Album Reviews

Duke Special 'I Never Thought This Day Would Come'

editor@cluas.com — Tue, 11 Nov 2008 00:00:00 GMT

A review of the album 'I Never Thought This Day Would Come' by Duke Special

Review Snapshot: While never consistently matching the dizzy heights of previous album 'Songs From The Deep Forest', Peter Wilson still makes a convincing tilt at the title of Ireland's Best Songwriter. A few Duke-Special-by-numbers numbers aside, mostly collaborations, his new album contains more of the same catchy, heartfelt piano-pop with which he's now synonymous. A consolidation, then.

The Cluas Verdict? 7 out of 10

Full Review:

Not to burden the new Duke Special album with impossible expectations or anything, but Peter Wilson’s previous long-player, ‘Songs From The Deep Forest’, was simply astounding. Bursting with baroque ambition, soaring joy, searing heartache, witty poetry, warm sincerity and catchy tunes, it’ll soon be permanently camped on the upper slopes of Mount Best Irish Album Ever. (If not, it’ll be because of the drippy single mix of ‘Freewheel’, for which someone should be fired.)

So, the follow-up, then.

Well, while not topping or matching its illustrious predecessor, ‘I Never Thought This Day Would Come’ is still a very good album. With it, Wilson continues a fine strand of work and consolidates his reputation as a Champions League-level pop songwriter.

It falls short of greatness because it can’t keep up the consistent emotional, lyrical and musical density of ‘Songs From The Deep Forest’. Simpering second track ‘Sweet Sweet Kisses’ shares a melody with ‘She’ll Be Comin’ Round The Mountain’ and is just as repetitive and flimsy. ‘Flesh And Blood Dance’ feels like a photocopy of ‘Portrait’ off the previous album. And if ever a song sounds like hard work just from its title, then it’s ‘These Proverbs We Made In The Winter Must End’. A track co-written with, of all people, Bernard Butler, that title is the catchiest bit. Exactly.

(Butler, of course, famously walked out on Suede’s ‘Dog Man Star’, another baroque pop masterpiece whose frosty darkness complements Wilson’s sunnier disposition.)

But there’s plenty to be positive about on this album. Wilson, like Paul McCartney, seems genetically designed to write (or co-write, as is more often the case on this album) tunes that’ll be whistled by postmen and bus drivers the world over. It’s surely no accident that, like all radio-friendly pop songwriters, he usually makes the title the lyrical hook of his songs.

And though we complained above that this album can’t match the power of its predecessor, there are still plenty of memorable moments. It’s hard to dislike the bruised optimism of opening track ‘Mockingbird Wish Me Luck’ and the subversive cynicism of the title song (whose punchline is given away by its own subtitle).

Best of all are two tearjerkers that rate among Wilson’s finest songs. It’s hard to convey the emotional wallop of Wilson singing simple lines like the title lyrics of ‘If I Don’t Feel It’, ‘Why Does Anybody Love?’ and ‘Nothing Comes Easy’. If you listen to them on the bus to work tomorrow morning, good luck convincing fellow passengers that you’ve just been chopping onions. Like poor old Elliott Smith, Wilson has the knack of marrying bleak sentiment with gorgeous melody. And his voice, that vivid Belfast accent, is still his ace: the implicit touch of sincerity and individuality that has us trusting the emotions he evokes.

If we’ve gone on too much about Wilson’s previous album, that’s because the man has set a dizzyingly high standard and we want him to maintain it on this new record. He doesn’t always succeed, but now we know that a good Duke Special album is better than most people’s best. Go on, son – write that next record all by yourself and make it blow our minds.

Aidan Curran

Rodrigo y Gabriela 'Live in Japan'

editor@cluas.com — Mon, 10 Nov 2008 00:00:00 GMT

A review of the album 'Live in Japan' by Rodrigo y Gabriela

Review Snapshot: The live CD may come across as canned, but watching the DVD really brings back some beautiful recollections of watching Rodrigo and Gabriela perform live. This is really worth buying if you're a budding Spanish-guitarist or want to look at just how passionate and measured Rod 'n' Gab still are about their music. Not groundbreaking as an album, but enjoyable as a memory.

The Cluas Verdict? 6.5 out of 10

Full Review:
The smell of Nag Champa will forever remind me of my first Rod 'n' Gab gig in NUI Maynooth, in, as far as I can remember, 2002. It cost a mere €2 to get in, yet there were only about twenty-five unsuspecting students surrounding the make-shift stage in the centre of the Student's Union venue.

Gabriela was gorgeous, Rodrigo's hair intrigued me, and every member of the audience who'd ever picked up a guitar felt intimidated by their amazing skills.

From Maynooth to Japan is quite a feat for the two Spanish guitarists, and their story is the fairy-tale dream where you finally get a happy ending: yes, they are skilled, and yes, they did reap the rewards, with gigs across Europe and beyond. Their live album with CD and DVD, 'Live in Japan', shows just how far the pair have come since they performed to only a few, and busked cold days on Grafton Street.

Reviewing a live album is never without difficulty. Sometimes, live versions of tracks are better than studio-produced songs, with the result that listening back to an album after a gig, you can never quite get the gist of that amazing performance you saw - Thom Yorke singing 'Idioteque' at the Big Top in Punchestown springs to mind. Other live albums and tracks include extended versions, track remixes and stories (like the notorious 'Deefer the Dog' story Glen Hansard tells on The Frames' live album Set List).

The Rod 'n' Gab live album is unfortunately somewhat less relevant than other live albums have been. If you think back on the success of Rodrigo and Gabriela albums, one thing immediately stands out: the albums don't have much production, they are raw, and capture the live sound of Rod 'n' Gab's virtuosity and the back-and-forth dialogue between their guitar work. As a result, listening to the 'Live in Japan' album, the only thing that differed vastly between previous albums and this one is the inclusion of hand-clapping, a bit of banter (some of which Gabriela speaks in Japanese), and lots of 'woooo'-ing from the audience. At times this has a bizarre canned laughter effect that you just don't want to hear when listening to classical and Latin rhythms, when you are focussing on every crescendo and decrescendo that Rod 'n' Gab present so expertly. There are a few new tracks, along with old favourites such as 'Foc' and their version of Metallica's 'One'. The medley, which includes 'Seven Nation Army,' seems a bit dated though, and almost too sing-along and pantomime-esque for me.

The DVD starts off with lighting that is a bit dark, but this gives way to a much clearer vision of the duo, and we get to see their handiwork in greater detail. For me, the DVD evoked far greater memories and reverence than the CD.

The DVD is almost worth getting the 'Live in Japan' album for, because it does remind you of the passion and reverie that Rodrigo y Gabriela lose themselves in, and the fun the audience has by participating in that performance. That beauty can really only be captured of course by going to see them play, but the DVD has the added benefit in that it will also assist budding Spanish-guitar players learn how to imitate the skills of the pair.

Niamh Madden

Joan as Police Woman 'To Survive'

editor@cluas.com — Mon, 10 Nov 2008 00:00:00 GMT

A review of the album 'To Survive' by Joan as Police Woman

Review Snapshot: Joan Wasser has musical smarts to die for but they're not that evident on "To survive". Never was the phrase "difficult second album" more appropriate.

The Cluas Verdict? 5 out of 10

Full Review:
Joan as Policewoman – she’s got impeccable credentials. Joan Wasser’s top of the table material. She’s in with the In Crowd, she goes where the In Crowd go. She has the look too, the kooky side of well groomed, the hooded noughties eye and a vague sense of mystery. She’s multi instrumental – as my departed old man would say, she plays everything but the linoleum. God’s sakes, BBC even asked her to contribute to a radio documentary about Shostakovich.

The artwork on “To survive”, her second solo album, sees Joan in monochrome, staring into some self absorbed middle distance. She’s bare shouldered and mysterious. The face that launched a thousand iPods. In keeping with that the album itself opens with “follow your wishes” – it’s musical drizzle – the piano is mixed right up to the point where you feel you’re being mugged by the bass notes, and the mood and melody are sulky. Joan’s crooning is mannered and as she sings

"Will we ever meet again
in the house where we started?
Will I feel the suede of your skin
as you move to turn off the light?
Would you honor my wishes?"

I’m thinking, take a chill pill Joany. It’s an absolutely dreadful choice as an album opener, there’s no sense of warmth or invitation - the opposite, in fact. It’s so self involved you lose sight of your own existence but then there’s "holiday", a little bossa nova thing. After the initial reverse of the opening track you‘re hoping she might drag this one back. Initially it’s cute, Joan loosens up a little and even sounds a little kinky -

"little did I know
you're my holiday
the place where I escape
to forget about how I don't see you enough"

but instead of letting the song breathe and giving it some space Joan instead swoons

"at the bridge to your eyes
at the path to your scars
at the sway of your diamond black ocean"

It’s a case of ruining something by saying it – "holiday" should be a jaunty little summery slip of a thing, an ice breaker, but instead it’s a lyrical own goal.

Again, the next track, “To be loved” is light on the surface –there’s a dinky little melody, and once you get past the over mixed piano sound, a decent arrangement. And then Joan sings:

"How on earth could you have found me
huddled under grapes of wrath
I will never know but forever I ask
how I got so lucky
all this time proceeding
silent in processional
the words, they escape me through my singing cage of how I love you too."

Why use one word when you can use a thousand? It’s the same all the way down the line – there’s musical nous in abundance, though at times you feel that the arrangements on “to survive” are musical exercises rather than something that embellish the songs and enhance their qualities. She has all of the gifts that music can give her but she’s no wordsmith. Pretty much every time she opens her mouth she’s damned from her own lips. By the time you’ve got to “hard white wall” your head is spinning:

"...man, don't you want to dance
to the swing of the bach courante
to the sway of the leaving trains
to the swish of your lash, I cry."

Too earnest, too indulgent, too wordy, too precious. With the best will in the world “to survive” should have illuminated, provoked, even enlightened, but instead it irritates, it patronises, it condescends.

Joan of Arc. Had a heart. Joan as Policewoman? I’m not so sure.

Anthony Morrissey

Fight Like Apes 'FLA & The Mystery of the Golden Medallion'

editor@cluas.com — Mon, 20 Oct 2008 00:00:00 GMT

A review of 'Fight Like Apes & The Mystery of the Golden Medallion'

Review Snapshot: Fight Like Apes and the Mystery of the Golden Medallion is, to borrow a phrase from the funniest man on television, Jon Stewart, an enigma, wrapped in a riddle, nestled in a sesame seed bun of mystery. I hated it, I liked it, I loved it, I hated it again and then, when I thought I was falling in love one more time, something struck me and everything changed. Fight Like Apes have made a solid debut record. Indeed it will probably be one of the best records of the year and for that they should be commended. It’s just that I was expecting more than solid. I was expecting greatness.

The Cluas Verdict? 8 out of 10

Full Review:

I’ve had Fight Like Apes and the Mystery of the Golden Medallion in my hands and on my stereo for quite some time now. There was, obviously, a temptation to rush to judgment on this record. After all, it was being touted as the most important release of the year and one could only sit back and smile at the ensuing clamour to be the first to review it. Had I reviewed it on the day of its release, it would have garnered no more than a 3 or 4. A week later it could have scored 9 or 9.5. That’s how much my feelings towards this album fluctuated.

Now though, after almost a month of soul searching, I realise why this album confuses me. Following a number outstanding live performances I’d bought into the hype surrounding Fight Like Apes and for the first couple of weeks after its release I paid the price for such foolishness. No album could have carried the weight of expectation I had laid upon the shoulders of Fight Like Apes and the Mystery of the Golden Medallion. However, shorn of my unrealistic expectations (which would surely have soundtracked the second coming of Jesus and/or Elliott Smith) this is actually quite a good album.

There are those that will complain that songs like Jake Summers, Lend me your Face, Do you Karate? and Battlestations have all been reworked and don’t sound as lo-fi (and, therefore, as good) as their originals. However, when you listen to the album in its entirety these re-workings were necessary. The original versions of those songs just don’t hold the slick production values of newer tracks like Something Global and Digifucker. As individual songs they lose some of their charm, but the reworking benefits the album as a whole.

John Goodmanson (Death Cab for Cutie, Pavement) was brought on board as producer and has obviously decided to bring the band in a more polished direction and Fight Like Apes have (‘indier than thou’ types please look away now) created a more commercially viable record because of that. The Fight Like Apes formula is one a lot of bands could take note of. High octane live shows help to generate underground hype and establish indie credentials. Releasing a well produced record will then, almost certainly, generate mainstream radio play and increase sales.

Fight Like Apes and the Mystery of the Golden Medallion is not an album without faults mind. It’s very ‘top heavy’ for a start. The second half of the album (12 songs) contains only two songs, Do you Karate? and I'm Beginning to Think you Prefer Beverly Hills 90210 to Me, that are worthy of note. Lumpy Dough, Snore Bore Whore and Megameanie do nothing to counter claims that the boys and girl in Fight Like Apes may be more self-conscious than they claim. Fight Like Apes are at their weakest when they try to sound like Fight Like Apes.

In the words of Eamon Dunphy, Fight Like Apes & the Mystery of the Golden Medallion is a good album, not a great album. However, and you only have to read the sheer volume of reviews/blogs associated with the band to see I’m not alone, I firmly believe this is a band with greatness in them. That being said, history hasn’t been kind to Irish ‘next big things’ (JJ72 for one) and only Fight Like Apes know if they can ever become the band the rest of us seem to think they are destined to be. Indeed, only Fight Like Apes know if they even want to become that band.

Steven O'Rourke

Mercury Rev 'Snowflake Midnight'

editor@cluas.com — Tue, 07 Oct 2008 00:00:00 GMT

A review of the album 'Snowflake Midnight' by Mercury Rev

Review Snapshot: One-time experimental mavericks from upstate New York return with a departure in sound, but find themselves stuck on repeat, peddling their same optimistic and wide-eyed view of the world. Dressed up in a shiny new electronic suit it may be, it’s merely ‘The Secret Migration’ with beats. Where has the magic gone?

The Cluas Verdict? 2 out of 10

Full Review:
This is not Mercury Rev. That much we know since the overwrought pomposity of a least half of 2001’s ‘All Is Dream’ gave way to the epic folly of 2005’s ‘The Secret Migration’ - the sound of a band convinced they were pushing sonic boundaries whilst, in reality, they were merely elbowing The Verve aside from their pedestal of overblown epic rock. It is impossible to reconcile the band who made ‘Snowflake Midnight’ with the band who unleashed ‘Yerself Is Steam’ to such a cathartic effect on an unsuspecting audience still knee deep in Madchester and shoegazing way back in 1991.

If for many ‘Deserter’s Songs’ is their touchstone record , for me it’s ‘Yerself Is Steam’ – an obscene mélange of bad drugs, indecipherable lyrical content and a wacked-out flautist thrown on top of a rabble of musicians collectively intent on musical deviance. It’s a remarkable, malevolent masterpiece.

Sonically, ‘Snowflake Midnight’ most closely resembles 1995’s ‘lost’ album ‘See You On The Other Side’, which was sound of a band content with the fact that the world had largely forgotten them after the excesses of ‘Boces’ (which happened to be the, er, unbalanced - and much missed - David Baker’s last record with the band before Jonathon Donahue took complete control of their vision). Yet the euphoric psychedelia of that record stands in stark contrast to the relentlessly mawkish sentimentality of ‘Snowflake Midnight’.

I’ve never quite understood bands who, in search of a change of direction, invariably decide upon augmenting their sound with ill-suited faux-electronica – this, it seems, is the default approach for bands in transition. ‘Snowflake Midnight’ repeatedly showcases this change in the band’s sound and it’s one which is as ill-fitting as it is unnecessary - ‘Butterfly’s Wing’ is backed by inane computer generated beats and bleeps, and accompanied by Donahue’s, by now, customary optimistic whine. Some four minutes long, the song is an exercise in futility and showcases the dilution of Mercury Rev both musically and lyrically.

‘Senses On Fire’ - the album’s one stand-out track - with its electro-doodle intro builds into a glimpse of what 2008’s Mercury Rev could have been: the title repeated throughout and Donahue’s vocoded voice menacingly intoning ‘Ready or not, here I come’. Wonderful stuff, yet thoroughly out of place with the dross surrounding it. Otherwise, only ‘Faraway From Cars’ merits a positive mention, if only for the fact that it could well have been lifted from ‘See You On The Other Side’.

Lyrically, Donahue still resides in a dream world invariably populated by mysterious female figures; “In the green grass a young girl dreams she’s a flower in the field, But in my dream, you are real”. He’s not saying anything new – hell, he doesn’t have to – but it would be nice if he’d say it all in a different way.

Where once the band thrilled with the incandescent menace of ‘Chasing A Bee’ or beguiled with the simple beauty of ‘Holes’ or ‘Tonite It Shows’, today the band evoke nothing but half-arsed mysticism and a nauseating fixation with the natural world populated by ethereal figures of Jonathon Donahue’s imagination. With song titles such ‘Snowflake in a Hot World’, ‘Runaway Raindrop’ and ‘A Squirrel and I Holding On (And Then Letting Go)’, they have, alas, become Barney on acid.

This then is the sad sound of a band running on empty. Dear God, this is Mercury Rev.

Confucious

Dennis Wilson 'Pacific Ocean Blue'

editor@cluas.com — Sat, 20 Sep 2008 00:00:00 GMT

A review of the album 'Pacific Ocean Blue' by Dennis Wilson

Review Snapshot: Dennis Wilson was the handsome Beach Boy - he had the musical smarts but they were sidelined till 1977 with the release of "Pacific Ocean Blue", his debut album. It's hit and miss but the hits really hit.

The Cluas Verdict? 6.5 out of 10

Full Review:
1977 - the worst thing about being 17 back then was hearing Janis Ian’s “at 17”. I hated this little whinge of a song but I suffered it because every girl I met loved it. What a musical time though – mid May, it seemed John Peel was playing Barclay John Harvest and Hatfield and the North - by July of 1977 he was bona fide punk. One Friday night in August he played “Pretty Vacant”- a real grassy-knoll / where-were-you-when-you-it heard moment.

It was around that time Dennis Wilson’s debut “Pacific Ocean Blue” was released. Up to that point Dennis was to the Beach Boys what Larry was and is to U2 – the drummer, of course, but more importantly in marketing terms, girl bait, he was the band’s chick factor. He looked the glamorous side of dissipated - way too cool for skool, the type of fella you’d drink and toke with but you’d keep him away from your girlfriend, your sister, even your mother. Dennis walked on the edge of volcanoes – on one hand he was the one responsible for the band’s surfer sound, he was a genuine surfer dude. On the other he introduced the band to Charlie Manson.

Dennis’s was a mixed legacy but it is put in better relief by the remodelled, remixed and re-released “Pacific Ocean Blue“. As is the way with CD re re releases there is a bonus disc and here the bonus CD contains demos and nearly completed tracks from “Bambu”, the proposed follow up to “Pacific Ocean Blue”. It’s a dud, Dennis’ voice was narcotically scorched and the songs are half cooked. Truly a case of catarrh overcoming catharsis.

The bonus disc is a distraction from the real business here and the “Pacific Ocean Blue” disc has its own bonus tracks. It’s a highly uneven collection – some genuine peaks, a couple of really ropey cuts and a few might have beens. There are bona fide duds on this album – “Friday night” is bad Pink Floyd, “What’s wrong” is a bad Mike Love Boys type stomper – imagine Billy Joel’s “it’s still rock and roll to me” but saggier and even more complacent. “You and I”, on the other hand, is straightforward AOR mid seventies cheese.

It’s not all bad though - “Mexico”, the last of the bonus tracks – is a heartbreaker. It’s an instrumental piece that you’d imagine hearing it as the credits rolled at the end of “Heaven’s Gate”, gorgeous from its first wistful note to its last, evocative and sweet, a hidden classic. It alone justifies this album’s reissue and it’s almost as good as “River Song”, the album’s opener. Written by Dennis and Carl Wilson, this is a truly stunning piece of music – Dennis sounds parched and resigned but the piano introduction, the beefy string and brass and the absolutely soaring choral work lifts this track on to a heavenly scale. “Moonshine”, a ballad, is equally as good - no one alive could spend time around Brian Wilson as Dennis did and not soak up some of his musicianship and nous but “Moonshine” has a desperation and depth of despair about it that the Beach Boys could never capture. It’s classic break up material –“you said you loved me / but in another way”. “Moonshine” fades with a harmonic orchestral loop that could play till the day you die. “Rainbows” is a jaunty little thing too, all sunshine and banjos. “Only with you” is also featured on the bonus tracks – Dennis wrote this for the Beach Boys’ equally patchy “Holland”, where Carl took the lead vocals. “Holland’s take on “Only with you” is soft, almost coy, but Dennis’s vocals make it more substantial, more tangible, more honest.

Dennis Wilson was a wasted talent in more ways than one and “Pacific Ocean Blue” is more a series of inspired musical moments than a coherent album.

One for the curious.

Anthony Morrissey

Wild Beasts 'Limbo, Panto'

editor@cluas.com — Sat, 20 Sep 2008 00:00:00 GMT

A review of the album 'Limbo, Panto' by Wild Beasts

Review Snapshot: 'Limbo, Panto', the debut album from British band, Wild Beasts, a theatrically over the top record about sex, sin and struggling soccer teams. A genuinely strong and enjoyable debut.

The Cluas Verdict? 7.5 out of 10

Full Review:
At first listen, you would be forgiven for thinking that Wild Beasts were a satirical cover band of The Smiths spliced with 18th century opera. Lead singer Hayden Thorpe has a camper singing style than Morrissey. Just think about that for a moment. Camper then flower flinging, blouse wearing, falsetto singing Morrissey. At times Thorpe’s voice is comically operatic and on other occasions it is a guttural growl, wandering where it pleases, without consideration for the taut bass lines and energetic guitar strumming, hopelessly trying to keep up. There is a raw charm to his voice, but one that will not be to everyone’s liking. It is so incomparable and alien it will have the effect of polarising opinion on the band. You’ll love it or hate it, but definitely won’t be indifferent.

There is certainly a novelty aspect to this offering from Wild Beasts, in the way the record is presented, sung and indeed the topics sung about. But there is a whole lot more to it besides. It is an unobtrusive album, that doesn’t aim to blow the listener away, but instead coaxes you in with every listen you afford it. And after awhile the rewards come in the form of initially misunderstood lyrics, where you had mistaken wit for pretentiousness.

What is remarkable about Wild Beasts is their ability to transform the mundane into the epic, or at least bravely attempt to do so. The most notable example of this coveted skill comes four tracks in with 'Woebegone Wanderers' a song about the plight of a non-league football team. It sees Thorpe at his most flamboyant and in spite of this, or maybe as a result of it, the song actually works. Proof again that fantastically unnecessary sentimental lyrics alongside great pop rock music can work.

There is a lot to admire about this unusual album. It offers ambiguous lyrics and disjointed musical pieces yet has the potential to appeal to a wide audience. 'The Devil’s Crayon' is the track that showcases Wild Beasts ability to take on a pop song and master it with clever lyrics and catchy guitar work. It’s loud and epic with contrasting singing styles from Thorpe.

At times, Wild Beasts' debut sounds like it was produced with the view to soundtracking a Tim Burton animation. It is eerie and theatrical, particularly 'Please Sir', and 'His Grinning Skull'. The latter is the probable highlight of the album as it saunters along at its own pace with delicate guitar strumming.

The bawdy side of Wild Beasts rears its head on a number of occasions, the best xample being 'She purred, while I grrred'. You can really get away with unmannerly sexual talk if you put it cleverly. It sees Wild Beasts try and nail the mystery of life with the line:
“I die every day, to live every night, under the industry of her want for me in our fusty foundry”.

This is a cracking album from a young group doing their own thing in a British scene clustered with indistinguishable bands. It may take a while to grow on you, but what they do they do with style.

A genuinely strong and enjoyable debut.

Kevin Boyle

Daniel Lanois 'Here Is What Is'

editor@cluas.com — Mon, 15 Sep 2008 00:00:00 GMT

A review of the album Here Is What Is by Daniel Lanois

Review Snapshot:Here Is What Is is a weak record by acclaimed producer Daniel Lanois. Failed attempts at being 'artsy' and an overly long running time make this a wearisome listen.

The Cluas Verdict?5 out of 10

Full Review:
Daniel Lanois made his name producing for big name artists over the last few decades. He has worked with Bob Dylan, Peter Gabriel, Emmylou Harris and U2 to name but a few. ‘Here Is What Is’ is the fifth studio album from the Canadian.

The record opens with just the voice of Brian Eno describing a chest of drawers he once bought. It is one of a few tracks that are simply conversation. The only interesting one of these tracks is ‘Beauty’ where the origin of beauty and the marvel of how it originates from nothingness is discussed. This beauty he speaks of however, he fails to create himself.

That said, the album does open well, with the first few tracks catching my interest. Forgetting about the spoken word opener, the first song is a cover of Emmylou Harris’ ‘Where Will I Be’. It would be an understatement to say that he does the song justice. His soft voice helps creates a pleasurable and more subtle sound for the song he produced for Harris on ‘Wrecking Ball’.

Interests wanes early on though. It is overly repetitive, centring on the Lanois’ favourite instrument: the steel pedal guitar, and at an arduous 64 minutes long with unadventurous instrumentals taking up far too much of that time.

He may be described as the man with the Midas touch when it comes to producing albums, but as a solo artist he does not hold a candle to the names he has worked with.

Garret Cleland

The Gorgeous Colours 'The Gorgeous Colours'

editor@cluas.com — Sun, 14 Sep 2008 00:00:00 GMT

A review of the debut album by The Gorgeous Colours

Review Snapshot: The debut from the Dublin-based four-piece is a solid, likeable indie-rock artifact. There’s nothing that’ll frighten the horses and it’ll sound satisfactory from a summer stage.

The Cluas Verdict? 6.5 out of 10

Full Review:
Many Irish indie fans first came across The Gorgeous Colours as the support act at shows by The Immediate, now-defunct next-big-things of season 2006-07. The two Dublin bands shared an alt-rock sound that will be classic for some, unoriginal for others. One can imagine how inconsolable Immediate fans, clutching their tear-stained ‘In Towers And Clouds’, will find much solace in The Gorgeous Colours’ debut.

In general, this record is a throwback to two familiar indie strands. You have the jaunty jangling of ‘Holey Moley’ and weak opening track ‘Means To An End’, where the band don’t quite pull off the breezy, cheeky-chappy attitude they seem to be aiming for.

By contrast, there’s a serious, emotive alt-rock side that’s emphasized by the mid-Atlantic twang to Geoffrey McArdle’s singing voice. The Gorgeous Colours sound surer of themselves on this ground – which is not to say that they’re always convincing; ‘I Don’t Know What To Do’ may mean well but it comes across as a exercise in writing something poignant (“All I know about hope/It don’t hang from no rope”) in minor chords.

Still, it’s no great leap of the imagination to figure that The Gorgeous Colours could build a strong live following on the back of this material. Neil Smyth’s guitar hooks on the likes of ‘Miss You’ and ‘Hunting Something’ have the ring of what would sound good at a summer festival or outdoor show. And the rhythm section – Tim Groenland on bass and Glenn L’Heveder on drums – is as sound as you’d demand from a decent live band.

However, this album’s recurrent dad-indie-rockness makes it sound a bit jaded in parts. The rolling country-rock of ‘The Rails’, for instance, will please fortysomething punters who reminisce about seeing The Fat Lady Sings in The Baggot Inn back in the day. Like a lot of this record, it’s pleasant and well-made but never catches fire. (This reviewer has the quaint notion that records should have catchy bits you sing in the shower and whistle on the way to work. We found none of that here.)

Ultimately, this is a solid debut but we reckon it may be a better experience live than on record. The Gorgeous Colours: the new Something Happens?

Aidan Curran

Colm Mac Con Iomaire 'The Hare's Corner'

editor@cluas.com — Mon, 08 Sep 2008 00:00:00 GMT

A review of the album 'The Hare's Corner' by Colm Mac Con Iomaire

Review Snapshot: The solo project of trad-meets-world from the Frames violinist is well-played and thoughtfully crafted throughout. But you yearn for a spark of electricity to liven up the unrelenting politeness of the whole affair. By no means a bad record – just uneventful and ultimately featureless. Let this hare sit.

The Cluas Verdict? 6 out of 10

Full Review:
The first cinemas put a piano-player at the foot of the screen and he would plink-plonk along to the action in the film, enhancing the onscreen sentiment and prompting us how to react. Today, we almost invariably describe instrumental music as ‘cinematic’. It doesn’t exist independently, but serves to soundtrack something. We expect it to evoke epic landscapes and hyperdramatic situations.

Regardless of this, Glen Hansard’s nixer, as uncinematic as cinema music can get, has earned him an Oscar. Now here’s his Frames colleague Colm Mac Con Iomaire with his own solo project, eleven instrumental tracks that will no doubt have listeners judging it against the movies in their heads.

The titles and sleevenotes to ‘The Hare’s Corner’ are bilingual, half Irish and half English. The record itself follows similar lines, mixing traditional Irish influences with a fashionably cosmopolitan range of classical and world sounds. As you’d expect from the Frames fiddler, violin is prominent in the arrangements.

However, the VU/Bad Seeds avant garde screeching of his band work is replaced by tastefully melodic lines. As a result, this record is unfailingly polite to the point of near blandness. There’s little in the way of personality or character on show here. Most of the airs are slow to mid-tempo, with only the jaunty ‘Thou Shalt Not Carry Timber/Ná hIompar Adhmad’ jarring things up a bit. Trad arrs like ‘The Cuckoo Of Glen Nephin/Cuachín Ghleann Néifin’ and ‘The Court Of New Town/Cúirt Bhaile Nua’ are played with safe hands.

Back to our opening proposition: instrumental music always being reduced to soundtrack work. In this light, ‘The Hare’s Corner’ can be called incidental music. Not in the sense that it’s packed with incident, but that it stands unassumingly in the background while something more interesting grabs your attention.

Aidan Curran

Frank Sinatra 'Sinatra at The Sands'

editor@cluas.com — Sat, 06 Sep 2008 00:00:00 GMT

A review of the album 'Sinatra at The Sands' by Frank Sinatra

Review Snapshot: 'Sinatra at the Sands': the world's most famous performer recorded at his peak.

The Cluas Verdict? 8 out of 10

Full Review:
It’s an approximation of a Sinatra story I heard but it’s still worth telling. Glen Campbell was a much sought after session guitarist in the sixties, and he even played on the incomparable “Pet Sounds”. He was engaged to play guitar on “Strangers in the night”, a song Frankie did not particularly like. In the studio Campbell was sat at the front of the orchestra, completely and utterly transfixed. He spent the whole session staring at Sinatra as he shooby dooby dooed his way to another million. At the end of the final take Sinatra thanked the conductor, pointed to Campbell, and said, “who’s the fag??”

Sinatra – so many words have been written about this man, from the fawning extremes to the damning depths. He was a million things to a million people: a voice, first and foremost, but also a womaniser, a sharp dresser, a functioning alcoholic, a Kennedy supporter, a nut job, a loving father, a mob underling. Read the bios – if you’re stuck for a book to get you through a long haul flight check out Kitty Kelley’s “His Way” - it’s high class screed, a guilty pleasure of sorts that trashes Frankie and his reputation. More recently Antony Summers gives a more thoughtful account of Sinatra’s life, his gifts and of course, his flaws. My own view is that, like most iconic figures he led three or four lives, he packed as much into a day as many of us would just about shoehorn into a month. He was akin to a prism – depending on where you stood or how the light shined, he could be a monster or an angel, often at the same instant.

I know some Cluas readers have mixed feelings about Sinatra – his music summons up images of drunken uncles singing “my way” at Christmas, or the girls dancing in a circle at the office Christmas party doing dreadful kick ups to “New York New York”. It’s easy to copy his style, easy on the surface at least. One of the best episodes of Frasier features a storyline in which Martin Crane composes a song for Frankie - “she’s such a groovy lady / she makes my heart go hey dee hey dee”. A host of others tried and still try to approximate his style, even his look – crooners like Matt Munro, Perry Como, Tony Bennett have performed gamely without delivering the killer punch but latterly, Westlife’s attempt at rat packery was utterly risible and Robbie Williams’ “Swing when you’re winning” never even came close.

You can see why he had so many imitators - he was the greatest pop singer ever. From the mid fifties to the mid sixties he produced a stunning collection of albums, some swing, some torch balladry, some show songs, but with every cut exquisitely produced and perfectly - and I do mean perfectly - sung. What a lot of people, both his disciples and detractors, refuse to acknowledge is that his sound, his speciality, was high-class pop, devoid of graces or affectations, and this explains why so many people related to him. He completely absorbed every song he sung, so much so that you wonder if the reason why he could not handle people at different times - he was a legendary sociopath - was that he actually lived the songs he sang and that they hollowed him out emotionally. More than anyone I’ve ever heard he really inhabited his music, bled every note and lived every line.

His class, his status, his style and his voice are heard to the best effect on the recently reissued “Sinatra at the Sands”, a remixed, remastered recording of a live gig at the Sands hotel in 1966. In the outside world the Beatles and the Stones were peaking, and the Velvets were a glint in the art rock milkman’s eye. None of this means anything here, it’s the right show at the right time – Sinatra’s declining years are a bit ahead of him, his voice is as sweet as it was but it’s tempered with experience, cigarettes and alcohol. Count Basie leads the band and Quincy Jones orchestrates – you’ve never heard a backing band like them, the arrangements never overshadow Sinatra and when they do, as in “I’ve got a crush on you”, Sinatra teases the sax player who dares to step on his pitch. Sinatra’s studio albums in the fifties and sixties are masterpieces but there’s a physicality to the music here that’s completely missing from his studio work. As the show progresses his voice roughens but what really kicks in is the way he plays with the songs, adding a word here, changing the lyrics there, vamping up the band and above all just showing his mastery of the music. It’s a combination of tempo, timing, cadence, and phrasing, often more poetic than musical.

The show’s programme comprises mainly standards – there’s a kicking “Come fly with me”, a masterful “Under my skin” (check out the band’s mid song fill), and a playful “Fly me to the moon”. There’s the ballads too – a slightly maudlin “One for my baby and one more for the road” and an almost chilling “It was a very good year”. The one track that disappoints is “Where or when”- here it’s a swing throwaway but years before he recorded an almost chilling torch ballad version of this beautiful song.

The thing that surprises here is the banter Sinatra shares with the audience and his mid gig monologue is a real eye opener. It’s a stand up routine that starts off with a series of gags at Count Basie’s expense, and halfway through the routine he trots out some really dodgy lines about Sammy Davis junior. By today’s standards it’s racist and yet, and yet…it’s of a piece with the complexities of this man that Sinatra was the first to insist that black musicians and performers such as Basie and Davis should stay in Las Vegas. The monologue finishes with a hilarious account of Sinatra’s rise in show business and his early days in Hoboken, and the audience are eating out of his hands.

The show finishes with a fantastic version of “My kind of town” – Sinatra has given it everything, he plays with the lyrics, the band kick the hell out of this tune. This is glamorous exciting music. For a few moments it makes you feel like a millionaire, and this is what great pop music can do.

Sinatra has a vast collection of studio and live work on record but if you’re going to buy one album of Sinatra’s, one collection that gives you an insight into this icon’s words, music and character “Sinatra at the sands “ is the one for you.

Anthony Morrissey

DownloadMusic.ie USB Compilation

editor@cluas.com — Wed, 27 Aug 2008 00:00:00 GMT

A review of the DownloadMusic.ie USB Compilation (Various artists)

Review Snapshot: Possibly the most difficult album I’ve ever had to review for CLUAS, Downloadmusic.ie’s first ever USB Compilation Album also turned out to be one of the most rewarding, proving, for the most part, that Irish music is in good shape.

The Cluas Verdict? 7 out of 10

Full Review:
For me, great albums have always told a story; each song being delicately structured to fit snugly into the ebb and flow of the overall musical tapestry of the LP. My favourite albums generally come with memorable artwork, lyrics, out of focus photographs, scribbled drunken meanderings or multicoloured feathers. So to be presented with a compilation album on a USB key was always going to be a challenge.

How should I approach this; should I take it on a song by song basis? That’s not really going to result in an album review though is it? Plus, with 15 songs most of you would have stopped reading by the third song. No, I had to approach this one differently and so I took what appears to be the central theme of the compilation, namely the present and future of Irish music and considered how representative this album was.

For the most part this album achieves what it set out to. Bands like The Flaws, CODES and The Kinetiks, if attendance at their gigs is anything to go by, are certainly representative of Irish musical tastes. However, what lets the album down is its noble effort to shoehorn multiple genres of music onto the same compilation. Ro Tierney’s The Voice and Justin Manville’s Tonight, while both good songs in their own right, sound out of place on an album containing bands like Dirty Epics and Vesta Varro.

Stand out tracks are This is Goodbye (CODES), Letting Go (SUDDYN) and The Cure (Dirty Epics) and for very different reasons. This is Goodbye and The Cure both represent the current drive by Irish musicians towards musical landscaping; creating mountains of sound from the foundations of catchy melodies and lyrics. Letting Go on the other hand has an understated charm that’s reminiscent of Damien Rice’s O period (insert ‘he certainly milked that period’ joke here).

Of course, the upside of compilations is that there is generally something for everyone. Tracks I didn’t like, such as Manmade (The Radio) and Shadows (Roberta Howett) may well be other people’s favourites.

Overall, while the idea is commendable, perhaps having fewer genre’s on one album would make for a less disjointed listening experience. Despite that, those writing about the demise of quality Irish music should have a listen to this compilation because the future really is bright.

Steven O'Rourke

Okkervil River 'The Stand Ins'

editor@cluas.com — Sat, 23 Aug 2008 00:00:00 GMT

A review of the album 'The Stand Ins' by Okkervil River

Review Snapshot:With their name lifted from a short story by a Russian writer and their albums to date smothered by literary references, there's no doubting Okkervil River aren't your average Texan band. On this their sixth album (not including last year's free, online only 'Golden Opportunities') the band take a side-step rather than the much anticipated giant stride both lyrically and musically.

The Cluas Verdict? 7.5 out of 10

Full Review:
Okkervil River are one of those bands who've been in existence much longer than you've imagined, churning out some fine records before last year's critically acclaimed highpoint 'The Stage Names'. 2006 saw the release of 'Black Sheep Boy', a record which merged gothic menace with tantalising glimpses of melody ('A King And A Queen' for one), which was more fully explored on 'The Stage Names'.

If there was a more charming, melodic and better written pop song than 'Plus Ones' written last year, then please hum it to me. 'The Stage Names' worked mainly because it was a perfect fusion of OR's live sound and the aforementioned innate awareness of the need for a good tune.

'The Stand Ins' has widely been heralded as a companion piece to 'The Stage Names' and this, perhaps, is where the problems begin. For one, most of the songs were recorded during the same sessions that gave birth to 'The Stage Names', thus this latest release could well be seen as songs that weren't strong enough to make the initial cut. There are three pretty, but pretty inconsequential, instrumentals on here, none of which lasts more than one minute - which leaves you with eight new songs to admire.

The other issue is that bands need to evolve. It's the exciting part of waiting for the next album to be released - how will the intervening period change the sound or how will life alter the lyrical approach? Alas, you get none of that on 'The Stand Ins'. Ultimately, it is 'The Stage Names' Part II, which in itself is no bad thing.

'Lost Coastlines' has been floating around on blogland for some time now and the album version features vocalist Will Sheff sharing duties with one-time member Jonathan Meiburg (subsequently departed to become a full-time member of the quite wonderful Shearwater - check out 'Rook' from earlier this year). A rockabilly chug driving it from beginning to end, the song itself is engaging, but there's an arcane twist to Sheff's lyrics at times, an impenetrability - undoubtedly intentional - which leaves meaning almost always beyond the listener.

But what Okkervil River do best is write masterful pop songs - 'Singer Songwriter', 'Pop Lie' (surely a companion piece to 2007's 'Our Life Is Not A Movie Or Maybe') and 'Starry Stairs'. The latter features a recurring theme in Sheff's lyrics - characters on the fringes, outsiders, although scarcely in a Kafkaesque sense: "And if you don't love me, I'm sorry".

Another of Sheff's recurring lyrical themes is entirely self-referential - his frequently self-deprecating analysis of life in a band, more closely seen on 'The Stage Names' but present here also on 'Singer Songwriter' and 'Pop Lie'. 'Blue Tulip' recalls 'Another Radio Song' from 'Black Sheep Boy' in spirit and sound - from an acoustic beginning it swells into a near 'A Day In The Life' crescendo, merely missing the na na na's at its end.

Ultimately this is a wonderful record by a band undoubtedly destined to make many more fine, and hopefully finer, records. But 'The Stand Ins' is a mere side-step for them, a wonderful stop-gap to maintain interest until they go off and make a brand new record to add to their already impressive canon. Here's to Sheff's mid-life crisis then.

Confucius

Wolf Parade 'At Mount Zoomer'

editor@cluas.com — Sun, 17 Aug 2008 00:00:00 GMT

A review of the album 'At Mount Zoomer' by Wolf Parade

Review Snapshot: Wolf Parade's follow-up to their glorious debut, ‘Apologies To The Queen Mary’, is a brave comeback by the Canadian indie five-piece, but it falls short of its predecessor by some distance. Unfortunately the high points of the record are undermined and outnumbered by the low ones, making for a bit of a mixed bag. First-time listeners to this band may find the album an exhilarating experience, but those who have been exposed to the quality that Wolf Parade can produce might just be a little disappointed.

The Cluas Verdict? 6.5 out of 10

Full Review:
In 2005, Wolf Parade released ‘Apologies To The Queen Mary’, their first album after two previous EPs, to a generally positive critical response. It was an album that used electronic music as an accompaniment to indie rock as opposed to attempting to merge the two. The songwriting duties were split between the two founding members, Spencer Krug and Dan Boeckner.

The result was an album of contrasting styles interwoven into classic indie. It sold quite well, brought about a substantial fan base and even earned a nomination for the prestigious Polaris Music Prize, Canada's version of the Mercury.

Album number two was never going to be easy.

‘At Mount Zoomer’ begins in fine fashion with the blistering ‘Soldier's Grin’, which showcases Wolf Parade's characteristically jaunty guitar riffs and whimpering vocals to great effect. However, it then slouches into the disappointing ‘Call It A Ritual’, which is far too flat and disjointed when compared to Wolf Parade's previous body of work. The song drags, and not in any determined direction either.

The third track, ‘Language City’, is undoubtedly one of the highlights. It is anthemic and pulsating in equal measure and as good as anything these innovative Canadians have produced. Unfortunately there are just not enough quality tracks like this one to make the album memorable.

’California Dreamer’ is another track that will help fans of the band to keep the faith. It’s a suspiciously quiet song up to the point where it explodes into the chorus of “thought I might have heard ya on the radio/but the radio waves were like snow”. It is a sweeping track and reminiscent of ‘It’s A Curse’ off the band’s first album.

One of the worst features of ‘At Mount Zoomer’ is how poorly it flows. There are no good tracks together. Songs like ‘Call It A Ritual’ and ‘An Animal In Your Care’ act as little more then album filler. It’s not a particularly long album - only nine tracks - and yet there is an unacceptably high proportion of mediocre material on it.

At no stage does this second offering reach the chaotic majesty of its predecessor. There are no equivalents of ‘Dear Sons And Daughters Of Hungry Ghosts’ or ‘I'll Believe In Anything’. But it is still a decent album. ‘Apologies to the Queen Mary’ was a diamond in the rough. ‘At Mount Zoomer’ is more like quartz in a quarry. It’s kind of nice, but not all that remarkable.

Kevin Boyle

Sigur Ros 'Med sud i eyrum vid spilum endalaust'

editor@cluas.com — Tue, 05 Aug 2008 21:58:12 GMT

A review of the latest Sigur Ros album

Review Snapshot: Sigur Ros do branch out somewhat but in my eyes it's not in a bad way. I've seen some indifferent reviews but I challenge anyone to listen to Ára bátur and not be moved. Get the album, on CD not mp3, stick it on in a darkened room and enjoy.

The Cluas Verdict? 8 out of 10

Full Review:
Sigur Ros, a favourite band of mine for quite some time, captivated me with Ágætis byrjun, lost me somewhat on () and hooked me right back in with Takk... (despite Match Of The Day trying to hijack it!)

Með suð í eyrum við spilum endalaust is their 5th studio album and, before it even get's played, it has a lot to live up to. Takk... was such a massive album for the band, any subsequent work will find it hard to live up to those expectations. So to hear that the band had enlisted the help of Flood, English producer so named for his tea making prowess, suggests that they might indeed be steering away from the the 8 minute opuses and more towards 4 minute rock songs. Gobbledigook, track number 1, seems to reinforce that theory. With chants and stomping percussion that wouldn't go amiss on most contemporary British indie albums these days you'd be forgiven for thinking you bought the wrong album, except for the Icelandic lyrics of course. In saying that, it is a cracking tune and a perfect foil for those 8 minute wonders. Inní mér syngur vitleysingur, Track 2, takes the same road. This jaunt into accessibility may indeed upset some of their more hardcore fans but, frankly, I'm loving it and by the time you get to Góðan daginn you're in classic Sigur Ros territory. A beautiful song with lush sounds.

The album on the whole is filled with typically beautiful Sigur Ros songs and punctuated by those songs bordering on indie rock. Festival and Ára bátur are two of those 8 minute + wonders that take you on a journey through wonderful soundscapes. Indeed Ára bátur finishes with an immense orchestral and choral crescendo that had yours truly reaching for the Kleenex (to wipe the tears of joy that is).

Part of the charm of Sigur Ros, for me at least, is the incomprehensibility of the lyrics. I'm not a lyrics man, more of a mood man. That is to say when I listen to a song the voice is just another instrument that should sit with the song as a whole to create that mood. So I was a bit taken aback by the final song, All Alright, which is sung in English. As of writing I'm undecided if I like it or not. That indecision is brought about, I think, by the fact that I can understand what Jónsi Birgisson is saying, barely mind you, but I feel that some things in life should remain a mystery. If I understood Icelandic this album could mean something completely different.

Last track aside, I like this album. Sigur Ros do branch out somewhat but not in a bad way. There have been some indifferent reviews but I challenge anyone to listen to Ára bátur and not be moved. Get the album, on CD not mp3, stick it on in a darkened room and enjoy. That's what music is supposed to be about.

Andy Knightley

Fleet Foxes 'Fleet Foxes'

editor@cluas.com — Tue, 05 Aug 2008 21:41:14 GMT

A review of Fleet Foxes debut album

Review Snapshot: Fleet Foxes have emerged from the crowded ranks of Seattle’s indie music scene with an uncompromisingly indulgent debut of the same. Glorious vocal harmonies accompanied by rousing, anthemic instrumental pieces combine to result in one of the great records of 2008.

The Cluas Verdict? 8 out of 10

Full Review:
Thus far, 2008 has been a year dominated by a horde of worryingly similar guitar groups, striving to become the next Strokes or Arctic Monkeys. And so, as this flood of mediocrity threatens to engulf us all (I actually listened to a Pigeon Detectives album a while back), the appearance of Fleet Foxes album came as nothing short of a lifesaver.

The album opens with the delightfully simple track, Sun it Rises, a song that speaks of the impending rising sun. Not really Bob Dylan lyrics here, or at all in the album. In fact, the subjects of the songs are so simplistic and inconsequential that they appear to act as hangers for the vocal harmonies, which are the most remarkable aspect of what Fleet Foxes do. There is even a point in the album where they disregard lyrics altogether. On the track Heard them Stirring, there are just vocal harmonies of nonsense sung over endearing guitar riffs.

After Sun it Rises, the album launches straight into the majestic White Winter Hymnal. It is at this point that the listener realises that Fleet Foxes possess something unique and special that sets them apart. The song is comprised of a litany of “I was following the, I was following the” and so on, by front man Robin Pecknold, over energetic acoustic strumming.

There is no real stand out track on this album. That may sound like a bad thing, but it is actually the strength of the record. They are all of a similarly high quality. Each song rolls into the next with flawless fluidity. It is essentially an eleven-track journey that enthralls the listener in this surreal world of nature and aesthetics, as a good Mercury Rev album does. After a couple of listens I felt at one with nature. Had I lived near I field I might have ran through it and danced with badgers and the like. But I didn’t live near a field, so instead I just listened to the album again.

Fleet foxes' debut is at times slow burning, but never dull. It is filled with sentiment, but never consumed by it. One slight criticism is the similarity in the voice of Robin Pecknold to that of My Morning Jackets Jim James. However the music could not be more different and consequently Fleet Foxes maintain their originality.

If you were attempting to try and assign Fleet Foxes to one particular genre, you might be torn between country and alternative rock. It is likely that Fleet Foxes have amassed inspiration from a variety of musical sources and have subsequently set up their own stall with this album.

One of the truly special moments of what is generally a special album occurs about two and a half minutes into Blue Ridge Mountains. Pecknold thrusts into a mesmerising chorus which goes “in the quivering forest, where the shivering dog rests, I will do it grandfather, wilt to wood and end”. I have no idea what it means, but I like it.

Oliver James is the final song on the album and it has the effect of winding down what has been an enjoyable little trip. It is basic acoustic guitar picking in the background to the vocals of Pecknold. In the end, the guitar is rendered unnecessary and the album is completed by a lone voice singing, “Oliver James washed in the rain, no longer”, a couple of times and then its all over. But more then likely you will just put it back to track one and start again.

Fleet Foxes have announced themselves in fine fashion with this debut album. It just goes to show that on occasion, wouldn’t it be better to concentrate on making really nice song, instead of searching for lyrical perfection and letting the melody suffer in the process? Why not just sing melodically over some fine music and make an album about meadowlarks and mountains? Just a thought.

Kevin Boyle

Jape 'Ritual'

editor@cluas.com — Wed, 30 Jul 2008 00:00:00 GMT

A review of the album Ritual by Jape

Review Snapshot: Things could have gotten very quiet for Jape in the last few years, but Ritual will be banishing any barren times for Richie Egan. Not a perfect album, but a magnificent one nonetheless. If music was food, Ritual would satisfy more tastes than most.

The Cluas Verdict? 8.5 out of 10

Full Review:
It’s been four years since Richie ‘Jape’ Egan cemented his place amongst Ireland’s new breed of gifted songwriters with second album, The Monkeys In The Zoo Have More Fun Than Me. In the meantime, with his third album nearing completion, he signed to V2, and promptly saw his new home go belly-up. The Monkeys…, meanwhile, bore fruit to ‘Floating’ covered by The Raconteurs, itself leading to more questioning of just where Egan would go next. Irish music might not have undergone any seismic changes in the last four years, but it’s certainly taken enough detours where old dogs need to learn new tricks.

Put simply: if an album could have been custom-made to bridge this gap between notability and glory, Ritual wouldn’t be very far off it, opening with a voice loop on Christopher And Anthony that wouldn’t sound out of place on a Mylo album, before settling into a light, insightful and relaxed yet upbeat path.

I Was A Man, the album’s lead single, opens with a memorable hook that could well have kicked off a chart-botherer but for the slightly obtuse instrumental later in the track. If it won’t be bothering the charts you’ll probably hear it soundtracking another short-lived sports series on RTE in the not-too-distant future. Replays, its sequel, a slightly grimy faux-future opus with a few too many repetitive High E synth taps pushing it too close to the boundaries of bearable.

The album then takes a turn into a slow-burning but gorgeous interlude duo. On Graveyard, Egan shows that while the previous songs are built on melody, his lyricism is worth an exposure too. “It’s just a short, short distance from the nipple to the soil”, he sings, over a lush, deep, layered euphony of minor synthesis. This lyrical strength then hits astonishing new high gears on Phil Lynott. In a truly seanachaí mode, Egan tells an initially acoustic story of a night at a gig under a lunar eclipse, as the rockers around him say “look / at / the / fuckin’ / moon” in a staccato so perfect you can’t help but be smug even listening to it. The mortality of the occasion hits him to the point where he realises, “One day I’ll be a dead man / who plays the bass from Crumlin / like Phil Lynott” in an interlude of honest-to-God beauty. It says much about Jape’s output that it’s only on the word “Crumlin” that you’re aware you’re listening to domestic produce; you’d easily think you were listening to something that had been well-respected enough on the other side of the Atlantic to make the leap to these shores.

Streetwise is the spiritual start of Side B, with triadic vocals underpinning a electronic masterpiece of booming chords. The Hibernian references are kept up with tributes to Jackie’s Army among others, before At The Heart Of All This Strangeness appears as a musical aberration; a sole acoustic guitar atoneing a beautiful, fragile melody augmented by silences placed to pinpoint perfection, as Egan is overwhelmed by how “there is nothing but hate in every dictionary” with gripping pathos.

The closing triplet almost echo the openers: Apple In An Orchard gets back into the form of the earlier tracks, with Egan borrowing from the Morrissey school of sing-as-you-think storytelling; Strike Me Down opens with another repetitive – but upspeed – synth hook leading into syncopated semiquavers in both vocals and score that sounds like a GameBoy on LSD; while Nothing Lasts Forever ends the album with a virtual scan of the radio channels before settling on a sibling track to Radiohead’s All I Need. That the album produces similar opuses as In Rainbows is a tribute of which not much higher order could be paid.

In short – after a four year break where things could have gotten very quiet for Jape, Ritual will be making sure that the next couple of years will be busier for Richie Egan. A masterpiece, not quite; a potential Album Of The Year, very much so.

Gav Reilly

The Dudley Corporation 'Year Of The Husband'

editor@cluas.com — Sat, 26 Jul 2008 00:00:00 GMT

A review of the album 'Year Of The Husband' by The Dudley Corporation

Review Snapshot: The Dublin trio return at last, bringing us a mixed bag of well-written alt-pop songs (yay!) filled out with Radiohead-style post-rock noodling (nay!). Likeable and interesting, it’ll charm you at times – but you’ll hardly get swept off your feet.

The Cluas Verdict? 7 out of 10

Full Review:
The more sentimental indie fans among you may find it charming that The Dudley Corporation story has gone from “The Lonely World Of…” to “In Love With…” and has now reached marriage. “Year Of The Husband” is named for the fact that the three Corpo members (Dudley, Joss and Mark) all got married during the making of this album.

Not that it’s a slushfest of marital bliss, but “Year Of The Husband” certainly has a romantic tint to it, with plenty of lovelorn lyrics and sweet arrangements. However, the album’s frequent tempo changes, post-rock blurriness and shifts from quiet to loud will remind most listeners of serious, unromantic Radiohead. This is most clear in the prog-experimental “Leave A Last Kiss” and “We Angled Our Shadows And Cast Them in Stone”.

Guests on this album include Nigel Farrelly of The Waiting Room and Carol Keogh of Automata and The Tycho Brahe/Tychonaut, and Keogh contributes significantly to the record’s standout track, “Step-Out”. The contrast between her clear, distinctive voice and Dudley Colley’s indie slurring gives this rock-out a solid structure that’s lacking in the more impressionistic tracks elsewhere on the album.

Indeed, the quality of this record increases significantly when The Dudley Corporation drop the abstract noodling and deliver more focused material. A simple song like “Vapour Trails” suddenly takes off with a shimmering slide guitar lick that captures the restless escapism of the title and lyrics.

Having opened with the uptempo alt-rock chugging of “The Lens Begins”, the album closes in a much quieter setting. Another reference point for this record is the U.S. slowcore of Low, and the two closing tracks, “Aliens” and “Don’t Give Up, Stupid”, are slices of melancholic Americana that are much more satisfying than the band’s Radiohead-isms.

So, while this album features a good handful of quality alt-rock tunes, there’s a nagging sense that its more experimental stretches are just filler. You’ll like “Year Of The Husband”, but it’s best just to stay friends with it.

Aidan Curran

Rubies 'Explode from the Center'

editor@cluas.com — Thu, 26 Jun 2008 13:23:26 GMT

A review of the album Explode From The Center by Rubies

Review Snapshot: Swedish (we think) five-piece debut with a sound collection of works that - regretfully - seem too comfortable in their own skin to reach out and engage the listener in an anotherwise worthwhile listen.

The Cluas Verdict? 5.5 out of 10

Full Review:
Rubies are a five-piece built around the longstanding pair of Simone Rubi and Terri Loewenthal, and while all of their promotional material manages to avoid details of their geographical heritage, Rubies are as Swedish as Ikea – you know they’re Swedish, but don’t know exactly how you can distinguish it that way, it’s just something you know.

‘Explode from the Center’ is a very solid and distinguished album, and doesn’t at all sound like a debut. Whether this is a good thing or not is another matter – the album seems to lack the distinct, urgent freshness that classifies a great debut. Perhaps Rubies just aren’t that kind of band.

Despite the synthesis, the album has a consistent sense of timelessness, ably sitting comfortably in mental images from late 80’s warehouse raves to third millennium wine bars. The opening half of the nine-track opus is a promise of more energy to come; the latter, however, mostly disappoints, save for ‘Diamonds on Fire’, which hits stride with repetitive smacked guitar and muttered vocal riffs. Lyrically the strongest song of the album. “I could make it / so much easier on you / but it’s hard, it’s so hard”, sing the band, before growing into lush counterpoint with comforting warmth.

Opening with light funk guitar, ‘Room Without A Key’ settling into a light Sia Furler-esque groove before hitting an 80’s chord in the chorus, yet embellished with distinctly modernist vocal tweets, and smacks of a 4am red wine crash in a city centre shoebox, being followed by the lush acoustic and intimate synthesis of ‘Too Bright’.

'Signs of Love'’s Wurlitzer opening is reminiscent of Semisonic, and offers the first chance for Simone Rubi to really push her melodic chorales. “Lovin’ each other ‘til the end of Summer / into the Fall under we find another way / to stay inside our hearts” sings Rubi, with the kind of elegance that Morcheeba made an easy career from.

With a synth opening that Duran Duran could have relaunched with, lead single ‘I Feel Electric’ is made for a nightclub scene from an edgy independent drama (think Juno or the Sugar Rush TV series). A multiminded song, it ebbs, flows and glides its way through four and a half disco-tinged minutes with alarming invention and creativity, although sounding like a Casio keyboard’s workout demo song once it settles in the middle eight.

Second single ‘Stand In A Line’ opens sounding like it was tailor-made for an Orange ad with summery streetscapes and gently syncopated beats, and then flirting with funky hip-hop before detouring into the slap bass identikit R&B you’d hear in a mental image of a Topshop. “Did you notice your mind’s on fire?” asks Rubi during the hip-hop phase of this awkwardly adolescent opus – awkward in the sense that the song seems to take on phases just as arbitrarily as your average teen.

Elsewhere, 'Turquoise' opens with groggy plucking and settles into a sunburnt bop suspiciously like Bell x1’s ‘The Money’ before discovering gospel at the end with blaring saxophone and searing vocal backup, while the closing couple of Silver Mornings (conjuring images of tamely driving down a straight country road with nothing to amuse on either side and only one tape for the stereo. “This is what it’s like when it’s lonesome at night”, eh? Too right) and The Truth and the Lies bring the album to a muted close. On the latter in particular, coming after eight songs desperate for a strum, when it comes it’s misspent on lazy, Feist-y (sic) oozing without direction. If you were to play the album coming in at 4am, this one would lead to a steady slumber.

‘Explode from the Center’ is a work of real promise but is ultimately crippled by its comfort in its own skin and the absence of a desire to reach out and engage. A good album in that it’s open for engagement, but not a great one without offering it in return.

Gav Reilly

To buy a new or (very reasonably priced) 2nd hand copy of this album on Amazon just click here.

Michael Knight (I'm Not Entirely Clear...)

editor@cluas.com — Mon, 23 Jun 2008 14:49:59 GMT

A review of the album I'm Not Entirely Clear How I Ended Up Like This by Michael Knight

Review Snapshot: Don't judge a book by a cover, or so ~~older~~ wiser people tend to tell you. However, what are you to do when the cover is far more interesting than the content?

The Cluas Verdict? 3 out of 10

Full Review:
Buying/receiving albums in bulk; it can often be weeks/months/years before I get around to actually removing them from their packaging, never mind listening to them. Sometimes though, an albums artwork is such that it moves swiftly to the top of the playlist. Such was the case with I'm Not Entirely Clear How I Ended Up Like This, the second album from Michael Knight, not a person, but a collective of musicians under the stewardship of Dublin Born/Berlin Based Richie Murphy. Designed to look like a well read book, it has the subtitle: 'A Somewhat Disjointed Narrative in 11 Tableaux' and the lyrics are printed in the style of a play. If that's not enough for you, the listener has a choice of two disks, one with the songs as they were recorded and a second disk of instrumental versions.

Unfortunately, that's as good as it gets with I'm Not Entirely Clear... as what follows is 35 minutes of acoustic doodling that too often confuses self-deprecation with self-consciousness and song structure with overwrought orchestral arrangements. Combined with Murphy's weak vocals it all adds up to something akin vanilla cheesecake; somebody may have put a great deal of effort into making it and it may contain lots of fine ingredients but the final product is just too bland for my tastes. Besides, Neil Hannon and Stephen Merritt already carry this faux-vaudeville act with much more panache.

That being said, there are moments of pleasure on I'm Not Entirely Clear... The deliciously dark Coronation Street sees Murphy and Nina Hynes (her vocals being by far and a way the brightest star in an otherwise dull sky) duet over the albums most interestingly arranged track. Lyrically there is a great deal of humour in the words but as with most of the tracks on the album it often feels like you're being excluded from one big in joke. The instrumental disk is also worth a listen once, just to hear some of the more interesting structures and chord changes but begins to sound like the soundtrack to an art installation towards the end.

Michael Knight state that this album is 'a comically failed attempt to repackage humiliating personal episodes with the joke on someone else.' Perhaps the joke's on me and that's why I'm not laughing.

Steven O'Rourke

Willie Nelson 'Moment of Forever'

editor@cluas.com — Fri, 23 May 2008 08:57:10 GMT

A review of the album 'Moment of Forever' by Willie Nelson

Review Snapshot:
The last wise man of country music delivers the goods yet again.

The Cluas Verdict? 8 out of 10

Full Review:
Johnny is gone; Waylon is gone, only Willie is left. It’s hard to conceive now, given his superstardom, but Willie Nelson spent 15 years in Nashville trying in vain to get a hit record before throwing in his hat and returning to Texas where he finally started to create music that was not only true to his own creative vision but also connected with the album buying public.

According to Robert Oermann and Douglas Green, part of Willie’s early difficulty was that his offbeat, eccentric, jazz influenced phrasing was at cross purposes with then dominant Nashville sound pioneered by Chet Atkins. The flipside of this however is that, as a result, Willie Nelson has never been solely a country music artist but rather an American music artist and his renegade tendencies have kept him vital long after many of his living peers are either retired or are touring the nostalgia circuit.

Here he is again with a new album and for me the key interest in listening is to focus on the new songs that Willie, who penned classics like ‘Crazy’ and ‘Night Life’, has written for this album. There are three; ‘Over You Again’ (co-written with Micah & Lucas Nelson), ‘Always Now’, and the sardonic ‘You Don’t Think I’m Funny Anymore’. All of them are models of the songwriter’s craft with Buddy Cannon and Kenny Chesney’s sensitive production switching between the epic, panoramic sound used on ‘Over You Again’ to the intimate, spontaneous live room feel of ‘You Don’t Think…’

Willie has also included covers of Randy Newman’s ‘Louisiana’, a song that is fast becoming a modern American standard following the tragedy of New Orleans, and ‘Gotta Serve Somebody’. There is little to say about them other than they are great songs sung by one of the great voices in American popular music.

If you love the art of Willie Nelson, as I do, then this is one for the collection. At a time when young musicians want to make music that sounds like it came from the past; see Amy Winehouse, its nice to hear a veteran musician who is, shall we say, back to the future. Willie Nelson is still on the road, and the world is a better place for it.

Rev Jules

To buy a new or (very reasonably priced) 2nd hand copy of this album on Amazon just click here.

Robotnik 'Pleasant Square'

editor@cluas.com — Thu, 15 May 2008 10:24:08 GMT

A review of the album Pleasant Squares by Robotnik

Review Snapshot: Pleasant Square is a sonic walkabout that takes in influences as diverse as Radiohead and The Flaming Lips without ever losing its own sense of identity or purpose.

The Cluas Verdict? 8 out of 10

Full Review:
It must be very difficult being a musician and having a wide range of influences and yet being forced to stick to one particular genre for a record just so people like myself can put you away in a nice little box marked 'sounds like...'. Not so for Robotnik, known to the passport office as 27 year old Dubliner Chris Morrin. On his debut album, Pleasant Square, Robotnik has managed to take all those influences, merge them together and produce a work that is as unique as it is enjoyable.

From the ambient beginnings of the Flaming Lips like Test 16:9 , through to the Weezer-esque harmonies of Puddlestarter, this album is an atmospheric acoustic adventure for the listener with - especially on first listen - each track serving up something new and exciting to discover. Repeated listens, however, provide you with an opportunity to enjoy the range of instrumentation and skill that has gone into recording this album which allows it to sound - and I mean this in a good way - like Morrin woke up one morning and decided to record it on a whim.

Album highlights vary on each listen but People Walk Away with its infectiously catchy beat and Dog with no Tail, where Robotnik allows a glimpse at the life of Chris Morrin for one of the few times on the album, are consistently on repeat at the moment, along with Vinedresser which sees Robotnik return, briefly, to his troubadour roots.

Not once did I find this mix of genres and musical styles irritating and, indeed, the only criticism I can have of Pleasant Square is that it's possibly 12-15 minutes too long; however, in an age where musicians are releasing albums that don't even hit 30 minutes, it's a minor complaint.

Overall, Robotnik has a bright future ahead of him, especially if he can continue to reference his vast array of influences without ever sounding like he is trying to imitate them.

Steven O'Rourke

To buy a new or (very reasonably priced) 2nd hand copy of this album on Amazon just click here.

The Last Shadow Puppets 'Age Of The Understatement'

editor@cluas.com — Wed, 14 May 2008 08:03:40 GMT

A review of the album 'The Age Of The Understatement' by The Last Shadow Puppets

Review Snapshot: So here's Alex Turner's side project: a fairly unoriginal Scott Walker pastiche, with Duran Duran-esque lyrics. Of course, this must be down to that bloody Miles Kane, right?

The Cluas Verdict? 5 out of 10

Full Review:
Comparing The Last Shadow Puppets with The Raconteurs is obvious, but it's still worth our while:

Both Jack White and Alex Turner have won extravagant acclaim in their day-job groups (The White Stripes and The Arctic Monkeys respectively) for little other than flogging retro-rock to nostalgic middle-aged music hacks and twentysomethings who are prematurely nostalgic and middle-aged.

However, White's side-project made the daring leap from '70s rock to... '60s rock, that of The Small Faces and George's songs on 'Rubber Soul' and 'Revolver'. And what do you know? Turner's time machine has followed a similar flight path. He's gone from cleaned-up punk and post-punk back to, of all things, eccentric late-'60s English symphonic pop. This doesn't make him any less unambitious or unimaginative than White, indie rock's greatest chancer.

Comparing 'The Age Of The Understatement' with Scott Walker is obvious too. But if Turner can be unoriginal then so can we. Those swooping strings and tenement-drama tales of tragic starlets, patent Walker, have already been used threadbare by Tindersticks, Marc Almond and The Divine Comedy amongst others. By now these sounds are familiar references, English indie-pop code for "Look! I'm hip, intellectual and sensitive! I've watched 'Billy Liar', read 'Brideshead Revisited' and listened to, well, Scott Walker!"

But it would be unfair and inaccurate of us to dismiss this album as 100% recycled Scott. The middle section of the title track sounds exactly like the middle section of a Northern Soul classic called 'The Night' by Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons. Your reviewer knows the song from a cover by Saint Etienne-esque Manchester group Intastella - and it's also been done by Soft Cell and, apparently, Klaxons. See what we mean by unoriginal?

Turner's one innovation here, if we presume it's by him and not Kane, is in the lyrics. He's replaced the unconvincing Costello-esque sneering of The Arctic Monkeys with pretentious my-first-poetry-kit nonsense as in 'Calm Like You': "Burglary and fireworks / The skies they were alighting / Accidents and toffee drops / And thinking on the train." So were the skies alighting from the same train, then?

And 'Only The Truth' is worthy of Duran Duran: "The girl with many different strategies / Wakes the wolves to curse them to their knees / She's the one by the riverbank so it's easier for her to drown you." This, remember, is co-credited to a songwriter venerated by today's music press (you know, those nostalgic, middle-aged types.) as a lyricist extraordinaire.

We assume that this will be the last of The Last Shadow Puppets. But then again, there was a second Raconteurs album. And a second Arctic Monkeys album too, and a few by the White Stripes...

Aidan Curran

To buy a new or (very reasonably priced) 2nd hand copy of this album on Amazon just click here.