Allan Jones

Reading. . .in the beginning



On Monday night, I went to the launch of the 2007 Reading Festival – or the Carling Weekend: Reading And Leeds Festivals, as the dual event is now called – which, as you’ll probably know is headlined this year by The Red Hot Chilli Peppers, Smashing Pumpkins and Razorlight, with Arcade Fire, Kings Of Leon and Nine Inch Nails featuring prominently among the supporting line-up.


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John Mulvey

SXSW: Albert Hammond Jr, Amy Winehouse, Bloc Party, Good, Bad, Queen



Another guest blogger today, as I put my feet up, listen to an excellent Terry Riley reissue and hand over Wild Mercury Sound to April Long. Like Luke, who did my work for me yesterday, April spent last week at South By Southwest in Austin, Texas. And like Luke, she completely let Uncut down by missing Psychedelic Horseshit. Oh well, here's her fine report:


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John Mulvey

SXSW: Pete Townshend, Bob Mould, Mary Weiss, Charlie Louvin, Holy Shit. . .



As promised, I have a guest blogger at Wild Mercury Sound today. Luke Torn is Uncut's man in Austin, Texas, and here is his report on last week's South By Southwest shenanigans - the 21st SXSW he's attended. Luke didn't get to see Psychedelic Horseshit, sadly, but at least he saw Holy Shit...


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Michael Bonner

Post 1



Hi there, and welcome to the first of UNCUT.co.uk’s weekly film blogs. Every Friday I’ll be looking at the latest films opening at the cinema, getting released on DVD, and...


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John Mulvey

The Black Mountain Army



Just a quick post today, since I'm waiting for a couple of reports on South By Southwest to be filed by Uncut writers. In the meantime, I've been listening to some new stuff from the Vancouver family of bands centred around Black Mountain.


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Allan Jones

TEN YEARS AGO THIS WEEK



HAPPENINGS TEN YEARS TIME AGO

March 19-25

The Eagles' 1976 compilation, Their Greatest Hits 1971-1975, reaches sales of 24 million, equalling those of the previous all-time best seller, Michael Jackson's Thriller.


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Allan Jones

Here’s a brilliant Richmond Fontaine concert. . .



I don’t want to give anyone the impression that all I do all day is sit around, browsing through YouTube files and watching fantastic footage of my favourite bands – that’s Steve Sutherland’s job, after all.


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John Mulvey

Rufus Wainwright's Release The Stars



There's something a little disingenuous about opening your album with a song called "Do I Disappoint You?". This is how the fifth album by Rufus Wainwright begins: with wave after wave of opulent, complex orchestral flourishes, building and building; with a multitracked Martha Wainwright screaming "CHAOS!" and "DESTRUCTION!"; and with Wainwright himself, coy in the midst of so much melodrama. It's a theatrical set-piece pretending to be an anti-climax. It's both lovely and knowingly ridiculous. And it's also rather good.


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John Mulvey

Battles



It seems a long time ago now, when I thought post-rock was the most exciting music in the world. The thing with those early records by Tortoise and such was that they made anything seem possible. Post-rock was never going to supersede rock, but in the mid-'90s it still felt like a fantastically open-minded scene. The bands weren't hung up on the old signifiers of rock, they had this voracious appetite for so much music: jazz, electronica, Krautrock, endlessly obscure diversions from the well-beaten path. There were no apparent rules, which made it all the more disappointing that it became so formulaic so fast.


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Allan Jones

The Night Lou Reed Bopped David Bowie



The news that Lou Reed is going to be playing his brilliantly grim Berlin song cycle in its entirety at London’s Hammersmith Apollo in June reminds me of when he played what was then known as Hammersmith Odeon, in April 1979, a night that ended in some mayhem, with Lou smacking the proverbial fuck out of David Bowie.


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Newsletter


Editor's Letter

Inside this month's new Uncut…


A month, perhaps, of surprises. On the rather intimidating new Scott Walker and Sunn O))) album, there appears to be a joke about Michael Flatley's testicles. Somewhere in the elevated aesthetics of Kate Bush's Before The Dawn, there's an equally dubious comedy routine that hinges on the...