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Sidders

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  2. Some alright songs were released in 2012. I've made a list of ten of them, including some that I think are a little bit better than I give them credit for.
    AWOLNATION - 'Kill Your Heroes' (from: 'Megalithic Symphony')

    AWOLNATION are an odd band. One minute they're happy enough screaming out erratic, borderline psychologically-damaged odes to pyromania and suffering as on 'Burn It Down' and 'Soul Wars' and the next they're plodding along to pop-lite melodies like 'Jump On My Shoulders', complete with la-la-la-ing post-choruses. 'Kill Your Heroes' is a brief reprieve with the extremities of their apparent dissociative identity, happily straddling the fence between throat-shredding wailing and infectious melodic catchiness. The lyrics may come across as too eager to scan as modern-age poetry ("Never let your fear decide your fate/I say you kill your heroes and fly") but the aloof references to carving your own path in life and breaking free from the shadows of idols doesn't stop 'Kill Your Heroes' becoming an easy entry point into the rest of their music. Whilst it's not out and out their best track, it's in this list because it whets the appetite to try out some of their other, better tracks.
    Other songs worth listening to: 'Wake Up', 'Soul Wars', 'Sail'.
    7/10
    The Sound of Arrows - 'Conquest' (from: 'Voyage')

    It's never easy to write about this duo, but in short, they're Swedish; they do pop music, and they're ****ing brilliant at it. Ambition and wide-eyed wonder illuminate the red velvet layers of synth-brass on ‘Conquest’, a song focusing on the age-old theme of achieving the impossible and rising against the odds. There's a timeless feel to Storm's lyrics and his featherweight voice; something ardent for accomplishment and celebration that suitably fills every available space it can reach. The song's production is flawless, packed with ideas and subliminal layers but never once feeling over-bearing. Though poppier and nowhere near a 'smooth'-sounding as the majority of the rest of the stunning album 'Voyage' , 'Conquest's tones and textures are rendered beautifully and almost feel alive, billowing gently as the pastel-coloured, metallic melodies translate as softly appealing and commanding at the same time.
    Other songs worth listening to: 'Nova', 'Wonders', 'There Is Still Hope'.
    10/10
    Imagine Dragons - 'It's Time' (from: 'Night Visions')

    'It's Time' is the flagship song for Las Vegas-born Imagine Dragons, effortlessly encapsulating everything their music is. Despite being active since 2008 and releasing an EP every year since 2009 (with full LP 'Night Visions' released earlier this year), they've only very recently had some recognition in the UK with 'Radioactive' and 'Hear Me', two songs which barely hit the Top 40 and exist in two different genres that themselves are wildly different from the chiming, stomping, sonic celebration of 'It's Time'. But don’t think that means they’re the type of band who require an Apple product or a low-budget film about coming of age to provide the soundtrack for in order to surface to popular consciousness. Much of 'It's Time's success as a song can be attributed to the band’s ear for a killer hook and lead singer Dan Reynolds’ grounded poetic lyricism, the result being that even though they sing into unpredictable, shifting abysses, the opulence of their music still burns with the expanse and intimacy of a candlelit dinner in the Nevada desert.
    Other songs worth listening to: 'Tiptoe', 'Working Man', 'Hear Me'.
    10/10
    St. Lucia - 'All Eyes On You' (from: 'St. Lucia')

    This one's an interesting one. It sounds like something whipped off a B-side released by an off-the-radar artist in the 80's. It's also been used in Hollister & Co. advertising and probably soundtracks the wet dreams of the type of people who eat lentil soup and Instagram packets of fig rolls. St. Lucia aren't ever going to take off and the hipsters will like that, as will I because a lot of everything else that St. Lucia have put their name to could pass as lullabies for the indie market. However, as a momentary blip of redemption, the reserved tone and almost blase delivery to the lyrics on 'All Eyes On You' turn what could otherwise pail as a slow-dancing borefest into a certifiably palatable mix of indie dweebness and knitwear-clad passion.
    Other songs worth listening to: 'September', 'We Got It Wrong'.
    6/10
    The Killers - 'The Way It Was' (from: 'Battle Born')

    Let's be brutally honest: this isn't really a Killers song. It's the closest you'll get to a Killers song on new album 'Battle Born' though (unless you consider 'Day & Age' as the pinnacle of The Killers' trademark indie-quirk fanfare, in which case 'Flesh and Bone' has a good chance of buoying the rest of a poor album for you). But whilst the lukewarm 'Runaways' and sleeper-hit 'Miss Atomic Bomb's only distinctions as Killers songs is Brandon's voice, 'Deadlines and Commitments' carries on the theme of family issues and personal identity crises as heard on 'Sam's Town' as vividly as ever.
    The song's gentle guitar canter and minor key gloominess serve to establish hackneyed lyrics as an empathetic plea for mutual understanding, supported by a side-helping of wishful thinking, which brings a genuine warmth to the song. The gentle motif at the end of every line marries perfectly with some of the best lyrics on the album.
    Other songs worth listening to (from 'Battle Born'): 'Deadlines and Commitments', 'Flesh & Bone', 'Miss Atomic Bomb'.
    9/10
    King Charles - 'Lady Percy' (from: 'LoveBlood')

    Round about 2010, popular chart music shifted into two very different gravitational fields. One has, sadly, prevailed till this day and involved barely-talented label puppets diving headlong into the latest musical technologies and the other, which has dwindled of late, involved returning to rootsier, acoustic sounds. Among the acts to have been picked up on this wave were Mumford & Sons, Laura Marling, Damien Rice, and Noah And The Whale. Birth-child of Prince and Adam Ant, King Charles, was nowhere to be seen though, but that's probably a good thing because after the promising 'Lady Percy' and 'The Brightest Lights', the rest of début album 'LoveBlood' ran like a hipster's paradise, even including comparisons of a loved one to the wax in his mustache.
    'Lady Percy' runs dangerously close to making such declarations of devotion to make Ed Sheeran blush, but the pacing, the bluegrass influences and the rustic overtones from the breezy instrumentation of guitars, banjos, steel drums and gospel choirs are combined in a rare stroke of breezy and summery genius for the bequiffed hipster.
    Other songs worth listening to: 'The Brightest Lights' (featuring Mumford & Sons), 'Mississippi Isabel'.
    9/10
    Aiden Grimshaw - 'This Island' (from: 'Misty Eye')

    Imagine Moby and Gary Jules had a musical offspring and you'll land right on the money with the sound of 'This Island'. A lot of sulky X Factor runner-up Aiden Grimshaw's music revolves around the same effortless groove and smouldering intensity. After X Factor, Grimshaw disappeared and came back a year and a half later with 'Misty Eye', which serves as just about the gloomiest, lest conventional post-X Factor release ever. 'This Island' is a swirling, hi-fi journey through suicidal thoughts and psychotic murmurs backed by the monochromatic of a Jarrad Rodgers production. Throughout the thematically lead-heavy track about being isolated and cut off from everyone, Grimshaw demands attention and empathy to the point listening to a whole album of such tracks can become one hell of a challenge. But here, Aiden provides a relatable understanding and a fearful reverence of the maddening loneliness that we all strive to evade.
    Other songs worth listening to: 'Hold On', 'Is This Love?'.
    7/10
    Ed Sheeran - 'Give Me Love' (from: '+')

    Another soppy one, and from someone who fervently speaks about his hatred for Ed Sheeran's acoustic guitar-wielding bellendery, 'Give Me Love' does something completely unprecedented. Whilst the usual Sheeran simpering is still as prevalent as ever, he's stripped back the awkward metaphors and overly acute observations about love's little trivialities; the cups of tea, the strawberries and the tweeting birds aren't mentioned here; things may get a bit grisly when in the chorus he rolls out the lyrics "We'll play hide and seek to turn this around", but it's worth learning to love it as the song's climax displays the maturer prowess that seems all too rare in Sheeran since the release of '+'. The song slowly transforms from just another Ed Sheeran ballad with improved lyrics into a borderline euphoric flood of passion; the intensity cranked up and Sheeran's vocals impressively pulling off desperation without feeling as cringe-worthy as the thought of him screaming "Love me" might first seem.
    Other songs worth listening to: 'You Need Me, I Don't Need You' (version from the 'Small Change EP').
    8/10
    M83 - 'Wait' (from: 'Hurry Up, We're Dreaming')

    If you've not heard M83's 'Midnight City' by now then you've been living in a cave. Most only know it by it's effervescent synths and that hook, but it's use on advertising campaigns and throughout the 2012 Olympic Games coverage should be enough for you to have had it ingrained by now. Follow-up singles 'Reunion' and 'Wait' haven't enjoyed the low-key success of 'Midnight City', but it's not big surprise. 'Wait' is an ambient track, slowly moving through it's duration and occasionally interrupted by Anthony Gonzalez's vocals, at first softly accompanying the delicate strumming until the chorus approaches and he cries with tangible emotion over the spaciousness of the precision-formed production. This song's final two minutes are like musical gold dust.
    Other songs worth listening to: 'We Own The Sky', 'Midnight City', ''Lower Your Eyelids To Die With The Sun'.
    10/10
    There's plenty of other contenders to be fair, and these are by no means the best 2012 had to offer, so don't be boring and complain about chart music be uninteresting. Go find your own music and put Capital FM out of a job.

  3. Why I'm not a religious man.

    · Sidders · 11/02/12 10:18 PM

    Welcome to the first semi-serious blog post from me. As the title suggests, I've subsided the music talk for a brief moment to consider a more emotive reflection about why I have the religious beliefs I do. I consider myself atheist, though on paper I am a Roman Catholic and was raised a devout Christian, at least until my father was ex-communicated for a reason none of the members of our family are completely clued-in about. I believe it had something to do with the Parish priest wanting to bless my parents' marriage, despite them having married in a church and in the eyes of God fourteen years previously, so upon denying to sanctify their marriage he ex-communicated them in front of the assembly of Sunday Mass. Pleasant fellow. I went to a Catholic Primary school in which our R.E. classes taught us only what Catholics believed; attended a secondary school with no religious denomination; a 6th Form which was staunchly Protestant and had close ties with the town Abbey; and I'm now attending a University with one of the strongest Anglican support systems in the UK in the Ancient Capital of England, the City of Winchester. So I've met many different angles of belief when it comes to Christianity and yet, since that five-year period with no religious interference during secondary school, I've not been able to reignite any longing for the fear of God to rekindle itself with me.
    But unlike most cynics, those who've never had a religious upbringing and Richard Dawkins, I didn't jump to the conclusion of atheism first and then accumulate the knowledge to bring me right back to where I started. I believed in God, Jesus and Satan (sort of) from the start. And also unlike the far more fervent Dawkins, I'm not here to persuade you to believe what I believe, but since you've been so kind as to click in to my Blog I'd have hoped the unwritten comprehension that you're about to read my opinions is clearly understood, but please be sure to utilise the wonderfully-presented comment box at the bottom of the post if you have issues with my spelling. You see, where Dawkins is different not only in his methodology of belief but also his justification, is that he actively enforces an ideology of his own that stands beyond simply disposing of the belief of God, and it's fair to say he's slightly more relentless than I in trying to prove it.
    I continued exploring my religion. I experienced many ups and downs in that journey, and as the whispering playfulness of childhood innocence left me during secondary school and I became... an arguably less model Christian (parts of which I still struggle with today)... I came to the point where I found that it might be impossible to truly believe when so much terror was going on in the world. The London bombings brought the frailty of humanity to everyone's mind as many innocents were killed; the Kashmir 7.6 Earthquake in Pakistan killed many more; Hurricane Katrina had just destroyed the American Gulf coast in one of the most devastating natural disasters in history, and Pope John Paul II had passed away. Looking back, it was by the end of this year - my first in secondary education and the first time Mass was no longer ingrained as a necessary Sunday activity - that I really began to question my beliefs. I plateaued somewhat for a while, and then coming across a passage in the Bible which really bothered me, I sat back at thought about whether or not it was really that logical to read the Bible anymore:

    "Anyone who loves their father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; anyone who loves their son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me." Matthew 10:37 I couldn't conceive any God (especially since this God seemed to me more like an ‘idea’ at the time) was more worthy of my love that my family was. It just didn't make sense. It's asking to give abstract emotional attention to an abstract form. Again, no sense was made. And then, as the real turning point for me, I watched a repeat showing of Derren Brown's 2004 TV Special Séance, which, if I recall correctly, has since become one of the most complained-about programme in TV history. In it, I watched in complete disbelief as a smug and self-important Brown caused a number of paranormal events, much to the sheer horror and fright of both those in the room and those watching. Impaired vision through hidden cameras and dim candle-light made it hard to see the workings of what was soon revealed to be a massive hoax (by Brown himself; the show was aimed to disprove the legitimacy of 17th-18th century seances).
    This got me me thinking about how much I could 'see' with regard to my dwindling belief in God. I no longer read the Bible, having discovered the heinous chapters under Leviticus' name. But I still sort of wanted to believe there was something out there, but like the 12 bewildered volunteers in Séance, it was fairly impossible to test for legitimacy when your own vision disallowed you from ever finding out the truth.
    I remember mocking those who believed in the paranormal shortly after, thinking myself numinously enlightened by Brown and his all-encompassing powers of discovering and exploiting fraudulence. It took me less than a year to realise that in fact, I was part of the same belief system as they were. I believed in God; they believed in spirits. Spot the difference. There isn't one, and there isn't one because there's just as much historical documentation about the existence of ghosts, demons, witches and the undead as there is for God, angels, apostles, Jesus and The Holy Ghost. Who was I to say spiritualists were wrong? Who was I to say that there beliefs were foolish and mine weren't? Just because my belief system was arguably more mainstream than their's didn't make mine a more factual historical entity. And sure, it's a comforting thought to be able to feed off the 'sense' of your cohort in order to validate our own beliefs, but since when did the popularity of a belief constitute it's accuracy?
    And right now, I'm not really belonging to any religious system. I believe you can have faith - you can have faith in anything. A god, a person, or a chair in hoping it won't fall when you lean back in it. But faith should be individual. Faith is not something that should be enforced onto others or used as a tool in validating arguments with tenuous existential links, otherwise we're stuck back in religious territory and we end up with idiots like the Scientologists.
    End note: Writing this blog is the first time I've really consolidated my thoughts on this matter. I suppose I thought it'd help in some way... Hmmm...
  4. Shrinking violets of the pop scene One Direction shocked the world to the sound of a million swoons upon the release of the lyric video for their new single 'Little Things'. And in a completely unexpected turn of events, the second single from their second album strips back the tuneless walls of sound and multi-layered vocals that made them sound like the posterboys for Jim Steinman's perverse dreams of starring in Glee, and instead we see a barely-there guitar backing to some overly-observed and fairly superficial trivialities about a loved one's image. Oh be sure of it, whilst we see the usual teenybopper antics subsided in favour of 'maturity' and simplicity, they're still just as annoying as before. You can also be sure, that there is very little to this song musically, all the focus is one the lyrics for this one - it's very clear from the minute you hear the first line. And so examining the lyrics a little further, the boys at least say all the right things in all the right ways, if you are in fact deeply self-centered and vain about your not-so-insecure insecurities.


    That isn't to say though, that up until you realise this is a song written by Ed Sheeran it isn't a promising change of direction for them. The melodic structure is evenly balanced, the musical phrasing fits the song well, the guitar refrain is stupidly simple and the stripped-back appeal will send a million of their fans squealing as if the song serves some sort of proof of musical diversity. Once Ed Sheeran is added to the mix you begin to realise 'Little Things' really isn't that special at all, and the twee simpering from the boys on lines like "You can't go to bed without a cup of tea/And maybe that's the reason that you talk in your sleep", reek of Sheeran's unassuming balladry and generally underlines how little sense his lyrics make, with almost no cohesion carried between those two lines. The chorus is similarly hopeless: "I won't let these little things slip out my mouth/But if I do/It's you, it's you they add up to", which gives the impression they're just a touch incompetent or avoiding the topic altogether by dowsing more declarations of perfection onto their beloved. It sounds exactly like that grisly Match.com advert in which a berk with an acoustic guitar in a dinky little music shop woos a berkette over their mutual love of The Godfather Part III, or that one with the guy and his ukulele and the girl who wasn't a natural blonde. So instead of any real progressive impulse giving a suggestive wink at the plausibility of One Direction ever branching away from the style of music that fattens out trite melodies with cacophonous, tuneless guitars, we've got a thoroughly unspectacular affair combining the most gently disappointing toils and insipidly pleasant lyrics of Sheeran and the aimless, wandering ambition of a group of boys who appear to initially make 'Little Things' fairly listenable purely because of who they are and how different it is to their usual fanfare.
    Upon waking up to the fact it's just one dweeb helping out five others, the reality of the fallacy of the lyrics becomes apparent. The lyrics mean nothing, and will probably retreat to the unconscious the minute they're wheezed over by the next line. There's a touching sentiment, be sure, but unless your part of the minute demographic this is aimed at, you're going to see straight through the act and simply wince at the thought of someone "joining up the dots with the freckles on your cheek".
  5. Girls Aloud have a new single out. It's called 'Something New' and it's a whizz-bang poppers o'clock femme-fest about mastering the holy grail of all feminist endeavours - control. (Natalia Kills has sealed herself away in her bondage basement, weeping into her handcuffs.) 'Something New' is/was/has been produced by Xenomania, so on the pop spectrum of lamazing to balls-out fandango fantasticality, it's bound to end up somewhere near the top of the list, isn't it?
    First off, 'Something New' isn't something new, at least in the grand scheme of pop music. Let's keep that in mind, please - we are talking about pop music, not music as a whole. And in the world of pop music, it's not a sound we've not heard before and the lyrics aren't all that new and innovative either, but whether this hinders your ability to enjoy this song boils down to whether or not you hold innovation and originality in staunchly high regard when considering what makes a certifiably 'good' pop song. And if you find yourself scoffing at the thought of a pop artist not being new and innovative then a great way of solving this is to type out all that you hold dear about innovative pop music, every little detail (with examples of these mystically precious songs), email it to yourself, print it out, fold it in four and write "My pleasure" on it, and then pop it up your bottom.
    So yes, 'Something New' is ground re-trodden. So what? What catapults the song into the lofty height it proudly sits at, sneering down at the asthmatic anemia of synth-stabbing lightweights like Calvin Harris and LMFAO and their brand of euro(trash)pop is a number of precautionary measures one can reliably expect to hear in a Xenomania poptastic fanfare, such as how there's no breakdown. Western pop has taken on the recent belief that all club songs need a breakdown, but we have Adele and Ed Sheeran for those times when we feel the need for a good sit-down and a cry, so this logic is bollocks. Hearing every remotely energetic song diluted by a sudden drop-out of sound, followed by a build-up and then, if you're Calvin Harris, a big gun-shot before everything 'goes off' again, just kills momentum and it's sort of like getting ready to cum and then your lover turning into a boiled egg. More than one breakdown in a song is an even more heinous crime and you might as well not be bothering, because who's going to listen to a song where half the time there's nothing happening and to dance like you would at the 'big' parts makes you look like a complete goon?
    Songs like 'Gangnam Style' and 'Bad Romance' evade this sort of gentle disappointment, the former because of how adorably stupid and slightly perverse the whole thing is and the latter because if you don't dance to music in Lady GaGaland you could find yourself impaled on a spike of human hair while getting bummed flat by gay Nazis. So when you see Calvin Harris nodding along to a song like 'We'll Be Coming Back' or 'You Used To Hold Me' with a stern moodface put on, taking it all relatively seriously and having as much fun as listening to paint dry, you begin to wonder why he bothers to fatten out his two-bar, four-note refrains with expensive but cheap-sounding whooshes of air. Quite cleverly, Xenomania have done away with that, and they've added an audible bass injection to the main refrain, meaning that the melody isn't so slight it becomes impossible to define or elaborate on for fear of it being lost amidst any form of singing above featherweight. In fact, that chorus refrain is like watching a sledgehammer being swung at your face in slow-motion, before it shatters you like a mirror.
    As well as the above, the song's verses actually fit, and give the impression - unlike so many other Best Of... releases - that the song was actually formed with care, rather than squashing in a few verses after finding a good chorus hook. Just look at the way those verses spring up on you before you even know it. One minute there's a big skyflying chorus and then the next it's dirty and intimate with five femme fatales. The girls could be doing twenty seconds of farting in that time and it'd still be more interesting than pretty robots, The Saturdays. While everyone's obsessed with trying to find reason to invest praise in groups like Little Mix and StooShe for their harmonic seamlessness, it's actually pretty easy to see how on 'Something New' the collective forces of Cheryl, Nadine, Sarah, Nicola and t'other one with the round face actually combine together and work not in unison, but in collaboration, feeding off each other's energy to the point where the lacklustre chorus lyrics can feel reinvigorated. You may have noticed recent efforts from The Saturdays (e.g. - 30 Days (To Love)') where you've got five singers and one voice being heard; 'Something New' doesn't do that - it feels like a group with better harmony than any of the recent girls groups to come crawling out of the bargain bin. The verses naturally, are the best part, wobbling along to a pulsating bassline and staying true to what Girls Aloud are about instead of chasing expiry-dated trends like adding a bit of unnecessary gloom-wobble dub into the little (big) mix (see what I did there?). It's easy to be swamped by influences, but really, 'Something New' is influenced only by Girls Aloud. It doesn't try to look back into the past at a time when handbag house thought itself rather good and try to market it as the latest in chart trends. Nor does it pilfer an underground genre/influence and blusteringly pretend they're the ones who brought it to the mainstream (hey Britney!). What it is, is damn good pop music as pop music.
    However - the lyrics do need changing. The reference to "boys" in the song should be changed to "girls". A winking kick up the arse to the **** crop of girl groups we have fostering spots on the radio airwaves. Imagine how much more sense it would make as their first single in over three years and they come out with "Girls you better watch your back/'Cause we're the leaders of the pack/Tell me can you handle that?". Just an observation.
    So is it any good? I don't know really. I like some parts and I hate others. Sarah's bit is the best bit and that's not negotiable. Nadine's "Go girls g-g-go go go" is annoying. I've pointed out approximately five things about a song by a group of artists I don't usually like, so if you're one of those people who decides a song's quality on the singer's likability then maybe you don't deserve to listen to music. And more importantly, if need me to tell you which songs you should listen to and why then maybe you should just tear your ears off too. Fool.
  6. There's been a tectonic shift in the face of the music industry since 2007, not that anyone cares. But the last time it was recorded that a song like 'Grace Kelly' had a fair chance at becoming a national UK Chart phenomenon. Whether you loved or loathed Mika, 'Grace Kelly' was pop music genius. But now, in a world where acts like LMFAO thrive in their own deadpan idiocy, it's hard to imagine the same style of music ever being successful again. The legacy of wonky-pop acts like Mika, The Hoosiers and Scissor Sisters was driven into the ground when neither came back with strong 2009 albums and when X Factor Series 6 Winner Joe McElderry was painfully shoe-horned into the same demographic. From that fatal blurred moment that has as much hope at being cared about as Steve Brookstein's independent record company, it was safe to say the loss of sufficient attention towards the sub-genre of wonky-pop when such poor material was being offered to salvage it. Add in the public's apathy and gradual migration towards more electronically-orientated sounds, any attempt to reinvigorate interest in the genre was either a completely non-event or released under the guise of novelty (see: Alex Day's actually quite good 'Forever Yours'). Like most other phase shifts in every form of media, it happened without the majority even registering.
    Of course, despite the brief surge in popularity of these newly-inducted-to-the-mainstream-but-really-they've-always-been-there sub-genres of drum and bass, dubstep and breakbeat, the whole market has since slumped once again into a momentary but consistent period of directionless banality - the bridge if you like - between one musical phase and the next. Most popular music of today ranges from poor and hasty manifestations of substandard sex pop stamped with all the hallmarks left over from 2010, as everyone from Calvin Harris to Rihanna gaze longingly into a past as they try to re-enact the more exciting, vibrant and interesting sub-genre sounds they can find there.
    But back to Mika, and his new album 'The Origin of Love'. It really is a bit different to his last two. But how big is "a bit"? Simply glancing at the cover of this album suggests a very different style in both sound and image from the previous two albums, who could almost pass as identical twins in terms of sound and image. The cartoon-esque frivolity and adorable cartoon characters that adorned his début may have been replaced with darker fictional monsters one might expect to find in the wildest dreams of a young boy engrossed in storybooks, but the camp bubblegum pop fanfare of the first album was still as prevalent, despite the undercurrents of 'The Boy Who Knew Too Much dealing with the more realistic (for him) but equally as partially-palatable (for us).
    In short, Mika has always overdosed on the melodic hyperactivity at the expense of not being able to carry the weight of the themes behind his songs. To expand a little, no-one cared what he had to say because he either annoyed people when he opened his mouth or when he sat down at his piano. To expand a little further, songs like 'Lollipop' and 'Love Today' are very rarely interpreted as songs that speak of letting go of internal insecurities with the same reckless abandon as the childish melodies that adorn the songs, or the empowerment to speak against inequality metaphorically presented as an irrefutably catchy children's playground chant. He got a little closer to the empowerment target with 'We Are Golden' and the satire of the rich and spoiled with 'Good Gone Girl' and 'Blame It On The Girls', but by and large the cost of digging so far into these songs to find such messages was that the songs' elements of fun were completely dissolved, and that's if, as a listener, you found any fun in Mika's first two albums to begin with. And then of course there were his ballads. Often overblown affairs assisted with choirboys and gospel choirs, they either hit the mark spectacularly or congeal in their own stale, whimpering meagerness due to their reliance on twinkling four-bar piano refrains and tissue-thin falsetto. So generally, Mika's music has often struck a chord so hard that the keys' hammers shattered the piano strings, all the while he decorates the whole mess with jazz hands and making it hard to really appreciate any depth, or he's dived headlong into simpering mawkishness for ballad's like 'I See You' and 'Blue Eyes'.
    So what's so different about 'The Origin of Love'? Are there any redeeming factors? Or even any factors at all that suggest he's moved with the time. You'd be mistaken for thinking he was being pretty misleading with that album cover staring back at you (or not) because the opening bars of the album's first and title track are textbook Mika, with plonking staccato piano chords. But when his voice comes in, thickly pasted over with generous vocoding, things already start to change. This first track is actually quite bearable. The sentiment is there, the realism even, assisted by a reserved urgency - it's possible to see this being the eight-years-late soundtrack to Eternal Wonder of the Spotless Mind - and even though the opening four lines of the song as amidst the worst he's ever written (its hard to imagine anyone not wincing at "Love is a drug and you are my cigarette"), 'Origin of Love' is actually a stroke of pure genius. It falls somewhere in the uptempo ballad range and for it's five-minute length Mika manages to hold off screeching in that voice that goes too high too often; his vocals sound softer here thanks to the vocoding and actually, screw it, 'Origin of Love' is just about the best thing he's ever recorded.
    And thus is the message at large here on 'The Origin of Love' (talking about the album now; the title track kindly and confusingly omits the 'The') is that of being released from the state of love-struck-ness. A very retrospective and introspective album, there's definitely growth wanting to be shown here - Mika's six years older than when he first appeared and clearly has a lot to say - but like most of Mika's albums, the attempts to display such a message can often fall by the wayside. Such as on 'Lola', a song which can be largely ignored it because it's the type of song that promises a massive chorus after a series of boring verses, but merely trickles away into the unconscious as a gently disappointing and slightly colourless affair when said chorus doesn't arrive. It's the type of song that should be balls-out hyperactive and would probably have made more sense on 'Life in Cartoon Motion'. But Mika manages to hold of flitting in and out of falsetto whenever he feels the urge until the third track, where Benni Benassi shows up for an unexpected production collaboration on 'Stardust'. 'Stardust' makes a massive departure from typical Mika territory musically, but lyrically it's business as usual, ending up as a rave ballad that's probably for his European market more than his UK one. It concentrates too much on the weaker parts of the song, and neglects to inject the much-needed euphoria that the song's sledgehammering continental cousins achieve so easily.
    Sloppy fourth track 'Make You Happy' serves as the album's first real ballad and is a prime example of overthinking what made 'Origin of Love' (song) so special. The vocoding makes the melody hard to pinpoint and the chorus' vocal melody doesn't seem to fit. The synths nicked from the K-pop song probably being recorded in the studio next door don't fit either. The verses are fine enough, but do little until the very end when things seem to fall into place, if only for about thirty seconds.
    In fact, the ballads of 'The Origin of Love' fall into two categories, and it really isn't as simple as "good" or "bad". Those that are good at a first glance include 'Underwater', 'Kids' and 'Heroes', each for varying reasons. 'Underwater' suffers a strikingly similar piano refrain to Adele's 'Set Fire To The Rain' (only a problem if you care that much about bad music), but ultimately it's the best ballad Mika's ever written. 'Kids' suffers uneasy verses but prides itself with it's stunning chorus. And 'Heroes' offers a glimmer of hope in that sometimes Mika's falsetto can be beautiful when set against a dreamy, softly pulsating production. You'll find many of the choruses on the album irresistible and the productions are sound throughout, but it's those moments where Mika has trouble restraining himself that it all goes a bit awry. The best example here is 'Love You When I'm Drunk' with 'Emily' (the English version of his 2011 French single 'Elle Me Dit') second in command. The former draws a response akin to that which would inevitably be felt if a man circus was let loose inside the Diogenes Club. 'Emily' however is actually catchy enough, but you're going to have to be a fan of Mika to stomach it either way, because as we've said, catchiness doesn't carry Mika's themes.
    Although, that isn't to say Mika's at his best when he's not being Mika. 'Popular Song', a duet with Priscilla Renea (no idea) has the capacity to be pretty hilarious, though I wouldn't want to see it performed Live, even if it''s a genius re-working of the song from the musical Wicked. One of the albums shining moments though, sits hidden away in the middle of the album - 'Overrated'. The textures on 'Overrated' are almost tangible. It's hard to tell if Mika's upset or angry or vengeful or whatever, but on it he gives his best ever vocal performance without having to rely on his falsetto too much, and comes off as one of few times his attempts to encapsulate those elusive 'darker' themes has landed smack bang on the mark.
    Overall, 'The Origin of Love' continues Mika's struggle to separate himself from past niches and for people to view him as a serious artist. It's not too different thematically, and there are moments which are musically textbook Mika. Not all the electronic influences suit him, although given 'Overrated' and 'Origin of Love's brilliance and the fruitful input of Empire of The Sun and PNAU's Nick Littlemore, I wouldn't be completely averse to something similar, just so long as the 'Love You When I'm Drunk's are left well out. Also, ignore lead single 'Celebrate'. 'Celebrate' is ****.
    Listen if you Like: Empire of the Sun, Scissor Sisters, MGMT, The Hoosiers.
    Download: 'Origin of Love', 'Underwater', 'Overrated', 'Heroes'.
    Available: Now
    Rating: 6.3
  7. Though few will have heard of their music, or even their stage name, Stefan Storm and Oskar Gullstrand (yes, this makes them Swedish) are very good at making a very special, very rare denomination of dream-pop; the very kind of music which is capable of conjuring up long-forgotten memories and of giving you the building blocks for new ones as you soar through your own imagination into a distant galaxy. It's the kind of music that turns timid souls into brave ones that dare to tread the unknown and engage in fantastical adventures to recreate to wide-eyed wonder of simply being a child again. You may remember me saying at some point or other that the best pop music is that which doesn't look like it's trying to hard. This music is the embodiment of that. The crux of it being that there's traces everywhere throughout the duo's 2011 début album 'Voyage' that immense care sand attention is paid to every verse, every chorus, every line and every musical interlude that can be found on the album. It was a stunning accomplishment for today's music industry, despite passing under the radar completely, even in Sweden.
    Only few acts can really be placed into the same sort niche as them. I suppose the closest high-profile reference I can give you is that if you like Underworld's 'Caliban's Dream' and M83's 'Midnight City', then you should be listening to The Sound of Arrows. This following clip is the trailer for 'Voyage', and introduces their world with far more accuracy and celebratory warmth than my words ever could. It's not easy to carry the immense gravity of such beautifully complex music, but their whole world is perfectly encapsulated here.

    Songs featured: 'Lost City' and 'There Is Still Hope', my personal favourite.
    Taking their name from a single line in a little-known Swedish poem by a little-known Swedish poet, the dream-pop duo's small-time attributes end there. They may be modest in their approach to publicity and commercial attention, but their approach to music suggests a determination to create and explore enormous, gorgeous landscapes with vibrant colours, textures and emotions with the wild fervour and creative carelessness of a fearless childhood. On top of that, the stunning Utopian visuals they give their videos transcends their lowly-funded membership as part of the music industry, mocking big-budget videos and soaring into a near palpable new reality. In a time where music videos achieve their 'avant-garde' qualities by diving headlong into monochromatic moodiness, obscure hi-culture symbolism and cheap sex, bleached of colour and traceable emotion, it's a warming thing to see something so simple like this:

    Still trying to fathom VEVO logic. Not even I can make an explicit link between The Sound of Arrows and One Direction.
    Having listened to 'Magic', you'd only be seconds into the song before comparisons to Pet Shop Boys are made. Perhaps now I should dispute the common links made between the few who have heard of the Arrows and the frequent comparisons they often get to Pet Shop Boys. Whilst it's no comparison to sniff at, Pet Shop Boys prided themselves (before they strayed into the MOR wilderness) for their sneering satire of Thatcherism and society in general ('Opportunities', 'West End Girls', 'Love, etc.') and Neil Tennant typically spoke-sang with an un-emotive tone, mimicking the objectivity of their social critiques; their music was a commentary on the flaws of human nature and then-modern culture. The Sound of Arrows are far more optimistic than this - perhaps even naive. Would Pet Shop Boys use a children's choir? Would Tennant sing the lyrics "Seize the chance, follow your dreams/Be yourself, don't plan and scheme"? The Arrows' musical inventory may be the same but viewed through a noughties lens, but the result of their toil produces music that sings of hope, promise, love, and alluringly manifests itself within the relentless energy of youth.
    'Magic' is merely the tip of a very deep iceberg. Swapping poppy melodies for billowing silk layers and sedate, reflective vulnerability on songs like 'Ruins of Rome' and 'Longest Ever Dream', it's hard to imagine such polished productions and carefully augmented sounds can be produced on such a small budget. The overtones of triumphing-over-adversary you get from the the red velvet synths of 'Conquest' or the mighty ode to love, loss and longing, 'Wonders', vibrate with a sparkling richness rarely ever seen or heard from such a small-scale duo. Their single 'Nova' combines chart pop know-how and a glorious fervour for the love of someone else, even if it involved treading blindly into the vast unknown - "Though I fear what is to come, I'm a soldier running; try to see/At the end of the world, someone holds out for me". It's a full-scale event held at the distant reaches of the farthest galaxy, and everyone's invited.

    Masterfully crafting layer upon layer into full-bodied walls of sound and imagination, in many ways it's quite hard to picture listening the Arrows' without seeing at least one of their accompanying cinematic triumphs - it's part of the promise of The Sound of Arrows and magnifies their ability to invigorate the unconscious with metallic, pastel-coloured melodies like on 'Into The Clouds'; the video for which is a spectroscopic world of pure optimism, hope, and the carefree frivolity of simply being a child again. Second album track, 'Wonders', is one of their best. Instead of stringently connecting itself to collective memories of bygones and childhood abandon, 'Wonders' forms new memories that promise us we can still revive such days whilst indulging in our present, with it’s pulse-raising, spacious longing and heavily-breathing journey into the introspective.

    There are darker sides to the Arrows' work, and when the tangible highs run low we see them mourn the injustices of this reality. Their shortest song, 'Hurting All The Way', doesn't suffer it's length. In the brief two-and-a-half-minute song, the removal of the adventurous wonder that illuminates the rest of the album sees a moving tale with a gentle crescendo that speaks of the emotional and social confines of homosexuality. It's not a massive departure of sound, but the themes and tones are far darker and Storm's vocals take on a lamenting vulnerability. Following hot on the heals of 'Hurting All The Way' though, is the tempestuous 'Conquest'. It doesn't take much thought to propose that it was strategically placed after 'Hurting All The Way' on Voyage's tracklisting due to it's message of determination to discover and achieve the impossible, a perfect partner to the tender pathos of the previous track.

    Warning: Video contains horses, boobies and floating pyramids.
    Cynics may snigger at the dreamy naivety of The Sound of Arrows. Some may critique them for compromising their chart appeal by not being 'pop' enough to bother the Top 40 and never leaning too far into the left of field to drum up alternative interest. Some may even retort at their attempts to hide themselves away from the trials and tribulations of this reality in order to thrive in their own, but for me they take listeners on a journey you don't want to come back from. Grimace if you will, but in the words of Stefan Storm himself:
    "I may be dreaming but I think I believe/I might be seeing things that aren't quite real/But right now, I don't care if I do".
  8. For someone who puts so much effort into her 'art' (sounding familiar already, this bit, isn't it?), Natalia Kills gets quite a lot of stick from quite a lot of the microscopic portion of the public that know of her. Why is this though? It's not like it's the ruinous result of overexposure e.g. Rihanna, and on that topic - what exactly is it that's prevented the record-buying public warming up to Miss. Natalia Keery-Fisher? Once known as Verbalicious in 2005, she quickly dropped the more urban look and sound in favour of a fence-sitting combination of promiscuous femme fatale meets seductive lady-droid once she'd decided she was going to give pop music a good bash. Now, "pop" is an easy word to spell and an even easier word to say, but it's not an easy thing to master, let alone infiltrate the elusive "pop culture". Just how do you go about convincing people to warm to you and your music when you deliberately set yourself away from them, opting to be an object of admiration and fantasy, rather than something capable of actual emotion?
    For those not in the know, here is Natalia Kills talking about Natalia 'Kills' and Perez Hilton "the journalist". She is from Bradford, West Yorkshire in the UK. This is important to remember when listening to Natalia Kills speak. Skip to 1:17 for the best part.


    Exciting stuff, but beyond the gold smiley-face glasses, the ridiculous hair and the casually uninterested-in-you-but-please-listen-to-me body language, why again had she failed to take off?
    She first appeared in on the music industry radar as Natalia Kills in 2010, and drew immediate comparisons to Lady GaGa who was an unstoppable force at the time. Many people believed that Madonna copied GaGa and all manner of forum-related bitchiness broke out about the fallacy of Natalia Kills and her endeavours to invest deep artistic value into things she'd nicked from GaGa. You can imagine the virtual bloodshed. All the while Lady GaGa was setting fire to her Russian pimps and name-checking herself in her own songs, Natalia Kills upped the hypocrisy to an 11, kindly asking fans and onlookers not to draw comparisons between her and the biggest popstar in the world - or anyone else, for that matter - all the while producing music like 'Mirrors'. The first single from her début album 'Perfectionist', she describes it as a song that "explores this obsessive, adulterant vanity, this desire for control, and how much fun you can have with it". If you're thinking now that this is why radio and TV neglected her music, click below. It's not that bad. In fact, on a scale from 1 to bondage basement BDSM, 'Mirrors' is more like a used but empty condom left on the floor of a messy student apartment, under a pile of dirty clothes and study material for a horticulture course.


    At first you might think - but this is exactly the kind of music that was selling in 2010? Produced by Akon, raved about by Perez Hilton, signed to will.I.am's own recording label, why was 'Mirrors' not a hit given the grotesquely high-profile promotion? Why indeed. Pretentious video and overbearing auto-tune aside, there's not a bad hook there in 'Mirrors', hiding away under months of computer-assisted twiddling and impenetrable middle-distance darkness gazing. But don't expect to find much to salvage from 'Zombie', 'Kill My Boyfriend' or 'Love is a Suicide'. 'Free' is a would-be solid pop nugget. It comes so very close to mediocrity only to fall flat on it's face that I now think it's the epitome of Natalia. It's got everything a pop song should have, except for one thing it shouldn't have - will.I.am. Without him, we might have had a glimpse of a by-numbers pop hit (which is what everyone wants, right?). With him, it sounds just like every other (and there are many) cameo he's shat out all over the industry in the last five years.
    Her music is often described as "aggressive", and a "dark electro-goth" re-imagining of 80's inspired sounds, but there's also nods to her more urban past in some of it. However, said music also leaves little to the imagination, making the perfect recipe for someone who offers very little and bluntly refuses any alternative to those not entirely satisfied with an album full of haughtily self-affirming and barely-abstract metaphors alluring to some godly inertia of unquestioning self-confidence. In this self-imposed arrogance of her own "perfection", she alienated her audience before she even hit the radio.
    That isn't to say she's not popular in her own little crowd - people who command attention and respect from mindless drones like Natalia does rarely aren't. She does have some fans dedicated to her fatuous portrayal of sexual demi-god status and tormented, cold aloofness, but re-evaluating these, her only trademark features, it's hard to understand why. It seems that, given the success of Lady GaGa, Interscope wanted to make the most of the new fandango pop weirdo niche and plucked the most willing of participants from a production line of back-burner artists, flogged her to will.I.am, and agreed to fund the distribution of her music if she could shroud basic melodies in enough affectation posing as "fierceness" and "aggression" to pass it off as something remotely original. So, similar to what GaGa does only, Natalia fails to produce the same winking inauthenticity GaGa had at the time (the latter has, of course, dissolved her fanbase to only the most staunchly loyal fans in recent months).
    My main issue with Natalia Kills is she's the textbook case of style over substance. Like many things in life - theme park rides, books, Avatar... There's a lot of energy dissipated on the context and the foundations and a neglect for the real thing we came for: in this case the music. It's uninspired, unoriginal and obvious. She reminds me of a perverse Pixie Lott. When said ingénue of bubblegum pop music turned to electropop for her second album, she was rendered a bland, shapeless silhouette against a backdrop and blinding pop personalities. The same happens to Natalia only, she puts herself in the pitch-black and doesn't appear to even understand her own stuff. It sounds like someone speaking for her while she sits behind some silly glasses and tries to remember what to say and when.
    With Natalia it's all about fantasy - the same as many an artist (GaGa, Del Rey) - but there's an awful lot of darkness in her "twisted" (read: bubbling up to nearly-controversial) fantasy, which makes it a far easier option to simply turn on the lights and tell her as she looks at you, blinking, from inside a blood-smeared, smashed glass box to go home and stop trying so hard. There's no point of creating a pop fantasy no-one wants to be part of.
  9. Thorpe Park's fiery B&M inverted Coaster débuted at the park in 2003, setting alight Thorpe Park's reputation as a haven for thrill-seekers around the country, alerting anyone who'd listen that Alton Towers had a new rival in the world of boundary-bulging thrill ride technologies. First came the record-breaking Colossus, but the year after saw a far darker, more ominous figure emerge out of the tropical undergrowth of Calypso Quay... Of course, with the ten year mark creeping it's way into view of the horizon, Nemesis Inferno has, if nothing else, rightfully earned it's place amongst Thorpe's line-up of rides, as well as a little reflective blog here on ManiaHub, where I'll talk about why I think it's one of Thorpe's top attractions.
    Nemesis Inferno gets a lot of stick simply for being Nemesis Inferno. Quick to slam it as another fine example of mediocrity from a long line of poorly-augmented sequels, it's often over-looked for the coaster it is by many of the enthusiast community. Whether that's A) the blinded ignorance of newly-ordained enthusiasts conforming with the general consensus or B] a result of some enthusiasts venturing out to season their palates with the bigger, badder, and better-themed inverted coasters that've been built in the nine intervening years since Inferno's début is all up for debate. But it's here I call to question the validity of comments that suggest Inferno is a poor man's imitation of arguably the greatest inverted rollercoaster in the world; a coaster that supposedly sponged off the brand name to become advertising dynamite by utilising the success of Alton Towers' original creation nine years earlier. Yes, Inferno (as we'll call it henceforth to spare confusion) does draw many comparisons with it's old sister. They're both inverted; they're both built by Swiss ride manufacturer Bolliger & Mabillard; they both have four inversions; they even have the same four inversions, but there's a plethora of ways to separate them, and separate them we shall, as it's hard to shine if your standing in the shadow of a mighty oak tree and you've had your voice - your trademark thunderous growl - muted by those that built you.
    By considering what raw tools Thorpe had when planning Inferno, you begin to see that to compare Inferno to it's original is a complete fallacy; there's no way this hot-tempered fiend is going to sit idly by and get filed under "imitation". Alton Towers had an enormous, chasmic pit to eat up the ride height and provide riders with many close encounters with the rocky terrain, but Thorpe couldn't do this - the closest object to your feet during Inferno's course is a fake alligator. Thorpe categorically cannot build down, as the entire park is situated upon reclaimed land and as a result the water table sits mere metres below the surface. Inferno was never going to be a terrain coaster, not even to the extent of Colossus was, which had had years of planning and numerous rejected landscaping applications before the blue monolith we know today wove itself in and out of the Lost City walkways. Thorpe had one choice for Inferno and that was to build upwards. Of course, they couldn't go too far that way either, and so Inferno sits at a modest 95ft: the third shortest B&M coaster ever built, and the shortest inverting coaster at Thorpe Park. Looking beyond cold statistics and to the rest of the layout, you might be dismayed to see a conventional inverted coaster post-drop sequence featuring a standard vertical loop and a Zero-G roll. But chief designer John Wardley re-invigorated the once-hackneyed concept with a ground-hugging turn which snaps you out of the second inversion with perhaps just an ounce of the same winking authenticity of Alton Towers' 1994 creation. Following what can only be described as a very graceful corkscrew and a careful-not-to-harm-you hammerhead turn, the ride completes a second corkscrew and a minor breathe-spot is provided by a wonderfully lazy upwards helix, before the pyroclastic vigour catches first-time riders off guard as a last helix provides an intensely dizzying and suitably forceful finale to the fiery coaster.
    However, it all sounds great when you say it like that, but the comparatively simplistic layout has long been criticised for being predictable, conventional, repetitive and forceless. Whilst it's hard to argue, Inferno's assets like far beyond it's ride hardware (unless you're lucky enough to get the back-right seat). The theme is often overlooked, the detail dissolved down to a petty argument about an unfinished volcano. Sure, a shed is the last thing you'll expect to see while escaping a volcano in the tropics of Calypso Quay, but stop to admire the smaller details for a moment:
    The queueline and surrounding areas: built at the peak of Tussauds's reign over Thorpe - the queue cleverly weaves its way through the tropical shrubbery, offering close encounters with the ride in action. Areas such as the pathway underneath the Zero-G offers priceless views of rider expressions as they exit the loop, soon to be followed by an enormous thrust of air as they shoot over your head. Or how about when you stand in front of the queue entrance for a brief moment, only to see the train erupt out of nowhere and soar over head with twenty-eight screaming riders? Surely there was some careful planning in the positioning of the entrance so the first corkscrew could make a statement like that, right?
    The shrubbery, which, nine years on, has now grown to an impressive plumage, helping further to recreate some of Alton's terrain enhancement. Sometimes you may even catch one of the leaves while soaring through the coarse. And whilst in it's earlier years the ride ran tamely and no real speed was felt, the closer contact to the surroundings only ever enhances this sensation.
    The pre-lift section, a small and often overlooked part of the ride whose effects are unreliable at best, but it nicely introduces the ride; it makes a small but promising statement and provides a unique feeling of speed without the added intensity - what inverted coaster introduction requires more?
    The soundtrack, arguably one of the best and most accurately-encapsulating in the park despite it's absence in recent seasons. No more need be said.
    Or even, if you really look out for it, the small part of the queue during the volcano climb where you stand directly above the train as it rumbles through the heart of the volcano beneath you, shaking your footing in the wake of the subterranean seisma. Makes me giddy every single time... and really gears me up for every one of my rides.

    The logistical prowess of Inferno is also what makes it so special for me. In a park currently obsessed with try-hard World's First, snatching every possible world record their rides can obtain - "World's first ten-looping", "Steepest freefall drop", "Scariest", "Fastest and tallest in Europe", "World's first head first inverting drop" - Inferno, quite plaintively and contently, sits at the back of the park making no haughtily big-headed comments about it's own greatness. It technically does hold a world record and a world's first/only, though thankfully Thorpe saw sense and decided not to publicise these due to the GP potentially not fully understanding the terms. And rightly so, as it rids the ride of the silly pretensions that shroud rides like Saw. Right from the first time it's advert was shown on TV to the current day, Inferno's not really shouted about anything, expect that's it's a mighty hot ride. It is what it is and it makes no apologies for anyone who has problems with it as it smoulders at the far reaches of the park, dwarfed by it's top thrill neighbours.
    It's not all in the detail - some benefits of Inferno are glaring right at the nay-sayers - but a lot of it's individuality and simplicity does lie beneath it's imperfect exterior. Perhaps it's part doe-eyed optimism of the enthusiast I am, part simplistic naivete that I appreciate these details while others don't and the reason that I still consider Inferno to be one of the UK's greatest thrill rides. But to me it's those things - the type of things that you just have to smile to - that are the real identity of Nemesis Inferno. And it's a crying shame that they're so often overlooked in light of the far more dramatic, far more noticeable, and far more easily targeted failures of the ride. Where it's expected to be good it's mediocre, yes, but given the time to find it's strengths - and what better time to find them than ten years on, when it's running more intensely than ever? - it's clear it no longer needs the Nemesis brand. Even in it's own right it can still provide you with feelings that only a UK theme park and - more specifically - only Inferno, can give. In spite of all it's faults, be it maintenance issues, ride issues, etc. it's still, by far, one of the most reliable rides at the Thorpe Park, in so many more ways than simply it's swift evasion of downtime.

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