As per Jim Carroll over at the journal of record: Justice, latest off the never-ending production line of brilliant French dance/electronica duos, are playing at the Phoenix Park on 1 December as part of the Live at the Marquee series of gigs-in-a-tent. 

As Jim points out, the venue is especially appropriate given the title and cover of their album. Perhaps Phoenix can play there too.

This Dublin show will be the pair's third Irish appearance of the year, following their set at Oxegen last July and (as fazwaldo reminded us below) before that the Trinity Ball in April.

The rest of the line-up has yet to be announced, but it'll probably be other dance-type stuff. Or maybe not.

Tickets go on sale this Saturday, 22 September - they should probably sell very well regardless of the hammering the French will probably give us in the rugby the night before.

BTW, December is a chilly time to be in a tent, no? Not to worry - you can keep warm by breaking wind inside your sleeping bags, like the scouts taught you.

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Congratulations to Key Notes readers Ciara Lee, Lena Sy and Graham Smyth who correctly answered (or googled!!) that the Future King of Spain is none other than Crown Prince Felipe of Asturias (or Felipe Juan Pablo Alfonso de Todos los Santos de Borbón y de Grecia to his mates!)

Their prize, a pair of tickets to the launch of the Future Kings of Spain new album Nervousystem, will be distributed this afternoon.

Entry levels were very impressive (apologies to those who missed out) and so Key Notes hopes to run more competitions of this type in the near future.

In the mean time, for the winners and losers, here is a live video of Syndicate for your viewing pleasure:  

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The New York Times annonced this week that they were going to stop charging for access to parts of their website (they had been charging $49.95 a year for online access to the work of its columnists and its archives). Despite persuading 227,000 readers to pony up the money (and netting about a tidy little 10 million dollars a year) they have done the sums and realised that, if they open up their website to everyone and run ads on each page, they can actually make even more money.

Indeed, subscription-based models for accessing web content are slowly - but surely - dying. All thanks in the main to the rise of the new targeted advertising models for the web, available to any website - big or small - through services such as Google's Adsense program (which CLUAS uses).

Close to home there are a number of websites that, perplexingly for me, continue to charge for access to their content. For Irish music fans Hotpress.com is the notable example: they continue to insist on a payment of 20 Euros to read their articles online. I'll sidestep any temptation to discuss the value proposition of that offer (or the objectivity of their published reviews for that matter, others have already done so), but surely the time has arrived for Hot Press to smell the online-ad coffee and allow access to their content to anyone on the interweb who wants to access it, and give them that access free of charge?

They have a huge volume of content in their 30 years of archives, content which could attract many, many more eyeballs than they do today. Such attention from a larger readership could then be 'monetised' via targeted online ads. Ultimately they could, as the NY Times eventually discovered, earn more money than charging for access to content. Yes, I know Hot Press like to dangle the carrot of 'free access to our web archives' for those who subscribe to the printed version of the magazine and, thus, drive some revenue via offline channels. But, how much of a 'deal closer' is such a carrot? I have my doubts.

According to Alexa.com’s imperfect (but good enough for the purposes of this article) website traffic measuring service, Hotpress.com has over the last year been receiving more or less the same level of traffic as CLUAS.com (see graph). The truth is, with their 30 year old archive they should be blowing us out of the water. So, come on Hot Press, open up your website and give CLUAS a bit of real local competition. We need it.

And while I’m at it, there is that other Irish website charging for access to 99% its content, The Irish Times. Their web publication division iTronics made a loss of 180,000 euros in 2006. Time too that their bean counters also slapped out a calculator and did the right thing.

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Review Snapshot: A fantastic follow up to their eponymous debut album, Nervousystem puts to rest the myth of the ‘difficult second album’ and reminds us just why the Future Kings of Spain were tipped for greatness four years ago.

CLUAS Verdict?  9 out of 10

Full Review:
For almost two years, the Future Kings of Spain have sat on Nervousystem, difficulties with their record label almost turning the LP into their very own Smile. However, earlier this year, common sense prevailed and the band was free to release the album on their own What’s the Kim? label. Due for release at the end of September, Nervousystem has most certainly been worth the wait.

From the moment Guess Again (with riffs that Billy Corgan can only reminisce about these days) opens the album, right through to the last vestiges of Disappear, you know you are listening to something special. Nervousystem is the Emancipation Proclamation of alternative indie rock. It’s a statement to those who listen to this particular genre of music, imploring them to forget everything they thought they knew, free their minds and absorb the possibilities that come from being willing to make music that is truly different.

‘Why can’t you do what I ask of you?’ asks Joey Wilson in his trademark disinterested drawl on Syndicate a song that’s eight minutes of infectious rock rave which, whether you’re in your sitting room or on the DART, makes you want to dance. Not even had Prince, Robert Smith and Peter Hook grown up in North Kildare/West Dublin, could they dream about writing a song as well constructed and as instantly mesmerising as this.

It’s the perfect centrepiece to an album that deviates away from the youthful, full-blooded, angst of Face I Know and drifts seamlessly towards a more melodic, mature sound. Wilson along with guitarist Karl Hussey, bassist Anton Hegarty and drummer Bryan McMahon appear to have unabashedly embraced the philosophies of the albums producer Ian Grimble and adopted a skinny jeans and leather jacket clad indie rock sound that isn’t afraid to take its younger sister to a Kylie concert.

The results of taking this risk are, for the majority of the album, positive. Stand out tracks Guess Again, Chemical Burn and, my personal favourite, Kick in the Teeth absorb you in the way The Pixies might, yet you can hear them sitting quite comfortably between A.N Other pop tart and The Next Big Things on any commercial radio station, without selling the very essence of their soul the way Snow Patrol did. The only time it fails to sparkle is on the frustrating You Dream in Solid Gold which builds and builds but never quite climaxes.

Overall, it’s difficult to criticise an album as arresting as Nervousystem. You want to put it on repeat but are afraid that by overplaying it that it will lose its appeal. So far it hasn’t. I said at the start that, given the headaches involved in ensuring its release, this could have been the Future Kings of Spain’s Smile. Instead, it may well be their Pet Sounds.

Steven O'Rourke

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Review Snapshot: While Zeitgeist sounds intrinsically like a Smashing Pumpkins album, it sounds like a Smashing Pumpkins album from the 1990’s.  A diplomatic description of the bands first release in seven years is ‘pointless.’  A more damning critique would be to view Zeitgeist as nothing more than Billy Corgan shoring up his pension fund.

The CLUAS Verdict? 3 out of 10

Full Review: When Billy Corgan decided to take out a newspaper advertisement to announce the 'reformation' of the Smashing Pumpkins, I must admit, I was surprised. Corgan had, after all, been pimping Smashing Pumpkins music as both Zwan and under his own name since the group split. To paraphrase the Bard 'That which we call a Smashing Pumpkin, by any other name would sound the same.'

With this announcment though, images of a heavyweight fighter, clearly out of shape, punch drunk for the last seven years and stepping in to the ring for one last pay cheque, circled my mind. This was surely little more than a get rich quick scheme designed to trade on the Smashing Pumpkins brand.

After my first listen I actually laughed. Corgan was clearly undertaking the biggest practical joke in the history of alternative music by allowing a Smashing Pumpkins tribute band (the Mashing Thumpkins no doubt) to record an album and release it under their heroes moniker.  Checking the album sleeve confirmed that this was not the case however, meaning that Corgan and drummer Jimmy Chamberlin had merely adopted the roles of Cleavon Little and Gene Wilder in Blazing Saddles by building a cardboard cut-out of Rock Ridge (or in this case the Smashing Pumpkins) to protect the original.

That they managed to recreate the original Pumpkins sound without half the original line-up is an impressive achievement.  However, the problem with the 2007 version of the Smashing Pumpkins is that songs like Doomsday Clock and Tarantula, without the melodic buffeting and, indeed, genius of a Tonight or 1979, sound too aggressive to make for comfortable continuous listening.   

Despite all of this, Zeitgeist may well keep existing Smashing Pumpkins fans happy. It may be a watered down (in terms of variety) version of a Smashing Pumpkins album but it is still a new release that many may have feared would never come. That being said, there is very little here to keep a casual listener coming back or, less forgivable, attract new listeners.

Overall, Zeitgeist fails to justify the hype that surrounded its impending release. Depending on your previous opinion of the band, this represents either a disappointing pastiche of the Smashing Pumpkins sound or a cynical attempt by Billy Corgan to cash in on the mystique that comes with seven years absence. Unfortunately,  these opinions are not mutually exclusive.

Steven O'Rourke

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

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Review snapshot: Garbage start out not being garbage... and then slowly but surely they become absolute garbage. Unfortunate.

The CLUAS Verdict? 5 out of 10

Full Review: Garbage fairly well leapt out of the blocks in the mid 90s. They seemed perfectly formed. Powered by Butch Vig (famed producer of Nirvana's Nevermind and other luminaries like Sonic Youth) and fronted by Shirley Manson, a Scottish dervish whose look was more suited to the shoegazer bands of the late 80s, Garbage received massive support from MTV. Now 4 albums and 12 years later, the band have decided to consolidate with a Best Of collection. Or is it an epitaph to what has become a faltering career?

Absolute Garbage shoots its bolt early on. Vow, Queer, I'm Only Happy When It Rains were all sleek, poppy hits garnered from their eponymous, and best, debut album. Shining brightest of all is Stupid Girl, a fab tune with a Claytonesque bassline and a sexy lyric. Manson's snarling delivery was reminiscent of Chrissie Hynde.

But it's all downhill from there. Garbage have, essentially, remade their debut with ever decreasing rewards. I Think I'm Paranoid was a minor hit. Their Bond theme, The World Is Not Enough, was pretty much unmemorable (as was the movie) - I challenge you to hum the tune. Probably the best of their latter period songs, Androgyny, has been bizarrely omitted from this collection. By the end of the album's generous 18 tunes, one has to desperately resist hitting the forward button.

My advice? Pick up their debut album from a bargain bin. It's an interesting document of 90s alternative pop.

Stephen McNulty

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

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Review Snapshot: With significant praise from the likes of Elvis Costello and Coldplay, Rilo Kiley change musical direction with this offering, and head down the Pop route. Probably the most refreshing pop-album of the year.

The CLUAS Verdict? 7 out of 10

Full Review: From the opening track, the recent single ‘Silver Lining’, you’ll fall in love with the vocals of Jenny Lewis. It’s impossible not to make comparisons with Christine McVie, and indeed throughout this album there’s an evident Fleetwood Mac influence. The brilliant ‘Breakin Up’ (surely a future single) sounds like it was lifted from Tango In The Night, while on ‘Dreamworld’ Blake Sennett’s lead vocals are remarkably similar to Lindsey Buckingham’s.

Casting the ‘Mac’ influence aside, it’s the versatility of Jenny’s vocals that steal the show here. On ‘Smoke Detector’ and ‘15’, Lewis goes all Country. Think Reba McIntyre meets Dolly Parton. While the music is bright, the lyrics are dark. ‘15’ tells the controversial story of an online dating relationship: “He was deep like a graveyard / she was ripe like a peach / how could he have known she was only 15”.

Sexual themes run through at least 4 of the tracks here (‘Smoke Detector’ sees Jenny sing “I was smoking him in bed...”). The title track is not the only one with an 80s influence on, ‘Give A Little Love’ also shows that the band have been listening to their Kraftwerk and O.M.D. records. ‘Dejalo’ is the weak track on here and ‘The Moneymaker’ is the heaviest, with the latter providing a catchy riff and hook that makes it memorable.

We may have heard all this before, but under the blacklight, there’s a bright one shining through and Rilo Kiley’s name is written all over it.

Mick Lynch

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

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To celebrate the launch of their long awaited second album, Nervousystem, the Future Kings of Spain have teamed up with Key Notes to provide CLUAS readers the chance to win a pair of tickets to their album launch night on 28 September in The Village, Dublin.

Key Notes has 3 pairs of tickets to give away to the first 3 people who correctly answer the following question.

What is the full name of the Future King of Spain (heir apparent - to give him his proper title)?

Answers on a postcard to keynotes@cluas.com

Rules:
Please note that this competition closes at midnight tonight and the judges (in this case Key Notes) decision is final.

The winners will be notified by email and announced tomorrow. 

Members of the Spanish Royal Family are automatically disqualified from entering this competition.

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Brett Anderson live at the Beijing Pop Festival

Review Snapshot: Brett Anderson stole the show, and confronted authorities with a Saturday night of mostly Suede favourites at the Beijing Pop Festival.

CLUAS Verdict? 8 out of 10

Full review:
From the fans carrying signed posters into the ground teeny bopper style to the plentitude of CDs and t-shirts for sales outside you knew there was a bit of a buzz about Brett Anderson’s appearance at this year’s Beijing Pop Festival in downtown Chaoyang Park. The 70 percent local crowd looked more like university students rather than the black-tee brigade who frequent Beijing’s predominantly punk scene.

Anderson’s old band Suede made some noise (and lost much money) during a poorly attended show in Chaoyang Gymnasium in February 2003. But judging from the presence of posters ripped off the walls at that gig, the group made some friends on that trip.

The tight blue jeans, dress shirt and pin striped black jacket made Anderson look like Bryan Ferry when he took the stage at 7pm. The athleticism of the show – jacket came off six songs in – was vintage Anderson however, though the hair and vanity were very Ferry.

Dancing, squatting, kicking and occasionally quiet at the piano, Anderson took the Beijing Pop Festival by the scruff of the neck, the kind of middle age crowd pleasing effort that Sebastian Bach managed here last year. Bravely, he kept the hits for later in the night. Newer songs like Dust and Rain and Everything Will Flow were capable of holding the crowd’s attention until we got there.

“Using sex like an antidote,” from the latter song, is an apt line for Beijing, where beauty parlour culture manifests itself in pink lit cabins along the roads leading off Chaoyang Park. Beijing proffers great songwriting material to a writer like Anderson who has always been a kind of a Roddy Doyle of pop, revelling in the concrete and the % of urban life..

After My Love She’s Like A Cruel Disease, a slowish By The Sea marked the return to Suede land and we stayed there for the rest of the show. Wild Ones drew whoops of recognition. And then a giant Mastercard advert takes up the giant screen. Boos from the back of the crowd. Those bendable blinkies fly through the air during Film Star. Anderson blasts on through it even as a white towel is proferred, he’s too much into it and goes right into Beautiful Ones.

Anderson meant business. I Can’t Get Enough, arguably the best song was a slight deviation among tonight’s many hits, guitars and backing vocals punking it up. During the follow up, Trash, you wonder how hard it must be for the hired hands on the stage, given the reminders in tonight’s songs of how good Suede were on their long road together. Anderson’s school pal Matt Ossman has stuck by him, he’s playing bass tonight, but the difficulties with guitarist Bernard Butler are well documented.

Anderson’s own reputation for grumpiness is belied by tonight’s role as supreme crowd pleaser. Stage security – a troupe of young migrant worker security guards in ill fitting grey-green uniforms and hats like all the others that guard Beijing’s construction sites and car parks - keep a wide space between the crowd and stage and Anderson decides he wants to fill it during Saturday Night.

The result is pandemonium, and a reminder of what a crafty old stage crafter Anderson is. Totally unprepared for the situation, security resorted to default mode of local forces (repression) and tries to prevent him from walking along the barrier. Then a big laoban (boss) comes over to push Anderson back. The Suede man kept going however, waving the screaming top guard aside. The massive cheer showed China’s youth still likes confronting authority.

Mark Godfrey

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Your blogger's life is revolving around the rugby this week, so much so that we almost forgot about the return of the Champions League. The vast hordes of Irish who were in Bordeaux for the first two games (and let us never talk of them again) are arriving in the capital, as are those supporters flying in just for the two Paris games. By coincidence, the cold weather has arrived too.

So, France v. Ireland in the Rugby World Cup -  your blogger is pessimistic to the point of depression. Being away from home makes a person depend all the more on their national team, and these days both the Irish football and rugby sides are making a show of themselves (only the Kerry team are lifting your blogger's spirits). And our record in Paris is terrible.

Even so, the French media and fans are being very sympathetic to the Irish team - if only because they need us to beat Argentina so that they can avoid their nightmare scenario of a quarter-final against the All-Blacks in Cardiff. 'At least you won both games', French fans say, without them having to experience the wierd horror of last-minute try-line defending against the mighty Georgia.

The Rugby World Cup really isn't capturing the general imagination in France. Down south is the game's heartland; places like Toulon and Toulouse and Biarritz where people talk rugby all day anyway.

In Paris and elsewhere, however, it's met by a typically Gallic shrug. There are desperate efforts by both TV and organisers to create a cult of Chabal, the long haired and bearded French forward. Apart from him, most French people only know their rugby players from the nude calendar that Stade Français bring out every year.

But should France get closer to the final, that will change. The 1998 football World Cup in France began with similar apathy, but as Zizou and friends edged towards the final the French public's strong sense of patriotism went wild.

From a Frenchman-on-the-street perspective, the Rugby World Cup only starts with the semi-final, the real business end of the tournament.  Anything less will be a disaster - which is why the French team will make no mistakes against Ireland on Friday night.

This month's French Friday club night at Thomas House happens to coincide with the match (it being the third Friday of the month) - so you can watch the rugby on the big-screen before the music starts. Entry is free, the match kicks off at 8:00pm - and the victory dance will start soon after. Groan.

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