Album Review: Total Life Forever - Foals

**
Total Life Forever. It's a title that somewhat epitomises the problem with this second Foals album - It appears weighty and portentous but on closer inspection simply doesn't furnish you with any worthwhile meaning at all.

Having embroidered their own unique style of 'math rock' on debut Antidotes, the Oxford quintet merely appear to have stripped away most of the delightfully playful yet urgent guitar mechanics that raised them above the parapet of obscurity, leaving nothing but a sonic waste ground of pretentious etherea.

It's hard not to compare Foals unfavourably with The Horrors, who although also expanding their musical palette on last year's Primary Colours, managed to do so whilst finding their own distinctive voice.

Alas, too much of Total Life Forever feels bereft of any discernible intent. Lead track 'Spanish Sahara' is a good case in point. Over 6 minutes in length and sporting the teeth grinding imagery of lyric, "Now I see you lying there/Like a lilo losing air", you can't escape the feeling that, when push comes to shove, Foals simply don't have the substance to fulfil their musical ambition.

There are moments when their potential exposes itself fleetingly such as on 'Miami' and 'This Orient' but ultimately it feels like Foals have deliberately lent towards the more MOR music listener, a move which their Mercury Prize nomination will no doubt only serve to justify.

Unfortunately for me, it feels like a band with considerable potential are rapidly losing their impetuous.

Onward, until victory

I've already tweeted the link to this video twice (three times through the twitter feed from this blog) but it's undoubtedly worthy of more attention. Partly because it follows on nicely from my last blog but also because it just feels so timely in general.

As the TUC contemplates organised strikes, the Tory's, day-by-day, reveal more of their true nature to the world and the electorate reels from the long shadow of Cleggmania, this short interview with Labour MP Tony Benn feels inspirational.

Having watched it in full yesterday evening before going to bed, I found I couldn't sleep, couldn't rest at the thought of democracy being undermined by the desperate clambering of individuals for power.

I wanted to march in defence of what I believed. I wanted to start a band again. I wanted to write lyrics, I wished that I could play the guitar properly. I felt more and more guilty about living in my increasingly comfortable middle class malaise. I knew I was merely protecting the status quo.

That there's a new Manics record out next week is no coincidence of course. They always remind me of the true potential of great art to change the world for the better. I wouldn't substitute my life for anyone's but in many ways I know that's a problem in itself. I know I've got too much to lose.

I envy those who I imagine are young, without responsibility, find themselves in life's gutter and who have no other option than to cherish creativity whilst kicking out at the world. If the world kicks back a lot fucking harder then so what? At least they tried, goddamit, at least they did that.

Strike to the heart

I get frustrated with the perennial reaction to strikes. This week the tube network in London was all but completely shut down for 24hrs as RMT and TSSA Union members fought back over the decision by London Underground to cut 800 jobs across the network.

The media's perceived reaction? - "Misery" and "Travel Chaos". Worse than that, the strike is "Damaging to our Economy". 'Misery' and 'travel chaos'? Those signifiers don't fit with the scenes of calm stoicism I experienced on my morning commute. A 6 day long Chinese traffic jam - now that's what I call 'travel chaos'.

How ironic too that the striking tube worker receives an ounce of blame for damaging the economy when the generally received wisdom is that the rich 'City Banker' type caused this recession in the first place. The result, of course, this government's perceived necessity for cuts which has had its effect on both public and private sectors.

Yet what chars my heart more than this even, is the utter selfishness of some of the general public's rhetoric. Of course the strike is an unwanted inconvenience but, for the majority, it is merely that - an inconvenience. Surely we can suffer one day of inconvenience for the sake of those who are trying to protect their livelihoods?

Those who, through their presence in maintaining the London Underground network, allow us to reach the office from our suburban havens in the first place. Reading headlines such as "Londoners defy Tube strike" is incredibly depressing. We shouldn't be defying the strike but supporting it! If not as an act of selflessness then in order to ensure we receive a better service as commuters for the foreseeable future. It's not in our interest that 800 jobs are cut, let alone London Underground employees! 

Family Fortune

Two remarkable landmarks in my family life will have been reached this summer. Firstly, the 5th anniversary of mine and Laura's wedding day back in July, and this Monday on the 13th September, the 1st anniversary of our boy George's birth!

I haven't harked on about either of them too much on this blog. Mainly because nobody wants to hear about these things and also because, well, affection is for us to show each other not the world at large.

However, I am going to indulge myself a little right now. I am eternally, overwhelmingly and stupendously grateful for them both.

Laura is the one person who keeps me from tipping over the edge. Her innocence, wisdom, morality and endearing silliness are all so cherished. Without her I don't think I'd be capable of the responsibility of fatherhood, most probably I wouldn't be capable of coherent speech so far off the rails would I find myself.

George too, of course, is my little diamond! His smile, sense of humour, sense of fun and inqusitive little nature have all been a joy to behold and a privilege to help foster as he grows. I am a very fortunate young man.

Album Review: Butterfly House - The Coral

****
In thrall to the 60's beat generation of pop musicians since the scallywag bag of bones that was their debut, The Coral have stuck steadfastly to a tried and tested formula which has, on occasion, left them sounding jaded.

Never more so than on 2005's 'The Invisible Invasion', the Scousers 4th album in just 3 years, and on which their odyssey to recapture the spirit of their swinging sixties forefathers ran desperately aground.

Since giving themselves some breathing space however, they've returned with the admirable 'Roots & Echoes' and now, three years on, 'Butterfly House' sees them at something approaching their barnstorming best.

The influence of producer John Leckie is clear - the man responsible for the much adored Stone Roses debut album - and, although it isn't fit to wash the feet of that masterpiece, there is an air of majesty to the pop hooks here that may similarly echo through the ages.

Both album opener 'More Than A Lover' and the succeeding 'Roving Jewel' sparkle with a renewed sense of purpose and lead single 'A Thousand Years' is instantaneously memorable for its brazen pop sensibilities.

Perhaps surprising, considering the departure of guitarist Bill Ryder-Jones, is the continual existence of those jangly guitar lines synonomous with the verve and infectious cascade of past glories.

'Butterfly House' is the best example with its rolicking coda of electric sqeals and riffing mastery, it's clear The Coral haven't lost any of the creative edge that so often blights those who lose a founder member.

James Skelly's lyrics, although rarely substantive, manage to capture an ethereal charm, turning "scarlet curtains hanging in the window" into a portent symbol of melancholy and the flickering lamp from behind a blind into a Dickensian suggestion of wistful existence.

The only disappointment then is that, with The Coral maturing into indie-pop stalwarts, the surrealism initially displayed on their much acclaimed debut has now all but vanished. There's not a single trace of those shambling sea shanties come 2010 and I, for one, miss them just a little bit.

Album Review: Your Future, Our Clutter - The Fall

****
A funny thing The Fall. I've been aware of Mark E. Smith for years but it's only since listening to favourite comedian Frank Skinner's radio show (in which he insists on playing one Fall track every week) that my interest has finally been piqued.

As a result I feel even less qualified than usual to offer a musical critique (this is the 28th studio album under 'The Fall' moniker since 1979).

What I can say about 'Your Future, Our Clutter' is that I've already grown to cherish its eccentricity. From the opening of 'Bury Pts. 1 & 3', which sounds like it's been recorded down a well so compressed is the sound, to the mad ranting of 'Mexico Wax Insolvent', the unique charm of the album is irresistible.

Of course there's no doubting The Fall's sound is an acquired taste. Like your fist sip of lager as a 12 year old lad, the initial reaction is to recoil from the unexpected shock, but stick with it and suddenly the idiosyncrasies begin to have their appeal. Again on 'Mexico Wax Insolvent' the nuance of Smith's repeated 'Aqua Rosa' somehow burns itself into your psyche.

There is, however, a charming delicacy on display too. Album closer 'Weather Report 2', revels in its wistful guitar, Smith crooning "You gave me the best years of my life", yet he still remains joyously cutting, "I watched 'Murder She Wrote' five times/The cast deserved to die". Perhaps in an act of glorious defiance the song ends with the line, "You don't deserve rock 'n' roll".

Similarly witty couplets abound throughout and, although most of the lyrics are spawned from an organised chaos of hotch-potch phraseology, backed as they are by a collection of tenacious tunes from Smith's current band members, the album succeeds as a delightful melting pot out of which many a crystal jewel is smelt.

Album Review: The Chaos - The Futureheads

***
The Sunderland quartet made their mark during the Franz Ferdinand incited 'art rock' vogue of 2004 with a debut album that was indebted to a string of catchy post-punk numbers, an unusual use of vocal harmony and a none too underplayed cover of Kate Bush's 'Hounds of Love'.

Since then however, The Futureheads have found themselves somewhat lost on the wiley, windy moors and were allegedly close to splitting in the wake of 2006's 'News and Tributes'. However, exiting from their major label contract and setting up home on their own independent label, they returned with a more assured sounding album in 2008, 'This Is Not The World', which, if nothing else, confirmed their future as a going concern.

'The Chaos' then, appears to pick up where their previous album left off, although this time it feels as if the band are more comfortable in their own skins somehow, happy to play to their pop/punk strengths and not needlessly throwing curve balls to the detriment of a song's impact. Certainly this album's collection of short, sharp bursts of energy seems more focused than their past efforts.

Lyrically it won't win any first prizes but at least it's quirky and informed enough to offer a few tasty delights. 'The Baron', for example, implores us, in our post recession climate, to cease pulling out our hair or, at least, 'dance as it hits the floor'. Highlight 'I Can Do That' is a worthy treatise on the trials of the job seeker, the protagonist frustratedly imploring that they can turn their hand to anything, the song ending in a comic rendition of Keith Harris and Orville the duck's 'I Wish I Could Fly'.

'Sun Goes Down' is another romping number that evokes images of 'Joy Divison's 'Shadowplay' in its couplet, 'The sun goes down and the double life begins/It's a one way ticket to a city of sins' and, although that's where the comparison with the Mancunians pretty much begins and ends, you do get a sense that Sunderland's landscape has shaped and moulded the Futureheads in a similar way to how Manchester has had its effect on so many great bands.

None of the 11 tracks on 'The Chaos' will change the world then, despite laudable attempts to make some kind of sense of it, but they are delivered with a vim and vigour that makes the ride thoroughly enjoyable. Some achievement for a band who may yet benefit from defining a cult status.