By the light of the moon

The 40th anniversary of the moon landings has excited and enthralled me much more than expected.

I've been lapping up the media coverage like a thirsty dog does water.

Much of the reason for this I realise, is due to my recent visit to Cape Canaveral, from which of course, all the Apollo missions were launched during the 60's and 70's (there's nothing as satisfying as pointing at the telly and saying, "I've been there".)

I'd never visited America before last year and despite my healthy cynicism towards the nation (they re-elected George W Bush for Christ's sake), gaining a fuller understanding of the sheer improbability of that lunar endeavour forced me to reassess my admittedly lazy viewpoint.

The single-mindedness, defiance and self-reverence that I'd come to see as representative of American imperialism, was also that which enabled such an incredible objective to be achieved. 'Only in America' - a cliche which like most cliches, harbours a certain truth.

However, not only could landing a man on the moon only be achieved in America, on understanding the ridiculously fine line between success and tragic failure, you realise that it could only have been achieved in that era too. In today's politically correct, 'health & safety' conscious world, such a mission just simply wouldn't be allowed.

The safe return of the astronauts couldn't be guaranteed and in many quarters was seriously doubted. Even President Nixon had a speech readied in case of the astronauts loss.

When you consider that if the Eagle's rockets hadn't fired (in order to return Armstrong and Aldrin to the Command module) there were no back ups, no additional fuel tanks etc., you realise it so easily could have been a disaster.

Obviously we may well go back to the moon, and if Arthur C Clarke's vision of the future is precient, we may even go on to explore our wider solar system. Despite this though, you get the impression man may never again achieve such a feat against the odds.

A sad possibility, but it will ensure we stay in thrall to the moon landings forever. They may yet teach us something about ourselves that surprises us!

In defence of Britpop

It's a much maligned period in British music, but if nothing else, the mid-90's 'Britpop' era, when indie music suddenly entered the wider public conscience, was an incredible phenomenon probably never to be repeated.

With the recent triumphant return of Blur at Glastonbury/Hyde Park, coupled with the Oasis shows at Wembley, these two most prominent of acts have somehow escaped the transient 'Britpop' tag to write themselves into the historic annals of popular music, traced back to its origins - The Beatles, The Rolling Stones et al.

In fact, if you were to compare the 'Britpop' era with any from the past, it's most likely to be the swinging 60's. A time when the world looked to Britain for the leading cultural, artistic and fashion trends. Of course in the 90's only some of the adulation British guitar bands received was really justifiable.

For every Blur, Suede or Pulp, reflecting on the social issues of the time (be they sexuality, class or careerism), there was a Dodgy, Cast or Ocean Colour Scene, riding the coat tails of hype and proliferating mindless pap under an imitative banner.

'Britpop' eventually imploded, the catalysts an overblown, over-hyped 3rd Oasis album in 1997, Noel Gallagher's visit to Downing Street etc. etc. However, perhaps more simplistically, the 'party' like all good parties had to come to an end, the excesses well documented on albums such as Pulp's 'This Is Hardcore' or Blur's eponymous 1997 album.

It is undeniably true that there's much to despise from the legacy of Britpop - endless bands dismally failing to recapture Oasis' spirit, ladism, political parties appropriating 'Cool Britannia'. You could even argue that it set the progress of popular music back some 30 years.

However, those who sweepingly disregard 'Britpop' are mistaken too. For all the evils, in essence it was an incredibly creative period of pop music which took indie/guitar music to a new, more exposed level. An exposure from which us fans are still benefiting some 15 years later.

From those who laid the foundations (The Stone Roses, The La's), to the household names perhaps even more popular now than then (Super Furry Animals, Radiohead), Britpop bands at their best, could capture the very essence of life in Britain.

If in doubt, listen to this Spotify playlist. It may only include a handful of bands from the plethora peddling their wares at the time but you just have to pick the best and discard the rest. Feel free to add to it, just don't expect me to tolerate 'Menswear'!

Cut Some Rug - Spotify Playlist

Album Review: West Ryder Pauper Lunatic Asylum - Kasabian

****
Kasabian triumph where traditional stalwarts of the 'lad rock' oeuvre fail.

Mixing the swaggering pomp of Oasis with an innovative progression that the boys from Burnage never achieved, West Ryder Pauper Lunatic Asylum (the very name suggesting something apart from the norm) will probably be another contender for album of 2009.

'Underdog' is a monster of an introduction, Tom spitting out venomous intent from the off and a riff destined to conquer. However, second track 'Where Did All the Love Go?' is the first sign Kasabian are onto something new, a woozy chorus straight out of a time warp channeling 60's psychedelia.

Followed by an instrumental entitled 'Swarfiga' (like 'Can' on heat), you begin to wonder whether they've lost the plot completely! Then, as if to coax us back from the precipice, 'Fast Fuse' pumps through you with vigour. Just try listening to it without bowling along the pavement as if you own the street.

Yet, just when you think you're getting a handle on the album, along comes 'West Ryder Silver Bullet playing like the soundtrack to a Sergio Lione western. It has to be said that at this point, I began to worry the band were slipping into pastiche, particularly on album closer 'Happiness' with its trite "nothing more/nothing less/all we need is happiness" lyric. Yet even this ballad, with its choir cheesely chipping in right on cue, still manages to get away with it, the middle 8 rescuing your attention just when it was about to turn it's back.

'Secret Alphabets' is all Egyptian mythology and wouldn't appear out of place on 'Sgt Pepper', whereas 'Thick As Thieves' is the 'Small Faces' for a new generation. The album's influences are as clear as day but there's such a wonderful melting pot of sounds in each new track they gradually begin to transcend any 'early doors' criticism.

I'm yet to mention 'Vlad the Impaler' or top 3 single 'Fire' until now, both highlights, but then it's not really necessary. The key to this long player isn't the 'singles', which Kasabian have always managed to pull off, its everything else in between.

This isn't, nor was it ever going to be, a lyrical masterpiece or grandiose intellectual statement, yet it is a joy to listen to. Walking through the city of London on a sunny day with 'Fire' playing through your ipod headphones, makes you feel like a superstar in your very own movie. It's not often that you can say that!

Falling off the rock 'n' roll wagon

Where do I start with Kasabian? Ever since they infiltrated my consciousness I've doubted them, championed them, slagged them off, doubted them again, though not necessarily in that order.

Why have I been so schizophrenic? As a teenager in the 90's I was in absolute awe of Oasis. They were the first band I adored and so great was my admiration, that for a long period of time I was unable to appreciate any other band fully, no matter how great they may have been. As the Mancunians invincibility wained, I still continued to worship diligently, hoping in vain that they may somehow recapture past glories.

Of course, they never have. Now, one uninspiring album after another is churned out to muted discourse and after years of disappointment, I have, thankfully, weaned myself off the band. I now freely admit their considerable flaws although still struggle not to remain in thrall to that mid 90's period where it really did feel like they were our generation's Beatles.

So with Kasabian, I feel a little like a reformed alcoholic. After a long battle with the booze, followed by some period of going 'clean', I know that abstinence must be total, the merest sniff of the 'good stuff' being enough to tip me back over into the abyss.

Initially, therefore I had no time for Kasabian, their cod Gallagher musings even their admittedly rebel-rousing tunes. Not until 'Empire' was being carried across the radio airwaves did I have to grudgingly admit there might be more to Kasabian than had first met the eye. I decided to approach their latest material with a more open mind.

I should have known that leaving the door even slightly ajar would be enough for the irresistible beats of 'Vlad the Impaler' to come crashing through and paint the walls of my mind with its brazen swagger. Hot on its heels came first single proper, 'Fire', which is defiantly unshakeable. I could feel myself falling off the wagon.

On the eve of its release, I found myself for the first time anticipating one of their albums, 'West Ryder Pauper Lunatic Asylum'....