Brooklynite Jon DeRosa's outfit are deceptive. At face value, PHAR offer little more than a sad shuffle, the odd cracked waltz and scattered flurries of noise. But give it time and these trampled-heart melodies burrow under the skin. Last year's Uncut-endorsed These Are The New Good Times was DeRosa's stoned-slacker take on slo-mo country mores, but here he broadens the palette with the addition of Low collaborator Marc Gartman as co-songwriter and ex-Mercury Rev pedal-steeler Gerald Menke.
The Korgis' bittersweet 1980 hit "Everybody's Got To Learn Some Time", and 1998's future of rock'n'roll, Beck. What could they have in common? Well, Beck has wised up and done a cover of said narcoleptic nugget. And in this intelligent, melancholy film, it sounds every bit as affecting as intended. Jon Brion, the man behind the score to Magnolia, contributes the bulk, while The Polyphonic Spree chime in with "Light And Day". If you enjoy the Spree un-ironically, you'll also love ELO's "Mr Blue Sky", here in all its bombast.
Evan Parker ought to be knighted for re-mastering and reissuing this, one of the great British orchestral jazz records. Utilising stalwart British jazzers alongside wildcard improvisers like saxophonist Parker, guitarist Derek Bailey and percussionist Tony Oxley, Wheeler brilliantly fuses gorgeously limpid melodies ("Ballad Two") with free-form interludes. Great cliffs of brass echo Gil Evans, but note the subtle nod to electric Miles (those two electric pianos) and the inspired use of Norma Winstone's voice as an instrument.
The new Dawson's Creek, and declared a guilty pleasure for adults by every Sunday supplement you read. To enjoy the music fully, pretend you still ask your mum and dad's permission to stay out after nine. Having made such a leap, swoon to timid acoustic moments from Spoon, South and William Orbit. Get a bit stroppy to the Dandy Warhols or Doves, slam the door to Turin Brakes, then storm out in a huff crying to the grown-up riffs of Jet, who, in this context, sound like they shave and might piss on your barbecue. It's called Orange County because of the colour of the actors' skin, by the way.
