In This Light And On This Evening

Kitchenware/Columbia

Ooh, looky who’s got some synthesisers? I really didn’t expect to like this record. In fact I’d already half written the review in my head, with lots of clichéd references to Editors jumping on the 80s synth bandwagon.

The press pack arrived with a slightly bizarre letter to the listener from frontman Tom Smith. At times it sounds like an apology, while elsewhere it is just a defiant two-fingers to any predictable criticism for going ‘all electronic’. Either way it smacks of someone who was really expecting some kind of backlash, admitting that “this album will alienate some Editors fans, it will split opinion…good.”

The slower tracks have never quite rung true on previous Editors albums but the layered, brooding atmosphere of album closer Walk the Fleet Road is a triumph, while single Papillon is unmistakably Editors, with its catchy hook and soar-away chorus.

They may have ditched the guitars, but they have retained the unerring sense of melody. The constant buzz of electronic noises can grate but overall it is worth persevering.

Sigh No More

Gentlemen of the Road/Island

If, as Mumford & Sons bassist Ted claims, music fans are looking for something with a bit more heart, then they can certainly find a sizeable chunk of it on this stunning debut.

At times it is haunting, others euphoric, but their blend of old time, sepia-tinted bluegrass and shimmering folk-pop sounds fresh, vibrant and uplifting.

Banjos and double bass  may give the impression of a derivative novelty act, but together the band mould delicious harmonies with overpowering melodies.

And as they planned, it just makes you want to have a good old sing song.
An almost perfect piece of modern folk, with tunes that linger long after you press stop.

Union

Self release

The aptly named ‘Union’ is a fitting testament to the bands dedication and continual triumph over adversity, having released it without a label.

From the pounding tribal drums in the opening of Flashing Red Light Means Go through to the passionate urgency of Evacuate, The Boxer Rebellion create a deeply brooding atmosphere which amalgamates OK Computer era Radiohead with the transcendent beauty of early Verve to create their own blend of guitar distorted indie.

It is a breathtaking combo of instantly memorable melodies and heart-wrenching falsetto gracefully floating above delay-layered soundscapes.

Give Me Fire!

Universal

It would be really dull to write a review about a Scandinavian guitar band that compared them to The Hives or Soulwax.

But even so, Mando Diao do sound a bit like both The Hives and Soulwax. They sound a bit like Franz Ferdinand too, with some Stax soul thrown in.

Bjorn’s gruff-voiced bellowing adds real soul to the shameless melodies, while the pumping bass and sprinkling of brass keeps things interesting among some of the less adventurous pop-rock standards.

Out of Babel

Destruction Records

It’s like getting your own pop-up gypsy-folk-punk mash-up in a handy little pack.

The Destroyers are a band not to be missed playing live and this debut album attempts to capture that same energy.

It certainly succeeds for the most part, with title track Out of Babel a stand-out highlight.

Paul Murphy’s twisted mythologies weave tales of intrigue over the top of a frantic cacophony of instruments.

Some of the instrumentals are more for the purists but a party record nonetheless.

Kings & Queens

Virgin

When Jamie T burst onto the scene with Mercury nominated debut Panic Prevention, there was a feeling it was more style than substance, with his rough London act appearing little more than a gimmick.
But he has returned after two and a half years with one of the most original records of recent times.
Witty and thought-provoking, it lurches  between rampant energy and moments of mellow calm.
His obvious talent for weaving gritty tales is underpinned by a strong musical tradition, plucking influences from a variety of sources, be it ska, punk, soul or straight-up rap.
A unique talent and a special album.

Looking Through You

(Island)

Like some kind of record company executive’s wet dream. Imagine Mika, The Feeling, The Hoosiers and The Saturdays in some kind of oiled-up play-wrestle. Twinkly pianos, ‘cool’ sweeping synths and a whole load of horrifically predictable tunes.

Almost every song is littered with Queen-inspired harmonies, while the choruses each build into a crescendo of pop-soaked melody that sounds like it was almost deliberately written to be played over the top of those fake moments of sheer joy on The X Factor.

But wait, they’ve got ‘The’ before their name and they write ironic lyrics about the fickle finger of fame which ironically enough catapulted them onto the pages of the music press in some kind of ironic, self-perpetuating prophecy. Ironically enough though it’s dreadful and doesn’t make any worthy point. How ironic.

They couldn’t even come up with a proper ending for final track Carry Me Home, sparing you the only shred of possible joy at the moment of realisation that the record has actually finished. Instead it just fades out, as if the producer fell asleep on the control desk.

Don’t be fooled into thinking The Yeah You’s are cool.  This is not cool, it’s horrible. Just horrible.