Manic Street Preachers - Futurology - ★★★★★★★☆☆☆
What seems like the Manic's 500th album (it's actually studio-album number 12), Futurology follows hot on the heels of last year's Rewind The Film, barely nine months apart in fact. Less introspective than its predecessor, we're off to a restrained start with the title-track before Walk Me To The Bridge blazes its trail in an epic Slash and Burn style and restores my faith in a band who've frustrated and fascinated in equal measure during the past decade. Faith No More's We Care a Lot rears its chops during the chorus of the slightly-maniacal and rather good Let's Go To War, while I'm frequently reminded of the good old Manics on much of this album. "Take your badges off and do your show..." they proclaim in lively fashion on The Next Jet To Leave Moscow, while on Europa Geht Durch Mich they dip into I Travel by Simple Minds for the opening line "Europe has a language problem". It's an aural landscape of soundbites and quotes, dressed up with a sense of urgency and none of the drudgery of recent releases. A guest appearance from Scritti Politti's Green Gartside on Between the Clock and the Bed also turns out to be inspired for what is the album's most languid tune - there's still a sense of the epic about it, mark you. With the possible exception of the cheesy Sex, Love, Money and Power, it's a good album - welcome back. If you can invest in the deluxe edition with the demos, go for it.
Ed Sheeran - X - ★★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆
The thing is, I'm nonplussed by Sheeran's acoustic affectations and emotional sad-boy pop and X has done little to allay my suspicions that he's recycling the same song across an entire album. Well maybe not the same song but certainly the same style, the same key even. As an experiment, after listening to the whole thing in one sitting, I skipped back through the tracks on Spotify and you know what - until the 5th tune, the piano-fronted Nina, it all sounded like identical strum-glum. Nina is actually the highlight of a laboured first half - like a World Cup match with very little chances created, this is a sub-rapped, sub-sung set-piece that finally hits the back of the net. From this point, X settles down a little - a few more chances on goal with Bloodstream and Runaway - but for me, there's far too much pained navel-gazing and only The Man has any menace about it. I guess you have to 'be there', as they say.
Robin Thicke - Paula - ☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
"Touch me, you're my fantasy" he croons on the sickly cod-Latino opener, recalling Ricky Martin, Craig David, Jason Derulo and the like - how quickly the dice of loathing can be loaded with one short flaccid song such as this. After the misogyny of Blurred Lines, Mr Thicke has opted for sensitivity for this follow-up album of soulless mulch that you wouldn't even throw on a fire to keep warm. Curiously, he's dedicated it to his estranged wife. Nice. You can hear why it sold just over 500 copies in its launch week. That's 500 very deaf people out there. Trouble is, there's much to detest here. If there is a God, why the fuck-on-crack doesn't he do something about songs like Lock The Door which, I guarantee, is the most repellent aural turd ever to be shat out of a human's imagination. Bloody hell, Thicke does gospel. And when I say 'does', he rips its pants down and vocally sodomises it to oblivion. Whatever I Want, Living In New York City and the laughable Love Can Grow Back (what, like an STD?) contain so many lyrical cliches, I'm almost prepared to forgive Craig David and Jason Derulo for their occasional handwritten misdemeanours. Self-indulgent beyond all realms, Paula will be remembered for being utterly unmemorable and, above all, worse than any Eurovision compilation ever made. We should sign him up for next year's competition - he's certainly Thicke than the rest.
George Ezra - Wanted On Voyage - ★★★★★★☆☆☆☆
Riding on the back of soundtracking an advert is all very well but can the artist deliver an entire album of potential classics? Yes and no in Ezra's case. You all know Budapest now, that skip-down-the-street shuffle that hovers between the blues and blue-eyed pop - now face up to another fifteen mostly-appealing heartfelt songs guaranteed to showcase the man's rustic and soulful tonsils to the full. Opener Blame It On Me is a likeable kickstart, an assured anthem for a million local radio-stations yearning for a replacement for the current plague of dreary Sheerans. Y'see Ezra's all about the hopeful and the fact he doesn't sound like every other busker in the charts is refreshing if nothing else. Sure some of the music on this over-long album is a bit throwaway but there is a degree of quality about Cassy O and the gospel-esque Did You Hear The Rain? and for the most part, George Ezra has primed his future with a robust debut.
Terry Emm - Starlight - ★★★★★★☆☆☆☆
Tousled troubadour Terry sounds like he's had his heart shot through with a crossbow, had it sewn up by angels and then had it kicked over the posts by Jonny Wilkinson (or anyone of our hapless footballers). Starlight is a real weepy, a sort of Nick Drake backdrop with fractured vocals and a sense of humility pervading the whole thing. If anything, this album could do with a few sweeteners dotted around. There's an almost jaunty pop-song in there somewhere with Forever And After sounding not too dissimilar to his contributing and producing oppo on this album, Michael Clarke aka Clarkesville (what a top album his The Half Chapter was). As for the rest of Starlight, it's largely reflective acoustic-pop with a folk-tinge and classical chops, particularly on the title-track, the highlight Jetstreams and the opener Wilderness. It's an album for a Sunday morning and worthy of weeding out for the half-dozen or so goodies on offer.
Morrissey - World Peace Is None Of Your Business - ★★★★★★★☆☆☆
From the moment the title-track rolls confidently into earshot, you know you're in for a decent hour spent with one of rock's most-discussed figureheads. Perhaps the furore surrounding his Autobiography has bankrolled his chances of getting an album deal - controversy sells, let's be honest - but there's no denying Morrissey can craft some fine songs when he's in the right frame of mind. Considering how ill he's been recently, it's hardly surprising his cross-referencing of illnesses on Neal Cassidy Drops Dead - why, he even finds time to include the word 'whippersnapper' - that's so Morrissey. In fact World Peace.... is pretty typical of his best moments. Sure, I'm No a Man is a tortuous look at how 'men' destroy the planet, eat animals and fight (thus, peaceable Morrissey cannot be one of them) and much of the subject-matter on this resurgent set is downright gloomy, even for this Lord born out of Salfordian squalor. Triumphant cuts include the euphoric Istanbul and the rousing Staircase at the University, both bulging with barbed observations - the latter details the apparent suicide of a talented student affected by an overbearing father demanding three 'A's. Grisly but gripping. "Hooray, hooray, the bullfighter dies and nobody cries..." he rightly exclaims on the song of the same name while on Kiss Me a Lot, Morrissey casts his carnal cares to the wind on his best potential hit-single since Last Of The Gang To Die. It's very Gene Pitney. Yes, World Peace is None of Your Business has its dragging moments and clunky lyrics, but after a slow start hits pay-dirt with a run of top songs during the latter two-thirds. He's still got it, you know.
What seems like the Manic's 500th album (it's actually studio-album number 12), Futurology follows hot on the heels of last year's Rewind The Film, barely nine months apart in fact. Less introspective than its predecessor, we're off to a restrained start with the title-track before Walk Me To The Bridge blazes its trail in an epic Slash and Burn style and restores my faith in a band who've frustrated and fascinated in equal measure during the past decade. Faith No More's We Care a Lot rears its chops during the chorus of the slightly-maniacal and rather good Let's Go To War, while I'm frequently reminded of the good old Manics on much of this album. "Take your badges off and do your show..." they proclaim in lively fashion on The Next Jet To Leave Moscow, while on Europa Geht Durch Mich they dip into I Travel by Simple Minds for the opening line "Europe has a language problem". It's an aural landscape of soundbites and quotes, dressed up with a sense of urgency and none of the drudgery of recent releases. A guest appearance from Scritti Politti's Green Gartside on Between the Clock and the Bed also turns out to be inspired for what is the album's most languid tune - there's still a sense of the epic about it, mark you. With the possible exception of the cheesy Sex, Love, Money and Power, it's a good album - welcome back. If you can invest in the deluxe edition with the demos, go for it.
Ed Sheeran - X - ★★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆
The thing is, I'm nonplussed by Sheeran's acoustic affectations and emotional sad-boy pop and X has done little to allay my suspicions that he's recycling the same song across an entire album. Well maybe not the same song but certainly the same style, the same key even. As an experiment, after listening to the whole thing in one sitting, I skipped back through the tracks on Spotify and you know what - until the 5th tune, the piano-fronted Nina, it all sounded like identical strum-glum. Nina is actually the highlight of a laboured first half - like a World Cup match with very little chances created, this is a sub-rapped, sub-sung set-piece that finally hits the back of the net. From this point, X settles down a little - a few more chances on goal with Bloodstream and Runaway - but for me, there's far too much pained navel-gazing and only The Man has any menace about it. I guess you have to 'be there', as they say.
Robin Thicke - Paula - ☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
"Touch me, you're my fantasy" he croons on the sickly cod-Latino opener, recalling Ricky Martin, Craig David, Jason Derulo and the like - how quickly the dice of loathing can be loaded with one short flaccid song such as this. After the misogyny of Blurred Lines, Mr Thicke has opted for sensitivity for this follow-up album of soulless mulch that you wouldn't even throw on a fire to keep warm. Curiously, he's dedicated it to his estranged wife. Nice. You can hear why it sold just over 500 copies in its launch week. That's 500 very deaf people out there. Trouble is, there's much to detest here. If there is a God, why the fuck-on-crack doesn't he do something about songs like Lock The Door which, I guarantee, is the most repellent aural turd ever to be shat out of a human's imagination. Bloody hell, Thicke does gospel. And when I say 'does', he rips its pants down and vocally sodomises it to oblivion. Whatever I Want, Living In New York City and the laughable Love Can Grow Back (what, like an STD?) contain so many lyrical cliches, I'm almost prepared to forgive Craig David and Jason Derulo for their occasional handwritten misdemeanours. Self-indulgent beyond all realms, Paula will be remembered for being utterly unmemorable and, above all, worse than any Eurovision compilation ever made. We should sign him up for next year's competition - he's certainly Thicke than the rest.
George Ezra - Wanted On Voyage - ★★★★★★☆☆☆☆
Riding on the back of soundtracking an advert is all very well but can the artist deliver an entire album of potential classics? Yes and no in Ezra's case. You all know Budapest now, that skip-down-the-street shuffle that hovers between the blues and blue-eyed pop - now face up to another fifteen mostly-appealing heartfelt songs guaranteed to showcase the man's rustic and soulful tonsils to the full. Opener Blame It On Me is a likeable kickstart, an assured anthem for a million local radio-stations yearning for a replacement for the current plague of dreary Sheerans. Y'see Ezra's all about the hopeful and the fact he doesn't sound like every other busker in the charts is refreshing if nothing else. Sure some of the music on this over-long album is a bit throwaway but there is a degree of quality about Cassy O and the gospel-esque Did You Hear The Rain? and for the most part, George Ezra has primed his future with a robust debut.
Terry Emm - Starlight - ★★★★★★☆☆☆☆
Tousled troubadour Terry sounds like he's had his heart shot through with a crossbow, had it sewn up by angels and then had it kicked over the posts by Jonny Wilkinson (or anyone of our hapless footballers). Starlight is a real weepy, a sort of Nick Drake backdrop with fractured vocals and a sense of humility pervading the whole thing. If anything, this album could do with a few sweeteners dotted around. There's an almost jaunty pop-song in there somewhere with Forever And After sounding not too dissimilar to his contributing and producing oppo on this album, Michael Clarke aka Clarkesville (what a top album his The Half Chapter was). As for the rest of Starlight, it's largely reflective acoustic-pop with a folk-tinge and classical chops, particularly on the title-track, the highlight Jetstreams and the opener Wilderness. It's an album for a Sunday morning and worthy of weeding out for the half-dozen or so goodies on offer.
Morrissey - World Peace Is None Of Your Business - ★★★★★★★☆☆☆
From the moment the title-track rolls confidently into earshot, you know you're in for a decent hour spent with one of rock's most-discussed figureheads. Perhaps the furore surrounding his Autobiography has bankrolled his chances of getting an album deal - controversy sells, let's be honest - but there's no denying Morrissey can craft some fine songs when he's in the right frame of mind. Considering how ill he's been recently, it's hardly surprising his cross-referencing of illnesses on Neal Cassidy Drops Dead - why, he even finds time to include the word 'whippersnapper' - that's so Morrissey. In fact World Peace.... is pretty typical of his best moments. Sure, I'm No a Man is a tortuous look at how 'men' destroy the planet, eat animals and fight (thus, peaceable Morrissey cannot be one of them) and much of the subject-matter on this resurgent set is downright gloomy, even for this Lord born out of Salfordian squalor. Triumphant cuts include the euphoric Istanbul and the rousing Staircase at the University, both bulging with barbed observations - the latter details the apparent suicide of a talented student affected by an overbearing father demanding three 'A's. Grisly but gripping. "Hooray, hooray, the bullfighter dies and nobody cries..." he rightly exclaims on the song of the same name while on Kiss Me a Lot, Morrissey casts his carnal cares to the wind on his best potential hit-single since Last Of The Gang To Die. It's very Gene Pitney. Yes, World Peace is None of Your Business has its dragging moments and clunky lyrics, but after a slow start hits pay-dirt with a run of top songs during the latter two-thirds. He's still got it, you know.