So here we are again: another year, another opportunity to build up new heroes, and to knock down the statues of the ageing pretenders. (Does one decent single every few years REALLY make a band 'legendary'? I think not, U2...)
This week sees a crop of singles by those hoping for greatness - and then there's the ones kinda caught in-between their fresh-faced launch upon the world and the glory awaiting. And then there are those who, quite frankly, appear to be caught on an ever-increasing downward spiral of doom, perhaps destined never to repeat past glories.
Which brings us quite neatly to Feeder. Feeder had the world at their feet. Sparkling, urgent, buzzy singles lit our eyes and hearts with joy, and with some splendid albums under the belt and a live show to match they could do now wrong. So what happened? How have they got to the dreary snoozeathon that is new single 'Tumble And Fall' (Echo)? The band took time out after the unfortunate loss of drummer Jon Lee three years ago, but they've surely had time to regroup and get back into shape... but 'Tumble and Fall' isn't the one that's going to win them any new fans, nor instil any hope into the hearts of wavering fans. Dull as ditchwater, it sounds like an unholy cross between a Travis B-side and a Keane out-take - wishy-washy in the extreme. Mind you, second track on the single, 'Shatter', has some neat bits and sounds far more like the Feeder of yore. Maybe they're aiming for the 'older market' or summat. Let's hope the new album rawks.
The Others seem to be on everyone's lists for Bands To Make It In 2005, but they'll have to do a lot better than new single 'Lackey' (Mercury) if they want to get anywhere. Sure, they've taken the Libertines blueprint and built up a decent-sized fan-base from their now-legendary 'guerilla gigs' (we called it 'busking to mates' in my day) and their self-styled 'outsider' image, but I doubt that they have the heart that The Libertines once had, and certainly not the songs if this is the best they can come up with. "I don't wanna be a lackey in a job that doesn't pay, I don’t wanna have to listen to you today / I don't wanna sell my soul to the man today, I don't wanna throw it all away" sings Dominic Masters, and you can just imagine his mum replying "Yes, dear - now go and tidy your room before your friends come round". Like those on the periphery of the punk scene or the New Wave of New Wave, the band probably imagine they've written an 'anthem', but the lyrics end up sounding rather trite without a killer riff or tune to back them up. "Don't wanna sell my soul to the man"? You've signed to Universal Records, dear boy.
I love Sammo Hung, I really do - that's the spunky, punky Welsh five-piece, as opposed to the dangerous martial arts film star, in case you were wondering (though I've nothing against him, either). They've 'shown potential' for a few years now, relentlessly releasing a succession of fine, two-minutes-something singles and playing some absolutely stunning live shows. Small-minded journos have referred to them as 'a punk Catatonia' or something, but that's so wrong. Well, they do come from the same country, and they do have a female singer in the delectable Jemma Roper, but it's more Gang Of Four meet Mclusky (R.I.P.) than anything Catatonia ever recorded. Last year's debut album, 'Stand Up And Swear', was a disappointment - not that it was bad, it just wasn't as mind-bogglingly, toe-tingling thrilling as it could have been - but new single 'I Love The Leader' (No Danger) is a worthy reminder of just how spiffingly wonderful the band are. Out on 7" vinyl, as well - cool!
Poor old Roots Manuva has had one hell of a job to produce the goods following the acclaim'n'fame afforded to him a few years ago for the 'Run Come Save Me' album - album going gold, a Mercury nomination, winning a MOBO - but the GOOD news is...his new album, 'Awfully Deep', is a killer, a magnificently-produced mish-mash of electro, rap and dub that will put a bigger grin on your face than a fine Nepalese smoke would. First single to be released is 'Colossal Insight' (Big Dada), a beguiling, mellow electro tune that will have you sashaying around the room with a cheeky wiggle in your hips before you can say 'Hey - Rodney's gone psychedelic!'. And if the distortion of your brain cells' perception of real life is what you're after, there's more to be found as you progress through the six mixes provided on the CD, in particular Jammer's dub reggae mix and Royskopp's trip through the canyons of your mind.
And then there's Athlete. They came along as a kinda cock-ernee Gomez - mellow vibes with a singer that sounds like David Essex with hiccoughs - a couple of nice singles, a not-too-bad album... and then nothing - they seemingly vanished off the face of the earth, amidst - no doubt wildly-inaccurate - rumours of their A&R man yelling at someone from the NME, froth splattering from his mouth, implying that they'd somehow "wrecked my band's career". Obviously not true, as we all know that the NME couldn't possibly wield such power, that an A&R person wouldn't possibly sink to such a base level, and that, on the strength of their new single, 'Wires' (Parlophone), their career is far from 'wrecked'. Joel still sounds like a young David Essex, mind - but is that such a bad thing? Wires has a beautiful piano intro, glorious, sweeping strings, and a melody that'll wrench the heart from the body of the most cynical critic at ten paces. A quite beautiful single, and those of you who are London-based can see them tonight - Monday, January 17th - at The Electric Ballroom in Camden Town.
...or you could walk a little further up from the tube and come and see this week's Single Of The Week winners Dead Fly Buchowski playing at The Barfly with the fab Barbs with me! The daftly-monikered Dead Fly Buchowski are recent signings to Beggars Banquet - who release their debut single 'Blackout' this week - and to date have confounded me totally. The demos I heard last year were intriguing - kinda like a Scottish Stooges, all riffs and attitude - but every time I've seen them live they've been a different beast, a wildly-veering celebration of styles that ultimately conjures up the image of a Birthday Party-era Nick Cave fronting Captain Beefheart's Magic Band. No - seriously. But while the jury's out on the live shows for the time being, there's no doubting the quality of the band's recorded noises, with more riffs per inch than, um, a riffery carpet, warehouse and an urgency about the sound that claws you into their world and forces you to jitterbug crazily. If dirty, low-down rock'n'riff is your bag, then look no further.
Nik Moore
