Features

Bit of a catch-up, today. These are a bunch of records that’ve figured in a good few Uncut playlists, and that I’ve been meaning to write about for weeks – in some cases months – but haven’t managed to tackle properly. In a bid to tidy up a little, here’s a fast round-up of some worthwhile stuff.

I’ve been working my way through a shedload of new releases from Thurston Moore’s Ecstatic Peace! label this past week or so, including ones from a few Wild Mercury Sound regulars like Sunburned Hand Of The Man with Kieran Hebden and MV & EE, as well as some less familiar things, like Little Claw and a pretty fierce free jam from White Out in the company of Moore and Jim O’Rourke.

A great line in the press release that comes with this third full album from Espers. “The band attempted to create something that would be perhaps cheery at times,” it reads, “though that mark may have been missed.”

Another week, and I really can’t believe that we played the Robbie Williams all the way through. Not the only sub-par album in this list, to be honest; you might notice slightly desperate recourse to Chris Bell at one point.

Disregarding Jeff Tweedy for a moment, one way of mapping the diverse influences of Wilco is by having a look at the side projects of the various members. So on the one side, you have the fairly mild-mannered and conventional chamber pop produced by John Stirratt and Pat Sansone in The Autumn Defense. Then, on the other, you’re confronted by the fairly bewildering array of avant-garde jams disseminated by Nels Cline.

The last time I wrote about Mountains, the sole comment I received at the bottom of the blog read, “No offense dude, but that review was kind of useless” – a warning maybe, not to try it again.

When The Duke & The King made their UK debut at London’s Bush Hall in May, I seem to remember there being at certain points up to about nine people on stage, including on at least one number four people playing guitars, someone on keyboards, a couple of backing singers and, of course, Simone Felice, late of The Felice Brothers, and his new musical partner Robert “Chicken” Burke on vocals. The evening also included a lot of instrument-swapping, principally between Simone and Burke, who took turns at the drum stool.

Two things from the weekend. First, I finally dipped into the Beatles remasters, after several weeks of shrugging, mild curiosity and morbid suspicion of overhype. Oh, and a lot of me reiterating my default position of claiming The Beatles weren’t that great – a position which, yet again, was shown up to be more or less complete idiocy when I actually bothered to listen to them. Come on, “Blue Jay Way”!

Very taken with this one at the moment. Kurt Vile – real name, apparently – is from Philadelphia, and seems to be emerging as my favourite of the current wave of new lo-fi/garage rock auteurs, possibly because he’s the one who appears to be unafraid of cranking out some pretty fierce, relatively orthodox rock’n’roll, amidst all the warped vibes.

The first show by James Blackshaw with additional musicians begins a little oddly. A man plays a brief tuba solo, then settles down to some concerted texting on his phone. It turns out that this is a false start, however. The James Blackshaw Ensemble might contain a cellist, two violin players and a flautist, but the tuba player – warming up, it transpires – is here to accompany the support act, guitarist/pianist Tom James Scott, through a series of hushed, minimal pieces.