Oh Wonder - Oh Wonder - ★★★★★☆☆☆☆☆
This London duo have already sold out an entire tour, a surprising fact when you consider that the combination of bedroom electronics and pop-soul vocals isn't anything new. Ms Gucht and Mr West make rather ineffectual and inoffensive music that boasts lyrics obsessed with 'getting higher and higher', permeated by minimal finger-click beats and washes of synths that musically sits between the darkness of Purity Ring, the trippiness of Slow Club and the flighty Ella Eyre. Stop start emotional pop ain't new - Lose It and Drive sound like they've been around for years, with many other songs having been issued on Soundcloud at monthly intervals. By White Blood, I was starting to fidget while surmising that Oh Wonder desperately need a change of direction after just one album. The saving grace here is the attention to detail they've shown with the harmonies, and one or two epics like The Rain and Livewire. Otherwise Oh Wonder recycle the same sad-eyed balladry over and over. "All we do is play it safe", they trill on All We Do. Quite.
Foals - What Went Down - ★★★★★★☆☆☆☆
Destined to be an arena-filling prospect for some years to come, Foals are an odd lot. Their music has regressed somewhat from the days of 2008's Antidotes - gone are the intricate lively rhythms that spawned irksome categorising such as 'math-rock' and 'indie-geek', now we're saddled with the same dull emotional dribbles that seem to emanate from the likes of Bombay Bicycle Club etc. Still, it's not all bad news. Albatross is one of those gradual build-up songs that Foals specialise in, so much so it probably should have kicked off the album, rather than the histrionic title-track. Snake Oil sounds like Hookworms in places while London Thunder is the mellow sandles-off lull in proceedings that is actually rather enjoyable with repeated listens. The rest of the album is well-intentioned sad-faced indie-disco and rather soulless at that.
The Weeknd - Beauty Behind The Madness - ★★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
After notching up a pair of Top 10 smashes in Earned It and Can't Feel My Face, singer Abel Tesfaye's alter-ego has been busy garnering acclaim and regular slots on Billboard's RnB charts. So you kinda know what to expect from this rather bland opus - 'soulful' operatics, gymnastic vocals a la Jackson, a few memorable songs and a truckload of filler. Wheeling in Lana Del Rey, Ed Sheeran and Labrinth doesn't exactly improve things and I'm aghast at just how dull some of this album is. "I'm a villain in the city...." "Everybody's fucking pussy"... blah blah blah. And are we still doing that tedious waspish hi-hat and booming kick-drum from dubstep's archives? Yes we are. It's here on Often. Often, in fact. On The Hills. On Acquainted.
Tesfaye's obsession with pussy starts to wane after a few tracks but at least Can't Feel My Face brings some groove to an otherwise underwhelming party.
Ella Eyre - Feline - ★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
Big shouty choruses, rumbling drums, pseudo drum n bass, verses that sound the same as the chorus? No it's not the latest Rita Ora album, this is huge-haired diva Ella Eyre whose early material suggested she'd ride the current over-populated wave of hollerin' female singers and become something of an exciting prospect. Sadly, warbling like Amy Winehouse or Emeli Sande all too often and guesting on just about every other similar pop-soul act in the past few years has done little to thrust Eyre into any sort of spotlight. She's got a voice brazen enough to storm most stages at most festivals but she sounds way too much like her predecessors to be distinctive. And some of the songs on here are painful. Good Times has some horrible vocal treatments and another bloody tedious drum n bass build-up. It's like Pendulum on helium. It's a mixed bag at best. As for Deeper, well.
Beach House - Depression Cherry - ★★★★★★☆☆☆☆
Five albums in and what have we learned about dream-poppers Beach House? Their sound has been smoothed out a little, they're still following in the footsteps of MBV, Cocteau Twins, Lush, Galaxie 500 et al and they're still, quite often, as engaging as they've always been. Fans of Polica might glean solace from Beach House's winsome and unchallenging efforts, Levitation and Sparks being two such highlights worth considering. Often sounding quite demo-like with primitive drum-machines here and cheap keyboards there, songs like Beyond Love and 10:37 wouldn't sound amiss on a Julee Cruise album (a good thing), with their twee harmonies and pretty musical-box melodies from another world. The problem is, there just isn't enough of those glorious sweeping melodies we've come to expect.
Halsey - Badlands - ★★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
Another big-voiced female, this time from across the pond and armed with more slow-beat anthems that are as inconsequential as some of the Eyres, Sandes and Oras of this world. What has happened to pop-music in the last ten years? I can't remember any of the songs on this album after four plays through - I mean it's not like I don't try with these albums, fuck knows I could be doing something far more productive like grinding my earlobes with a Bosch sander or using my arse as a golf bunker. "We are the new Americana..., high on legal marijuana" she pipes on New Americana. Who cares.
Motorhead - Bad Magic - ★★★★★★★☆☆☆
With an array as trite as the selection above, thank the planets for the enigma that is Lemmy. Victory or Die, the opener on this their 23rd studio-album, reveals a few limitations you'd expect from a 69 year-old rocker whose had more than his fair share of health blips of late. But Lemmy and his Motorhead charges are content to rage on and on with power-rockers like the terrific Thunder and Lightning and Shoot Out All of Your Lights. It's heads-down, no-nonsense, hair-swishing-against-the-mike majesty and great fun because of it. While Bad Magic might lack the blistering power of Overkill and Bomber, there's no denying that Motorhead aren't lacking when it comes to riffing and showboating as Electricity ably demonstrates. The reflective and biographical Till The End shows a sensitive side to one Ian Kilminster before Tell Me Who To Kill continues the somewhat relentless assault. Possibly their best album since their last one.
Spector - Moth Boys - ★★★★★☆☆☆☆☆
Caught between the devil and the deep blue sea of triers Editors, The Killers, White Lies and Hurts, London's Spector haven't quite attained the same level of adoration as the above quartet with previous releases, despite notching up a Top 20 album with 2012's Enjoy It While It Lasts. Their BBC Sound of 2012 nomination seems a lifetime away. Moth Boys is all very earnest, precisely executed and ultimately a bit humdrum. Lyrics like "You're lying in the bedroom of my mind.." isn't going to win onlookers over, although as a song Don't Make Me Try is easy-going indie hokum. Decade of Decay emulates John Foxx's Golden Section era with its pulsating synth-bass throb and quick-step drum-machines, a homage I'm not convinced is intended. Moth Boys isn't exactly balls-out indie-rock that'll fill arenas but it's decent enough for a synth-pop splurge, should you desire it.
This London duo have already sold out an entire tour, a surprising fact when you consider that the combination of bedroom electronics and pop-soul vocals isn't anything new. Ms Gucht and Mr West make rather ineffectual and inoffensive music that boasts lyrics obsessed with 'getting higher and higher', permeated by minimal finger-click beats and washes of synths that musically sits between the darkness of Purity Ring, the trippiness of Slow Club and the flighty Ella Eyre. Stop start emotional pop ain't new - Lose It and Drive sound like they've been around for years, with many other songs having been issued on Soundcloud at monthly intervals. By White Blood, I was starting to fidget while surmising that Oh Wonder desperately need a change of direction after just one album. The saving grace here is the attention to detail they've shown with the harmonies, and one or two epics like The Rain and Livewire. Otherwise Oh Wonder recycle the same sad-eyed balladry over and over. "All we do is play it safe", they trill on All We Do. Quite.
Foals - What Went Down - ★★★★★★☆☆☆☆
Destined to be an arena-filling prospect for some years to come, Foals are an odd lot. Their music has regressed somewhat from the days of 2008's Antidotes - gone are the intricate lively rhythms that spawned irksome categorising such as 'math-rock' and 'indie-geek', now we're saddled with the same dull emotional dribbles that seem to emanate from the likes of Bombay Bicycle Club etc. Still, it's not all bad news. Albatross is one of those gradual build-up songs that Foals specialise in, so much so it probably should have kicked off the album, rather than the histrionic title-track. Snake Oil sounds like Hookworms in places while London Thunder is the mellow sandles-off lull in proceedings that is actually rather enjoyable with repeated listens. The rest of the album is well-intentioned sad-faced indie-disco and rather soulless at that.
The Weeknd - Beauty Behind The Madness - ★★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
After notching up a pair of Top 10 smashes in Earned It and Can't Feel My Face, singer Abel Tesfaye's alter-ego has been busy garnering acclaim and regular slots on Billboard's RnB charts. So you kinda know what to expect from this rather bland opus - 'soulful' operatics, gymnastic vocals a la Jackson, a few memorable songs and a truckload of filler. Wheeling in Lana Del Rey, Ed Sheeran and Labrinth doesn't exactly improve things and I'm aghast at just how dull some of this album is. "I'm a villain in the city...." "Everybody's fucking pussy"... blah blah blah. And are we still doing that tedious waspish hi-hat and booming kick-drum from dubstep's archives? Yes we are. It's here on Often. Often, in fact. On The Hills. On Acquainted.
Tesfaye's obsession with pussy starts to wane after a few tracks but at least Can't Feel My Face brings some groove to an otherwise underwhelming party.
Ella Eyre - Feline - ★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
Big shouty choruses, rumbling drums, pseudo drum n bass, verses that sound the same as the chorus? No it's not the latest Rita Ora album, this is huge-haired diva Ella Eyre whose early material suggested she'd ride the current over-populated wave of hollerin' female singers and become something of an exciting prospect. Sadly, warbling like Amy Winehouse or Emeli Sande all too often and guesting on just about every other similar pop-soul act in the past few years has done little to thrust Eyre into any sort of spotlight. She's got a voice brazen enough to storm most stages at most festivals but she sounds way too much like her predecessors to be distinctive. And some of the songs on here are painful. Good Times has some horrible vocal treatments and another bloody tedious drum n bass build-up. It's like Pendulum on helium. It's a mixed bag at best. As for Deeper, well.
Beach House - Depression Cherry - ★★★★★★☆☆☆☆
Five albums in and what have we learned about dream-poppers Beach House? Their sound has been smoothed out a little, they're still following in the footsteps of MBV, Cocteau Twins, Lush, Galaxie 500 et al and they're still, quite often, as engaging as they've always been. Fans of Polica might glean solace from Beach House's winsome and unchallenging efforts, Levitation and Sparks being two such highlights worth considering. Often sounding quite demo-like with primitive drum-machines here and cheap keyboards there, songs like Beyond Love and 10:37 wouldn't sound amiss on a Julee Cruise album (a good thing), with their twee harmonies and pretty musical-box melodies from another world. The problem is, there just isn't enough of those glorious sweeping melodies we've come to expect.
Halsey - Badlands - ★★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
Another big-voiced female, this time from across the pond and armed with more slow-beat anthems that are as inconsequential as some of the Eyres, Sandes and Oras of this world. What has happened to pop-music in the last ten years? I can't remember any of the songs on this album after four plays through - I mean it's not like I don't try with these albums, fuck knows I could be doing something far more productive like grinding my earlobes with a Bosch sander or using my arse as a golf bunker. "We are the new Americana..., high on legal marijuana" she pipes on New Americana. Who cares.
Motorhead - Bad Magic - ★★★★★★★☆☆☆
With an array as trite as the selection above, thank the planets for the enigma that is Lemmy. Victory or Die, the opener on this their 23rd studio-album, reveals a few limitations you'd expect from a 69 year-old rocker whose had more than his fair share of health blips of late. But Lemmy and his Motorhead charges are content to rage on and on with power-rockers like the terrific Thunder and Lightning and Shoot Out All of Your Lights. It's heads-down, no-nonsense, hair-swishing-against-the-mike majesty and great fun because of it. While Bad Magic might lack the blistering power of Overkill and Bomber, there's no denying that Motorhead aren't lacking when it comes to riffing and showboating as Electricity ably demonstrates. The reflective and biographical Till The End shows a sensitive side to one Ian Kilminster before Tell Me Who To Kill continues the somewhat relentless assault. Possibly their best album since their last one.
Spector - Moth Boys - ★★★★★☆☆☆☆☆
Caught between the devil and the deep blue sea of triers Editors, The Killers, White Lies and Hurts, London's Spector haven't quite attained the same level of adoration as the above quartet with previous releases, despite notching up a Top 20 album with 2012's Enjoy It While It Lasts. Their BBC Sound of 2012 nomination seems a lifetime away. Moth Boys is all very earnest, precisely executed and ultimately a bit humdrum. Lyrics like "You're lying in the bedroom of my mind.." isn't going to win onlookers over, although as a song Don't Make Me Try is easy-going indie hokum. Decade of Decay emulates John Foxx's Golden Section era with its pulsating synth-bass throb and quick-step drum-machines, a homage I'm not convinced is intended. Moth Boys isn't exactly balls-out indie-rock that'll fill arenas but it's decent enough for a synth-pop splurge, should you desire it.