Sky Larkin - The Golden Spike

Leeds has a chequered musical history – for every Kaiser Chiefs and Corinne Bailey Rae there are hundreds of frustrated failures. The Golden Spike may sound more like a Phillip Pullman novel than a hit album, but something just feels right about Leeds' band Sky Larkin's debut from start to finish.

There’s a familiar, comforting vibe to their music right from the word go on album opener Fossil, I. The exact magic's difficult to pinpoint – maybe it's the perfect mix of indie-pop, or lead singer Katie Harkin's vocal style?

She is a mish-mash of The Ting Tings' Katie, Republica's Saffron, Kay from Letters To Cleo, Evanescence's Amy, Paramore’s Hayley – in a nutshell, some of the leading female vocalists from the last ten years of the genre. And that's without the strong hints of Bjork.

There's no slouching from the two males in this trio though – with varied and vibrant backing that's drum heavy on some tracks, and bursting with guitar riffs on others. And Sky Larkin appreciate the value of leaving us wanting more – Fossil, I clocks in at a gnat's sneeze over 2 minutes.

Pica's catchy lyrics (''I'm eating all his coal because I'm trying to make a diamond'') will have you humming along even if they’re too fast for you to match. One Of Two is just a great song, plain and simple. Who knows what inspired Matador's bizarre words, but the awesome melody means you don't need to care.

The band are certainly kicking off this year as they mean to go on – unleashing a brilliant debut produced by the man who steered Death Cab For Cutie to success and bagging a headline slot on Radio 1 star Huw Stephens' Introducing tour. Looks like 2009's gonna be golden for Sky Larkin.

by Sophie Bruce

TV on the Radio Dear Science

by Brad Barrett

 

There's no sense in analysing the oblique album title - is it an endearment or the opening to a scathing missive? - anymore than it is resisting the black hole gravity of the music. TV On The Radio have streamlined the inflamed and ravaging noise of 2006's Return To Cookie Mountain, developing their blend of myriad genres into a unique attempt at a self-confessed "dance record".

Of course this was always going to be wildly different to other such examples. For one, they haven't abandoned that gorgeous sense of asphyixation and shadowy threat that billows from their previous work. It creeps from David Sitek's squadron of guitars and Tunde Adebimpe's soulful, tear-wringing vocals. It's even in the ghostly backwards percussion on Crying, and the silhouetted synth and violin-plucking on the breathtaking Stork & Owl.

Nevertheless, Prince-spattered basslines and funk-guitar paintjobs run like a rebellious streak through the album, most notably on forthcoming single Golden Age, where Sitek's unexpectedly sparse production brings lightness to their steps. It's testament to their unashamed musical-magpie attitude that the sudden rush of haunting backing vocals, vibrant horns and buzzing fuzz bass come the chorus sound natural in what seems initially to be a sensual pop song.

It's this exceptional talent for layering songs with tiers of ideas, nuances and melodic or textural counterparts which brings this five-piece's undeniable chemistry violently to life. Whether they are crafting lush, piano-led daydreams like Family Tree, or intimidatingly-rendered nightmares like standout DLZ, it's clear that TV On The Radio are unassailable in fusing elements that don't fit into any typical periodic table.

Glasvegas

by Chris Long   05 September 2008

Every so often, Glasgow produces a band, say Primal Scream or Franz Ferdinand, who seem so effortlessly capable of massive success that it makes you wonder why the city isn't the centre of the musical world.

To many, Glasvegas are the next heirs to such a crown. Named in a colloquial nod to their beloved hometown, they have been creating a buzz since catching indie mogul Alan McGee's ear 18 or so months ago.

They were the one band every industry high-flier and music hack agreed on at last year's In The City, despite not actually playing at the conference, and started this year nestled snugly behind The Ting Tings at the head of the BBC's Sounds Of 2008 poll. And now, they have every chance of mimicking the Salford duo's success, though they couldn't be more different if they tried.

Glasvegas' music sounds like the east end of Glasgow that gave birth to it; rough, raw and epic, it is a stunning wall of sound that strains the rich rockabilly and doo-wop of the 50s through the raucous brooding rock of The Jesus And Mary Chain to create something timeless.

It was a sound showed off brilliantly in the three independent singles that got them noticed to begin with – Go Square Go, Daddy's Gone and It's My Own Cheating Heart – and it's one that is driven hard across the whole of their eponymous debut.
All three of those starter singles are included, with Daddy’s Gone still standing out as a devastating slab of emotion-soaked songwriting, but they are by no means the only worthy inclusions.

A nod to front man James Allan's former career as a professional footballer, the catchy echo of Flowers & Football Tops, opens proceedings and the exhausting excellence of the band's oeuvre barely lets up until the smacked-out gospel of Ice Cream Van shuts the album down, with only the slightly odd spoken-word piano drama of Stabbed allowing some breathing space.

It is everything you could have asked for from the band. With the pressure on to produce an album worthy of the hype, they have succeeded where others, notably The Ting Tings and fellow Sound of 2008 nominees Foals, failed and delivered a genuinely classic debut. Scotland's second city has done it again.

Friendly Fires

by Ian Wade    29 August 2008

Friendly Fires, the splendidly-named trio hailing from St Albans, first ventured into showbiz using the medium of instrumental, Fugazi-esque hardcore. Realising that it wasn't really them, and thankfully lightening up a bit, Ed, Edd and Jack ventured forth into the world of disco and headed towards a far more interesting and musically rewarding future. It's one that's found them feted by the likes of Zane Lowe, Colin Murray and Rob Da Bank, loved by Guardian and NME alike, and now on XL – fast becoming a label that's the home of the hits.

Friendly Fires rattles along quite nicely. There may not be an immediacy or instant large to the angle of the Fires' jangle, but after a couple of listens you're wondering why they didn't release it at the height of summer, as it would've sounded perfect. Self-produced, with the exception of the Paul Epworth-produced single and lead track, Jump In The Pool, and recorded under Ed's parent’s house, it's an album that sounds at home on both the radio and down the rave-up.

Earlier tracks, Paris and On Board are particularly ebullient and joyous, bringing to mind classic Chicago house textures with hand-in-air rushing moments. In The Hospital has the sweaty urgency of LCD Soundsystem, and Photobooth may destroy Earth itself, once a few choice remixes are commissioned. Lovesick is downright amazing: potentially the tune that turns the band from skinny indie groovers into chart-eating pop behemoths. Certain choruses and breakdowns mark this as a post-Klaxons album but that's about as much as FF has in common with the nu-rave herberts. Friendly Fires sound more like an excitable, puppy-like version of The Rapture or Cut Copy.

Overall, Friendly Fires – along with Late Of The Pier and Wild Beasts – have shown that there's some more forward-thinking and multiplex bands for people who've grown bored of the identikit indie gristle. A bit of sparkle and magic is all you need, and your life improves immeasurably.

Roots Manuva

Review by Chris Jones
29 August 2008

Three years on from the darkness that was Awfully Deep, Stockwell's Rodney Smith returns. In an genre rife with up-and-coming MCs all vying to knock the crown from the head of current rulers of the mic, such a gap may seem like a suicidal career move. But when you're as original, interesting and well, deep as Mr Manuva the usual rules don't apply. Slime & Reason should shut up any young pretenders out there, at least for a while.

Of course another reason for the hiatus has been Smith's not-so-private battles with his own demons. Those worried that his flow has been...erm...blunted by indulgence will be relieved at the first play of this many-sided album. Jauntily bringing a hefty slice of Studio One deep end and dancehall smarts to the opener Over And Over, it seems like Roots has had time to lighten up as well. That's not to say that he doesn't address personal issues. It's Me Oh Lord details his struggles trying to preach the gospels of truth and light. The pentecostal strand learned in childhood rings as loud as ever here. And On I'm A New Man he makes atonement for past indulgences.

As if to signal his awareness of the post-pubescent competition he does upgrade the sound somewhat. There are more burbling analogue synth sounds and the mix is sparser, relying on the bass to carry you through. Oddly it's this head nodding towards newer hybrids that mark the album's low points. The Toddla T-assisted Buff Nuff visits the same priapic territory that Dizzee Rascal's recently visited. But urban music's about asserting your pedigree and as he points out in that fabulous mocknee growl on Well Alright, "They got a little chatter but they got no brain". Elsewhere the string-led R'n'B of A Man's Talk is merely too squarely hip hop compared to the other delights on offer here.

But it's really the Carribean flvours of the hilarious Do Nah Bodda Mi or the dubwise Well Alright that show that his pen is just as sharp as it was. As always, the man serves up a blinding mixture of fun, doomy retribution, guilt-ridden dread and loping oddness. Welcome back Rodney...