French jazz-soul funkateers Electro Deluxe (Home - ★★★★★☆☆☆☆☆) initially released this mixed album last year but with interest presumably stretching across the Channel, their label has opted to punt them in our direction - and why not? Summer's coming and BBQ's need a soundtrack, right? Whether you'll want overblown sass curling up your crispy chicken skins is one thing, sitting through this entire album in one sitting is another. It's all a bit much - Great musicianship but not great songs, sadly. I suspect the unlikely-monikered Electro Deluxe might be a far better prospect in a live environment.
The same can certainly be said of bonkers clattery tribal mistress Merrill Garbus, who seems to have re-re-reinvented herself yet again with this third Tune-Yards album (Nikki Nack - ★★★★★★☆☆☆☆). On record, there's plenty to savour including the stirring single Water Fountain, but it's in person Garbus really hits epiphany. Listening to Nikki Nack in one hit is a big ask - the one thing lacking is a deep breath, a chance to ingest all that has gone before. Instead it's a relentless drum-vocal-drum-vocal-shouty-drum-drum recipe that cries out for a song - the closest is the straight pop-soul number Wait For a Minute. Still, you'd have to be dead from the neck up to not admire the Tune-Yards ethos of giving everything - Hey Life and Sink-O might even have had Fela Kuti bewildered, such is the force of nature present.
Talking of re-invention, here's a man who sounds twenty years younger than he did during his debut incarnation as Disposable Heroes of Hiphoprisy in the '90s. Michael Franti & Spearhead are exploring fun in all its forms on the soon-to-be-a-hit-in-the-US album (All People - ★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆) but seem to have bypassed originality in all its forms. Oh Michael, what have you done? This sounds like Olly Murs, Will Young, Bruno Mars.... well, you get the picture. Hardly the stuff of poets, of campaigners or of raconteurs, All People is far too cloying and too twee to pull in those who once worshipped him. His last album, a sort of reggae-pop melange, made him some dollars - this will probably do the same.
And so to a lady who doesn't need to re-invent herself. Tori Amos (Unrepentant Geraldines - ★★★★★★★☆☆☆) has been dabbling in theatre and fairy-tales of late - her score for The Light Princess earned her nominations and acclaim, setting her up nicely for her first 'pop' album since 2009's Abnormally Attracted To Sin and certainly her most accessible since 2005's Beekeeper. If anything, its length is an undoing, a trait with many of Amos' albums - eleven songs might have told a similar story compared to the fourteen offered here. However, there is much to covet on Unrepentant Geraldines. The opening pairing of America and single Trouble's Lament contain the usual compositional twists and turns you'd expect, while centrepiece ballad Weatherman swoops and banks both lyrically and musically. Visual imagery, feminine strength and family bonds form part of the album's long list of topics, enough to make UG her best album in a decade. She still sings like an angel, by the way.
Hardly an angel but possessed of a fine voice, Kelis (Food - ★★★★★★★☆☆☆) has truly found her muse again and has constructed (or, given her cheffy past, deconstructed/reconstructed) her most complete long-player to date. Gone are the studio tricks and the tiresome RnB licks - in come really solid soulful anthems primed for radio but in a good way. If you haven't eaten prior to hearing Food, you'll be hungry by the end of it, hungry for more. Her husky tones give the gospel-tinged The Real Thing some sexy oomph, while the usually-risible shuffle-beat and retro brass stabs don't detract from the Jacko-esque Jerk Ribs, a song that blossoms with every play. Floyd sadly isn't about the late Keith but is a masterful slow-paced soul ballad with Kelis begging to be 'blown away' while Hooch and Rumble are reminiscent of great '90s soul kittens Carleen Anderson and Angie Stone. Despite a few twee tracks, this earthy funky, meaty Food falls straight off the bone. Kelis is back.
I wish I could say the same about Lily Allen (Sheezus - ★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆) - her third album is fun enough, beginning with the name-checking title-track which has the cheeky singer exclaiming 'give me that crown bitch, I wanna be Sheezus'. To knock Perry, Gaga and 'queen B' off their thrones, you're gonna have to unleash a bigger album than this. Sure, there are moments which won't have watchful parents baulking at the lyrics - 'my man is a bad muthafucka, he can bring it all day long' (L8CMMR) is as good/bad as it gets - but the whole thing reminds me of Lady Sov. Make your own minds up about that.
A staple choice of downbeat and stoner house compilers in the '90s, Faze Action (Body Of One - ★★★★★★☆☆☆☆) now boast a different bent - vaguely funky disco-house. A legacy of recent Daft Punk shenanigans, it could be suggested that Nile Rodgers had a hand in inspiring much of this well-produced pleasant album which also wouldn't look out of place next to Hot Chip's last album. Intrinsically though, Body of One has too many costume-changes for its own good. What starts off as seemingly harmless hip-wiggling clubber's joy, soon turns into one massive comedown. Yes, Echoes of Your Mind is classy string-laden slow-beat and Freak For Your Love continues the Rodgers legacy again but there's just too much retro-activity on here. Do we really need to be reminded of M People and Atlantic Starr? Exactly. Bizarrely, the most MOR track on here, the closing Floating World, is one of the highlights (and there are a few) but I can't work out why. Maybe it's the drums.
Fitting in perfectly with the current crop of kooky, occasionally large-spectacled, females you find on Instagram - no seriously, go and look, they're every-bleedin'-where, duck-pouting and selfie-shovelling dullards - Foxes (Glorious - ★★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆) belies her fashionable look by sporting a decent set of tonsils and a sound that might give Ellie Goulding and La Roux something to think about. Even BRIT Award organisers might be ticking boxes right now, most of them with Foxes' name against them. After three of her own Top 20 singles, two collaborative Top 30 hits and an album (this one) reaching number 5, things are looking good for one Louisa Allen. But is it all as glorious as you might imagine. As good as her voice is, I'm none the wiser after three listens to this overlong debut-album (16 songs, way too many). Too many songs have this irritating start, stop, start, build-up, stop, start rhythm that has permeated so many pop records, sorry, downloads in the past five years or so. If you enjoy having your train of thought spoilt, you'll love this album. To be fair, the opening track is the highlight and some of Glorious is passable fluff. Other wise, it's business as usual.
Two worthy roots 'n' country albums worth a holler at the moment hail, not from Kansas, Texas or Oregon but from Oxfordshire and Cornwall. Both on the Drumfire imprint, Ags Connolly (What About Now? - ★★★★★★★☆☆☆) carries off the traditional country homage pretty well while Kentish/Essex man Phil Burdett (Dunfearing and the Westcountry High - ★★★★★★★☆☆☆) flies the Bluesiana flag with aplomb. Connolly name-checks Loudon Wainwright III, Ron Sexsmith, Johnny Cash and similar in his biog, which is fair enough but I'm picking up some Porter Wagoner and Merle Haggard in there as well. It's not fashionable to declare a love for country and western if you're aged under 50 these days but Connolly shrugs this off with the opener When Country Was Proud and the following A Good Memory For Pain. Bearing in mind these are not standards but all self-penned, Ags has carved himself a permanent notch on the bedpost of Ameripolitan. Authentic, down to the last drop. As for Burdett, he's no songwriting slouch either, preferring to doff his creative cap in the direction of Closing Time-era Tom Waits and, as mentioned a fair bit in his biog, Van Morrison. I'm also hearing Chronic Town-era REM, I kid you not, on New York City Small - that is until Burdett's gravelly burr gatecrashes proceedings in a lively manner. In fact, dress this song up in a 7" sleeve with paisley patterns and coloured vinyl and the hipsters in Rough Trade might be queuing up for it. Well, maybe. Recorded in Cornwall, this is Burdett's ninth album of accomplished story-telling that covers subjects such as drinking, history, legends and drinking again, all varying between ballads, bawlers and bops. Both of these albums are serious contenders.
And so to album of the round-up. Sorry, I'll type that again. The Album Of The Round-Up. It deserves capitals, as do the creators. Wrangler (L.A.Spark - ★★★★★★★★★☆) is comprised of John Foxx collaborator and techno wizard Benge, Tunng twister Phil Winter and Cabaret Voltaire's hoarse whisperer Stephen Mallinder - a project that centres around the trio's collective legacies. Insistent almost motorik beats, atmospherics, unsettling melodies, urban paranoia, analogue synths, slurred utterances - it's truly compelling stuff from start to finish. From the opening Theme, the Foxx-like Lava Land and the killer centrepiece here, Space Ace which recalls Mallinder's CV days circa Crackdown. It ain't pretty, it ain't commercial but it's fulfilling - isn't that what inventive electronic music is all about?
The same can certainly be said of bonkers clattery tribal mistress Merrill Garbus, who seems to have re-re-reinvented herself yet again with this third Tune-Yards album (Nikki Nack - ★★★★★★☆☆☆☆). On record, there's plenty to savour including the stirring single Water Fountain, but it's in person Garbus really hits epiphany. Listening to Nikki Nack in one hit is a big ask - the one thing lacking is a deep breath, a chance to ingest all that has gone before. Instead it's a relentless drum-vocal-drum-vocal-shouty-drum-drum recipe that cries out for a song - the closest is the straight pop-soul number Wait For a Minute. Still, you'd have to be dead from the neck up to not admire the Tune-Yards ethos of giving everything - Hey Life and Sink-O might even have had Fela Kuti bewildered, such is the force of nature present.
Talking of re-invention, here's a man who sounds twenty years younger than he did during his debut incarnation as Disposable Heroes of Hiphoprisy in the '90s. Michael Franti & Spearhead are exploring fun in all its forms on the soon-to-be-a-hit-in-the-US album (All People - ★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆) but seem to have bypassed originality in all its forms. Oh Michael, what have you done? This sounds like Olly Murs, Will Young, Bruno Mars.... well, you get the picture. Hardly the stuff of poets, of campaigners or of raconteurs, All People is far too cloying and too twee to pull in those who once worshipped him. His last album, a sort of reggae-pop melange, made him some dollars - this will probably do the same.
And so to a lady who doesn't need to re-invent herself. Tori Amos (Unrepentant Geraldines - ★★★★★★★☆☆☆) has been dabbling in theatre and fairy-tales of late - her score for The Light Princess earned her nominations and acclaim, setting her up nicely for her first 'pop' album since 2009's Abnormally Attracted To Sin and certainly her most accessible since 2005's Beekeeper. If anything, its length is an undoing, a trait with many of Amos' albums - eleven songs might have told a similar story compared to the fourteen offered here. However, there is much to covet on Unrepentant Geraldines. The opening pairing of America and single Trouble's Lament contain the usual compositional twists and turns you'd expect, while centrepiece ballad Weatherman swoops and banks both lyrically and musically. Visual imagery, feminine strength and family bonds form part of the album's long list of topics, enough to make UG her best album in a decade. She still sings like an angel, by the way.
Hardly an angel but possessed of a fine voice, Kelis (Food - ★★★★★★★☆☆☆) has truly found her muse again and has constructed (or, given her cheffy past, deconstructed/reconstructed) her most complete long-player to date. Gone are the studio tricks and the tiresome RnB licks - in come really solid soulful anthems primed for radio but in a good way. If you haven't eaten prior to hearing Food, you'll be hungry by the end of it, hungry for more. Her husky tones give the gospel-tinged The Real Thing some sexy oomph, while the usually-risible shuffle-beat and retro brass stabs don't detract from the Jacko-esque Jerk Ribs, a song that blossoms with every play. Floyd sadly isn't about the late Keith but is a masterful slow-paced soul ballad with Kelis begging to be 'blown away' while Hooch and Rumble are reminiscent of great '90s soul kittens Carleen Anderson and Angie Stone. Despite a few twee tracks, this earthy funky, meaty Food falls straight off the bone. Kelis is back.
I wish I could say the same about Lily Allen (Sheezus - ★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆) - her third album is fun enough, beginning with the name-checking title-track which has the cheeky singer exclaiming 'give me that crown bitch, I wanna be Sheezus'. To knock Perry, Gaga and 'queen B' off their thrones, you're gonna have to unleash a bigger album than this. Sure, there are moments which won't have watchful parents baulking at the lyrics - 'my man is a bad muthafucka, he can bring it all day long' (L8CMMR) is as good/bad as it gets - but the whole thing reminds me of Lady Sov. Make your own minds up about that.
A staple choice of downbeat and stoner house compilers in the '90s, Faze Action (Body Of One - ★★★★★★☆☆☆☆) now boast a different bent - vaguely funky disco-house. A legacy of recent Daft Punk shenanigans, it could be suggested that Nile Rodgers had a hand in inspiring much of this well-produced pleasant album which also wouldn't look out of place next to Hot Chip's last album. Intrinsically though, Body of One has too many costume-changes for its own good. What starts off as seemingly harmless hip-wiggling clubber's joy, soon turns into one massive comedown. Yes, Echoes of Your Mind is classy string-laden slow-beat and Freak For Your Love continues the Rodgers legacy again but there's just too much retro-activity on here. Do we really need to be reminded of M People and Atlantic Starr? Exactly. Bizarrely, the most MOR track on here, the closing Floating World, is one of the highlights (and there are a few) but I can't work out why. Maybe it's the drums.
Fitting in perfectly with the current crop of kooky, occasionally large-spectacled, females you find on Instagram - no seriously, go and look, they're every-bleedin'-where, duck-pouting and selfie-shovelling dullards - Foxes (Glorious - ★★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆) belies her fashionable look by sporting a decent set of tonsils and a sound that might give Ellie Goulding and La Roux something to think about. Even BRIT Award organisers might be ticking boxes right now, most of them with Foxes' name against them. After three of her own Top 20 singles, two collaborative Top 30 hits and an album (this one) reaching number 5, things are looking good for one Louisa Allen. But is it all as glorious as you might imagine. As good as her voice is, I'm none the wiser after three listens to this overlong debut-album (16 songs, way too many). Too many songs have this irritating start, stop, start, build-up, stop, start rhythm that has permeated so many pop records, sorry, downloads in the past five years or so. If you enjoy having your train of thought spoilt, you'll love this album. To be fair, the opening track is the highlight and some of Glorious is passable fluff. Other wise, it's business as usual.
Two worthy roots 'n' country albums worth a holler at the moment hail, not from Kansas, Texas or Oregon but from Oxfordshire and Cornwall. Both on the Drumfire imprint, Ags Connolly (What About Now? - ★★★★★★★☆☆☆) carries off the traditional country homage pretty well while Kentish/Essex man Phil Burdett (Dunfearing and the Westcountry High - ★★★★★★★☆☆☆) flies the Bluesiana flag with aplomb. Connolly name-checks Loudon Wainwright III, Ron Sexsmith, Johnny Cash and similar in his biog, which is fair enough but I'm picking up some Porter Wagoner and Merle Haggard in there as well. It's not fashionable to declare a love for country and western if you're aged under 50 these days but Connolly shrugs this off with the opener When Country Was Proud and the following A Good Memory For Pain. Bearing in mind these are not standards but all self-penned, Ags has carved himself a permanent notch on the bedpost of Ameripolitan. Authentic, down to the last drop. As for Burdett, he's no songwriting slouch either, preferring to doff his creative cap in the direction of Closing Time-era Tom Waits and, as mentioned a fair bit in his biog, Van Morrison. I'm also hearing Chronic Town-era REM, I kid you not, on New York City Small - that is until Burdett's gravelly burr gatecrashes proceedings in a lively manner. In fact, dress this song up in a 7" sleeve with paisley patterns and coloured vinyl and the hipsters in Rough Trade might be queuing up for it. Well, maybe. Recorded in Cornwall, this is Burdett's ninth album of accomplished story-telling that covers subjects such as drinking, history, legends and drinking again, all varying between ballads, bawlers and bops. Both of these albums are serious contenders.
