mysterious and intoxicating. What a perfect backdrop all this is for Gabriel's extraordinary opening lyrics, compelling in their considered intensity: 'The wretched desert takes its form/The Jackal proud and tight/In search of you I feel my way/Through the slowest heaving night/Whatever fear invents, I swear it makes no sense/ I reach out through the border fence/Come down, come talk to me'. It has the beauty and poise of great poetry.

Elsewhere, Gabriel's imagery is unafraid to delve into the darkest of places. On 'Only Us', he sums up the album's themes most succinctly: '..I'm finding my way home from the great escape/The further on I go, oh the less I know/I can find only us breathing, only us sleeping, only us dreaming'. On 'Digging In The Dirt', he's actively searching for the unpleasant truths concealed beneath thick skin ('something in me, dark and sticky/all the time it's getting strong'). The opening lines of the gorgeous 'Blood Of Eden' are also extraordinary in their portrayal of a man finally understanding what he sees in the mirror's reflection. Reprieve comes only with the lite funk of 'Steam', a hugely enjoyable pop moment that perhaps sounds out of place, with the baptismal qualities of the vulnerable 'Washing Of The Water', and with the nostalgic regret of the closing 'Secret World'.

The album also benefits massively from its enormous cast list of musicians. Regular collaborators such as drummer Manu Katche, and technically adept bassist Tony 'Mr. Funk Fingers' Levin provide the crisp, almost mechanical rhythm section, whilst appearances from the likes of Brian Eno, Daniel Lanois and Malcolm Burn (as musicians rather than producers), enhance the dense and compelling mood. The contributions of legendary Meters guitarist Leo Nocentelli on 'Steam' and 'Digging In The Dirt' add real spirited groove too. The arrangements are audacious in the extreme - 'Digging In The Dirt' veers through multiple personalities, all the time retaining its relentless metronomic backbeat, whilst 'Kiss That Frog' places the rhythmic emphasis in a place completely unfamiliar to most western ears. What a shame that the version released as a single was plodding and conventional by comparison.

Whilst it's easy to see why the ethereal, otherworldly atmospherics made listeners feel detached from the experience, in retrospect, it's also arguable that this album had an enormous influence. It's perhaps no coincidence that Daniel Lanois and Malcolm Burn would use similar tactics as producers on records as vital as Bob Dylan's 'Time Out Of Mind' and three superb albums from Emmylou Harris ('Wrecking Ball', 'Red Dirt Girl' and, most recently, 'Stumble Into Grace'). They were lucky to be working with artists who could reach similar lyrical depth as Gabriel explored on this candid, challenging and powerful masterpiece.

It's clear now too that 'Us' marked a point of transition in Gabriel's career, much as 'The Royal Scam' marked out a seismic shift for Steely Dan in the mid-70s. After that album, Fagen and Becker became obsessed with the quest for perfection, gradually reducing the input of their always superb groups of session players, and eventually emerging with the total precision of 'Gaucho' in 1980. Gabriel's obsession with sound and studio techniques probably began as early as his time with Genesis, but there was always an organic quality to the best of his early solo albums. He would take more than ten years to produce a successor to 'Us', the meticulously crafted, if less consistent 'Up'. Rumour has it that another album will emerge this year through an online only distribution process - but Gabriel doesn't any longer have a good track record on meeting self-imposed deadlines!

The Urban Question

No, it's not a post about Joss Stone (heaven forbid), but rather about two of the year's first major releases, both of which seem to focus thematically on modern London. 'A Weekend In The City' is the second album from the much lauded Bloc Party, and it seems that just as I've finally decided that they may just be worth all the column inches, something of an editorial backlash seems to have been instigated. Sometimes I simply don't understand the logic of the music press. Less than a couple of years ago, fashion dictated that the emphasis on rhythm and sound over melody be portrayed as some kind of vanguard, and BP were the leading lights of that movement. The reviews of 'A Weekend In The City' published so far, lukewarm rather than negative, have now highlighted that Kele Okereke doesn't deal much in melodic themes or hooks. All this despite the fact that 'A Weekend In The City' is considerably more accessible and conventional than its predecessor. Whilst it's true that Okereke's vocal range remains limited to about half an octave, he seems to have crafted more memorable songs for this collection.

In fact, the band seem to be pressing all the necessary buttons for their stadium ambitions here, whilst retaining the quirky, most characteristic elements of their original sound (estuary English, off-kilter drumming, crunchy guitars). This time using Jacknife Lee as producer over the more fashionable Paul Epworth, the rough edges are smoothed over and everything becomes crisper and more precise. Yet, in Bloc Party's hands, the big, rousing tactics work remarkably well. The more sensitive songs here have a genuine emotional impact, rather than the manipulative faux-anthemic 'qualities' of a Snow Patrol or a Coldplay. Towards the end of the record, there are three songs with grand ambitions that linger in the mind most effectively. 'Kreuzberg' is a grandiose potted melodrama, complete with chiming guitars and big drums. 'I Still Remember', with its evocative and haunting adolescent recollections (possibly homosexual?) is an intriguing and striking song, and a clear future single. 'Sunday' is slower and more morose, but also eerie and haunting, demonstrating the band's uncanny ability here to meld bombast and subtlety.

The first part of the album seems to deal more explicitly with the London theme - covering issues such as racial tension and the lack of a real sense of belonging. Okereke gave a completely fascinating and riveting interview to The Guardian last month that finally convinced me of his value as a frontman - he's an intriguing and articulate presence. In light of all this, it seems a shame that the record company appeared to have vetoed the inclusion of a track called 'This Is England', which apparently began with recollections of a tense nightbus journey before examining the recent homophobic murder on such a bus. It sounded provocative and daring, and its absence from the final running order is worth noting. Still, tracks like 'Where Is Home?' and 'Waiting For The 7.18' are both mysterious and compelling, all very much helped by a greater emphasis on clarity in the vocals across the whole album. Whilst Okereke's yelps on 'Silent Alarm' often rendered the lyrics incomprehensible, here they are in the main intelligible and completely central to the record's achievement. A Weekend In The City' is a bold, expansive record, but as it turns out, a Bloc Party album with crossover ambitions is a big and beautiful beast.

Damon Albarn has come in for attacks from all corners at various stages of his career - for being a 'mockney', for penning too many songs with 'oom-pah' rhythms, for misappropriating gospel on 'Tender', or hip hop on 'On Your Own'. Whilst in retrospect it's all too easy to emphasise Blur's inconsistencies, it's clear that Albarn was always an outstanding pop songwriter, and in particular a master of the ballad. He has since dabbled in much more esoteric territory, indulging his every whim, with surprisingly dependable levels of success. His latest project, The Good, The Bad and The Queen, is a supergroup with former Clash bassist Paul Simonon, the outstanding Nigerian drummer Tony Allen, and keyboardist/guitarist Simon Tong. The resulting album is as sonically inventive as one might hope, although Allen is not involved as much as he should be. When his drumming is present, the rhythmic emphasis is entirely unpredictable and exciting, and the music takes on a decidedly unusual edge. There's a peculiarly haunting atmosphere throughout, effectively conjuring the sensation of streetlights, damp nights and desolate highways. Albarn's melodies have become more vulnerable and less extravagant as a result of this, and his singing is mostly delicate and unobtrusive.

Whilst the album purports to be about West London, and many have presented it as the dark flipside of the Parklife coin, there's also the lingering spectres of terror, war and, particularly, Iraq. Unfortunately, as on the otherwise splendid 'Think Tank', these appear as abstract forces and are never particularly well fleshed out. Albarn's lyrics have become elusive and frustrating, although he mercifully doesn't quite resort to the Thom Yorke tactic of moaning about everything and never presenting a solution. There's something more substantial here than that, but there's the sense that Albarn feels confused by the gravitas of the global situation, and he's not quite able to articulate these feelings successfully.

Still, it's merely a niggling criticism when so much of this album sounds so assured and enchanting. The sound of the entire record has been carefully planned and cleverly executed, from the rustic pluckings of the opening acoustic guitar to the noisy, extended coda of the closing title track. It moves audaciously from the plaintive to the strident, and the only musical quibble is the slight over-reliance on Albarn's own piano playing, which is slightly heavy-handed and, consequentially, a bit plinky plonk. Still, the highlights here ('History Song', '80s Life', 'A Soldier's Tale' and 'Green Fields') can take their place among Albarn's most considered and affecting works.

Bjork

There are all sorts of half confirmed rumours going around about the next Bjork album. I take most of these with a pinch of salt as 'Medulla' was supposed to be an entirely vocal album, and it didn't quite fulfil that brief, excellent though it was. Still, if the new record really does feature a collaboration with Anthony Hegarty as well as appearances from Konono No. 1, masterful kora player Toumani Diabate and production from Timbaland, it could really be something quite unexpected and special!

Bottomless Swamp

Chris Potter's Underground, Pizza Express Jazz Club, Mon 15th Jan 2007

Chris Potter is a musician now really starting to find his own space. His phenomenal playing with the Dave Holland Quintet lead me to seek out his own 'Underground' album from last year (which I managed to find for just £1.49 in an Oxfam shop - some people are just foolish in what they decide to give away). The band is a quartet without a bass player, but no less groovy for that. In fact, the sound the group create shakes the relatively intimate Pizza Express club for all it's worth.

Opening with the superbly titled 'Next Best Western' ('it's a long story we don't need to go into now', says Potter evasively), the band waste no time and immediately hit their stride, the sound dominated by Nate Smith's crisp and ebullient drumming, full of unusual accents and unorthodox interplay between snare and hi-hat. Potter's playing is mostly loud and full, he plays a lot of notes, but mostly in a dynamic and musical way. Most impressive is his sheer physical ability - it's hard to imagine how he hits such levels of intensity in his solos in the first place, let alone how he sustains them for anything up to fifteen minutes at a time.

It initially seemed like there might be problems. Potter can blow so hard for so long that it looked like the rest of the group might not get a look in. Actually, some of the gig's most exciting and unpredictable moments came when Potter retreated to the back of the stage and allowed Smith, keyboardist Craig Taborn and guitarist Adam Rodgers to trade playful and concise phrases. Taborn and Rodgers play minimally, but in doing so add much to the group's sound - the style is taut and percussive, relying more on rhythm and phrasing than carefully voiced chords.

It would also have been a problem had the group settled in to their mightily impressive heavy swamp groove for the entire set. Mercifully, two new compositions, both calm and enthralling, showed the increasing breadth of Potter's vision as a writer. The concentration and energy of the players was first rate throughout, the icing on the cake being a spectacularly dexterous and innovative drum solo from Smith. Smith is not just a joy to hear, but fascinating to watch, his posture peculiar, his body constantly twitching and moving in tandem with his rhythms.

A consistently invigorating and entertaining performance, this has already set the standard for gigs in 2007.

An Appreciation of Alice Coltrane

I don't normally post tributes or obituaries on here (not even for pivotal figures such as James Brown), yet somehow I feel compelled to write something about Alice Coltrane. I think this is mainly because she spent most of her life condemned by critics either, entirely unjustly, as a Yoko Ono figure trading incomprehensible work on the legacy of her late husband or simply as an inferior musician worthlessly attempting to continue propagating his concerns. That she was in fact neither of these things has been asserted by a handful of excellent writers, perhaps most notably David Toop, who has written perceptively about her masterpiece, 1972's 'Universal Consciousness'. It has really only been during the past couple of years, with the reissue of her Impulse and Atlantic albums, a fascinating interview in The Wire magazine (one of the magazine's finest issues) and with the 2004 comeback 'Translinear Light', that her own outstanding contribution has really been recognised.

Alice McLeod actually began her musical training remarkably early, at the age of seven, and had become an able, expressive bepop pianist in the manner of Bud Powell well before she met John Coltrane. She performed with Terry Gibbs, Kenny Burrell and, perhaps most significantly, Yusuf Lateef in the early 60s. Her personal and professional union with Coltrane would completely revolutionise her style, however, as she followed her husband creatively into fiery, free-form territory. Yet her playing style was always informed by earlier developments, particularly the modal techniques pioneered by Bill Evans and extended in Coltrane's earlier works. Although there are doubters who understimate her contribution to Coltrane's later music (she doesn't appear on significant studio works such as 'Ascencion'), it's worth emphasising that 'The Olatunji Concert', now readily available on Impulse CD, is considered one of the finest live recordings of free improvisation in the history of the music.

Following John Coltrane's tragically premature death, she produced a series of albums for the Impulse label ('A Montastic Trio', 'Huntinton Ashram Monastery', 'Ptah The El Daoud', 'Journey In Satchidananda', 'Universal Consciousness', 'World Galaxy' and 'Lord Of Lords') that showed her consistent imagination and inspiration, but which mostly baffled the critics of the time. This extraordinary, visionary and exciting music was informed by a vast array of influences, not purely musical but also spiritual. The connection with gospel and the blues ran deep, and as a result the music sounded intense and fervent. Yet Coltrane also admired the Eastern religions, particularly the acts of meditation and spiritual contemplation. The earlier albums have a fiery, furious swing, frequently dominated by the juxtaposition of Rashied Ali's relentless drumming with Coltrane's full, powerful chord voicings on the piano. Where Pharoah Sanders also featured, the results were even more muscular. It was a superb ensemble, revelling in the energy and joy of musical discovery. She had already begun to push herself further in intriguing new directions though, and the deployment of the harp was more than mere novelty - in her hands it became as expressive an improvisatory medium as the piano.

By 'Universal Consciousness', she had moved well away from conventional compositional structure and had begun to explore looser, mostly free styles of playing. Yet the music on this great achievement is neither confounding nor indulgent, but rather characterised by a constant conflict between turblulence and tranquility. The notion that there was a 'universal consciousness' common to all spiritual belief is an idealistic but appealing notion which Coltrane portrayed with quiet dignity through a purely musical language. She would continue to investigate these ideas to their full extent across the next two records, increasingly incorporating strings (still a feature entirely alien to most jazz of the period) to expand the textures. 'Lord Of Lords' (still criminally unavailable on CD - I've seen original vinyl copies on sale for £70+ with that value sure to increase now) even contained her interpretation Stravinsky's 'The Firebird', prefiguring the closer relations between jazz and strict composition that would develop further during the 70s and 80s, especially in Europe. The version of 'A Love Supreme' on 'World Galaxy' neatly encapsulates the complexity of her musical relationship with her husband's legacy - it was a radical re-interpretation, retaining the spirit of the original recording, but with a substance entirely of her own making.

The Atlantic albums of the 70s are less consistent, and frequently more challenging, but they are worth pursuing as they show her reluctance to stand still. Mostly abandoning the piano in favour of a variety of organs, she continued to investigate devotional concerns through her music, and a passionate intensity remained intact. Founding her own religious centre in 1975, much of the rest of her life would be devoted largely to spiritual works and personal retreat.

She continued to perform, albeit infrequently, and judging by the standard of 2004's excellent comeback 'Translinear Light', had lost none of her dynamism or energy. Beginning to perform more regularly last year, and mid-way through recording what appeared to be an intensely serious and significant new work, her passing was unexpected and unbearably badly timed. I plan to listen to all these albums again this week, and it shall no doubt be poignant, but they are the kind of works which intimate new facets and dimensions with every play, so the experience will also be edifying and inspirational. The combination of the spiritual and the musical is difficult to achieve without becoming vulnerable to accusations of pretension, and Coltrane suffered from this during her career. Yet pretension means pretending to be something you are not - my sense of Alice Coltrane is that she was genuinely serious-minded, committed and, yes, perhaps divinely inspired.

Update

To their credit, the NME have now published the news of Alice Coltrane's death online (albeit under the predictable header - 'John Coltrane's widow dies'). Astonishingly, they credit Billboard not for the news itself, but for factual details of her discography. Are NME's journalists so ignorant of musical history that they need to credit US industry publications with information very much in the public domain, and which should be standard knowledge for any journalist called upon to report on these matters?

Sad News

The world of jazz has suffered a double devastating loss this weekend, with the deaths of Michael Brecker and Alice Coltrane. The influence of Brecker's technique is hard to overstate and he will be much missed by musicians and enthusiasts alike. Alice Coltrane's death is particularly hard to take - she had only recently started to receive due credit for her substantial body of work, and had spent too much of her life in the shadow of her husband's towering legacy. Only recently performing live again, she was due to appear at the Barbican in London in April, a concert I had been anticipating keenly. It's tragic news. I'll write a full appreciation of her as soon as I have time. Why are no major news outlets in the UK reporting this (even sites primarily dedicated to music)? The Alice Coltrane news came from Pitchfork, an American website that barely otherwise ever even mentions jazz! Maybe I'm too unrealistic in my expectations of the media, but it pains me that Kylie's outbreak of flu is considered more significant.

Sensible Spontaneity

Evan Parker Quartet, The Vortex, London

I can't admit to having much of a taste for, or even much knowledge of, completely free jazz. This comes in spite of (or perhaps because of) being a trained jazz musician myself. I am frequently stunned by the recorded improvised concerts of pianist Keith Jarrett, but this may well be more because of the hypnotic reverie of the style and sound than any technical mastery in the performance. Group free improvising can sometimes feel rampant, excessive and indulgent, without the restraining influence of composed melodic and harmonic structure. It's also frequently difficult to connect with on an emotional, rather than theoretical level. I definitely felt this at Wayne Shorter's highly acclaimed London Jazz Festival perfomance late last year. Although there were moments when everything clicked, and the musicians seemed almost divinely inspired, they were ultimately just moments, and the concert as a whole felt stuttering and tetchy, with the group mostly failing to complete the good ideas they started.

Watching Evan Parker's quartet at the Vortex tonight, just one in a series of monthly performances at the venue, certainly challenged some of my ingrained prejudices against the genre. Predictably, there was plenty of fast and furious blowing, at times an unfathomably intricate barrage of notes being emitted from Parker's saxophone like some unpleasant discharge. Like other free performances I've seen, there were two sets of continuous, unbroken music but, unlike lesser performances, Parker and his technically adept group varied mood and texture with consideration and impeccable timing. As a result, the performance was never anything less than engaging, and frequently even inspiring.

For me, some of the best moments were completely unexpected, such as when the band almost dropped to a ballad tempo mid-way through the second set, and the pianist ushered in an audacious solo with some distinctly bluesy chord patterns. Similarly, during the first set, an eerie calm descended, and Parker's playing suddenly became gentle and lyrical, before returning to the fiery, muscular style for which he is renowned.

For a drummer, the set proved particularly illuminating. Tony Marsh played with palpable sensitivity and control, producing a bewildering array of sounds that made the kit seem positively orchestral. Whilst he demonstrated a comfortable fluency around the kit, the two noticeable occasions he settled back into marking time enabled the group to shift to a different gear, and his phrasing, often mimicking or reacting to the ideas generated by the melodic instrumentalists, felt musical and considered throughout. It's exactly this kind of careful integration and contribution that I strive to achieve with my own ensemble playing, and it's always great to hear when someone has it nailed!

Thanks to James Partridge and Tom Millar (two future stars of composition and performance I have no doubt) for persuading me to listen with an open mind. Parker is the most significant contributor to freely improvised music in Britain - and it's an honour to be able to see him perform in an intimate venue.

Post-Britpop Rearing Its Ugly Head

From an NME news story:

Albarn said: "I've always had a problem with Jarvis' stance on that, I found it really disturbing when he pulled his pants down in front of Michael Jackson, that just seemed totally wrong. If someone is sick, he's not open to ridicule."He added: "He's got some very odd ideas about reality. I think it's a collective responsibility to say 'No you can't go and do what you're doing', not just to ridicule him. "The world is not full of c*nts; we have a collective responsibility not to slag people off and instead try to understand them."

Now I usually defend Damon Albarn, as I still maintain he's one of the best pop ballad songwriters England has produced (although I can do without the oom-pah stuff these days). But how seriously does the man have to take himself? I don't think Jarvis was ridiculing Michael Jackson for his mental health, more for his pomposity, the specific ghastly nature of that particular performance, and by implication the BPI for allowing it to be staged. As for 'C*nts Are Still Running The World', I think it demonstrates that Jarvis has a reasonably accurate understanding (albeit not a particularly subtle or nuanced one) of the motives of current Western governments. It's leaders and people in privileged positions of power that come under attack in the song - the argument is not that the world is full of c*nts, more that the c*nts tend to exploit all their advantages and benefits, frequently unfairly. It's also, get this, a bit funny. A bit of a joke. Perhaps you should try it, Damon.









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What The New Year Has In Store

Happy New Year to all readers of this blog!

First thing to do is quickly summarise what we can look forward to in 2007.

There is speculation as to whether or not there will be big new albums from the likes of Blur, Radiohead, REM and The Pixies. After their live shows, I have modest expectations of the new Pixies material, and the Blur and Radiohead albums are far from confirmed. Surely much more exciting is a new album from the original, seminal line-up of Dinosaur Jr. At the very least, I look forward to some squalling J Mascis guitar solos and hearing the combination of J and Lou Barlow's vocals again. I do hope that Barlow has more creative input this time around though. REM definitely plan to begin recording in 2007, but it's by no means guaranteed that the album will appear in the same year. Let's at least hope they find a new path away from the plodding monotony of 'Around The Sun'.

It looks increasingly likely that Portishead will finally return next year, and Massive Attack will also release their 'Weather Underground' album, delayed from 2006 thanks to a contractual greatest hits collection. Will these records sound dated or will they capture something more contemporary?

Unbelievably, The Stooges have made a brand new album, 'The Weirdness'. It could well be terrible...

There are certainly some albums I'm very excited about - Spiritualized, The Postal Service, The New Pornographers, Gillian Welch, Lucinda Williams, Wilco, Feist, Patrick Wolf, The Earlies, The Shins, Low, Wheat, Bloc Party, LCD Soundsystem, Aesop Rock, EL-P, Cannibal Ox, Animal Collective, Annie, Andrew Bird, Doves, Feist, Fridge, Madvillain, Magnetic Fields (continuing Stephin Merritt's prolific output), Blonde Redhead, Rufus Wainwright, Tortoise, Underworld, Spoon, PJ Harvey and The Breeders all have albums scheduled.

I may be the only person in the world interested in the imminent return of The B-52s.

Nick Cave has a new hardcore band called Grinderman - should be interesting....

'The Neon Bible' is the title of the second album from The Arcade Fire. Will 'Funeral' prove to be an albatross around their necks, or will they exceed its undoubted brilliance?

I'm still investigating jazz releases - but the return of Alice Coltrane is surely one of the most exciting prospects for the year!

Albums Of The Year 2006 Part Two

Sorry, delayed by Christmas. Why can't they time it more conveniently, eh?


50. Colin Towns/NDR Big Band – Frank Zappa’s Hot Licks/Lend Me Your Ears (Provocateur)
I’m cheating a bit here by putting these two albums from master composer and arranger Towns together, especially as he actually released three different albums in 2006 (I’ve yet to hear the third, a collaboration with singer Norma Winstone). The music of Frank Zappa translates fluidly to the big band setting, particularly the material from Hot Rats, and the band sounds muscular and punchy. ‘Lend Me Your Ears’, a collection of original material from Towns, is less successful than his Orpheus Suite ballet music, but still comfortably demonstrates his talent for refreshing the traditional big band sound.

49. Ghostface Killah – Fishcscale (Def Jam)
After a period of coasting somewhat, Ghostface bounced back with a resounding success of an album, full of pounding, insistent beats and the kind of wild wordplay we had come to expect. With the likes of Pete Rock and MF Doom on production duties, the sound is varied and refreshing, and not even the numerous skits and guest appearances (so crushingly inevitable on modern hip hop albums) spoil the effortless flow.

48. The Gossip - Standing In The Way Of Control (Backyard)
The surprise crossover success of the year, The Gossip might have been considered outsider cult figures at the start of the year, and few would have predicted the NME’s bizarre decision to put Beth at the top of their ghastly ‘cool list’, yet have the resoundingly atrocious Muse grace the front cover instead. Still, if we focus on the music, there’s just so much to enjoy here – it’s a riotously thrilling merger of primal blues and punk, and actually a far more effective hybrid than that of the far more lauded White Stripes. Just listen to the sublime ‘Coal To Diamonds’ or the brilliantly minimal ‘Listen Up’ (one of the year’s best party tunes), for evidence of the raw energy and feeling this band have in abundance.

47. Max Richter - Songs From Before (Fat Cat)
Highly influenced by the likes of Steve Reich, Richter is both a minimalist composer and producer of considerable talent. With Robert Wyatt contributing narrated passages from the works of Japanese novelist Haruki Murakami, this could easily have been a jarringly pretentious record. In actuality, its peculiarly moving, with those long, tremulous strings resonant of the best work of Godspeed You Black Emperor.

46. Solomon Burke – Nashville (Snapper)
Since returning to secular music with ‘Don’t Give Up On Me’ in 2002, Solomon Burke has released three very different albums for three different labels. This latest continues a majestic creative renewal, neatly capturing those close links between traditional American country music and the black soul canon. With mostly delicate, acoustic backings, Burke combines gutsy emotion with grand melodrama to sublime effect. As ever, the choice of songwriters and collaborators is thoughtful – with superb contributions from Gillian Welch, Emmylou Harris and Dolly Parton in particular.

45. Benoit Pioulard – Precis (Kranky)
An album well spotted by bloggers but virtually ignored by the press, it would be great to see this one get some further attention in 2007. It has a very peculiar sound, equal parts rustic and modern, and the songs are both elusive and compelling. It’s certainly one of the more distictive singer-songwriter records of the year, and it’s refreshingly hard to pinpoint reference points for Pioulard’s mysterious, eerie concoctions.

44. Dani Siciliano – Slappers (!K7)
Siciliano’s solo albums have been unfairly overlooked whilst her partner and producer Matthew Herbert has gathered ever more critical plaudits. I actually felt this was a more consistent, more playful and more energetic prospect than Herbert’s own ‘Scale’, as Siciliano deployed her sharply ironic glare over modern materialism and exploitation with invigorating results.

43. Skream! – Skream! (Tempa)
Dubstep prodigy Skream!’s debut long player was probably the most immediate, infectious and danceable record emerging from that scene in 2006. It’s not supremely significant and coherent like the Burial record, but it’s nevertheless packed with ideas and invention. I’m hoping this sound has plenty of life in it yet.

42. Toumani Diabate’s Symmetric Orchestra - Boulevard de L’independence (World Circuit)
This is a splendidly joyful record, full of spirit and energy and noteworthy simply for Diabate’s exquisite mastery of the Kora, an instrument that is rarely heard in the western world. Diabate makes this delicate instrument effortlessly compatible with a big band approach, in a cultural experimentation that sounds much more like synthesis than clash. Superb.

41. Clogs – Lantern (Talitres)
This group featured members of American indie rock combo The National, although it was hard to detect this from the unique chamber sound this peculiar ensemble crafted. These skeletal, almost archaic mostly instrumental compositions sounded pretty much unlike anything else in 2006, and went shamefully neglected here in the UK.

40. Elvis Costello and The Metropole Orkestar - My Flame Burns Blue (Deutsche Grammofon/Universal)
Slipping out early in the year with hardly anyone noticing, this may actually be the best in what many regard as Elvis Costello’s extra-curricular activities. Reimagining his songs with huge orchestral backing has surprisingly brought out some of the nuances in the material (‘Favourite Hour’ becomes even more moving, ‘Episode Of Blonde’ is less forced and more forceful). He is also beginning to sound much more comfortable as a vocalist when he tries on new clothes, and ‘My Flame Burns Blue’ sounds more like a grand achievement than an experiment.

39. Liars – Drum’s Not Dead (Mute)
One of the year’s most uncompromising and thoroughly bonkers records, Liars returned with a gonzoid, rhythm-heavy slice of storytelling viewed from the perspective of two fictional characters. It’s a dense and unforgiving sound, but one that reaps plenty of rewards given careful attention. It’s probably best when at it’s most visceral, inducing a real physical thrill.

38. William Elliott Whitmore - Song Of The Blackbird (Southern)
Whitmore has such a brilliant voice – with something of the gutsy sensuality of Otis Redding that, when delivering his rootsy, rustic country songs, sounds unusually powerful and compelling. It’s even better when he plays the banjo, an instrument these days rarely heard completely unadorned. This is a stark and fascinating record, suggesting that Whitmore is a talent to watch in the coming years.

37. Amy Winehouse - Back To Black (Island)
Whilst I might have dismissed her as ‘whiney’ Winehouse a couple of years ago, ‘Back To Black’ proved me wrong in dramatic style. So many modern R&B records suffer from sounding overly synthetic, or by struggling in vain to recapture a classic sound. Winehouse opted for the latter approach, but actually succeeded in crafting something timeless and soulful. There’s plenty of her own candid observations and experiences on offer (perhaps too much information at times – let’s hope she doesn’t go the way of Millie Jackson and veer into pointless obscenity), and her voice has developed strength and character in the period since her debut.

36. Yo La Tengo - I Am Not Afraid Of You And I Will Beat Your Ass (Matador)
If you’re like me, you may want to skip the extended wig-outs that bookend this album, which are basically nothing other than the entirely expected from this band. Elsewhere, however, they continue to stretch themselves in fascinating directions, and parts of ‘I Will Beat Your Ass…’ represent the band’s most accessible and affecting work to date. YLT are at their best when they are soft and otherworldly, and that side is emphasized strongly here. Album title of the year too, without doubt.

35. Cortney Tidwell - Don’t Let Stars Keep Us Tangled Up (Ever)
Tidwell was one of the major discoveries of 2006, with an expressive voice and an intricate approach to sound and production. Sometimes the influences were a little too easily spotted (nods to Bjork or The Cocteau Twins particularly so), but this album sounded so haunting and elegiac that there’s plenty to suggest that Tidwell will soon capture find her own voice.

34. Trentemoller - The Last Resort (Poker Flat)
One of the best electronic albums of the year, ‘The Last Resort’ was evocative and cinematic, without resorting to tried and tested cliches, and proving that some of the most exciting music continues to be made at the margins.

33. Chris Potter – Underground (Universal)
There are few more striking and extraordinary sounds in jazz right now than Chris Potter’s colossal saxophone bellow. He always plays a lot of notes, but he usually manages to make it sound meaningful (and if not emotional, then at least ceaselessly energetic). His own work is now coming into its own too – and ‘Underground’ is a captivating album that, even in the absence of a bass player, sounds swampy and groovy. His take on Radiohead’s ‘Morning Bell’ is, in my view, better than any of Brad Mehldau’s Radiohead interpretations.

32. Califone- Roots and Crowns (Thrill Jockey)
Yet another one that’s gone largely unnoticed here, and I can’t quite fathom why. Magazines such as Uncut and Mojo spend so long praising the virtues of the spurious ‘alt-country’ genre that they fail to notice when an album that genuinely fuses the ‘alternative’ with ‘country’ actually comes along. This is a more consistent, accessible and compelling album than the admittedly excellent ‘Heron King Blues’ (the album which introduced me to the band last year), and is full of intriguing sounds, strange song titles and unusual lyrics, whilst keeping one foot firmly in the American roots tradition.

31. The Hidden Cameras – Awoo (Rough Trade)
The best of these songs will lodge themselves in your memory and refuse to disappear. They are also endearing, joyously optimistic and accessible, whilst retaining the band’s character and stance. The combination of Joel Gibb’s slightly nasal but enthralling voice set against the wonderfully lush string arrangements continues to work wonders, but with ‘Wandering’ and ‘Hump From Bending’ particularly, they are at last expanding their musical reach.

30. The Neil Cowley Trio – Displaced (HideInside)
Listening to this, it’s hard to believe that Neil Cowley was once a member of the Brand New Heavies, possibly one of my least favourite bands of all time. There’s such a variety of styles here, and this album demonstrates that, far from being restricting, the piano trio setup can be extremely liberating. Cowley’s trio have been conveniently labeled as Britain’s answer to EST. Whilst there’s an element of truth there, it’s a bit reductive – as there are echoes of classic Oscar Peterson and some seriously heavy grooves too. The playing throughout is considered and expressive.

29. Candi Staton – His Hands (Honest Jon’s)
Another great record inexplicably omitted from most of the mainstream lists – it’s another example of a gutsy soul singer returning to secular music after years in the gospel wilderness. Sadly she rejected Kurt Wagner’s songwriting contribution, but generally shrewd song selections made for a fascinating collection. She demonstrates the strong links between country and soul by tackling Merle Haggard, and the undoubted highlight is the Will Oldham penned title track, a thoroughly remarkable piece of music. Mark Nevers’ production is stately and unobstrusive.


28. Erin McKeown - Sing You Sinners (Nettwerk)
The continuing indifference to McKeown in this country is a massive injustice. Not content with having released three albums of outstanding original songwriting, she returned to the record collection she grew up with for this album of jazz and theatre standards. It’s magnificent of course, far from just a retread of traditional forms, as McKeown effortlessly breathes distinctive new life into what could be tired material. Her selections are brave too, from the potentially obvious (‘Get Happy’), to the virtually unknown. Technically adept contributions from drummer Alison Miller help keep the proceedings lively and playful.

27. Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy - The Letting Go (Domino)
Will Oldham is continuing his regeneration apace. Last year’s ‘Superwolf’ project finally directed him away from his contrarian impulses into something more productive, and there’s definitely an argument to suggest that ‘The Letting Go’ is his finest album since ‘I See A Darkness’. It’s soft, gentle and frequently sounds lovely, although there’s plenty of uncompromising experience and sensation to confront in the lyrics.

26. Tom Waits – Orphans (Anti)
Three CDs is probably a little too much Waits for most people, but ‘Orphans’ dependably contained an embarrassment of riches. As I suggested in my original review, the ‘Bawlers’ disc works best simply by virtue of being a collection of ballads that mostly eschew the junkyard stomp that is perhaps beginning to sound over-familiar. Waits demonstrates the variety and depth of his voice across these tracks, it is always the focus, and usually the most effective of the instruments.

25. Andrew McCormack – Telescope (Dune)
It’s a golden time for British jazz at the moment, and McCormack has not only proved himself a gifted pianist, but also an intelligent composer and bandleader too, and ‘Telescope’ is one of the most dynamic and exciting trio albums of recent years, at a time when the genre is not exactly short of high achievers. It’s most simple and direct, with swinging themes and effervescent soloing, and it certainly benefits from the outstanding contribution of drummer Tom Skinner, who keeps everything moving with understated skill.

24. Beirut - Gulag Orkestar (Ba Da Bing/4AD)
Gathering high praise first on the internet, and then from independent record stores and magazines, Zach Condon'’ extraordinary debut received two UK releases in 2006, and was afforded deserved promotion the second time around. It’s a brilliantly crafted collection of melodious, sometimes melancholy songs, all bolstered by a weird array of horns and wind instruments that place it somewhere akin to the Balkan gypsy music beloved of filmmaker Emir Kusturica. As a result, it veers from the sensitive to the sensational, and from the beauteous to the bawdy. Splendid.

23. Patricia Barber – Mythologies (Blue Note/EMI)
This is an album of languid and lugubriuos beauty, and it’s so wonderfully refreshing to hear a female jazz vocalist produce something genuinely challenging after all the overloading of coffee table conventions from the likes of Diana Krall and Madeleine Peyroux. Barber’s voice is soft (frequently almost whispered), and her focus is on phrasing and language over melody. Her ensemble are also magical, crafting an enthralling variety of settings for her musings on mythological figures.

22. Rock Plaza Central – Are We Not Horses? (Sound Outside)
A concept album about metallic robot horses? They can’t be serious, can they? Indeed, they are – and with their sound neatly capturing a hybrid of Neutral Milk Hotel’s warped indie, Sufjan Stevens’ majestic arrangements, and Will Oldham’s lyrical candour, this Toronto band have hit on something rather urgent and magical. After their 8.4 score on Pitchfork, they’re almost certainly ones to watch for 2007 too.

21. Oriole – Migration (F-IRE Recordings)
This fluid, fluent and peaceful combination of folklore and jazz sounded both serene and captivating. Jonny Philips’ rhythmic accompaniments define the band’s sound, and his compositions are immediately warm and melodically inventive. The combination of Ingrid Laubrock’s richly exquisite sax and Ben Davis’ longing Cello also added to the unique appeal of this charming, considered music.

20. Neko Case - Fox Confessor Brings The Flood (Anti)
One of the year’s more elusive and mysterious albums lyrically, ‘Fox Confessor’ wasn’t just an extension of that warm, reverb-drenched sound Case captured so well on ‘Blacklisted’, it was the superior formulation of her vision. Even at a relatively brief running time, it’s a dense, unusual and thoroughly captivating.

19. Camera Obscura - Let’s Get Out Of This Country (Elefant)
It’s not just what Belle and Sebastian would be like if they were still good, it’s what they’d be like if they had managed to make a whole album of songs as brilliant as ‘Lazy Line Painter Jane’. The combination of indie whimsy and northern soul feeling worked tremendously well, helped along by a superb set of highly infectious songs from TraceyAnne Campbell, delivered with customary understatement.

18. Ali Farka Toure – Savane (World Circuit)
The great Mali bluesman’s last album captured his essence with quiet dignity, and the description of him as ‘the king of the desert blues singers’ can hardly be contested on the basis of this evidence. The language barrier is not a problem either – it’s the spirit and feeling of these repetitive, circular songs that carry their meanings. Although Toure was already taken ill during these sessions, he had hardly sounded more alive. ‘Savane’ is a highly fitting tribute.

17. Cat Power - The Greatest (Matador)
A record that divided opinion among Chan Marshall’s longstanding fans, but newcomers were understandably enchanted. Personally, I don’t think there has ever been a better setting for her lugubrious, occasionally hypnotic vocals. With the backing of the Memphis musicians that so ably supported the likes of Al Green and Ann Peebles, Marshall emerged as a modern day Dusty Springfield, captivating and effotlessly soulful.

16. Matmos - The Rose Has Teeth In The Mouth Of A Beast (Matador)
Comfortably the duo’s best work to date, this finally saw them combine a conceptual, theoretical approach with music that simply sounded radical and audacious. With each of the tracks paying homage to a different gay icon (from Larry Levan to Wittgenstein), this captured the group’s background and influences whilst also keeping eyes firmly fixed on the future. This group really make the most of their samples and sounds, crafting something both perplexing and visionary.

15. Dave Holland Quintet - Critical Mass (Universal Jazz)
Still one of the best small groups in jazz, this group can draw wonders from the simplest of themes, and even with Nate Smith replacing Billy Kilson on drums, they still sound unfathomably tight. The long solos demonstrate the ability of these musicians to both generate and develop ideas, and they remain comfortable experimenting with both time and form. It’s a genuine thrill to hear this masterful combination of intelligent composition and inspired spontaneity.

14. Gnarls Barkley - St Elsewhere (Warners)
For most people, it was all about the ubiquitous ‘Crazy’, one of the genuinely great number ones of the century. Actually though, there was plenty more to admire on ‘St Elsewhere’, a satisfyingly scattershot collection that never settled for the lowest common denominator. It’s always pleasing to hear a pop record that proves that commercial music needn’t be manufactured by committee or produced to buggery – this just sounded like a duo of creative talents luxuriating in confounding expectations, and getting away with it too!

13. EST - Tuesday Wonderland (ACT:)
The best EST album in a while, adhering fairly predictably to their established sound, but pushing it in more exciting and contemporary directions. The chamber restraint of ‘Viaticum’ was largely abandoned in favour or ostentatious rhythmic devices and intricate composition, and whilst the modern ambience was very much intact, this sounded like a group still striving to push the boundaries of the trio format.

12. Johnny Cash - American V: A Hundred Highways (American Recordings)
With Cash at his most frail, and with his vocals recorded mostly in islolation and then grafted on to backing tracks completed by Rick Rubin after his death, this was very much a posthumous album in all senses. Yet, there’s something more than ghostly resonance here – something that captures the very essence of Johnny Cash at both his most vulnerable and his most towering. This was the sound of a man staring death squarely in the face, with dignity and compassion.

11. Kenny Garrett - Beyond The Wall (Nonesuch)
Even the specialist jazz publications seem to have undersold this a bit – it’s an absolute creative triumph for Garrett. There’s none of the smoothing of rough edges that sometimes hamper his themes, and has, so I’m reliably informed, been a serious problem at recent live shows. This is a deeply passionate, spiritual album, capturing the spirit of the East with instinctive force. It also has some beautifully elegiac passages, and Garrett even tries his hand at piano, with surprisingly effective results. Overall, it’s the superb band who really make this work – Garrett frequently takes a backseat to Pharoah Sanders’ explosive blowing, and Mulgrew Miller plays some full, highly supportive piano. Brian Blade mostly steers clear of his more freeform drumming, instead swinging with intelligence and real joy.

10. Bob Dylan – Modern Times (Columbia)
It usually takes a while to get to grips with a new Bob Dylan collection, and after returning to this numerous times, I’m starting to feel it may actually be the best of the supposed trilogy that began with ‘Time Out Of Mind’. I initially highlighted ‘Workingman’s Blues No. 2’ and ‘Nettie Moore’ as the major songs, and I stand by that statement, although I would now add the superb ‘Spirit On The Water’ and ‘Ain’t Talkin’ too. Like ‘Love and Theft’ before it, this is a collection that revels in old musical forms and zesty lyrical references (sometimes direct steals), and like its predecessor, its brimming with imaginative good humour. It of course benefits from the outstandingly crisp and vigorous playing of the touring band, but the real revelation is the voice. Whilst lyrics have frequently been rendered incomprehensible in live performance, the phrasing here is as majestic as ever, and Dylan seems to have found the perfect context for his throaty intonations.

9. The Decemberists - The Crane Wife (Rough Trade)
I’m not really sure what’s going on with this! I bought it on Rough Trade (a UK label) at a reasonable domestic price, a couple of months ago, but the current consensus is that the UK release of this comes in 2007. Have Rough Trade decided that simply slipping this out with no promotion whatsoever was a huge disservice to this remarkable band, who simply keep getting better with every release? ‘The Crane Wife’ is an ambitious song cycle, based in part on a Japanese fable, a medium that very much suits this band’s whimsical preoccupations. It’s the band’s most consistent and thrilling album, veering from stark murder balladry to powerfully intense rock dynamics. It’s a very invigorating listen and, if prepared to immerse oneself thoroughly in its rustic, mock-historical landscape, something akin to a minor masterpiece.

8. Hot Chip - The Warning (DFA/EMI)
How utterly brilliant it is that Hot Chip have gone so far this year and entirely on their own terms too. ‘The Warning’ made leaps and bounds from ‘Coming On Strong’ in that it retained their caustic irony and kitchen-sink approach but also made real sense when ingested as a whole. For me, their sensitivities are still as vital as the infectious pop, and, having boosted their profile considerably here, it will be interesting to see where they take their sound next (the sublime new track ‘Graceland’ shows massive promise). But for now, ‘The Warning’ is ample evidence of Hot Chip’s talent, from Alexis Taylor’s winning way with a melancholy melody (as showcased on ‘Boy From School’ and ‘Look After Me’ particularly), to their constant ambitions in pushing sonic boundaries. Where so much electronic pop is frosty and austere, this was both inventive and warm. It’s playful for sure, but it’s meaningful and affecting too.

7. Subtle - For Hero: For Fool (Lex/Warners)
Where on earth was this in the mainstream press albums of the year lists? It might be forgiveable that some find Doseone’s stream-of-consciousness rapping simply unpalatable, but other Anticon projects such as Clouddead and the Boom Bip/Doseone double act have received plenty of column inches. I struggle to think of anything released this year that was so wilfully unpredictable and captivating, rapid thinking in real time set to music that sounded thoroughly radical and unhinged.

6. Joe Lovano Ensemble - Streams Of Expression (Blue Note)
For peerless improvisation, intricate and detailed arrangement, and a scholarly understanding of the jazz tradition, this was the essential jazz recording of 2006. Lovano remains an outstanding player – full of ideas but also able to produce that immense sound that can swing between the gutsy and the sensitive at a stroke. The reworkings of Miles Davis’ ‘Birth Of The Cool’ music here are not the work of a slavish standards group, but the intelligent, passionate performances of a group demonstrating that there is always new life and meaning in timeless material.

5. TV On The Radio - Return To Cookie Mountain (4AD)
An album of fascinating sounds and rhythms, with thoroughly distinctive production values. ‘Cookie Mountain’ revealed what the previous long player only hinted at – a band with real invention and depth. Where so many bands define their sound simply through being one-dimensional, TV On The Radio proved themselves multi-faceted and free thinking, able to draw inspiration from a weird and wonderful array of influences and emerging with something unique and exciting.

4. Scritti Politti - White Bread Black Beer (Rough Trade)
Despite its relative lack of commercial success and failure to win the hearts of the Mercury Judges, this is 2006’s most perfect pop album. It is also the album I’ve returned to most this year, completely entranced by Green Gartside’s pinched, slightly androgynous vocals, as strange and beautiful a sound as you could hope to hear. The context here is new though – whilst the last Scritti album (‘Anomie and Bonhomie’) tried to integrate Gartside’s love of hip hop a little too explicitly, ‘White Bread Black Beer’ straddles genre classification in a more organic way, and there can be little doubt that the lo-fi, home-made approach has helped in this regard. Despite all the US influences (from The Beach Boys to Run DMC), it also sounds like a very British album; observant, witty and intelligent to the core.

3. Burial – Burial (Hyperdub/Kode9)
Krissi Murisson of the NME may proclaim publicly that her publication is the only definitive guide to new music, but if she wanted any proof of the power of the web to generate real excitement around a new release, she need only look to this album. I first read about this early in the year on a handful of blogs, and the writing around this album was some of the most ardently enthusiastic and sophisticated music writing I’ve read in some time. It was some time before I actually managed to find a copy, so dire was the original distribution, but when I finally heard it, the excitement made perfect sense.

Although largely instrumental, ‘Burial’ is an album many people can easily relate to. Nevermind Beyonce, Chamillionaire or any other fatuous materialist gushing, this album has a real, gritty urban sound. It is also determinedly dark, almost the soundtrack to an impending crisis or apocalypse. It is dubstep’s first (and I fear possibly last) longform masterpiece and its eerie calm-before-the-storm lingers in my mind with real clarity.

2. Scott Walker - The Drift (4AD)
The most significant and singular artistic statement of the year, ‘The Drift’ may be a record too intense for some people to accept. Whilst it follows naturally from the avant-garde preoccupations of ‘Tilt’ and ‘Climate Of Hunter’, it is so much more confrontational and challenging than even those records. Yet the challenge is, in this case, utterly necessary. ‘The Drift’ makes us all confront the most terrifying elements of this world and is, as such, a far more accurate summary of ‘modernity’ than any of Tony Blair’s recent policy statements, domestic or foreign. It is the most political record of the year, in that it addresses directly, and in the starkest possible terms, how we have created a world that drifts inexorably towards tyranny, abuse of power, violent conflict and suffering.

Every sound on this record is deeply considered and presented for maximum visceral and emotional impact, from the sound of sides of meat being slapped to the masterful string arrangements. The clattering percussion consistently hints at turmoil and terror, and Walker’s voice now seems a completely new instrument, no longer the full baritone of his youth, now a higher, more attacking presence. His strange, semi-improvised intonations of these outlandish words is the centrepiece of this extraordinary, highly theatrical concoction. This is much more like a ‘rock opera’ than anything Pete Townshend could dream up, with its cast list of major figures (Mussolini, Elvis etc) and numerous cultural references (indeed, The Who’s ugly ‘Endless Wire’ pales into significance next to this). This is a record for which the word ‘harrowing’ is not too strong. It is a monument to a world of fear and threat – a world we would all much rather change yet, regardless of intention, we only end up intensifying.

1. Bruce Springsteen - We Shall Overcome: The Seeger Sessions (Columbia)
It’s peculiar that in a year when so much forward thinking music was made (although sadly so much of it routinely ignored), my favourite record should be the one that most emphatically looked back. Well, if the maxim that sometimes you need to do just that in order to move forward needed proving, Bruce did it in dramatic and (yes, this is important) highly entertaining style. 1987’s ‘Tunnel Of Love’ mostly felt like a sombre reaction to the excesses of the Born In The USA years, and Springsteen’s music since then has, in the main, heightened his reflective side. Even the comparative bombast of ‘The Rising’ was most characterised by post-9/11 melancholy and reflection. So, ‘We Shall Overcome’ felt like a reiteration of Springsteen’s talents as an energiser, a showman and a performer. The live shows accompanying this release were as significant as the record itself, with a cajun party atmosphere and a sheer joy in making music.

Even the hoariest of these old American folk songs sound newly invigorated in the hands of Springsteen and his superb new band, and there’s a palpable spirit of (re)discovery throughout the record. Everything is loose and thrilling, and Springsteen’s voice has rarely sounded so raw and powerful. The audible directions he gives to the band show him as master bandleader, and there is a constant drive to breathe new life into this evocative material.

Even in this context, Springsteen still finds room for reflection, the title track becoming a solemn prayer, and that wonderful standard ‘Shenandoah’ has all the vastness of the American continent, and the awesome flow of the river it describes.

Whilst ‘Devils and Dust’ and ‘The Rising’ both had extraordinary moments, ‘We Shall Overcome’ is a far more consistent and rewarding record, and in its newly expanded ‘American Land’ edition is a towering achievement in an already vital canon. The only thing that could make this fascinating project better still would be another album with this band (either studio or live) featuring some of the wild and enthralling re-interpretations of Springsteen songs performed during the course of the tour. Let’s have it Columbia!