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Watch trailer for Bob Dylan’s Bootleg Series Vol. 10

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Watch trailer for Bob Dylan’s Bootleg Series Vol. 10
Bob Dylan has released a trailer for the Bootleg Series Volume 10. The trailer for Another Self Portrait (1969 - 1971) includes interviews with Al Kooper and David Bromberg, who both played on the sessions, as well as clips for songs including “Went To See The Gypsy”, “Pretty Saro”, “Tel...

Bob Dylan has released a trailer for the Bootleg Series Volume 10.

The trailer for Another Self Portrait (1969 – 1971) includes interviews with Al Kooper and David Bromberg, who both played on the sessions, as well as clips for songs including “Went To See The Gypsy”, “Pretty Saro”, “Tell Old Bill”, “Time Passes Slowly” and “When I Paint My Masterpiece”.

More information about Another Self Portrait (1969 – 1971) is expected later today.

Tropicalia: Alegria, Alegria! The brief, exhilarating history of a Brazilian musical revolution.

John Mulvey
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Tropicalia: Alegria, Alegria! The brief, exhilarating history of a Brazilian musical revolution.

When unpleasant right-wing governments seize control by one means or another, a lot of wishful thinking often goes on among radical artists. Hard times, they speculate, will encourage a new counterculture; angry political art will flourish in the face of oppression. We heard a lot of this rhetoric from dissenters trying to put a positive gloss on the election of David Cameron in 2010. But as yet, a provocative cultural revolt against the Tories, if there is one, remains too underground to register on most radar. In late ‘60s Brazil, however, there was ample evidence of how inspiring – and messy – the political reactions of artists could be. A military coup in 1964 had overthrown a leftist government, and protest could be found everywhere: on the streets, in art galleries, even at television song contests. While many of the country’s young singers and songwriters vehemently opposed the regime, they were not – as so frequently happens on the left – above squabbling among themselves. At the TV Globo festival in 1968, a young artist called Caetano Veloso provoked what, from the sound recordings and photographs in "Tropicalia", looks rather like a riot among the audience of left-leaning students. A year earlier, Veloso had colluded with a motley gang of other Brazilian artists to come up with a new movement that they named Tropicalia, after an installation piece by Hélio Oiticica. Their guiding principle was anthropophagy, or cannibalism: anything and everything – Brazilian folk music, American and British rock, the avant-garde, movies, philosophy, surrealism – would be enthusiastically devoured and regurgitated in a new form. For a couple of heady years, the Tropicalistas – chiefly Veloso, Gilberto Gil, Os Mutantes, Gal Costa, Nara Leao and Tom Zé – made a series of eclectic and mostly terrific albums showcasing a fierce local interpretation of ‘60s rock. But as Marcelo Machado’s new documentary illustrates, they had to contend with the opprobrium of both the military regime and most of the left-wing establishment. That leftist opposition was suspicious of even the most subversive American music, prizing the sanctity of Brazilian indigenous forms. When Veloso, backed by Os Mutantes, performed what was ostensibly a feedback jam at the TV Globo song contest, the hardline audience were appalled by what they perceived as a manifestation of American cultural imperialism. In "Tropicalia" you can see Mutantes turn their backs on the crowd, and hear Veloso ranting above the boos, “If you are the same in politics as you are in aesthetics, then we are done for.” Gil joined them onstage and was wounded by one of the missiles targeted at them. “We left the theatre a little frightened,” recalled Veloso in his autobiography. “On the sidewalk out front people were screaming.” “Anti-Americanism always seemed a bit shallow to me,” he notes in "Tropicalia". It’s a compelling story, and one of many that Machado chooses to tell impressionistically in his movie. "Tropicalia" begins with Gil and Veloso performing “Alfomega” together in 1969 and proclaiming, with typical contrariness, that “Tropicalia as a movement doesn’t exist anymore.” From there, Machado unleashes a kaleidoscopic bombardment of music and images, while the major players provide rueful, cerebral and (especially in the cases of Zé and the gruff, piratical theorist, Rogério Duarte) idiosyncratic commentaries. “The Tropicalia aesthetic was the only one that could take my contradictions,” claims Duarte. “Between the rogue and the man of culture… Between the European and the African.” Certain knowledge is assumed, or at least deemed unnecessary: “anthropophagy” is much discussed, but never quite explained. The richness of the subject matter inevitably means there is little room for some extraordinary tales, like that of Torquado Neto, the vampiric lyricist and “Bad Angel” who introduced marijuana to the scene before committing suicide in 1972. The psychedelic Os Mutantes could fill a film by themselves, and Machado secures interviews not only with Sergio Dias, the reformed band’s sole original member, but also with singer Rita Lee (distractedly cleaning her glasses throughout) and, frustratingly briefly, with Dias’ brother, Arnaldo Baptista, whose life and career were derailed by a taste for LSD and a leap from the window of a psychiatric hospital. The focus, understandably, rests on Gil and, especially, Veloso; “A sort of civilizing hero,” says Zé admiringly of the latter. Machado documents the pair’s 1969 arrest, imprisonment and subsequent exile in London, and uncovers home movies that show them immersed in an expat hippy scene, participating in an anarchic happening at the Isle Of Wight Festival. He’s not afraid of slowing the movie down and letting a whole song tell its own story, either, so the doleful, hirsute Veloso is caught in extreme close-up, playing “Asa Branca” on a French TV show, his words emotionally devolving into buzzes, tongue-clicks and rhythmic lip-smacks. Finally, Machado runs an extended clip of the pair returning to their home state of Bahia in 1972. It begins with crowded beaches and the ecstasies of Carnival, before Gil and his band kick into a wild version of “Back In Bahia”. For much of the film, the director has kept his protagonists hidden, only using his new interviews as voiceovers. Now, though, he reveals Veloso and Gil (Brazil's Minister Of Culture between 2003 and 2008) watching the old footage of themselves, quietly and movingly singing along, reflecting on a brief but seismic period in their lives, and in the history of Brazilian music. In 1968, Hélio Oiticica had printed the image of a protester knocked to the ground that became a flag of the Tropicalia movement, emblazoned with the slogan, “Seja marginal, seja heroi” (“Be an outcast, be a hero”). Soon enough, Gil and Veloso would become part of the country’s musical establishment, but on their own, unusually fearless terms. Follow me on Twitter: www.twitter.com/JohnRMulvey

When unpleasant right-wing governments seize control by one means or another, a lot of wishful thinking often goes on among radical artists. Hard times, they speculate, will encourage a new counterculture; angry political art will flourish in the face of oppression. We heard a lot of this rhetoric from dissenters trying to put a positive gloss on the election of David Cameron in 2010. But as yet, a provocative cultural revolt against the Tories, if there is one, remains too underground to register on most radar.

In late ‘60s Brazil, however, there was ample evidence of how inspiring – and messy – the political reactions of artists could be. A military coup in 1964 had overthrown a leftist government, and protest could be found everywhere: on the streets, in art galleries, even at television song contests. While many of the country’s young singers and songwriters vehemently opposed the regime, they were not – as so frequently happens on the left – above squabbling among themselves.

At the TV Globo festival in 1968, a young artist called Caetano Veloso provoked what, from the sound recordings and photographs in “Tropicalia”, looks rather like a riot among the audience of left-leaning students. A year earlier, Veloso had colluded with a motley gang of other Brazilian artists to come up with a new movement that they named Tropicalia, after an installation piece by Hélio Oiticica. Their guiding principle was anthropophagy, or cannibalism: anything and everything – Brazilian folk music, American and British rock, the avant-garde, movies, philosophy, surrealism – would be enthusiastically devoured and regurgitated in a new form.

For a couple of heady years, the Tropicalistas – chiefly Veloso, Gilberto Gil, Os Mutantes, Gal Costa, Nara Leao and Tom Zé – made a series of eclectic and mostly terrific albums showcasing a fierce local interpretation of ‘60s rock. But as Marcelo Machado’s new documentary illustrates, they had to contend with the opprobrium of both the military regime and most of the left-wing establishment.

That leftist opposition was suspicious of even the most subversive American music, prizing the sanctity of Brazilian indigenous forms. When Veloso, backed by Os Mutantes, performed what was ostensibly a feedback jam at the TV Globo song contest, the hardline audience were appalled by what they perceived as a manifestation of American cultural imperialism. In “Tropicalia” you can see Mutantes turn their backs on the crowd, and hear Veloso ranting above the boos, “If you are the same in politics as you are in aesthetics, then we are done for.” Gil joined them onstage and was wounded by one of the missiles targeted at them. “We left the theatre a little frightened,” recalled Veloso in his autobiography. “On the sidewalk out front people were screaming.” “Anti-Americanism always seemed a bit shallow to me,” he notes in “Tropicalia”.

It’s a compelling story, and one of many that Machado chooses to tell impressionistically in his movie. “Tropicalia” begins with Gil and Veloso performing “Alfomega” together in 1969 and proclaiming, with typical contrariness, that “Tropicalia as a movement doesn’t exist anymore.” From there, Machado unleashes a kaleidoscopic bombardment of music and images, while the major players provide rueful, cerebral and (especially in the cases of Zé and the gruff, piratical theorist, Rogério Duarte) idiosyncratic commentaries. “The Tropicalia aesthetic was the only one that could take my contradictions,” claims Duarte. “Between the rogue and the man of culture… Between the European and the African.”

Certain knowledge is assumed, or at least deemed unnecessary: “anthropophagy” is much discussed, but never quite explained. The richness of the subject matter inevitably means there is little room for some extraordinary tales, like that of Torquado Neto, the vampiric lyricist and “Bad Angel” who introduced marijuana to the scene before committing suicide in 1972. The psychedelic Os Mutantes could fill a film by themselves, and Machado secures interviews not only with Sergio Dias, the reformed band’s sole original member, but also with singer Rita Lee (distractedly cleaning her glasses throughout) and, frustratingly briefly, with Dias’ brother, Arnaldo Baptista, whose life and career were derailed by a taste for LSD and a leap from the window of a psychiatric hospital.

The focus, understandably, rests on Gil and, especially, Veloso; “A sort of civilizing hero,” says Zé admiringly of the latter. Machado documents the pair’s 1969 arrest, imprisonment and subsequent exile in London, and uncovers home movies that show them immersed in an expat hippy scene, participating in an anarchic happening at the Isle Of Wight Festival. He’s not afraid of slowing the movie down and letting a whole song tell its own story, either, so the doleful, hirsute Veloso is caught in extreme close-up, playing “Asa Branca” on a French TV show, his words emotionally devolving into buzzes, tongue-clicks and rhythmic lip-smacks.

Finally, Machado runs an extended clip of the pair returning to their home state of Bahia in 1972. It begins with crowded beaches and the ecstasies of Carnival, before Gil and his band kick into a wild version of “Back In Bahia”. For much of the film, the director has kept his protagonists hidden, only using his new interviews as voiceovers. Now, though, he reveals Veloso and Gil (Brazil’s Minister Of Culture between 2003 and 2008) watching the old footage of themselves, quietly and movingly singing along, reflecting on a brief but seismic period in their lives, and in the history of Brazilian music. In 1968, Hélio Oiticica had printed the image of a protester knocked to the ground that became a flag of the Tropicalia movement, emblazoned with the slogan, “Seja marginal, seja heroi” (“Be an outcast, be a hero”). Soon enough, Gil and Veloso would become part of the country’s musical establishment, but on their own, unusually fearless terms.

Follow me on Twitter: www.twitter.com/JohnRMulvey

Mark Mulcahy – Dear Mark J. Mulcahy, I Love You

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Mark Mulcahy – Dear Mark J. Mulcahy, I Love You

Influential former Miracle Legion mainstay breaks a long silence... Conventional wisdom consoles that a compensation for adversity is that it teaches you who your friends are. In September 2008, Mark Mulcahy’s wife, Melissa, died suddenly aged 41, leaving Mulcahy the sole parent of three-year-old twins. Without his prompting, or knowledge, a benefit album of versions of his songs, 2009’s (i)Ciao My Shining Star(i) was recorded by luminaries including Thom Yorke, Michael Stipe, Vic Chesnutt, The National and Dinosaur Jr, among other peers and fans who wanted to ensure that Mulcahy was able to continue making records. Dear Mark J. Mulcahy, I Love You is Mulcahy’s first release since then – his first studio album, indeed, since 2005’s weirdo pop epic “In Pursuit Of Your Happiness”. It largely finds Mulcahy reconnecting with the foundations that have underpinned his music ever since Miracle Legion were one of many groups of mid-80s college janglers burdened by the allegation that they were the next R.E.M. Mulcahy’s songs, now as then, are defined by a refusal to go quite where one might expect, lyrically or musically: on Dear Mark J. Mulcahy... he negotiates their manifold quirks and veers armed with little beyond an acoustic guitar and his husky, worried voice. This is an album of complex songs, simply arranged. There are traces both of the artists that might have inspired Mulcahy when he started out (R.E.M., Warren Zevon, The Go-Betweens, Modern Lovers) and the artists who have been inspired by him since (The Shins, The National, Frank Turner, The Decemberists). The two opening tracks, “I Taketh Away” and “Everybody Hustles Leo”, share with The Go-Betweens circa “Spring Hill Fair” the charming, disorienting conceit of setting what are essentially acoustic pop tunes to a stomping glam rhythm section. The latter, the title of which appears to be borrowed from the screenplay of Robert Aldrich’s 1975 film “Hustle”, is especially terrific, a giddy lollop accompanied by handclaps and decorated by a breezy chorus and some characteristically oblique wordplay (“The first time is the worst time/The next time is the time before the third time/And so on, and so on”). The tracks on Dear Mark J. Mulcahy... were recorded quickly, Mulcahy and his musicians setting themselves the challenge of getting each one wrapped in a day. This sort of pre-planned spontaneity can go badly when things end up sounding forced, but everything here radiates the refreshed sense of possibility that comes of doing something again after a lengthy interregnum of not doing it. The pretty, pastoral psychedelia of “She Makes The World Turn Backwards” is like sunlight falling through clouds. “He’s A Magnet” is a Velvets-ish choogle incongruously embellished with a flute. “Poison Candy Heart” is so joyously upbeat, its wry lyrical vitriol notwithstanding, as to include whistling. The album has the unmistakeable lightness of a record which was easy and fun for everybody involved. Artists intent summoning portentous truth, or giving the appearance of so doing, tend not to include Jonathan Richman-esque whimsy like “Let The Fireflies Fly Away”, which begins with Mulcahy attempting alert a passing waiter to a frog in his starter, and ends with a coda in the sort of falsetto induced by laughing gas, accompanied by a banjo which sounds like it’s learning the song as it goes. In the context, this observation is intended to be nothing but complimentary. There are some more reflective moments providing ballast, and/or a reminder that Mulcahy the melancholic strummer of yore has not completely slipped his moorings. The bleakly beautiful “Bailing Out On Everything Again” suggests a wilfully lo-fi Radiohead, and “Badly Madly” has something of the earnest melodramatics of Kevin Rowland’s ruminative monologues. Mostly, however, “Dear Mark J. Mulcahy, I Love You” sounds supremely happy to be here: it’s an infectious feeling. Andrew Mueller

Influential former Miracle Legion mainstay breaks a long silence…

Conventional wisdom consoles that a compensation for adversity is that it teaches you who your friends are. In September 2008, Mark Mulcahy’s wife, Melissa, died suddenly aged 41, leaving Mulcahy the sole parent of three-year-old twins. Without his prompting, or knowledge, a benefit album of versions of his songs, 2009’s (i)Ciao My Shining Star(i) was recorded by luminaries including Thom Yorke, Michael Stipe, Vic Chesnutt, The National and Dinosaur Jr, among other peers and fans who wanted to ensure that Mulcahy was able to continue making records.

Dear Mark J. Mulcahy, I Love You is Mulcahy’s first release since then – his first studio album, indeed, since 2005’s weirdo pop epic “In Pursuit Of Your Happiness”. It largely finds Mulcahy reconnecting with the foundations that have underpinned his music ever since Miracle Legion were one of many groups of mid-80s college janglers burdened by the allegation that they were the next R.E.M. Mulcahy’s songs, now as then, are defined by a refusal to go quite where one might expect, lyrically or musically: on Dear Mark J. Mulcahy… he negotiates their manifold quirks and veers armed with little beyond an acoustic guitar and his husky, worried voice. This is an album of complex songs, simply arranged.

There are traces both of the artists that might have inspired Mulcahy when he started out (R.E.M., Warren Zevon, The Go-Betweens, Modern Lovers) and the artists who have been inspired by him since (The Shins, The National, Frank Turner, The Decemberists). The two opening tracks, “I Taketh Away” and “Everybody Hustles Leo”, share with The Go-Betweens circa “Spring Hill Fair” the charming, disorienting conceit of setting what are essentially acoustic pop tunes to a stomping glam rhythm section. The latter, the title of which appears to be borrowed from the screenplay of Robert Aldrich’s 1975 film “Hustle”, is especially terrific, a giddy lollop accompanied by handclaps and decorated by a breezy chorus and some characteristically oblique wordplay (“The first time is the worst time/The next time is the time before the third time/And so on, and so on”).

The tracks on Dear Mark J. Mulcahy… were recorded quickly, Mulcahy and his musicians setting themselves the challenge of getting each one wrapped in a day. This sort of pre-planned spontaneity can go badly when things end up sounding forced, but everything here radiates the refreshed sense of possibility that comes of doing something again after a lengthy interregnum of not doing it. The pretty, pastoral psychedelia of “She Makes The World Turn Backwards” is like sunlight falling through clouds. “He’s A Magnet” is a Velvets-ish choogle incongruously embellished with a flute. “Poison Candy Heart” is so joyously upbeat, its wry lyrical vitriol notwithstanding, as to include whistling.

The album has the unmistakeable lightness of a record which was easy and fun for everybody involved. Artists intent summoning portentous truth, or giving the appearance of so doing, tend not to include Jonathan Richman-esque whimsy like “Let The Fireflies Fly Away”, which begins with Mulcahy attempting alert a passing waiter to a frog in his starter, and ends with a coda in the sort of falsetto induced by laughing gas, accompanied by a banjo which sounds like it’s learning the song as it goes. In the context, this observation is intended to be nothing but complimentary.

There are some more reflective moments providing ballast, and/or a reminder that Mulcahy the melancholic strummer of yore has not completely slipped his moorings. The bleakly beautiful “Bailing Out On Everything Again” suggests a wilfully lo-fi Radiohead, and “Badly Madly” has something of the earnest melodramatics of Kevin Rowland’s ruminative monologues. Mostly, however, “Dear Mark J. Mulcahy, I Love You” sounds supremely happy to be here: it’s an infectious feeling.

Andrew Mueller

Arcade Fire to release new album on October 29

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Arcade Fire to release new album on October 29
Arcade Fire will release their fourth studio album on October 29. The band announced the release date on Twitter earlier today (July 12) in a pretty unusual fashion - in reply to a fan who had tweeted "you're my favourite" at them. The band Tweeted in response: "Thanks. Our new album will be out O...

Arcade Fire will release their fourth studio album on October 29.

The band announced the release date on Twitter earlier today (July 12) in a pretty unusual fashion – in reply to a fan who had tweeted “you’re my favourite” at them.

The band Tweeted in response: “Thanks. Our new album will be out October 29th”.

It had previously been reported that the album, the band’s follow-up to 2010’s The Suburbs, would be released on September 9.

Last month (June), James Murphy, who is helping to produce the as-yet-untitled album, gave an update on its progress. “The album is going great. I’m too in the middle of it to know which way it will go in the end. But it’s going to be a fantastic record,” he told the Daily Star.

Murphy also clarified his contribution to the album, saying: “They are so good they could produce themselves, so my role in the band depends on the song. Sometimes I’m going around making suggestions and playing instruments, other times I’m just helping the arrangements. We feel like part of each other’s bands because we toured a lot together over the years.”

In an interview with MusicWeek late last year, the band’s manager Scott Rodger confirmed that Arcade Fire were going into the studio with Murphy to work on their fourth album. He said at the time: “They’re in with James Murphy on three or so songs, plus Markus Dravs who is a long-time collaborator. They write too many songs – that’s a good problem to have. There’s around 35 songs with Arcade Fire, two albums’-worth for sure.”

Arctic Monkeys reveal artwork for new album AM

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Arctic Monkeys reveal artwork for new album AM
Arctic Monkeys have revealed the artwork to their new album AM. The artwork, which you can see above, was posted on Twitter by the band this morning (July 14) along with a message which reads: "Here's the artwork for 'AM', released on 9th Sept 2013." The minimal design is in keeping with the animat...

Arctic Monkeys have revealed the artwork to their new album AM.

The artwork, which you can see above, was posted on Twitter by the band this morning (July 14) along with a message which reads: “Here’s the artwork for ‘AM’, released on 9th Sept 2013.” The minimal design is in keeping with the animated video and artwork for the album’s lead single ‘Do I Wanna Know?’.

Last month Arctic Monkeys confirmed details of their fifth studio album AM, which includes the songs ‘R U Mine?’ and ‘Do I Wanna Know?’. Guests on the album include Josh Homme and former member of The Coral, Bill Ryder-Jones.

Last month (June 28), Arctic Monkeys headlined Glastonbury festival. The headline slot was the second time the band have topped the bill at Worthy Farm having first played in 2007 with the band playing new songs as well as fan favourites in a triumphant set.

Arctic Monkeys will play nine dates on the tour including a homecoming gig at Sheffield’s Motorpoint Arena. Starting in Newcastle at the Metro Radio Arena on October 22, the tour will then visit Manchester, London, Liverpool, Cardiff, Birmingham and Glasgow before ending with the Sheffield gig on November 2. The Strypes will support on all dates. The second London date will take place on October 26.

Arctic Monkeys will play:

Newcastle Metro Radio Arena (October 22)

Manchester Arena (23)

London Earls Court (25, 26)

Liverpool Echo Arena (28)

Cardiff Motorpoint Arena (29)

Birmingham LG Arena (31)

Glasgow Hydro Arena (November 1)

Sheffield Motorpoint Arena (2)

The Rolling Stones 50 & Counting tour – the Uncut review

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The Rolling Stones 50 & Counting tour – the Uncut review
The Rolling Stones brought to a close their 50 & Counting tour on Saturday (June 13), with a second show at London's Hyde Park. The band had kicked off their 50 & Counting tour on October 25 last year with a club show in the 600 capacity La Trabendo in Paris and another at the 1,800 capacit...

The Rolling Stones brought to a close their 50 & Counting tour on Saturday (June 13), with a second show at London’s Hyde Park.

The band had kicked off their 50 & Counting tour on October 25 last year with a club show in the 600 capacity La Trabendo in Paris and another at the 1,800 capacity venue le Théâtre Mogador on October 29.

They played two shows at London’s 02 Arena on November 25 and 29, followed by three shows in New York in December.

In between the London and New York dates, the band released a feature-length documentary, Crossfire Hurricane, on October 18 and a new greatest hits comp, GRRR! on November 13.

On April 28, they began a 19-date North American tour with a surprise show at Los Angeles’ Echoplex.

During the American leg of the 50 & Counting tour, the band were joined on stage by guest artists including Tom Waits, Arcade Fire’s Win Butler and Dave Grohl.

The Stones played Glastonbury on June 29 as well as two Hyde Park shows on July 6 and 13.

On July 22, the band released their Hyde Park Live album, recorded at the July 6 and 13 shows, on iTunes.

You can read our review of the 02 Arena, November 29 show here.

You can read our review of the GRRR! compilation here.

You can read our review of Crossfire Hurricane here.

You can read our review of the Glastobury show here.

You can read our review of the Hyde Park, July 6 show here.

You can read our review of the Hyde Park, July 13 show here.

Morrissey apologises for pulling South American tour dates due to food poisoning

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Morrissey apologises for pulling South American tour dates due to food poisoning
Morrissey has apologised for pulling a number of tour dates in Peru and Chile after being struck down with food poisoning. In a post on the True To You fansite, the singer wrote: "I can't give words to the sorrow I feel at the loss of perfect Peru. Oh, black cloud. After such a victorious and uplif...

Morrissey has apologised for pulling a number of tour dates in Peru and Chile after being struck down with food poisoning.

In a post on the True To You fansite, the singer wrote: “I can’t give words to the sorrow I feel at the loss of perfect Peru. Oh, black cloud. After such a victorious and uplifting welcome of Lima love, the contaminated jinx had its way via a simple restaurant meal of penne pasta and tomato. Three hours later, both I, and security Liam have collapsed with a deadly and delirious bedridden disease. Five days of round-the-clock medical supervision just barely controls the corrosively toxic food poisoning. I know my luck too well. Sorrow replaces joy, and in every dream home a heartache. It could only be me.

“I have returned to Los Angeles and to the expert supervision of my doctor Jeremy Fine, who assures me that I shall be fine (although not in the gossamer, powdery sense) for our upcoming shows in Argentina and Brazil. I have absolutely no idea where my beloved Chile has gone. In the heat of cancellations and postponements, the humiliation and mortification I feel on a personal level is too mammoth to be measured. If my spirits climb down any lower I could never again find the dignity to stand upright. We all live at the mercy of biological chance, and although I am not one to take refuge in clichés, I repeat my very servile apologies to any and all who back-packed their way to Peru. Alas, the dark shadow made the same journey.

“Each year of life brings us nearer to our decline, but I will continue to seek a listener until I’m dead in a ditch.

“with all the soul of the world

“MORRISSEY”

Over the past year Morrissey has postponed and cancelled a host of tour dates because of his mother’s and his own ill health. He recently revealed that he nearly died earlier this year due to medical problems.

Atoms For Peace remove music from Spotify as Thom Yorke claims “new artists will not get paid”

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Atoms For Peace remove music from Spotify as Thom Yorke claims “new artists will not get paid”
Atoms For Peace have removed their music from Spotify. Producer Nigel Godrich claims the streaming service is "bad for new music", complaints that were backed up by Thom Yorke. Godrich posted a number of messages on Twitter concerning the removal of Atoms For Peace's album Amok from Spotify, expla...

Atoms For Peace have removed their music from Spotify.

Producer Nigel Godrich claims the streaming service is “bad for new music”, complaints that were backed up by Thom Yorke.

Godrich posted a number of messages on Twitter concerning the removal of Atoms For Peace’s album Amok from Spotify, explaining that he believes the system is run by the “same old industry bods trying to get a stranglehold”.

“The reason is that new artists get paid fuck all with this model. It’s an equation that just doesn’t work,” Godrich wrote. “The music industry is being taken over by the back door and if we don’t try and make it fair for new music producers and artists then the art will suffer. Make no mistake. These are all the same old industry bods trying to get a stranglehold on the delivery system. Plus people are scared to speak up or not take part as they are told they will lose invaluable exposure if they don’t play ball. Meanwhile millions of streams gets them a few thousand dollars. Not like radio at all.”

Thom Yorke retweeted a selection of the tweets with Godrich going on to add that he thinks Spotify can be a good thing for bands with established back catalogues but simply does not benefit new artists. “Some records can be made in a laptop,” he tweeted, “but some need musician and skilled technicians. These things cost money. Pink Floyd’s catalogue has already generated billions of dollars for someone (not necessarily the band) so now putting it on a streaming site makes total sense. But if people had been listening to Spotify instead of buying records in 1973 I doubt very much if ‘Dark Side…’ would have been made. It would just be too expensive.”

Yorke also Tweeted: “Make no mistake new artists you discover on Spotify will no get paid. meanwhile shareholders will shortly being rolling in it. simples.”

As well as the removal of Amok, Godrich has also removed his band Ultraista’s debut album from Spotify while Thom Yorke’s solo album The Eraser has also been taken down from the streaming service.

The Rolling Stones, Hyde Park, London, July 13, 2013

Michael Bonner
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The Rolling Stones, Hyde Park, London, July 13, 2013

We find ourselves in the wrong bar by mistake. Arriving at Hyde Park for this second London show on the Stones' 50 & Counting tour, we're issued with numerous coloured plastic wristbands that are intended to identify where we can travel around the site. There is this bar, that tier, this restaurant, these toilets... one of the first questions we're asked as we enter the site is whether we have a dinner reservation. It seems that Hyde Park has been demarcated into various heavily corporatised areas in much the same way I imagine the Ottoman Empire was partitioned after World War 1. Which is how we've found ourselves in this nice little bar, ushered in here by a kindly steward who seems to have misread one of the wristbands strapped to our wrist. The bar itself is peaceful, shaded from the sun by a marquee and modestly decorated with plastic chairs and tables. There are no more than 20 people here. The beer is free – if a little flat – and on tables dotted throughout the marquee there are glass bowls full of coloured lollipops and extremely good fudge. We suspect something is a little rum when Mick Taylor pads through in a dark suit and scarf saying the odd hello as he passes; then bassist Darryl Jones, in dark shirt and bandana, stops by at the bar to share a laugh with some folks he clearly knows very well. It transpires that we’re in the Rolling Stones’ own bar, reserved for the band’s family and close friends – an area we discretely leave (after one more drink, of course) and head out for what Mick Jagger informs us later from the stage is “the last show of the tour”: the end of the Rolling Stones’ 50 & Counting manoeuvers. The Rolling Stones take the stage on the dot of 8.30pm, their arrival heralded by news footage from the band’s original 1969 free Hyde Park concert spooling across giant screens that are wrapped around the stage. A burst of heavy percussion blasts from the speakers – perhaps a nod to Ginger Johnson’s African Drummers who enlivened “Sympathy For The Devil” at the Stones’ 1969 show – before fireworks and... here they are, the Rolling Stones, Keith in that extraordinary simian crouch playing the opening riff of “Start Me Up”. We're off. “It’s a hot time in the old town tonight,” Keith says later and, yes, it certainly is. They follow “Start Me Up” with “It’s Only Rock ‘n’ Roll (But I Like It)”, accompanied by black and white images of Bob Dylan, Leadbelly, John Lee Hooker and James Brown on the giant screens. I’m not sure whether Mick fluffs the intro to tonight’s sashaying version of “Tumbling Dice”, but he seems to be caught in the middle of one of his “How’s everyone doing?” moments when the rest of the band start playing. The set so far is identical to last week's Hyde Park show, but while then they followed “Tumbling Dice” with “All Down The Line”, tonight we get “Emotional Rescue”, surprisingly only the first time the band have ever played it live in Europe. “Don’t you love this set here?” says Jagger, gesturing at the Oz-like forest of giant trees that frame the stage, their plastic branches intertwining over the heads of the band. “It’s like a tree house for Boris Johnson to live in.” Then it’s into “Street Fighting Man”, a song whose counter cultural thrill isn’t dampened despite the event’s byzantine levels of corporate tiers, luxury restaurants, sponsored bars and credit card branding. It builds to a fantastic and protracted climax, swiftly followed by an energetic “Doom And Gloom” – arguably the band’s best single since “Start Me Up” – and then a tremendous 1966 vintage double whammy of “Ruby Tuesday” and “Paint It, Black”. The Stones really are on peerless, unstoppable form now. It’s striking how much difference there is between “Ruby Tuesday” and “Paint It, Black” – the former described by Jagger as “something romantic”, and which comes with some lovely, empathic acoustic guitar playing from Keith and Ron. Meanwhile, “Paint It, Black” is thrilling and nihilistic – eternally connected to the band's darker, lysergic impulses – driven by Charlie Watts’ pummelling beat and a powerful, hypnotic guitar attack from Keith and Ron. For a swaggering “Honky Tonk Women” – which made its debut in this park 44 years ago – Mick pulls out a Mr Fish style smock (“I found this out the back”), much as he did last week. The band intros follow, with Charlie - "the Wembley Whammer" - coaxed down from his drum kit by Jagger to address the crowd. He manages a brief “’ello” - "He speaks!" laughs Mick - which draws one of the loudest cheers of the night. Then Keith takes over vocal duties for a dusty “You Got The Silver” and an avuncular “Happy” – accompanied by some terrific pedal steel guitar from Ron. Then there’s a bouncy “Miss You”, before Jagger introduces Mick Taylor for “Midnight Rambler”. The gradual reintroduction of Mick Taylor into the Stones – a process that began when he was invited in 2010 to contribute to the Exile On Main Street deluxe reissue – seems to have invigorated the band. On the strength of his slot tonight, it’s a shame he’s not on stage for longer: of the nineteen songs the band play, Taylor appeared on six of the studio versions. It’s interesting watching his interactions with the the rest of the group – at first he’s bunched together with Keith and Ron, the three of them locked in a complex groove of solos and riffs, then he moves out to meet Jagger – he's the only musician to enter the singer’s personal space all night – and he and Jagger do a kind of call-and-response, with Jagger on harmonica and Taylor on guitar. Incidentally, Jagger is a terrific harmonica player – it’s a shame he doesn’t get to play the Jew’s harp tonight, another instrument he excels at. But as the two Micks duel on and on, and the song shudders and dies, only to be brought back to life by Charlie’s crisp, precise drums, I’m reminded of the brilliant footage in Crossfire Hurricane of the Stones playing “Midnight Rambler” at Madison Square Garden on the 1972 STP tour, and it seems like with Taylor on board they're reaching back and channeling that same level of energy and danger. The main set draws to a thundering close with “Gimme Shelter”, “Jumping Jack Flash”, “Sympathy For The Devil” – sampled conga introduction aside – and “Brown Sugar”. Since Ron got the first solo of the night way back on “Start Me Up”, I’ve kept a tally of guitar solos. During the first half of the set, Ron had a healthy lead on Keith by four to one, but since the sun went down, Keith – ha, ha – seems to have stirred into life, and his solos on the last four songs here are dirty and glorious – in particular his bristling solo on “Sympathy For The Devil”. The encore, then, is a lovely “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” and “Satisfaction” before the final bows, with Mick Taylor in the middle – symbolically, at least, back in the very heart of the Stones. The last thing we see up there on the giant screens is Keith putting his arm round Charlie as they walk off stage into the wings, swallowed up by the blackness. The Rolling Stones played: Start Me Up It’s Only Rock ‘n’ Roll (But I Like It) Tumbling Dice Emotional Rescue Street Fighting Man Ruby Tuesday Doom And Gloom Paint It, Black Honky Tonk Women You Got The Silver (Keith vocals) Happy (Keith vocals) Miss You Midnight Rambler (with Mick Taylor) Gimme Shelter Jumping Jack Flash Sympathy For The Devil Brown Sugar Encore You Can’t Always Get What You Want (I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction (with Mick Taylor) Follow me on Twitter @MichaelBonner. Photo credit: Brian Rasic/Rex Features

We find ourselves in the wrong bar by mistake. Arriving at Hyde Park for this second London show on the Stones’ 50 & Counting tour, we’re issued with numerous coloured plastic wristbands that are intended to identify where we can travel around the site. There is this bar, that tier, this restaurant, these toilets… one of the first questions we’re asked as we enter the site is whether we have a dinner reservation.

It seems that Hyde Park has been demarcated into various heavily corporatised areas in much the same way I imagine the Ottoman Empire was partitioned after World War 1. Which is how we’ve found ourselves in this nice little bar, ushered in here by a kindly steward who seems to have misread one of the wristbands strapped to our wrist.

The bar itself is peaceful, shaded from the sun by a marquee and modestly decorated with plastic chairs and tables. There are no more than 20 people here. The beer is free – if a little flat – and on tables dotted throughout the marquee there are glass bowls full of coloured lollipops and extremely good fudge. We suspect something is a little rum when Mick Taylor pads through in a dark suit and scarf saying the odd hello as he passes; then bassist Darryl Jones, in dark shirt and bandana, stops by at the bar to share a laugh with some folks he clearly knows very well. It transpires that we’re in the Rolling Stones’ own bar, reserved for the band’s family and close friends – an area we discretely leave (after one more drink, of course) and head out for what Mick Jagger informs us later from the stage is “the last show of the tour”: the end of the Rolling Stones’ 50 & Counting manoeuvers.

The Rolling Stones take the stage on the dot of 8.30pm, their arrival heralded by news footage from the band’s original 1969 free Hyde Park concert spooling across giant screens that are wrapped around the stage. A burst of heavy percussion blasts from the speakers – perhaps a nod to Ginger Johnson’s African Drummers who enlivened “Sympathy For The Devil” at the Stones’ 1969 show – before fireworks and… here they are, the Rolling Stones, Keith in that extraordinary simian crouch playing the opening riff of “Start Me Up”. We’re off. “It’s a hot time in the old town tonight,” Keith says later and, yes, it certainly is.

They follow “Start Me Up” with “It’s Only Rock ‘n’ Roll (But I Like It)”, accompanied by black and white images of Bob Dylan, Leadbelly, John Lee Hooker and James Brown on the giant screens. I’m not sure whether Mick fluffs the intro to tonight’s sashaying version of “Tumbling Dice”, but he seems to be caught in the middle of one of his “How’s everyone doing?” moments when the rest of the band start playing. The set so far is identical to last week‘s Hyde Park show, but while then they followed “Tumbling Dice” with “All Down The Line”, tonight we get “Emotional Rescue”, surprisingly only the first time the band have ever played it live in Europe. “Don’t you love this set here?” says Jagger, gesturing at the Oz-like forest of giant trees that frame the stage, their plastic branches intertwining over the heads of the band. “It’s like a tree house for Boris Johnson to live in.”

Then it’s into “Street Fighting Man”, a song whose counter cultural thrill isn’t dampened despite the event’s byzantine levels of corporate tiers, luxury restaurants, sponsored bars and credit card branding. It builds to a fantastic and protracted climax, swiftly followed by an energetic “Doom And Gloom” – arguably the band’s best single since “Start Me Up” – and then a tremendous 1966 vintage double whammy of “Ruby Tuesday” and “Paint It, Black”. The Stones really are on peerless, unstoppable form now. It’s striking how much difference there is between “Ruby Tuesday” and “Paint It, Black” – the former described by Jagger as “something romantic”, and which comes with some lovely, empathic acoustic guitar playing from Keith and Ron. Meanwhile, “Paint It, Black” is thrilling and nihilistic – eternally connected to the band’s darker, lysergic impulses – driven by Charlie Watts’ pummelling beat and a powerful, hypnotic guitar attack from Keith and Ron.

For a swaggering “Honky Tonk Women” – which made its debut in this park 44 years ago – Mick pulls out a Mr Fish style smock (“I found this out the back”), much as he did last week. The band intros follow, with Charlie – “the Wembley Whammer” – coaxed down from his drum kit by Jagger to address the crowd. He manages a brief “’ello” – “He speaks!” laughs Mick – which draws one of the loudest cheers of the night. Then Keith takes over vocal duties for a dusty “You Got The Silver” and an avuncular “Happy” – accompanied by some terrific pedal steel guitar from Ron. Then there’s a bouncy “Miss You”, before Jagger introduces Mick Taylor for “Midnight Rambler”.

The gradual reintroduction of Mick Taylor into the Stones – a process that began when he was invited in 2010 to contribute to the Exile On Main Street deluxe reissue – seems to have invigorated the band. On the strength of his slot tonight, it’s a shame he’s not on stage for longer: of the nineteen songs the band play, Taylor appeared on six of the studio versions. It’s interesting watching his interactions with the the rest of the group – at first he’s bunched together with Keith and Ron, the three of them locked in a complex groove of solos and riffs, then he moves out to meet Jagger – he’s the only musician to enter the singer’s personal space all night – and he and Jagger do a kind of call-and-response, with Jagger on harmonica and Taylor on guitar. Incidentally, Jagger is a terrific harmonica player – it’s a shame he doesn’t get to play the Jew’s harp tonight, another instrument he excels at. But as the two Micks duel on and on, and the song shudders and dies, only to be brought back to life by Charlie’s crisp, precise drums, I’m reminded of the brilliant footage in Crossfire Hurricane of the Stones playing “Midnight Rambler” at Madison Square Garden on the 1972 STP tour, and it seems like with Taylor on board they’re reaching back and channeling that same level of energy and danger.

The main set draws to a thundering close with “Gimme Shelter”, “Jumping Jack Flash”, “Sympathy For The Devil” – sampled conga introduction aside – and “Brown Sugar”. Since Ron got the first solo of the night way back on “Start Me Up”, I’ve kept a tally of guitar solos. During the first half of the set, Ron had a healthy lead on Keith by four to one, but since the sun went down, Keith – ha, ha – seems to have stirred into life, and his solos on the last four songs here are dirty and glorious – in particular his bristling solo on “Sympathy For The Devil”. The encore, then, is a lovely “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” and “Satisfaction” before the final bows, with Mick Taylor in the middle – symbolically, at least, back in the very heart of the Stones. The last thing we see up there on the giant screens is Keith putting his arm round Charlie as they walk off stage into the wings, swallowed up by the blackness.

The Rolling Stones played:

Start Me Up

It’s Only Rock ‘n’ Roll (But I Like It)

Tumbling Dice

Emotional Rescue

Street Fighting Man

Ruby Tuesday

Doom And Gloom

Paint It, Black

Honky Tonk Women

You Got The Silver (Keith vocals)

Happy (Keith vocals)

Miss You

Midnight Rambler (with Mick Taylor)

Gimme Shelter

Jumping Jack Flash

Sympathy For The Devil

Brown Sugar

Encore

You Can’t Always Get What You Want

(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction (with Mick Taylor)

Follow me on Twitter @MichaelBonner.

Photo credit: Brian Rasic/Rex Features

Beastie Boys Mike D returns with first new music since death of Adam Yauch – listen

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Beastie Boys Mike D returns with first new music since death of Adam Yauch – listen
Beastie Boy Mike D has released his first new music since the death of bandmate Adam Yauch. The producer and rapper has uploaded a 10-minute-long mix to his Soundcloud page under the name Humberto V New Reactionaries. The mix was inspired by hardcore bands such as Black Flag and Bad Brains as well ...

Beastie Boy Mike D has released his first new music since the death of bandmate Adam Yauch.

The producer and rapper has uploaded a 10-minute-long mix to his Soundcloud page under the name Humberto V New Reactionaries. The mix was inspired by hardcore bands such as Black Flag and Bad Brains as well as trap, the aggressive strand of hip-hop made popular by the likes of Gucci Mane and Wacka Flocka Flame.

New Reactionaries is a name Mike D has used to make music under before, while Humberto is a Japanese fashion designer for Kenzo, the label the mix was made for. Scroll down to listen to it now.

Speaking to Kenzo, Mike D said he “wanted to honour what he (Humberto) was inspired by: American hardcore like Black Flag, Bad Brains, Circle Jerks but then I wanted to update it, or maybe couldn’t help but to update it.”

Continuing, he explained that he has “been listening to a fair amount of trap records and I think that found its way into things on this for sure”. Jamie xx and MIA have both recorded mixes for Kenzo in the past, the latter’s ‘Matangi Mix’ arriving earlier in 2013.

Rare and unseen photographs of The Smiths and Morrissey to be published in new book

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Rare and unseen photographs of The Smiths and Morrissey to be published in new book

A new book of rare and unseen images of The Smiths and Morrissey by former NME photographer Lawrence Watson is to be released in August. The release of the book, The Smiths, on August 12 will coincide with the 25th anniversary of Watson's final shoot with Morrissey. The majority of the images in the book are previously unseen and context is provided by captions written by Watson himself. Watson photographed the Manchester band throughout their career at various locations in Manchester including the Albert Finney store on Oldham Road and the Piccadilly Hotel - both for NME cover shots - and the Salford Lads Club. Speaking about his work and the book, Watson said: "Resurrecting these photographs of Morrissey and The Smiths has reignited some wonderful memories of working with one of the greatest bands in the world. As their music will live on forever, so too will these photos which captured the group in their rawest form and convey what made them so special. For fans who, like me, were lucky enough to have been there - I share these with you". The Smiths by Lewis Watson will be available in paperback from August 12 and is priced at £20.

A new book of rare and unseen images of The Smiths and Morrissey by former NME photographer Lawrence Watson is to be released in August.

The release of the book, The Smiths, on August 12 will coincide with the 25th anniversary of Watson’s final shoot with Morrissey. The majority of the images in the book are previously unseen and context is provided by captions written by Watson himself.

Watson photographed the Manchester band throughout their career at various locations in Manchester including the Albert Finney store on Oldham Road and the Piccadilly Hotel – both for NME cover shots – and the Salford Lads Club.

Speaking about his work and the book, Watson said: “Resurrecting these photographs of Morrissey and The Smiths has reignited some wonderful memories of working with one of the greatest bands in the world. As their music will live on forever, so too will these photos which captured the group in their rawest form and convey what made them so special. For fans who, like me, were lucky enough to have been there – I share these with you”.

The Smiths by Lewis Watson will be available in paperback from August 12 and is priced at £20.

Pearl Jam announce details of new album, Lightning Bolt

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Pearl Jam announce details of new album, Lightning Bolt
Pearl Jamhave announced details of a brand new studio album, Lightning Bolt, to be released in October. The album will be the US band's tenth in total and their first since 2009's Backspacer. The first track to be taken from the album, "Mind Your Manners", can be heard above, now. Speaking earlie...

Pearl Jamhave announced details of a brand new studio album, Lightning Bolt, to be released in October.

The album will be the US band’s tenth in total and their first since 2009’s Backspacer. The first track to be taken from the album, “Mind Your Manners“, can be heard above, now.

Speaking earlier this year, guitarist Mike McCready said the content of the album, which will again be produced by Brendan O’Brien, was inspired by Pink Floyd and punk rock, adding that the record is “experimental”.

He said: “I would say as a cliché answer it’s kind of a logical extension of what Backspacer was. But I think there’s a little bit more experimental stuff going on. There’s a Pink Floyd vibe to some of it, there’s a punk rock edge to other stuff.”

Speaking at the time, McCready said that seven songs are “relatively completed” and there are an additional 15 “ready to go”. “We’re excited to get it done, because we’ve kind of been waiting for about two years to do it,” he explained.

Pearl Jam recently announced a North American tour.

Scroll down to see a trailer for ‘Lightning Bolt’, which will be released on October 15.

The 26th Uncut Playlist Of 2013

John Mulvey
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The 26th Uncut Playlist Of 2013

A couple of days late this week, thanks to an epic proofreading job on the next Uncut Ultimate Music Guide; this one’s on the subject of Depeche Mode, and will be in UK shops on the last day of July. These are the records that have kept me going, anyhow. Strong new entries here from Ultramarine (their first in 15 years), Desert Heat (that’s Steve Gunn, John Truscinski and Cian Nugent, so a few of you who come here regularly will be justifiably hyped), Roy Harper, Chris Thile (playing Bach), Adrian Utley (doing Terry Riley), Matt White (remixed by Hot Chip, mostly successfully), Spacin and Arbouretum (covering four songs by our editor’s favourite, Gordon Lightfoot). Dig in… Follow me on Twitter: www.twitter.com/JohnRMulvey 1 Ultramarine – This Time Last Year (Real Soon) 2 Desert Heat – Cat Mask At Huggie Temple (MIE Music) 3 Massive Attack/Elizabeth Fraser/Adam Curtis – Just Like Honey (Live) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_s_SWhBoELs 4 Wooden Wand & The World War IV - Wooden Wand & The World War IV (Three Lobed Recordings) 5 Cave – Threace (Drag City) 6 The Entrance Band – Dans La Tempete (Spiritual Pajamas) 7 Roy Harper – Man & Myth (Bella Union) 8 Chris Thile – Bacj: Sonatas And Partitas, Volume One (Nonesuch) 9 Jay-Z – Magna Carta… Holy Grail (Roc-A-Fella) 10 Ariel Pink And Jorge Elbrecht - Hang On To Life (Mexican Summer) 11 Factory Floor – Factory Floor (DFA) 12 Arbouretum – A Gourd Of Gold (Latitudes) 13 Body/Head – Coming Apart (Matador) 14 Tamikrest – Chatma (Glitterbeat) 15 Adrian Utley’s Guitar Orchestra – In C (Invada) 16 Various Artists – 20 Jahre Kompakt Kollektion 2 (Kompakt) 17 Bill Callahan – Dream River (Drag City) 18 Matthew E White – Big Love (Hot Chip Remix) (Domino) 19 Spacin – Megatations (No !) (Testoster Tunes) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mpD9eY8GozM 20 Promised Land Sound - Promised Land Sound (Paradise Of Bachelors)

A couple of days late this week, thanks to an epic proofreading job on the next Uncut Ultimate Music Guide; this one’s on the subject of Depeche Mode, and will be in UK shops on the last day of July.

These are the records that have kept me going, anyhow. Strong new entries here from Ultramarine (their first in 15 years), Desert Heat (that’s Steve Gunn, John Truscinski and Cian Nugent, so a few of you who come here regularly will be justifiably hyped), Roy Harper, Chris Thile (playing Bach), Adrian Utley (doing Terry Riley), Matt White (remixed by Hot Chip, mostly successfully), Spacin and Arbouretum (covering four songs by our editor’s favourite, Gordon Lightfoot). Dig in…

Follow me on Twitter: www.twitter.com/JohnRMulvey

1 Ultramarine – This Time Last Year (Real Soon)

2 Desert Heat – Cat Mask At Huggie Temple (MIE Music)

3 Massive Attack/Elizabeth Fraser/Adam Curtis – Just Like Honey (Live)

4 Wooden Wand & The World War IV – Wooden Wand & The World War IV (Three Lobed Recordings)

5 Cave – Threace (Drag City)

6 The Entrance Band – Dans La Tempete (Spiritual Pajamas)

7 Roy Harper – Man & Myth (Bella Union)

8 Chris Thile – Bacj: Sonatas And Partitas, Volume One (Nonesuch)

9 Jay-Z – Magna Carta… Holy Grail (Roc-A-Fella)

10 Ariel Pink And Jorge Elbrecht – Hang On To Life (Mexican Summer)

11 Factory Floor – Factory Floor (DFA)

12 Arbouretum – A Gourd Of Gold (Latitudes)

13 Body/Head – Coming Apart (Matador)

14 Tamikrest – Chatma (Glitterbeat)

15 Adrian Utley’s Guitar Orchestra – In C (Invada)

16 Various Artists – 20 Jahre Kompakt Kollektion 2 (Kompakt)

17 Bill Callahan – Dream River (Drag City)

18 Matthew E White – Big Love (Hot Chip Remix) (Domino)

19 Spacin – Megatations (No !) (Testoster Tunes)

20 Promised Land Sound – Promised Land Sound (Paradise Of Bachelors)

John Cale – My Life In Music

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John Cale – My Life In Music
John Cale recalls his time working with Nico on her extraordinary 1969 album, The Marble Index, in the new issue of Uncut (dated August 2013 and out now). Here, in this archive feature from our April 2010 issue (Take 155), the former Velvet Underground man, solo artist and producer of such free-spir...

John Cale recalls his time working with Nico on her extraordinary 1969 album, The Marble Index, in the new issue of Uncut (dated August 2013 and out now). Here, in this archive feature from our April 2010 issue (Take 155), the former Velvet Underground man, solo artist and producer of such free-spirits as Patti Smith, The Stooges and Happy Mondays, picks nine pieces of music worthy of a new society… and one by Zappa! Interview: Nick Hasted

___________________

The record that made me love Lou Reed

The All Night Workers – “Why Don’t You Smile” (1965)

It’s all “Louie Louie” changes, and the first song that Lou and I wrote, one drunken evening. It was the B-side of a single by friends of Lou’s. It was my first rock’n’roll session and the guys were all popping pills. It was my introduction to collaborative songwriting. It had a simple beauty that gave absolutely no indication of the problems we would have later.

The record that made me hate Frank Zappa

Frank Zappa – Thing-Fish (1984)

I have a healthy resentment for him. He had a great, acid sense of humour, but this guy, with all his technique and ability, never did anything that made me want to love music. I think he trained himself in his expertise to spite his parents; he had contempt for the rock music he played. And self-contempt. Fear, loathing and self-hatred. Thing-Fish just postured at nihilism.

The record that made me love repetition

Terry Riley – In C (1964)

With Terry, repetition was a lot of fun. In C sounds different whenever you play it, like a cloud in a room. Everybody plays their part – it doesn’t matter if they play together, it’s this clatter. He’d play honky-tonk piano infuriatingly, a different time signature with each hand, and keep it going. Really good gymnastic mental exercise. But bubbly fun to hear.

The record I wish I’d produced

The Beach Boys – Pet Sounds (1966)

I was just in awe of that album. I still am. The way Brian Wilson manipulated the studio, the strings and the arrangements, and the use of the voice as an instrument that was in there. There was a pair of ears that was at work there that was so entertaining and dealt with sounds so originally. I suppose he paid a heavy price.

The most punk record I know

Yellow Swans – Dreamed (2003)

They were a young Oregon band who split a couple of years back. They did morphing white noise and feedback, very aggressive. Suicide did something similar using beats and pulses – that stuff can be hallucinogenic. Punk is an in-your-face, anarchistic musical approach to social commentary. The Yellow Swans’ sound grates on your nerves – like you’ve put your head in a jet engine. That’s punk.

The record that makes me miss CBGB

John Cale – Sabotage/Live (1979)

We had a lot of fun recording it there, on New Year’s Eve. It was dark and greasy. You went there to lose control. I retain affection for the place. Not for the $8 beers, but it was a centre, and everybody knew about it and gravitated towards it. And at the end, Hilly [Kristal, founder and owner] wanted it moved to Vegas. That’s branding. If I was a brand, I’d move to Las Vegas.

The record that makes me miss Andy Warhol

Martha Reeves & The Vandellas – Dancing In The Street (1964)

It’s the signature tune of the Factory. Every time we’d go up there, Andy would just put it on the turntable and let it go. He’d do it all afternoon. I remember where the couch was, the silk screens on the floor, the giant Elvis propped up against the wall, the phone, and the toilet with no door. All silver.

The record that makes me wish I was Pharrell

Clipse – Wamp Wamp (What It Do) (2006)

It’s produced by Pharrell [Williams]. It’s two guys from Virginia, and it’s very abstract. There’s no bass there. When I listen to it, I kick myself. I say, “Damn, how can you get more simple than that? How can you break that down?” Pharrell is a constant inspiration to me. “Drop It Like It’s Hot” was a piece of imagination as powerful as anything on Pet Sounds. It turns me inside out.

The rap record I love the most

Kokane – Back 2 Tha Clap (2006)

He was part of the original G-Unit. The track where you get to understand the passion of this guy is “When It Rains It Pours”. It’s about Hurricane Katrina. It’s really soulful, tons of vocals and thunderstorms. And then at the end, he says something very uncharacteristic: “It’s crazy, man, but I miss my mother”. You don’t expect guys in G-Unit to talk like that.

The record that made me want to compose

Smetana – Ma Vlast (1879)

It means “my land”. It was a favourite of mine when I was a kid. It was very tuneful, like what you’d sing in a Welsh choir. It’s not a leap for me to think of myself as a composer any more, but my head has moved on from that. I love going out on the road with my band now. I want that.

Photo: Shawn Brackbill

Otis Redding would have been “a mega-giant of a record company or a studio”, says his widow

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Otis Redding would have been “a mega-giant of a record company or a studio”, says his widow
Otis Redding’s widow, Zelma, tells Uncut about her late husband in the new issue (dated August 2013 and out now). Zelma recalls that Redding “always knew he was going to be a great singer”, and predicts what she believes Otis would be doing now if he had lived. “We can’t say where Otis...

Otis Redding’s widow, Zelma, tells Uncut about her late husband in the new issue (dated August 2013 and out now).

Zelma recalls that Redding “always knew he was going to be a great singer”, and predicts what she believes Otis would be doing now if he had lived.

“We can’t say where Otis Redding would be today if he’d lived,” she says, “but he’d probably be huge, a mega-giant of a record company or a production company or a studio. He said he wasn’t going to get old on the road.”

The soul singer died in a plane crash in December 1967, just days after recording “(Sittin’ On) The Dock Of The Bay”, the sessions for which his wife and young children had attended.

Otis Redding’s The Complete Stax/Volt Singles Collection is also reviewed in the new issue of Uncut, out now.

Photo: Atlantic

Scott Walker – The Collection 1967-1970

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Scott Walker – The Collection 1967-1970

Noel Scott Engel's journey from easy listening interpreter to fearless songwriter, remastered... To those who knew him in 1966, “loneliness is a cloak you wear” (from “The Sun Ain’t Gonna Shine Anymore”) must have sounded like a line absolutely custom written for Scott Engel. Not only was it a snug fit for his heaven-sent baritone, but it was apposite, too, to his offstage moods of existential angst. Feeling imprisoned by the dreamboat wholesomeness of The Walker Brothers, the 23-year-old Engel was dubbed by NME “the man likely to be more miserable than most in 1967”. Isolation being his best option, he struck out for a solo career that year. Engel still records under his Walker Brothers stage name, although God knows there aren’t many similarities between Bish Bosch and Scott 2. These days his music is all about machetes and raw meat, like the soundtrack to an abattoir. But on his early albums, five of which are collected in this boxset (on CD and vinyl), Walker and his arrangers aimed for something highly sophisticated: a romantic, majestic, orchestral pop inspired by Nelson Riddle’s richly tonal arrangements for Frank Sinatra and by the innovative film scores of Morricone and John Barry. Hoping to establish himself as an important songwriter, Walker put alienation and realistic grit into his poetry, drawing his characters against a harsh metropolitan backdrop. “Such A Small Love” (Scott, 1967) was about a woman being eyed scornfully at a funeral by a friend of the deceased who knew him more intimately than she did. “Montague Terrace (In Blue)”, on the same album, had the echo-laden grandeur of The Walker Brothers’ hits, but its residents lived life on a humbler scale, rattling around their bedsits with only their dreams and the sounds of their neighbours to connect them to the human race. Rather aptly, for Scott’s American release, it was retitled Aloner. Those two songs – and others such as “The Amorous Humphrey Plugg” (Scott 2), “Big Louise” (Scott 3) and “The Seventh Seal” (Scott 4) – are regarded now as classics. It’s strange to think of them being disdained as filler by some fans at the time, who preferred him to drape his voluptuous tonsils around smooth, middle-of-the-road love songs. What unifies Walker’s two distinct personae of 1967-9 – the reclusive intellectual and the cabaret crooner – are his brilliant arrangers (Wally Stott, Reg Guest, Peter Knight) who make sure that we can’t see the join. This is no easy matter when, for example, Walker’s hallucinatory rooftop epic, “Plastic Palace People” (Scott 2), is followed by “Wait Until Dark”, a tune from a popular Audrey Hepburn movie. There should be glaring incongruities, or at least grinding gear-changes, but there are none, even when Walker sings something like “The Big Hurt” (a 1959 Billboard hit) or “Through A Long And Sleepless Night” (from a 1949 musical). His solo career remained for some time a fascinating push-and-pull between High Art and Light Entertainment. One moment he’s singing about a “fire escape in the sky”. The next, the BBC give him his own TV show like Cilla Black. To complicate the picture further, there were the songs of Jacques Brel. Nine of the Belgian’s action-packed tales are spread across Scott, Scott 2 and Scott 3, including “My Death”, “Jackie”, “Amsterdam” and “Next”. Teeming with opium dens and bordellos, cackling whores and bawdy sailors, Brel’s literacy and fearlessness slaked Walker’s craving to produce serious music and effectively changed his life. The influence on his writing was enormous. The barmaid in “The Girls From The Streets”, who “slaps her ass” and “shrieks her gold teeth flash”, could never have existed without Brel. Nor could “fat Marie” and the urine-stained cobblestones in “The Bridge”. Walker’s imagery is wildly overwritten in his coltish desire to out-Brel Brel, and his sentiments are not always plausible, but look at it as he surely did: how liberating to immerse yourself in coarse, potent language when the public have you pegged as the next Tony Bennett. The frosted-up windows of Scott 3 take us into winter. The easy listening ballads and movie themes have gone. Only two songs have a swagger or an exploit they want to boast about: Walker’s “We Came Through” and Brel’s “Funeral Tango”. Otherwise there’s an eerie stillness in the freezing city, where Wally Stott’s violins and harps fall gently and magically like snowflakes. Deeply melancholy, Scott 3 could be seen as a Sinatra-esque rumination on love lost, but it’s also about what happens to forgotten people when memories are all they have left. Writing with a sensitivity beyond his years, Walker introduces us to the lonely Rosemary (“suspended in a weightless wind” with her photograph and clock), the even lonelier Louise (“she’s a haunted house and her windows are broken”) and a pair of elderly tramps (“Two Ragged Soldiers”) who’ve suffered life’s bitterest blows but still take comfort from their friendship. As the Ohio-born Walker applied for British citizenship (which he was granted in 1970), Scott 4 seemed to remind him of the land he’d emigrated from. There are glorious Jimmy Webb panoramas (“The World’s Strongest Man”) and some Bourbon-soaked C&W (“Duchess”, “Rhymes Of Goodbye”). “The Seventh Seal” is the loftiest of starts, summarising the chess game between the knight and Death in Bergman’s film, but despite its solemn conceits, Scott 4 is equally celebrated for its bass-playing by Herbie Flowers, some of the finest and funkiest ever recorded. There’s nothing quite like hearing Flowers cut loose on “Get Behind Me”. If only more people had heard it; instead, Scott 4 saw Walker’s fanbase desert him and the fifth album in this box, ’Til The Band Comes In, is an uneasy compromise between his own material (some of it excellent) and the vanilla MOR standards he felt obliged to sing for a living. The prisoner was once again trapped, a slave to his own voice. Audio note: mastered from original tapes, The Collection 1967-1970 gives Scotts 1–4 a relaxed, room-to-breathe sound. Previous CD editions may seem over-loud in comparison. Differences are less striking between ’Til The Band Comes In and its 1996 BGO reissue. David Cavanagh

Noel Scott Engel’s journey from easy listening interpreter to fearless songwriter, remastered…

To those who knew him in 1966, “loneliness is a cloak you wear” (from “The Sun Ain’t Gonna Shine Anymore”) must have sounded like a line absolutely custom written for Scott Engel. Not only was it a snug fit for his heaven-sent baritone, but it was apposite, too, to his offstage moods of existential angst. Feeling imprisoned by the dreamboat wholesomeness of The Walker Brothers, the 23-year-old Engel was dubbed by NME “the man likely to be more miserable than most in 1967”. Isolation being his best option, he struck out for a solo career that year.

Engel still records under his Walker Brothers stage name, although God knows there aren’t many similarities between Bish Bosch and Scott 2. These days his music is all about machetes and raw meat, like the soundtrack to an abattoir. But on his early albums, five of which are collected in this boxset (on CD and vinyl), Walker and his arrangers aimed for something highly sophisticated: a romantic, majestic, orchestral pop inspired by Nelson Riddle’s richly tonal arrangements for Frank Sinatra and by the innovative film scores of Morricone and John Barry. Hoping to establish himself as an important songwriter, Walker put alienation and realistic grit into his poetry, drawing his characters against a harsh metropolitan backdrop. “Such A Small Love” (Scott, 1967) was about a woman being eyed scornfully at a funeral by a friend of the deceased who knew him more intimately than she did. “Montague Terrace (In Blue)”, on the same album, had the echo-laden grandeur of The Walker Brothers’ hits, but its residents lived life on a humbler scale, rattling around their bedsits with only their dreams and the sounds of their neighbours to connect them to the human race. Rather aptly, for Scott’s American release, it was retitled Aloner.

Those two songs – and others such as “The Amorous Humphrey Plugg” (Scott 2), “Big Louise” (Scott 3) and “The Seventh Seal” (Scott 4) – are regarded now as classics. It’s strange to think of them being disdained as filler by some fans at the time, who preferred him to drape his voluptuous tonsils around smooth, middle-of-the-road love songs. What unifies Walker’s two distinct personae of 1967-9 – the reclusive intellectual and the cabaret crooner – are his brilliant arrangers (Wally Stott, Reg Guest, Peter Knight) who make sure that we can’t see the join. This is no easy matter when, for example, Walker’s hallucinatory rooftop epic, “Plastic Palace People” (Scott 2), is followed by “Wait Until Dark”, a tune from a popular Audrey Hepburn movie. There should be glaring incongruities, or at least grinding gear-changes, but there are none, even when Walker sings something like “The Big Hurt” (a 1959 Billboard hit) or “Through A Long And Sleepless Night” (from a 1949 musical). His solo career remained for some time a fascinating push-and-pull between High Art and Light Entertainment. One moment he’s singing about a “fire escape in the sky”. The next, the BBC give him his own TV show like Cilla Black.

To complicate the picture further, there were the songs of Jacques Brel. Nine of the Belgian’s action-packed tales are spread across Scott, Scott 2 and Scott 3, including “My Death”, “Jackie”, “Amsterdam” and “Next”. Teeming with opium dens and bordellos, cackling whores and bawdy sailors, Brel’s literacy and fearlessness slaked Walker’s craving to produce serious music and effectively changed his life. The influence on his writing was enormous. The barmaid in “The Girls From The Streets”, who “slaps her ass” and “shrieks her gold teeth flash”, could never have existed without Brel. Nor could “fat Marie” and the urine-stained cobblestones in “The Bridge”. Walker’s imagery is wildly overwritten in his coltish desire to out-Brel Brel, and his sentiments are not always plausible, but look at it as he surely did: how liberating to immerse yourself in coarse, potent language when the public have you pegged as the next Tony Bennett.

The frosted-up windows of Scott 3 take us into winter. The easy listening ballads and movie themes have gone. Only two songs have a swagger or an exploit they want to boast about: Walker’s “We Came Through” and Brel’s “Funeral Tango”. Otherwise there’s an eerie stillness in the freezing city, where Wally Stott’s violins and harps fall gently and magically like snowflakes. Deeply melancholy, Scott 3 could be seen as a Sinatra-esque rumination on love lost, but it’s also about what happens to forgotten people when memories are all they have left. Writing with a sensitivity beyond his years, Walker introduces us to the lonely Rosemary (“suspended in a weightless wind” with her photograph and clock), the even lonelier Louise (“she’s a haunted house and her windows are broken”) and a pair of elderly tramps (“Two Ragged Soldiers”) who’ve suffered life’s bitterest blows but still take comfort from their friendship.

As the Ohio-born Walker applied for British citizenship (which he was granted in 1970), Scott 4 seemed to remind him of the land he’d emigrated from. There are glorious Jimmy Webb panoramas (“The World’s Strongest Man”) and some Bourbon-soaked C&W (“Duchess”, “Rhymes Of Goodbye”). “The Seventh Seal” is the loftiest of starts, summarising the chess game between the knight and Death in Bergman’s film, but despite its solemn conceits, Scott 4 is equally celebrated for its bass-playing by Herbie Flowers, some of the finest and funkiest ever recorded. There’s nothing quite like hearing Flowers cut loose on “Get Behind Me”. If only more people had heard it; instead, Scott 4 saw Walker’s fanbase desert him and the fifth album in this box, ’Til The Band Comes In, is an uneasy compromise between his own material (some of it excellent) and the vanilla MOR standards he felt obliged to sing for a living. The prisoner was once again trapped, a slave to his own voice.

Audio note: mastered from original tapes, The Collection 1967-1970 gives Scotts 1–4 a relaxed, room-to-breathe sound. Previous CD editions may seem over-loud in comparison. Differences are less striking between ’Til The Band Comes In and its 1996 BGO reissue.

David Cavanagh

Watch trailer for Nirvana’s In Utero reissue

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Watch trailer for Nirvana’s In Utero reissue
Nirvana's third and final studio album, In Utero, is to be given a 20th anniversary deluxe reissue in September, reports Rolling Stone. Details are scarce about the content of the reissue, although a trailer for the anniversary release has emerged online – scroll down to watch. The promo featur...

Nirvana‘s third and final studio album, In Utero, is to be given a 20th anniversary deluxe reissue in September, reports Rolling Stone.

Details are scarce about the content of the reissue, although a trailer for the anniversary release has emerged online – scroll down to watch.

The promo features Kurt Cobain, Krist Novoselic and Dave Grohl all heavily pregnant and wearing dresses in an antenatal class with comedian and actor Bob “Bobcat” Goldthwait. “Push!” Goldthwait screams as the trio lie on the floor breathing hevily before babies come shooting out from Kurt Cobain’s dress.

The original album was originally released on September 13, 1993. It was produced by Steve Albini.

Nirvana’s breakthrough album, Nevermind, received a 20th anniversary reissue treatment two years ago.

Brian May joins in row over removal of Norwich’s Freddie Mercury

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Brian May joins in row over removal of Norwich’s Freddie Mercury
Brian May has become involved in the row surrounding a gorilla painted to look like Freddie Mercury. The guitarist was informed of the incident, which saw a sculpture of a gorilla painted to look like Mercury removed from Norwich city centre for breaching copyright laws, via Twitter and informed hi...

Brian May has become involved in the row surrounding a gorilla painted to look like Freddie Mercury.

The guitarist was informed of the incident, which saw a sculpture of a gorilla painted to look like Mercury removed from Norwich city centre for breaching copyright laws, via Twitter and informed his followers that he would “look into” what was going on. Meanwhile, ITV News report that May has labelled the move, “outrageous and petty”.

A spokeswoman for Brandbank, the gorilla’s sponsor, told the BBC: “We, like everyone else, have been taken aback by the passionate responses to the request by the Freddie Mercury estate that Radio Go Go [the gorilla] be removed due to a suggestion of possible breach of copyright…We have spoken to one of the executives of the estate and are endeavouring to see if we can resolve this so that there’s a positive outcome for all the charities involved. Our priority is that the event is a success for the charities involved, while respecting the wishes of copyright owners and fans of Freddie Mercury.”

The sculpture, which was decorated with Mercury’s trademark moustache and yellow leather jacket, was on display on outside The Forum in Norwich until a complaint by the Mercury Phoenix Trust was made to organisers Wild In Art. The organisers of the local conservation art trail were contacted by the Aids charity, which was set up following Mercury’s death in 1991, as they believed the similarity was so close it broke copyright law.

The gorilla is one of 53 life-size gorillas and 67 baby gorillas decorated by local artists and schoolchildren before going on display on the streets on Norwich. All money made through the venture will be going to charity. A request for comment from the Mercury Phoenix Trust has not been returned.

Morrissey postpones tour

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Morrissey postpones tour
Morrissey has postponed his current South American tour, citing food poisoning. Spin reports that the 14 date jaunt has been pulled because Morrissey and his backing band are suffering from "severe food poisoning". It has been said by a local news source that Morrissey has returned to the UK to rec...

Morrissey has postponed his current South American tour, citing food poisoning.

Spin reports that the 14 date jaunt has been pulled because Morrissey and his backing band are suffering from “severe food poisoning”. It has been said by a local news source that Morrissey has returned to the UK to receive specialist treatment from his ‘personal physicians’.

Over the past year Morrissey has postponed and cancelled a host of tour dates because of his mother’s and his own ill health. He recently revealed that he nearly died earlier this year due to medical problems.

Meanwhile, Morrissey has just received a £10,000 payout, winning a court case against Channel 4 after they failed to ask permission to use a Smiths song to promote a Gordon Ramsay Christmas special.

The TV station is understood to have paid the singer in recognition of its error after it used “Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want” ahead of Gordon Ramsay’s Christmas Cookalong Live show in 2011.

Morrissey has donated the cash to the animal rights charity People For The Ethical Treatment Of Animals (Peta) to fund a campaign attacking Fortnum & Mason for selling foie gras, reports The Guardian. Peta is using the £10,000 to buy advertising space for its new campaign criticising the store.

Gorilla dressed as Freddie Mercury removed from display in copyright row

Michael Bonner
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Gorilla dressed as Freddie Mercury removed from display in copyright row

A sculpture of a gorilla painted to look like Freddie Mercury has been removed from Norwich city centre because it infringes copyright. The sculpture, which is decorated with Mercury's trademark moustache and yellow leather jacket, was on display on outside The Forum in Norwich until a complaint by the Mercury Phoenix Trust was made to organisers Wild In Art. The organisers of the local conservation art trail were contacted by Queen's manager Jim Beach on behalf of the Freddie Mercury estate. The estate claimed the suit "worn" by the gorilla, painted by Norfolk artist Mik Richardson, breached copyright. Richardson described the situation as, "absolutely shocking". "It's dreadful. It's petty, really. The night I was told I couldn't sleep. I'm a mural artist and I have to be very careful about copyright," he told BBC News. "I didn't copy the suit exactly. I alter enough so that it's fan art, rather than a copy of it." Confirming that the gorilla will be redesigned immediately, Wild In Art director Charlie Langhorne said: "They just said that they own the copyright on the suit and asked us to change it. That's being sorted. To save any bother we will change it. We do quite a few bits and pieces for them but it's no great shakes. We would rather not have to do it but it's not the end of the world." The gorilla is one of 53 life-size gorillas and 67 baby gorillas decorated by local artists and schoolchildren before going on display on the streets on Norwich. All money made through the venture will be going to charity. A request for comment from the Mercury Phoenix Trust has not been returned. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PVur0qSKfek Pic: YouTube

A sculpture of a gorilla painted to look like Freddie Mercury has been removed from Norwich city centre because it infringes copyright.

The sculpture, which is decorated with Mercury’s trademark moustache and yellow leather jacket, was on display on outside The Forum in Norwich until a complaint by the Mercury Phoenix Trust was made to organisers Wild In Art. The organisers of the local conservation art trail were contacted by Queen’s manager Jim Beach on behalf of the Freddie Mercury estate. The estate claimed the suit “worn” by the gorilla, painted by Norfolk artist Mik Richardson, breached copyright.

Richardson described the situation as, “absolutely shocking”. “It’s dreadful. It’s petty, really. The night I was told I couldn’t sleep. I’m a mural artist and I have to be very careful about copyright,” he told BBC News. “I didn’t copy the suit exactly. I alter enough so that it’s fan art, rather than a copy of it.”

Confirming that the gorilla will be redesigned immediately, Wild In Art director Charlie Langhorne said: “They just said that they own the copyright on the suit and asked us to change it. That’s being sorted. To save any bother we will change it. We do quite a few bits and pieces for them but it’s no great shakes. We would rather not have to do it but it’s not the end of the world.”

The gorilla is one of 53 life-size gorillas and 67 baby gorillas decorated by local artists and schoolchildren before going on display on the streets on Norwich. All money made through the venture will be going to charity. A request for comment from the Mercury Phoenix Trust has not been returned.

Pic: YouTube

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