The last transcript from our 2010 Uncut Music Award deliberations... Allan Jones: She’s someone Uncut has really championed over the last few years, and rightly so, I think. And I think of the incredible things about this new record is that it actually found an audience; three CDs, a singer-songwriter who’s principle instrument is the harp, and who seems disinclined to write a song under eight minutes long. I don’t think too many people would have predicted that, with the release of this record, she’d be selling out the Albert Hall, but from our point of view at the magazine it’s really encouraging that people are prepared to commit to this kind of music in such volume. Hayden Thorpe: She’s absolutely audacious, I think she’s really got to be admired for having the vision and conviction to put out three albums of songs of such length. I saw her first show of the year, in Australia in January, before this album came out and she sat there and played the whole thing, no one had heard these songs before. By the end I was literally exhausted, but I think she’s so unrelenting in that sense. Everything about her seems completely at odds with mainstream acceptance of how songs should be, that they are complex and the dialect is really unusual and archaic. I think she is truly gifted as a musician, breathtaking. I like the fact that she’s never marketed herself for her sexiness, it’s never been the focus or the selling point. She’s never tapped into that, because her intellect and her talent overpowers anything like that. I find the whole thing so compelling. I think the best track is “In California”, it’s just so romantic and creates such a myth about the place. I really, really believe in this record, and I believe in her. I think she has a classic album in here, and maybe she’s not quite there yet. She’s almost shooting herself in a foot a little bit by making herself so difficult. If she was to consider marking herself a bit more user-friendly she’d be a more dominant presence in the music world. But she’s getting there, and it’s on her own terms. Mark Cooper: I love her world, her musical world; there’s something very abstract and pure about it. She exists in a very free musical space where she’s not trying to be commercial, she’s not following anything that dictates how long you write a song. It’s often meandering because of that, and diffuse, but I love that. I love the range and the reach of it. But I find the whole album a bit overwhelming. How do you get a hold of this record, how do you embrace this much music without feeling slightly like you’re being beaten to death? Sometimes I have difficultly with her whole lyrical and musical persona, I was never a big Kate Bush fan, and there’s something a bit cute about this, I suppose, and maybe a bit American indie kooky that I find, as a vocabularly, a bit stultifying. But I admire her breadth as a musician, she’s prodigious in every sense. Ultimately it’s hard for me to love this as an album, because it’s not just an album – it’s a box set! But on a pure level, I think it’s the most admirable music here. Tony Wadsworth: You either like her voice or you don’t, and I really do. I don’t think it’s particularly kooky, but it does distract you from the lyrics, maybe softens the blow a little bit, because the lyrics are really deep and strong, quite literary in parts. There’s incredible imagery in there, quite desperately sad in places. The only problem, really, is that there’s so much of it, so I tried to listen to it as three individual albums as a way of trying to get to know it. But I think it’s an unbelievable piece of work, Usually, when people do long songs there’s an element of jamming or stretching, but these are arranged and structured in such a way that it’s clear they’re supposed to be eight-minute songs, you can’t do them any other way, and that’s remarkable. Allan: She’s prepared to give the song however it takes to exist. Tony: She has no barriers, including commercial ones. Long may she continue to pay no attention to commercial issues, because that’s how she’ll become a legend. Phil Manzanera: I think she suffers from the Frank Zappa syndrome of putting out too much stuff. Do I really want to spend two hours in her company? I would much rather have had a 40-minute album from her, with no harp in it. I don’t like the harp, I think it’s one of the problems I have with the record. When she’s singing along to the piano, her voice doesn’t sound so much like Kate Bush. It’s obvious that she’s very innovative, very playful. You can’t fault her for invention, but there’s just too much music to digest at any one time. In some places I found it a bit shrill, a bit hysterical, it can be very, very intense. Ultimately I found it difficult to grasp because there’s so much of it, but there are a lot of pluses in there. Danny Kelly: Everything you say about her is true, Allan, and you, Hayden. She’s enormously talented, and I loved the previous record, but I think this one is a bit too confrontational. The concept of the triple album is like she’s daring you not to like it. Well, okay, I’ll take you on, Joanna, but there is too much of it! And it gave me a bloody headache, as she went on and on in Kate Bush’s voice – and I didn’t like Kate Bush’s voice that much. I think “81” is a beautiful song, I play it in the car all the time, and she can, on occasion, turn a lyric that stops you in your tracks, and that’s really good. But there’s just too much of it for me, and it’s not as good as her previous work, in my opinion. Hayden: I was surpised to find that all the judges on this panel were male, and a lot of these albums I find very masculine. But I also find myself asking is there, anywhere in music, a male equivalent to Joanna Newsom? Is there anyone out with there with a similar vision, I’m not sure there is. Mark: I would say Damon Albarn is the closest among this shortlist, in terms of dancing to the beat of their own drum, in terms of being prepared to be so expansive, so ambitious. She’s certainly set her own landscape, and that’s admirable. Danny: Is there an argument here about pleasure? Shouldn’t a record, however great it is, give you some pleasure, as opposed to just cerebral engagement? There are albums on the long list that I got more pure pleasure of out just listening to than I did from being confronted by Joanna and her undoubted talent. When we judge these things we judge the artist and the artistry, but we should also remember that they’re not made in isolation; they are broadcasts attempting to communicate with an audience, and I found Joanna’s record very difficult to receive.

Allan Jones: I’m told this is a work of genius... I must admit that it’s not a record I’ve particularly warmed to myself, or engaged with, but I’m open to being persuaded otherwise. Tony Wadsworth: Well, I have been involved in a record company role with earlier Gorillaz albums, but I have to say that I think this one is bloody brilliant. I’m always ready to be disappointed with people I’ve worked with in the past – and very often am! – but I think this is a masterpiece, I think it’s really ambitious, really clever. It’s got a message, an environmental message that comes from the heart. And it’s eclectic like no other album on this list, with perhaps the exception of Paul Weller – actually it’s a lot more eclectic than Paul’s. It’s cinematic, like the Arcade Fire album, it’s got some amazing vocalists giving great performances, and it’s got some brilliant tunes. I just don’t think you can ask for more from an album. Phil Manzanera: I’ve never been interested in the visual side of Gorillaz, I just listened to this as a record, and to me it’s got musicality, it’s got great pop melodies. It’s a fantastic collaborative work, how Damon Allbarn has managed to link all these strange people together and come up with something that’s quite new, really. I was pleased by its sonic ambition, every aspect of the playing on it is really, really good. On the minus side, I would say that it kind of peters out after a while, but that’s the only minus. Overall, I think it works really well. Danny Kelly: I think it’s easy to be very cynical about Gorillaz, but it’s wrong to be cynical about them, because Damon Allbarn is a brilliant thing to have in the world. I don’t know if he’s a brilliant musician, but he’s a brilliant ringmaster. To bring all this stuff together in one place is fantastic. I didn’t like this as much as I liked Demon Days, and I wonder if that’s because it’s more of the same or if I think it’s possible to over-loaded with amazing stuff. You’ve just got used to the fact that Damon’s got Mark E Smith to do his hilarious bit of “Glitter Freeze” – of all the words you might have got him to say, “which way is north?” is just brilliant, unbelievable – when Bobby Womack appears out of nowhere. I liked the record a great deal, I don’t quite love it, because I think it’s too tricksy in the end. But Damon is to be encouraged in all his endeavours, and if he doesn’t win today I want you, Allan, as the editor of Uncut, to write him a personal letter apologising for him not winning. People who liked the last album will like this one a lot. It’s a fine record, but it’s not the record of the year. Hayden Thorpe: I’m definitely a child of Britpop, and Damon, Noel Gallagher and Jarvis Cocker were my early heroes, and out of those three Damon’s the one I really admire. He’s brushed himself down and survived it, and he’s not afraid of doing something different. He’s not stuck to character in the way the others maybe have. It’s great that he has clout, commercially and financially, to put together any kind of record he wants to do. I was really heartened that this is a commercial record but it’s not been dumbed down for anyone, which in itself must have been quite challenging. Yes, it’s a cartoon band, but it’s larger than life in a great way, a great collage of sounds thrown together. Sometimes I struggle with how it hangs together because it’s such an amalgam on sounds, that would be my only criticism, but it definitely should be admired. I do like the way he allows his guests the freedom to be bigger extensions of themselves, which is a hard thing to do when you’ve got characters like Mark E Smith or Snopp Dogg. Tony: Damon is the least cynical musician or frontperson that I’ve ever worked with. He lives and breathes his music, it’s very important to him. Mark Cooper: Well, he’s Napoleon, isn’t he? I admire Damon enormously. I think a he’s difficult, obtuse, generous, mean, wonderful maverick. It’s great that somebody can make a journey with a four-piece band and then go on and transcend that. Having done so well with Blur, he’s asked himself how can he recreate a different universe, how can he be free? And I think there’s great freedom in this record. Having said that, I get the impression that people here admire this record slightly more than they love it, which I think is interesting. Maybe because it’s two records, in a way; the hip-hop stylings are great, I think, really good fun, but I think what Damon does really, really well is write great melancholy ballads. Probably, sadly, it’s what the British have always been really good at, I think it’s one of our great exports. That’s what we sell: depression. I’m thinking in particular of “On Melancholy Hill” on this record, it’s from the same strand as the best songs he did with The Good, The Bad & The Queen, or Blur songs like “The Universal”. To me, it’s those type of songs here that dominate, because they’re where I hear Damon the most. Allan: I know what you mean, they make me want to hear a whole album of that kind of thing, which I don’t think would be any less ambitious, but I would probably prefer it. Mark: On the other hand, I like the sprawling, Napoleon-like aspects of the album, the way Damon brings all this elements together, I think there’s no greater track this year than “Stylo”. I think the way he slightly confused people at Glastonbury, and on this record, is that there’s arguably not enough to hang on to. It’s so diverse, it does loads of things and ultimately perhaps that’s where admire rather than love suggestion comes in to play. At the end of the day, this record should have seized the world’s imagination and I don’t think it has, I don’t think it’s captured a moment as strongly as Demon Days did. Danny: I think maybe there’s too much possibility in this record, and maybe not enough delivery. Allan: Yeah, it’s terrible in a way to criticise a record for its ambition, but maybe the problem is that it runs away with itself at times. Mark: It’s fearless, though, and that’s what a lot of people will love about it.

A couple of weeks ago on his blog, Ethan Miller announced that, after two years of pre-production for an album with Rick Rubin, Howlin Rain would be releasing a new EP to coincide with their forthcoming European tour. “The Good Life” came out online last week, led off by the title track, an organ-heavy thudder whose excellence was not, oddly, undermined by its vague resemblance to The Dead Weather. They had a crack at “Burning Of The Midnight Lamp”, too, a pretty brave effort under the circumstances. At the London show last night, though, the EP doesn’t seem to be available, and “The Good Life” doesn’t make it onto the setlist. It’s as if the whole thing was borne of a desperate desire to get some music out, and that the real focus, the real work, remains that long-gestating third album. As a consequence, Howlin Rain only play three old songs: “Dancers At The End Of Time”, “Lord Have Mercy” (slightly misfiring tempo change, as ever) and a fantastic closing jam on “Calling Lightning Part Two”. For the rest, Miller rolls out a bunch of excellent new songs, many with a heavier than ever emphasis on Joel Robinow’s keyboards. Robinow is the only survivor from the last Howlin Rain iteration; now, Miller is backed by a limber, superior rhythm section. It’s Robinow who catches the eye, though – a little Brian Auger, a little early Jon Lord, a whole lot of Mark Stein from Vanilla Fudge, and a decent singer, too. Up against this, Miller seems more restrained than before, so that his own voice feels more controlled; he doesn’t seem to be shredding his larynx at the climax of each song. His songwriting, though, continues to evolve in jazzy, dynamic new ways, and the general strength and intuition of his new band only help. Consequently, the highlight of their first UK show in two years is a lengthy new track with Robinow on twin lead guitar, a blasting, intricate beast with deep affiliations to The Allman Brothers Band. It would be nice if I could write as forensically about Wooden Shjips, headlining here, but their evolution is not so pointed. Songs change – “We Ask You To Ride” is fuller and more oceanic than I’ve ever heard it before – but the aesthetic, that bouncing, endless droneride, remains reassuringly constant. What’s really striking this time, though, is how complete and insulated their soundworld is now: they’re so much of themselves that the kneejerk references to Spacemen 3, Neu!, The Doors and so on seem relatively irrelevant. Not that the Relentless Garage is the O2 or anything, but they have a presence, a grandeur, as well; a sense that their subterranean music is expanding outwards without losing any of its countercultural potency. What’s interesting, too, is how sharing a bill with Ripley’s other band, Moon Duo, shifts attention away from his consistently transporting guitar solos, and towards the dogged brilliance of his rhythm section. Once again, it crosses my mind what on earth these players did before they formed Wooden Shjips. If anyone has any details, I’d be fascinated to find out.

Part Six of the transcripts from the Uncut Music Award 2010 judging sessions. Today, we reach The Gaslight Anthem... Allan Jones: I think before Neil Young put out Le Noise, this was the album I’d been playing most this year. When we first heard them at Uncut there was a feeling that their influences were just too blatant to be taken seriously, but I really liked the last album and I like this one even more. It’s a very exciting rock record, I think the songs are really great, they’re very concise – I think the longest track is about four-and-a-half minutes. It’s the sort of record you can put on any time anywhere and it’ll make you feel good. Just one of my favourite records this year. Whether that merits it being on this list, or ending up anywhere near the top I don’t know. Am I going mad? Mark Cooper: I think they’re a great old-school New Jersey band, even though they themselves are quite young. There’s a great American highway surge in their records, and very few people make records that direct anymore, they have a Bruce-ness, a Born To Run-ness, if you will. But much in the way that The Coral embrace the '60s, The Gaslight Anthem embrace the American highway in a style that purports to be contemporary but I’m not so sure that it is. I’m not sure if it’s just a highway of the imagination. Clearly, their childhood was a childhood growing up on Bruce, but for me that ultimately holds them back. I love all the reference points, I think like The Coral they truly believe in what they’re doing and are sincere in their vocabularly, although in a way it’s someone else’s vocabulary. And, ultimately, I don’t think that’s enough. Tony Wadsworth: Yeah, I’m with Mark on that. I would say that there are elements of Van Morrison and Mink DeVille in there as well, but there’s a couple of tracks on this that sound that they were specifically written to be hits and I do find that uncomfortable. I’d like to think of them as a genuine hard-working New Jersey band, but the title track in particular sounds to me like a contrived shot at gettting a hit single, and was written only for that purpose. It’s actually an OK song, but it just didn’t ring as true as it might have done. So, yeah, basically not one of my favourites on this list. Phil Manzanera: I always get the impression that there’s hundreds of bands like this in America, but maybe there’s not. I worry that they’ve tied their colours to the Springsteen mast too tightly, because the main difference is that Bruce has The E Street Band. There’s a lot more context to what Springsteen does and it’s much more musically interesting. Maybe some of these tunes are a bit more commercial than Springsteen’s, but they’ve got to come up with that X factor Bruce brings to his music. There are any number of American bands heading towards stadiums with good drummers and good guitarists, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they’re doing anything special. Danny Kelly: Allan, you’re not going mad, it’s actually a great rock record. People are living in a world where their influences are crushing them. That could have gone one of two ways, and I would have had no problem with this band, on their third album, saying ‘Fuck the lot of you, we’re going to remake Born To Run’. Instead, what they did was make the not-Born To Run. They have compacted themselves. There is a solidity where leaves, over time, become coal which then becomes diamonds, and that’s what’s happened on this LP. It’s 34 minutes long, they’ve not allowed themselves any solos, they’ve not allowed themselves any arrangements, except for the strings in the last song [“We Did It When We Were Young”], and I think in that horrible attempt to escape from their straitjacket they’ve actually made a really brilliant record. And, of course, that’s going to drive people mad, because it’s even more like Springsteen in its attempts to try not to be. I suppose the question to ask here is what the fuck does anyone expect them to do? This is where they’ve arrived, musically, and I would expect people to dislike this record for the very reasons you and I like it, Allan. It made me wish I was 17 again and had never heard Born To Run. But I also like the fact that one different track is right at the end, as if to say ‘we could do something different if we wanted to...’. Maybe they should have spread it out over a double album, done some of the songs as seven-minute things and let them breathe. There’s no reason to think that this is the best album on this list, but I really loved it. Hayden Thorpe: I found it really boring. I really struggled with it, to be honest. I know their sound guy really well, and I know that the band themselves are happy to be Bruce’s godson band, as it were, but I found the production really cynical, too radio-friendly, like they’re trying to hard to have a hit. I think Phil’s right, in that there’s probably at least another hundred bands on the circuit doing the same thing. I think to our anglicised ears, and I’m guilty of this myself, we’re a bit envious of it, for its perpetuation of Bruce Springsteen’s myths about New Jersey. That’s what I think we’re buying in to, or at least it’s what I’m buying in to, but I’m a lot younger than every one here. Sorry! But I just think that if you’ve already heard Born To Run and you love it, then why would you ever need this record? It doesn’t pack even half of the punch that Bruce does. Danny: I don’t agree with you about the production, I think it’s totally uncynical. If they were being cynical they would have let it breathe. Whether they’re playing as well as The E Street Band – and I suspect you’re right, Phil, that they’re not – but I love that all that sound is crushed into these tiny, tiny spaces. There’s probably much too much going on in places, but that’s OK in my book. Tony: I think they’re trying to do Darkness On The Edge Of Town, actually. Mark: But I feel they’re not trying to do Born To Run or Darkness On The Edge Of Town, they’re not challenging themselves in that way at all, although there is maybe an agenda that they don’t quite realise themselves. Yet, I feel that the Beach House and Coral records sound more innocent. They all have those retro influences, but this retro world is also the way of radio in America, and I think The Gaslight Anthem are more a part of that than they would ever care to admit.

Among other things I’ve failed to blog about this year, it occurs to me I’ve been particluarly slack on the subject of garage rock. A quick attempt to make amends today, with three of my favourites, before I get round to putting together a 2010 chart of sorts. I’ve struggled a bit with previous Ty Segall releases I’ve come across, but his “Melted” album is terrific. Segall goes for the scuzzier, psychedelically damaged lo-fi end of the garage spectrum, and has strong connections with Sic Alps and Thee Oh Sees (the latter’s 2010 album “Warm Slime” is another good one, incidentally). If “Melted” reminds me of anyone, though (contemporary, I should say: “Sad Fuzz” is pretty intensively moptop, for a start), it’s Kurt Vile: fraught, dissolute, mischievous, and capable of some fierce tunes that cut like a knife through the racket. In contrast, “Strychnine Dandelion” by The Parting Gifts is more orthodox, if no less spirited. When I alluded to this on a playlist blog a while back, I was justifiably reprimanded by one of the band for failing to mention her, so I should say this time that The Parting Gifts are a supergroup, of sorts, in this world, featuring as they do Coco Hames from The Ettes and Greg Cartwright from, among other things, The Reigning Sound, plus Patrick Keeler (Raconteurs, Greenhornes) and Dan Auerbach (Black Keys). A lot to go on here, but plenty here would work well on the last great Reigning Sound album, especially when Cartwright takes the lead and hits that twanging southern garage soul vibe on the likes of “Hanna” and “My Baby Tonight”. The Spectorish stuff fronted by Ames is nice, too, though, especially a take on “Sleepy City”, a great bit of Stones marginalia. The Fresh And Onlys’ “Play It Strange” is closer in vibe to Ty Segall, but there’s something janglier about them, a sense of West Coast classicism running through a bunch of these songs that makes the album worth filing near Darker My Love’s excellent “Alive As You Are” from earlier this year. Really nice, though somewhat in keeping with the band (and the scene they’re a part of) that they keep their best two 2010 songs, “Impending Doom” and “Double Vision” for an entirely separate seven-inch.