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Primal Scream – Beautiful Future

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Primal Scream – Beautiful Future

Received wisdom has it that there are two types of Primal Scream LP. There’s the joyously shameless cod blues boogie-down: whores whoring, dealers dealing (largely coke, you assume), lyrical clichés reassembled at random from Exile On Main Street, and a heroic attempt to will themselves into the rock’n’roll canon by sheer number of former Muscle Shoals players they can squeeze into the studio (see Primal Scream, Give Out But Don’t Give Up and 2006’s Riot City Blues). Then there’s the accidentally era-defining sonic epiphany, on which Primal Scream are galvanised by the presence of a mercurial outsider to transcend their obvious limitations, apparently in defiant response to the derision usually heaped upon them when they deliver the first type of LP (see Screamadelica and XTRMNTR). But there is a third type of Primal Scream album, often overlooked when constructing a convenient career graph of sublime-to-ridiculous flip-flopping, of which 1997’s Vanishing Point and 2002’s Evil Heat are examples, along with this latest effort, their ninth. Arguably, these transitional albums – buoyant, eclectic, groove-driven, liberally sprinkled with guest appearances and cover versions – give the truest indication of who Primal Scream really are. If there’s one characteristic that defines Primal Scream, it’s Bobby Gillespie’s unshakeable conviction, however contrary his decision-making. It’s hard to imagine, for instance, the grizzled garage-rock guerrilla hearing Peter, Bjorn & John’s “Young Folks” and thinking, ‘Those fey shuffling drums and whistling solos are exactly what we need on our next record!’ Yet after initiating the recording process in Chalk Farm, the band decamped to Bjorn Yttling’s Stockholm studio in an attempt to mainline some of that Swedish pop magic. At least it meant drummer Darrin Mooney got to play the same marimba Abba used on “Mamma Mia”, which he hammers with barely-suppressed glee throughout the title track. “Beautiful Future” is one of those boot-stomping, rabble-rousing anthems Primal Scream do so well, its ebullient mood only checked when you realise Bobby Gillespie is singing about “burning cars” and “naked bodies hanging from the trees”. You have to conclude he’s one of those people who’s only happy when it riots. Cheerful plagiarism has always been another Primal Scream trademark, the band correctly assuming that if they steal brazenly enough, and with sufficient gusto, they’ll usually be indulged. As ever, the clue is often in the title: the impressively slinky “Uptown” is indebted to Prince’s song of the same name, while “Zombie Man” bears more than a passing resemblance to “Robot Man” by ex-Beta Banders The Aliens. Who cares, though, really? The latter’s exhilarating gospel chorus, a throwback to “Movin’ On Up”, is a dizzy highlight. The motorik throb of returns on “Suicide Bomb” (Gillespie just couldn’t resist) and the virulent Josh Homme team-up “Viva”, although Primal Scream never forage quite as intensively as peers Spiritualized through the same set of influences. “I Love To Hurt (You Love To Be Hurt)” – featuring Lovefoxx from CSS – is an intriguing little confection but, as with Kate Moss on “Some Velvet Morning”, Gillespie has made the mistake of duetting with a female singer whose voice is even more flimsy and childlike than his own. As a result, they both vanish into a breathy void. He fares better with unlikely ally Linda Thompson on a gorgeous cover of Fleetwood Mac’s “Over & Over”. It’s the best thing here, which means it also serves to point up the comparative crudeness of some of the Scream’s own songwriting. is in many ways the ultimate Primal Scream album, a thumping, energetic regurgitation of all their usual influences that will sound terrific live. It’s too blunt, messy and reverent to be up there with their best, but you hope that it also serves a secondary function: to clear the decks for one last magnificent tilt at rock deification on album number ten. SAM RICHARDS

Received wisdom has it that there are two types of Primal Scream LP. There’s the joyously shameless cod blues boogie-down: whores whoring, dealers dealing (largely coke, you assume), lyrical clichés reassembled at random from Exile On Main Street, and a heroic attempt to will themselves into the rock’n’roll canon by sheer number of former Muscle Shoals players they can squeeze into the studio (see Primal Scream, Give Out But Don’t Give Up and 2006’s Riot City Blues).

Then there’s the accidentally era-defining sonic epiphany, on which Primal Scream are galvanised by the presence of a mercurial outsider to transcend their obvious limitations, apparently in defiant response to the derision usually heaped upon them when they deliver the first type of LP (see Screamadelica and XTRMNTR).

But there is a third type of Primal Scream album, often overlooked when constructing a convenient career graph of sublime-to-ridiculous flip-flopping, of which 1997’s Vanishing Point and 2002’s Evil Heat are examples, along with this latest effort, their ninth. Arguably, these transitional albums – buoyant, eclectic, groove-driven, liberally sprinkled with guest appearances and cover versions – give the truest indication of who Primal Scream really are.

If there’s one characteristic that defines Primal Scream, it’s Bobby Gillespie’s unshakeable conviction, however contrary his decision-making. It’s hard to imagine, for instance, the grizzled garage-rock guerrilla hearing Peter, Bjorn & John’s “Young Folks” and thinking, ‘Those fey shuffling drums and whistling solos are exactly what we need on our next record!’ Yet after initiating the recording process in Chalk Farm, the band decamped to Bjorn Yttling’s Stockholm studio in an attempt to mainline some of that Swedish pop magic.

At least it meant drummer Darrin Mooney got to play the same marimba Abba used on “Mamma Mia”, which he hammers with barely-suppressed glee throughout the title track. “Beautiful Future” is one of those boot-stomping, rabble-rousing anthems Primal Scream do so well, its ebullient mood only checked when you realise Bobby Gillespie is singing about “burning cars” and “naked bodies hanging from the trees”. You have to conclude he’s one of those people who’s only happy when it riots.

Cheerful plagiarism has always been another Primal Scream trademark, the band correctly assuming that if they steal brazenly enough, and with sufficient gusto, they’ll usually be indulged. As ever, the clue is often in the title: the impressively slinky “Uptown” is indebted to Prince’s song of the same name, while “Zombie Man” bears more than a passing resemblance to “Robot Man” by ex-Beta Banders The Aliens. Who cares, though, really? The latter’s exhilarating gospel chorus, a throwback to “Movin’ On Up”, is a dizzy highlight. The motorik throb of returns on “Suicide Bomb” (Gillespie just couldn’t resist) and the virulent Josh Homme team-up “Viva”, although Primal Scream never forage quite as intensively as peers Spiritualized through the same set of influences.

“I Love To Hurt (You Love To Be Hurt)” – featuring Lovefoxx from CSS – is an intriguing little confection but, as with Kate Moss on “Some Velvet Morning”, Gillespie has made the mistake of duetting with a female singer whose voice is even more flimsy and childlike than his own. As a result, they both vanish into a breathy void. He fares better with unlikely ally Linda Thompson on a gorgeous cover of Fleetwood Mac’s “Over & Over”. It’s the best thing here, which means it also serves to point up the comparative crudeness of some of the Scream’s own songwriting.

is in many ways the ultimate Primal Scream album, a thumping, energetic regurgitation of all their usual influences that will sound terrific live. It’s too blunt, messy and reverent to be up there with their best, but you hope that it also serves a secondary function: to clear the decks for one last magnificent tilt at rock deification on album number ten.

SAM RICHARDS

CSS – Donkey

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CSS – Donkey
CSS's 2006 debut magically managed to capture the deliriously ramshackle atmosphere of the Sao Paolo arty-party scene they emerged from. Two years of constant touring, countless festivals, a loss of a member (bassplayer Ira) and the addition of Gwen Stefani's producer, and something's gone awry. T...

CSS‘s 2006 debut magically managed to capture the deliriously ramshackle atmosphere of the Sao Paolo arty-party scene they emerged from. Two years of constant touring, countless festivals, a loss of a member (bassplayer Ira) and the addition of Gwen Stefani‘s producer, and something’s gone awry.

Throughout the whole nu-rave hoopla, the band always insisted they were essentially indie rock kids, which the Pixies twang of lead single “Rat Is Dead” confirms. The track is animated by a livid sense of vengeance, but elsewhere, on “Reggae All Night” and “Believe Achieve” the band sound oddly lifeless, going through the motions of fun. Only “I Fly” – a dream of taking insect wing to buzz around, stalking your lover – retains much of their old infectious insanity.

STEPHEN TROUSSÉ

U2 – Reissues – Boy / October / War

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U2 – Reissues – Boy / October / War

It's interesting, if Coldplay can be called interesting, that Coldplday have decided to put their fourth album in the balding hands of Brian Eno to make them somehow "important" and "daring". Because twenty five years ago, that's exactly what U2 did. Terrified of becoming another shrill, sloganeering band (and with also an eye on Mike Peters from The Alarm and his Bono-mullet), U2 dropped the reliable Steve Lillywhite and went weird, thus saving their career, conquering the world and making records that even students could like again. And was it ever the best decision they made in their lives. It has been 28 years since I last owned a copy of Boy, U2's debut album, and I have to say that I was shocked when I heard it again. At the time, U2 weren't the towering wobbly mass of irony, politics, guitars and cowboy hats that we know and don't love today. They were just another 1979 "new wave" band, unusual only in that they weren't on Factory or Zoo. In a John Peel world dominated by Manchester and Liverpool bands, U2 were the Dublin outsiders. Bono did great interviews, and climbed things. But that was all. In October of 1980, Boy slotted in easily next to Echo And The Bunnymen's Crocodiles, The Teardrop Explodes' Kilimanjaro, and even Joy Division's Unknown Pleasures. Certainly, it was a bit more rock than those albums (inspiring early U2 adopter Paul Morley to call them "rockist" and send us all off to buy Coati Mundi singles), and there was an odd eagerness about Bono's singing, as though he desperately wanted to be liked, but I liked it. Now, I am shocked at how bad it is. Lilywhite's production is stunningly thin, Bono's voice is awful, the lyrics are dismal, and only the singles - the Ian Curtis-obsessed “I Will Follow” and the great “Out Of Control” - stand up. The rest is awful prog noodling – “Shadows And Tall Trees”, “An Cat Dubh”, “The Electric Co.” - Jesus, the band come over as a second rate Scars. Extra tracks do improve things a little - the original Lilywhite mix of “I Will Follow” is way superior to the released single, it's nice to hear Martin Hannett's suitably bizarre production on the odd “11 O'Clock Tick Tock”, and closing bonus track “Cartoon World” is just comically bad. Worse was to follow. Under Paul McGuinness' superb management, U2 stopped pretending to be in the least cool - those leather pants! and that hair! - and Bono started climbing scaffolding, waving flags and all the other crap that marked him out as someone who wanted more from life than the occasional NME front cover. But their second album, October, showed that they didn't have enough songs to move on. While other bands progressed - the Bunnymen released the brilliant Heaven Up Here and Joy Division released Closer - all U2 had was October, arguably the worst album of the early part of their career. October introduced an unwaiting world to the band's religiosity with the single “Gloria”, whose Latin chorus added a new layer of po-facedness to Bono’s already po-ridden visage, while the album's other single, “Fire”, remains utterly unmemorable to this day. Album tracks like “Stranger In A Strange Land” and “With A Shout” remind the listener to bands of such bands as The Chameleons and Zerra 1, while “I Threw A Brick Through” are little more than showcases for The Edge's always over-used effects pedal. Meanwhile, rock (now an OK word) was moving on. Even Pete Wylie's Wah! Heat, whose early work had been full of massive Pete Townsend rock chords, had gone soulful. And U2 finally moved on, making the album that would essentially rescue their career. War, released in 1983, not only contained their first great song, the superb (still) “New Year's Day”, but also the song that would define their public image, “Sunday Bloody Sunday”. I certainly will never be able to empty mind of its idiot chorus and specifically a night at the Brixton Academy where a thousand sweating bozos sang "How long?/ How long must we sing this song?" until, presumably, dogs attacked them. The rest of the album - supported with a new focus and a real sense of determination forged from touring and not having to make October again - is variable. “Seconds” seems to be based on Stiff Little Fingers' version of Johnny Was, "40" has a lightness and strangeness that pointed the way to The Unforgettable Fire, and Red Light is just odd, like Bryan Adams trying to be the Gang Of Four. Despite being unlistenable in small doses, the overall effect of War, now, is oddly favourable, U2 coming out as what they truly were, an ambitious rock group that had eaten its way out of the carcass of late '70s new wave. Taken as individual albums, then, this early trio don't really stand up as well as, say, Coldplay's first three albums. But taken as the starting blocks for U2's world-dominant future (and along with their greatest early boost, the bombast of Live At Red Rocks), these albums show a band working out its gameplan - first John Peel rock, then serious Godliness, and finally, the world! - and working out who they were and who they would soon be. A short time later, they contacted Brian Eno. Better would to follow, and so, too, would worse. DAVID QUANTICK

It’s interesting, if Coldplay can be called interesting, that Coldplday have decided to put their fourth album in the balding hands of Brian Eno to make them somehow “important” and “daring”. Because twenty five years ago, that’s exactly what U2 did. Terrified of becoming another shrill, sloganeering band (and with also an eye on Mike Peters from The Alarm and his Bono-mullet), U2 dropped the reliable Steve Lillywhite and went weird, thus saving their career, conquering the world and making records that even students could like again.

And was it ever the best decision they made in their lives. It has been 28 years since I last owned a copy of Boy, U2’s debut album, and I have to say that I was shocked when I heard it again. At the time, U2 weren’t the towering wobbly mass of irony, politics, guitars and cowboy hats that we know and don’t love today. They were just another 1979 “new wave” band, unusual only in that they weren’t on Factory or Zoo. In a John Peel world dominated by Manchester and Liverpool bands, U2 were the Dublin outsiders. Bono did great interviews, and climbed things. But that was all. In October of 1980, Boy slotted in easily next to Echo And The Bunnymen‘s Crocodiles, The Teardrop Explodes‘ Kilimanjaro, and even Joy Division‘s Unknown Pleasures. Certainly, it was a bit more rock than those albums (inspiring early U2 adopter Paul Morley to call them “rockist” and send us all off to buy Coati Mundi singles), and there was an odd eagerness about Bono’s singing, as though he desperately wanted to be liked, but I liked it.

Now, I am shocked at how bad it is. Lilywhite’s production is stunningly thin, Bono’s voice is awful, the lyrics are dismal, and only the singles – the Ian Curtis-obsessed “I Will Follow” and the great “Out Of Control” – stand up. The rest is awful prog noodling – “Shadows And Tall Trees”, “An Cat Dubh”, “The Electric Co.” – Jesus, the band come over as a second rate Scars. Extra tracks do improve things a little – the original Lilywhite mix of “I Will Follow” is way superior to the released single, it’s nice to hear Martin Hannett‘s suitably bizarre production on the odd “11 O’Clock Tick Tock”, and closing bonus track “Cartoon World” is just comically bad.

Worse was to follow. Under Paul McGuinness‘ superb management, U2 stopped pretending to be in the least cool – those leather pants! and that hair! – and Bono started climbing scaffolding, waving flags and all the other crap that marked him out as someone who wanted more from life than the occasional NME front cover. But their second album, October, showed that they didn’t have enough songs to move on. While other bands progressed – the Bunnymen released the brilliant Heaven Up Here and Joy Division released Closer – all U2 had was October, arguably the worst album of the early part of their career.

October introduced an unwaiting world to the band’s religiosity with the single “Gloria”, whose Latin chorus added a new layer of po-facedness to Bono’s already po-ridden visage, while the album’s other single, “Fire”, remains utterly unmemorable to this day. Album tracks like “Stranger In A Strange Land” and “With A Shout” remind the listener to bands of such bands as The Chameleons and Zerra 1, while “I Threw A Brick Through” are little more than showcases for The Edge’s always over-used effects pedal.

Meanwhile, rock (now an OK word) was moving on. Even Pete Wylie‘s Wah! Heat, whose early work had been full of massive Pete Townsend rock chords, had gone soulful. And U2 finally moved on, making the album that would essentially rescue their career. War, released in 1983, not only contained their first great song, the superb (still) “New Year’s Day”, but also the song that would define their public image, “Sunday Bloody Sunday”. I certainly will never be able to empty mind of its idiot chorus and specifically a night at the Brixton Academy where a thousand sweating bozos sang “How long?/ How long must we sing this song?” until, presumably, dogs attacked them.

The rest of the album – supported with a new focus and a real sense of determination forged from touring and not having to make October again – is variable. “Seconds” seems to be based on Stiff Little Fingers’ version of Johnny Was, “40” has a lightness and strangeness that pointed the way to The Unforgettable Fire, and Red Light is just odd, like Bryan Adams trying to be the Gang Of Four. Despite being unlistenable in small doses, the overall effect of War, now, is oddly favourable, U2 coming out as what they truly were, an ambitious rock group that had eaten its way out of the carcass of late ’70s new wave.

Taken as individual albums, then, this early trio don’t really stand up as well as, say, Coldplay’s first three albums. But taken as the starting blocks for U2’s world-dominant future (and along with their greatest early boost, the bombast of Live At Red Rocks), these albums show a band working out its gameplan – first John Peel rock, then serious Godliness, and finally, the world! – and working out who they were and who they would soon be. A short time later, they contacted Brian Eno. Better would to follow, and so, too, would worse.

DAVID QUANTICK

Walter Becker – Circus Money

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Walter Becker – Circus Money

On the heels of Donald Fagen’s Nightfly Trilogy boxset, comes this from Walter Becker – Steely Dan’s less visible, but still major dude. Circus Money is instantly familiar. Rooted in the same human comedy that has long beguiled Dan fans, lyrically it’s sardonic, while producer/co-writer Larry Klein deftly massages the soundscapes. Lacking Fagen’s emphatic vocal presence and crisp elocution, Becker instead delivers his richly detailed lyrics about New York nostalgia (“Downtown Canon”) and Hollywood hustling (“Three Picture Deal”) with conversational charm, buoyed by female chorales. As always, the delights are in the details: the Jamaican-inspired grooves of Becker and Steely Dan 2.0 drummer Keith Carlock, Dan guitar ace Dean Parks’ tasty picking , and Chris Hooper’s uptown tenor sax solos throughout. The record disappears as background music, but it comes alive at rock volume. BUD SCOPPA

On the heels of Donald Fagen’s Nightfly Trilogy boxset, comes this from Walter Becker – Steely Dan’s less visible, but still major dude. Circus Money is instantly familiar. Rooted in the same human comedy that has long beguiled Dan fans, lyrically it’s sardonic, while producer/co-writer Larry Klein deftly massages the soundscapes.

Lacking Fagen’s emphatic vocal presence and crisp elocution, Becker instead delivers his richly detailed lyrics about New York nostalgia (“Downtown Canon”) and Hollywood hustling (“Three Picture Deal”) with conversational charm, buoyed by female chorales. As always, the delights are in the details: the Jamaican-inspired grooves of Becker and Steely Dan 2.0 drummer Keith Carlock, Dan guitar ace Dean Parks’ tasty picking , and Chris Hooper’s uptown tenor sax solos throughout. The record disappears as background music, but it comes alive at rock volume.

BUD SCOPPA

Oasis Reveal Seventh Album Tracklisting

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Oasis Reveal Seventh Album Tracklisting
Oasis have revealed the tracklisting for their forthcoming new studio album Dig Out Your Soul, which is not due for release until October 6. The band's seventh long player is their first since 2005's Don't Believe The Truth and will be released worldwide through their own label, Big Brother. The fi...

Oasis have revealed the tracklisting for their forthcoming new studio album Dig Out Your Soul, which is not due for release until October 6.

The band’s seventh long player is their first since 2005’s Don’t Believe The Truth and will be released worldwide through their own label, Big Brother. The first time they have self released globally.

Dig Out Your Soul features eleven tracks, produced by Dave Sardy, who was also at the helm for the band’s last release.

Speaking on the Oasis website, Noel Gallagher, the group’s chief songwriter says about the new songs: “I wanted to write music that had a groove; not songs that followed that traditional pattern of verse, chorus and middle eight. I wanted a sound that was more hypnotic; more driving. Songs that would draw you in, in a different way. Songs that you would maybe have to connect to – to feel.”

The first new single to be released from the forthcoming album will be entitled “The Shock Of The Lightning”, on September 29.

The full Dig Out Your Soul tracklisting is:

‘Bag It Up’

‘The Turning’

‘Waiting For The Rapture’

‘The Shock Of The Lightning’

‘I’m Outta Time’

‘(Get Off Your) High Horse Lady’

‘Falling Down’

‘To Be Where There’s Life’

‘Ain’t Got Nothin”

‘The Nature Of Reality’

‘Soldier On’

White Denim – Club Uncut, July 14, 2008

John Mulvey
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I got into the office this morning and found that someone had left a message on the White Denim album blogI posted a while back. “I saw White Denim tonight, it read. “I just wasn't expecting the various angles and paces that would be involved. They were fookin’ superb.” Full review at Wild Mercury Sound, folks.

I got into the office this morning and found that someone had left a message on the White Denim album blogI posted a while back. “I saw White Denim tonight, it read. “I just wasn’t expecting the various angles and paces that would be involved. They were fookin’ superb.”

Continue

White Denim – Club Uncut, July 14, 2008

John Mulvey
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0

I got into the office this morning and found that someone had left a message on the White Denim album blogI posted a while back. “I saw White Denim tonight, it read. “I just wasn't expecting the various angles and paces that would be involved. They were fookin’ superb.” And goodness, they were. Much as I approve of “Workout Holiday”, I wasn’t expecting them to be quite such an amazing band live either – especially since I’d only just seen the reliably marvellous Hold Steady down the road at the HMV store. But this was my favourite Club Uncut thus far, a riot of fearsome garage freak-out virtuosity. White Denim, it has to be said, are an A&R drone’s worst nightmare: a band who write great, catchy rock songs, then do everything in their power to obscure them. They begin with the archetypally snappy “All You Really Have To Do”, though this isn’t really apparent until they’ve been playing a high-energy prog-punk intro for the best part of five minutes. This, it transpires, is what White Denim do. For about 45 minutes, they hurtle almost unabated through a series of exhilarating jams. There are thunderous breaks, spindly Hendrix solos, sputtering fusion passages driven by the child bassist, the odd dub zone, fractious psychedelia, hollering soul-punk and, somewhere in there, awesome little songs. It’s an explosion of joy, more or less, typified by James Petralli’s gleaming eyes and transported grin as he sings – in a voice, incidentally, with much more lusty power than you’d imagine from listening to his records. Most often, he sounds like Rob Tyner, and The MC5’s manic, rampaging ambition is probably the most obvious influence on all this – the sense that garage rock can incorporate jazz and anything else it likes without losing any of its incendiary power. The MC5 thing is most noticeable when “All You Really Have To Do” suddenly transforms into “Mess Your Hair Up”. We keep thinking, too, of The Minutemen, and their understanding that, far from being a reductive punch, punk rock can hold all these ideas in its skinny frame. Or maybe it was that bassist, Steve Terebecki, and his plaid shirt that reminded us of Mike Watt. Best of all, I reckon White Denim might just be one of those bands that you’d never exhaust of seeing, because you’d never be able to accurately predict which circuitous and thrilling route they were going to take to their songs. Great night; next month is going to be pretty special, too. But I can’t talk about that right now. . .

I got into the office this morning and found that someone had left a message on the White Denim album blogI posted a while back. “I saw White Denim tonight, it read. “I just wasn’t expecting the various angles and paces that would be involved. They were fookin’ superb.”

Continue

The Hold Steady – HMV Oxford Street, July 14, 2008

John Mulvey
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0

There’s a line in The Hold Steady’s “Slapped Actress” that seems more apposite than ever right now. It’s the point where Craig Finn sings, “Some nights it’s entertainment and some other nights it’s just work,” though this afternoon, some might say significantly, he doesn’t actually sing the word “work”. We are watching the Hold Steady play in the sort of environment that, surely, must test even their unquenchable faith in the redemptive power of rock’n’roll and so on. The full review is over at Wild Mercury Sound.

There’s a line in The Hold Steady’s “Slapped Actress” that seems more apposite than ever right now. It’s the point where Craig Finn sings, “Some nights it’s entertainment and some other nights it’s just work,” though this afternoon, some might say significantly, he doesn’t actually sing the word “work”. We are watching the Hold Steady play in the sort of environment that, surely, must test even their unquenchable faith in the redemptive power of rock’n’roll and so on.

Continue

The Hold Steady – HMV Oxford Street, July 14, 2008

John Mulvey
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0

There’s a line in The Hold Steady’s “Slapped Actress” that seems more apposite than ever right now. It’s the point where Craig Finn sings, “Some nights it’s entertainment and some other nights it’s just work,” though this afternoon, some might say significantly, he doesn’t actually sing the word “work”. We are watching the Hold Steady play in the sort of environment that, surely, must test even their unquenchable faith in the redemptive power of rock’n’roll and so on. The band are tucked into the back of the HMV store on Oxford Street, sweating beneath the striplights. I’m a couple of rows from the front, just next to the Byrds and Butthole Surfers racks. This really must be the sort of gig where Finn and his bandmates go through the motions, isn’t it? I mean, even their positive jams can only go so far? That’s what I thought at the start, anyway. Thirty-five minutes later, The Hold Steady finish with the choral bellows of “Slapped Actress”, and it’s plain, yet again, that these unprepossessing men can make a cherishable rock’n’roll happening in the unlikeliest places. “Stay Positive” was released this morning, and so the setlist is entirely made up of new songs: “Constructive Summer”, “Sequestered In Memphis”, “One For The Cutters”, “Cheyenne Sunrise”, “Magazines”, “Lord I’m Discouraged”, “Stay Positive” and “Slapped Actress”. “Cheyenne Sunrise” appears to be a bonus track on the finished copies of the album, and is a sweetly hammy country soul vamp – a Muscle Shoals pastiche, really – in which Craig Finn makes explicit – possibly too explicit – the themes of ageing which undercut the whole album. There are tidyish new haircuts for the new season of touring, and some new bits of kit, too: “Lord I’m Discouraged” sees Franz Nicolai brandishing an accordion, and Tad Kubler grappling, with a staunch absence of irony, with a doubleneck guitar. As he wades into his big solo at the song’s climax, Finn is dancing and clapping in front of him, even more delighted than ever at the bold, ageless music has band can create. Finn, actually, seems to mainly use his own guitar as a means of restraint – to stop him cavorting around the stage – rather than a musical instrument. He has, of course, other things to concentrate on, though he does allude to a crack in his reputation as a great lyricist when he describes the borderline misogynist “Magazines” as his girlfriend’s least favourite Hold Steady song. Best here, I think, are those chundering new anthems, “Constructive Summer” and “Stay Positive”, which reveal their hardcore roots more openly when played live. And “Slapped Actress”, an epiphany about the artifice, passion and extraordinary business of being in a rock’n’roll band whose emotional heft seems to perversely grow in such theoretically sterile surrounds. A full gig would’ve been nice, of course. But we had Club Uncut and the incredible White Denim to deal with, anyway. . .

There’s a line in The Hold Steady’s “Slapped Actress” that seems more apposite than ever right now. It’s the point where Craig Finn sings, “Some nights it’s entertainment and some other nights it’s just work,” though this afternoon, some might say significantly, he doesn’t actually sing the word “work”. We are watching the Hold Steady play in the sort of environment that, surely, must test even their unquenchable faith in the redemptive power of rock’n’roll and so on.

Continue

Former Babyshambles Guitarist Returns As Big Dave

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The night before Pete Doherty plays a sold-out solo concert in the plush splendour of the Royal Albert Hall, we find his former Babyshambles bandmate, guitarist Patrick Walden, getting ready for a gig with his new band, Big Dave, in a small tacky room above a bar called Catch 22 in Shoreditch. There can’t be more than 100 people here, if there are in fact that many. This is probably just as well - the premises would otherwise be a place of grim and uncomfortable confinement with too many bodies and too little space to move, breathing a problem in the crush, long waits for drinks at the bar, that kind of thing. It’s just over two years now since Pat finally quit Babyshambles, at which point in his life he was probably not looking at getting much older if he had stayed, so fucked-up by then had he become. You look back at pictures of him then and it’s frightening, frankly - Pat not much more than a hollow-eyed skeleton, who at times managed what many would now think impossible by making Pete look a picture of robust and carefree health, Pat hooked on God knows what, someone who if he hadn’t quit when he did might have very soon ended up on someone’s floor, turning blue, the life drifting out of him. Things at first went from bad to possibly worse, a brief, involuntary stay in Pentonville, followed by a lengthy period of recovery, which you have to be glad to report has left him in good health and now back playing live on an increasingly regular basis with Big Dave, a trio in which he is joined by big-haired drummer Seb Rochford and bassist Ruth Goller, the rhythm section from Acoustic Ladyland. It’s fair to say, as I probably have before, that Babyshambles are not the same without Walden – he brought to them a wild unpredictability, in more ways than one – and as much as I still like it, I guess the principal reason I don’t play Shotters Nation as much as Down In Albion is because Pat’s not on it. He’s all over DIA, of course, often majestically, and co-wrote with Pete most of its best songs – including “Fuck Forever”, “Pipedown”, “8 Dead Boys” and the awesome “Up The Morning”, the avalanche of noise he wrings from his guitar as that track reaches its incendiary climax finding an echo in some of the things Big Dave play tonight. A couple of months ago, I was given a DVD of one of Big Dave’s early shows, somewhere in north-east London, out towards Walthamstow or somewhere, I think. My first impression was that the band had simply turned up, plugged in and started jamming, not always with a unified purpose. It all seemed a bit too pointlessly freeform, a noisy unravelling, Pat with his back to the audience – or what there was of one – scrabbling away at his guitar while Rochford thundered somewhat fussily on drums. Tonight, there’s a lot of what I think at one point Pat describes as “punk jazz”, which occasionally means a lot of abrasive time signatures and jolting tunes, but it’s much less meandering than I might have expected and at its most fiercely intense sometimes reminiscent of the Endless Boogie album John’s recently been playing a lot in the office. Things benefit greatly from Rochford’s less elaborate drumming and become very exciting indeed when he locks into tumbling repetition, providing a relentless rhythm bass over which Walden solos with increasingly gripping urgency, his playing by turns violent and lyrical, tender then brutal. I don’t know any of the songs they play, but there are hints and echoes here and also there on some of the longer instrumentals of the Hendrix of Electric Ladyland, and one thing they do has the lovely melodic feel of something like “Little Wing”. Elsewhere, I’m reminded more than once of Syd-era Pink Floyd and wouldn’t have been surprised if at one point they’d soared off into a version of “Interstellar Overdrive”. There are even a couple of what you might call pop songs in the mix, sung diffidently but affectingly enough. This is still early days for the band, but there’s an album being recorded with more dates to follow. Keep an eye on this space for more about them.

The night before Pete Doherty plays a sold-out solo concert in the plush splendour of the Royal Albert Hall, we find his former Babyshambles bandmate, guitarist Patrick Walden, getting ready for a gig with his new band, Big Dave, in a small tacky room above a bar called Catch 22 in Shoreditch.

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The Levellers To Launch New Album With Gig For Charity

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The Levellers To Launch New Album With Gig For Charity
The Levellers have just announced that they are to play their most intimate show in years, combining their new album launch with raising money for The Big Issue. Playing at Camden's Proud Gallery on July 22, the group will preview tracks from their forthcoming new album Letters From The Underground...

The Levellers have just announced that they are to play their most intimate show in years, combining their new album launch with raising money for The Big Issue.

Playing at Camden’s Proud Gallery on July 22, the group will preview tracks from their forthcoming new album Letters From The Underground, which is set for release on August 11.

Tickets for the intimate show, limited to just 300 are on sale now, the show’s excclusivity contrasting the group’s own Beautiful Days Festival with a 15,000 capacity audience which has just sold out.

Levellers band members will also be DJ-ing at the Big Issue supporting gig after show party at the same venue.

Tickets are available from www.gigantic.com or by calling 0115 959 7908.

Win! Sex Pistols Live DVDS!

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Win! Sex Pistols Live DVDS!

A new DVD of the Sex Pistols’ 30th anniversary gigs at Brixton Academy has just been released, and www.uncut.co.uk has FIVE copies to giveaway! Filmed over their five sell-out shows in London last November, “The Sex Pistols –There Will Always Be an England” is the only official concert-length DVD to have ever been endorsed by the band. The eighty-minute film is directed by Julien Temple, famed for his insightful music documentaries “The Filth and the Fury”, “Glastonbury” and “The Great Rock and Roll Swindle”. Bonus features include a film entitled The Knowledge - the Pistols’ alternative guide to London in which Johnny Rotten, Steve Jones, Paul Cook and Glen Matlock is filmed revisiting their old haunts. You can read the Uncut DVD review by clicking here. For your chance to win a copy of “The Sex Pistols –There Will Always Be an England”, simply log in by clicking here and answering the simple question. Comp closes on Friday August 1.

A new DVD of the Sex Pistols’ 30th anniversary gigs at Brixton Academy has just been released, and www.uncut.co.uk has FIVE copies to giveaway!

Filmed over their five sell-out shows in London last November, “The Sex Pistols –There Will Always Be an England” is the only official concert-length DVD to have ever been endorsed by the band.

The eighty-minute film is directed by Julien Temple, famed for his insightful music documentaries “The Filth and the Fury”, “Glastonbury” and “The Great Rock and Roll Swindle”.

Bonus features include a film entitled The Knowledge – the Pistols’ alternative guide to London in which Johnny Rotten, Steve Jones, Paul Cook and Glen Matlock is filmed revisiting their old haunts.

You can read the Uncut DVD review by clicking here.

For your chance to win a copy of “The Sex Pistols –There Will Always Be an England”, simply log in by clicking here and answering the simple question.

Comp closes on Friday August 1.

CUT of the Day: Neil Young Covers The Beatles

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CUT of the Day: Neil Young Covers The Beatles

Cut of the day: Monday July 14, 2008. Still reeling from the majesty that was Neil Young headlining the Hop Farm Festival last week, a youTube clip taken from Spanish TV of the guitar genius performing the same cover of The Beatles "Day In The Life" that he closed the Kent show with, has surfaced online. You can watch the wondrous seven minute video below. Meanwhile, let us know what you thought of the Day at Hop Farm, by joining the commentators on our review by clicking here. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R1MKkr2IUkc&hl=en&fs=1 If you have any trouble viewing the embedded Neil Young video above, please click here. Pic credit: PA Photos

Cut of the day: Monday July 14, 2008.

Still reeling from the majesty that was Neil Young headlining the Hop Farm Festival last week, a youTube clip taken from Spanish TV of the guitar genius performing the same cover of The Beatles “Day In The Life” that he closed the Kent show with, has surfaced online.

You can watch the wondrous seven minute video below.

Meanwhile, let us know what you thought of the Day at Hop Farm, by joining the commentators on our review by clicking here.

If you have any trouble viewing the embedded Neil Young video above, please click here.

Pic credit: PA Photos

Sic Alps: “US EZ”

John Mulvey
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I got a great email the other week from Jon Dale, Uncut’s man in Australia and one of our most diligent hunters of the esoteric. Our subsequent correspondence turned into a bit of a squabble about cassette tapes, of all things: Jon is a fan, as you can see from his excellent blog; I think there’s something rather elitist about disseminating new music on a virtually obsolete format. But I have to let that one go. What Jon was writing to me about was something he called the “new wave of American lo-fi”, which he suggested managed to incorporate DIY pop, Mary Chain-style noise, ‘60s psych, bits of improv and so on. He went on to list a bunch of bands that were part of this doubtless self-denying scene, most of whom I must admit I’d never heard of: Eat Skull, The Hospitals, Little Claw, Tyvek, TV Ghost, The Blank Dogs, Psychedelic Horseshit, Ex-Cocaine and more. Jon made the whole thing sound tremendously exciting, a kind of frantically unevolved underground relative of the free folk scene. I guess the one band who have blazed a trail for this into the indie mainstream are Times New Viking, who prompted a few mag pieces as the pioneers of, um, “shitgaze” a few months ago. But the bunch who Jon was most excited about were Sic Alps and, now I’ve heard their forthcoming album, “US EZ”, I can see his point. As far as I can work out, Sic Alps are a duo from San Francisco, and according to the press release from Siltbreeze, this fourth album is “the virtual brick of Berlin/Big Sur hash we’ve all been waiting for. Well, yeah. More prosaically, “US EZ” sounds like a garage rock band who vacillate stylishly between not giving a damn about audio fidelity and aestheticising the fuzz, and one who are really attuned to an idea of psychedelia that can be at once vague and crunchy. Of the reference points that Jon gave me, the one that seems most salient to me is Guided By Voices; specifically, I reckon, that early ‘90s phase that produced “Propeller” and “Vampire On Titus”. You can hear it most pronouncedly on the muffled beat-group clatter of “Mater”, which echoes Robert Pollard’s most primitive Who fantasies. “Massive Place” is a distorted second-cousin to the Black Lips’ brat garage, and once or twice, Sic Alps slope into a disintegrating noise jam. Mostly, though, they’re surprisingly stealthy. Some of the stumbling beats, artfully dazed playing, and general self-aware dissolution might be a turn-off for a few of you. But the songs are great, and the treatments are genuinely bracing and charming. I’m reminded of Julian Cope in his bedroom freak/whimsy mode (“Skellington”, “Droolian” I suppose), and not just because the title of “Gelly Roll Gum Drop” calls to mind “Jellypop Perky Jean”. I also, repeatedly, think of Skip Spence’s “Oar” when I play “US EZ”, especially on “CO/CA”, “Sing Song Waitress” and “Everywhere, There”. The fragmentary vibes might be self-conscious rather than psychologically inevitable, but there’s no need to suffer for your art when you can make a record as twisted, fun, as entertainingly wrecked as this one. Let’s hope Jon’s other tips are as good. . . Oh yeah, it seems you can check out some Sic Alps stuff at their website. Let me know what you think.

I got a great email the other week from Jon Dale, Uncut’s man in Australia and one of our most diligent hunters of the esoteric. Our subsequent correspondence turned into a bit of a squabble about cassette tapes, of all things: Jon is a fan, as you can see from his excellent blog; I think there’s something rather elitist about disseminating new music on a virtually obsolete format. But I have to let that one go.

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Fifth Beatle Gets Lifetime Grammy Award

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Fifth Beatle Gets Lifetime Grammy Award

British music legend Sir George Martin, most famous for his work as composer, arranger and producer of all of The Beatles' original records has been honoured with a 'lifetime' Grammy honour in Los Angeles this weekend (July 12). Martin, pictured above, recieved his career honour at the Annual Grammy Foundation 'Starry Night' charity gala dedicated to him from The Recording Academy's president Neil Portnow. The gala concluded with a concert with performances from singers Tom Jones, Burt Bacharach and Jeff Beck amongst others, covering popular songs from Martin's career. John Lennon's widow Yoko Ono and George Harrison's widow Olivia also attended the concert, and to their late husbands, Martin made tribute. Martin said as he collected his award: "Paul and Ringo can't be here, because they're doing their own tour. They're workaholics. I can't understand why, but they are. He added: "I miss a lot of people. I miss so many people who have died on me. God knows I'm old enough. But younger people have left the scene, and I miss them, as you do. Great people; John and George particularly." For more on George Harrison, see the latest edition (August) edition of Uncut magazine, on sale now. Pic credits: PA Photos

British music legend Sir George Martin, most famous for his work as composer, arranger and producer of all of The Beatles‘ original records has been honoured with a ‘lifetime’ Grammy honour in Los Angeles this weekend (July 12).

Martin, pictured above, recieved his career honour at the Annual Grammy Foundation ‘Starry Night’ charity gala dedicated to him from The Recording Academy’s president Neil Portnow.

The gala concluded with a concert with performances from singers Tom Jones, Burt Bacharach and Jeff Beck amongst others, covering popular songs from Martin’s career.

John Lennon‘s widow Yoko Ono and George Harrison‘s widow Olivia also attended the concert, and to their late husbands, Martin made tribute.

Martin said as he collected his award: “Paul and Ringo can’t be here, because they’re doing their own tour. They’re workaholics. I can’t understand why, but they are.

He added: “I miss a lot of people. I miss so many people who have died on me. God knows I’m old enough. But younger people have left the scene, and I miss them, as you do. Great people; John and George particularly.”

For more on George Harrison, see the latest edition (August) edition of Uncut magazine, on sale now.

Pic credits: PA Photos

Latitude Festival: Just Four Days To Go!

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Latitude Festival: Just Four Days To Go!

The third annual LATITUDE FESTIVAL is set to kick off in just four days time, on July 17, and www.uncut.co.uk are starting to get our camping gear together and testing our Wi-Fi connectivity - so that we'll be able to bring you blow-by-blog reports direct from Henham Park, Suffolk. If you're coming to what will be the music and arts event of the Summer -make sure you check out our recommended artists and performer's Countdown Previews - where we are attempting to forecast some of the expected highlights for the forthcoming weekend! Talking of forecasts - according to the BBC's five-day forecast for Halesworth - temperatures remain warm, but with light showers up until Friday... so pack a cagoule and wellies... but hopefully, as was the case last year, there will be no, actual, mud. From Obelisk mainstage headlining acts Franz Ferdinand, Sigur Ros and Interpol via acts such as Blondie, Amadou & Mariam and Martha Wainwright on the Uncut Arena stage to newer bands such as Crystal Castles and Black Lips - there are sure to be several musical treats across the numerous stages. Don't forget there are also several top notch comedians coming to raise the canvas roof with laughter, including Mark Thomas, Bill Bailey and annecdotal poet Simon Armitage. Plus Radio 4 will be broadcasting live from Henham Park, including a festival edition of classic programme Just A Minute. Stay up to date with all that will be occuring at Latitude - pre-festival, at the festival, and post-festival. Everything. We'll be reporting at www.uncut.co.uk throughout and then collating YOUR views and reviews when you get back! Stay tuned to UNCUT's dedicated LATITUDE Blog by clicking here or through our homepage www.uncut.co.uk.

The third annual LATITUDE FESTIVAL is set to kick off in just four days time, on July 17, and www.uncut.co.uk are starting to get our camping gear together and testing our Wi-Fi connectivity – so that we’ll be able to bring you blow-by-blog reports direct from Henham Park, Suffolk.

If you’re coming to what will be the music and arts event of the Summer -make sure you check out our recommended artists and performer’s Countdown Previews – where we are attempting to forecast some of the expected highlights for the forthcoming weekend!

Talking of forecasts – according to the BBC’s five-day forecast for Halesworth – temperatures remain warm, but with light showers up until Friday… so pack a cagoule and wellies… but hopefully, as was the case last year, there will be no, actual, mud.

From Obelisk mainstage headlining acts Franz Ferdinand, Sigur Ros and Interpol via acts such as Blondie, Amadou & Mariam and Martha Wainwright on the Uncut Arena stage to newer bands such as Crystal Castles and Black Lips – there are sure to be several musical treats across the numerous stages.

Don’t forget there are also several top notch comedians coming to raise the canvas roof with laughter, including Mark Thomas, Bill Bailey and annecdotal poet Simon Armitage.

Plus Radio 4 will be broadcasting live from Henham Park, including a festival edition of classic programme Just A Minute.

Stay up to date with all that will be occuring at Latitude – pre-festival, at the festival, and post-festival. Everything. We’ll be reporting at www.uncut.co.uk throughout and then collating YOUR views and reviews when you get back!

Stay tuned to UNCUT’s dedicated LATITUDE Blog by clicking here or through our homepage www.uncut.co.uk.

Countdown To Latitude: Crystal Castles

John Mulvey
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I was writing a headline for a piece on Crystal Castles in the current issue of Uncut and, after reading the feature a few times, ended up with this: “Scars. Skulls. Disease. Videogame blips. From Canada!” In retrospect, I’m not entirely convinced it was the best way to sell the provocative charms of this tremendously hip Toronto duo. Nevertheless, it sums up fairly accurately their schtick: a great skree of attitudinal electronic noise, cut through with nagging melodies and punctuated by the faintly gothic poetry of Alice Glass. At this point, you might conceivably be horrified by the whole concept. But Crystal Castles are actually an invigorating bunch who deserve the attention of an audience way beyond the Hoxton militia. . . The sort of audience, in fact, that they should draw to the sylvan Sunrise Arena at Latitude, where they’ll be headlining on the opening night. It could just be one of the surprise hits of the whole festival. . .

I was writing a headline for a piece on Crystal Castles in the current issue of Uncut and, after reading the feature a few times, ended up with this: “Scars. Skulls. Disease. Videogame blips. From Canada!”

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Countdown To Latitude: Blondie

John Mulvey
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Once again, it’s worth listening to the estimable opinions of Guy Garvey from Elbow who, you’ll remember, previews the Latitude festival in the current issue of Uncut. “Blondie’s my going-out music,” says Guy. “I don’t go to clubs very much, but if I decide I’m going out I put on a bit of Blondie first. I know it’s hard to picture, but I can cut a rug if I need to. I put ‘Atomic’ on every time.” I can’t help thinking he isn’t alone in having such simple pleasures. When Debbie Harry, Chris Stein and the current battalion of Blondie-blokes step into the Uncut Arena on the Sunday night of Latitude (just before Tindersticks, if you’re a fan of appealingly weird juxtapositions), chances are they’ll receive one of the most ecstatic receptions of the weekend. For here, after all, is a band who make delirious pop music that’s not anathema to ‘serious’ rock fans. Who have a singer who truly deserves that overused epithet, ‘iconic’, in spite of being a surreally bad dancer. Having seen them at Lovebox last year, there are a few incongruous solos, but they remain pretty great fun. Perfect for the last night of Britain’s best festival, really.

Once again, it’s worth listening to the estimable opinions of Guy Garvey from Elbow who, you’ll remember, previews the Latitude festival in the current issue of Uncut. “Blondie’s my going-out music,” says Guy. “I don’t go to clubs very much, but if I decide I’m going out I put on a bit of Blondie first. I know it’s hard to picture, but I can cut a rug if I need to. I put ‘Atomic’ on every time.”

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New Acts Join Iggy At Get Loaded

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New Acts Join Iggy At Get Loaded
Midnight Juggernauts, Wiley and Kid Harpoon have been added to the lineup for Get Loaded In The Park. The festival, which will be headlined by Iggy & The Stooges in their only festival appearance of the summer, takes place at August 24 on Clapham Common. Also playing is Gogol Bordello, The Go...

Midnight Juggernauts, Wiley and Kid Harpoon have been added to the lineup for Get Loaded In The Park.

The festival, which will be headlined by Iggy & The Stooges in their only festival appearance of the summer, takes place at August 24 on Clapham Common.

Also playing is Gogol Bordello, The Gossip, The Hives and Supergrass.

For more information see www.getloadedinthepark.com and www.myspace.com/getloadedinthepark

Uncut has two pairs of tickets to give away for the festival. For a chance to win just click here, login and answer the question!

CSNY: DÉJÀ VU

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CSNY: DÉJÀ VU

Directed by: Bernard Shakey |Starring: David Crosby, Stephen Stills, Graham Nash, Neil Young In the ’60s and ’70s, Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young sang and played in protest against a misbegotten war in a South-East Asian jungle. Nearly four decades later, they did the same about a misbegotten war in a Middle-Eastern desert. Déjà Vu, directed by Neil Young under his nom-de-cinéma Bernard Shakey, sets out its stall as a chronicle of CSNY’s 2006 Freedom Of Speech tour, but builds into something much more, and much more important. CSNY, now a mainstream heritage rock act and an enduring touchstone of the counter-culture, find themselves stranded between the dug-in rival trenches of American conservatism and liberalism. Narrated by ABC correspondent Mike Cerre, whose previous embeds include riding with Marines in Operation Iraqi Freedom, the unflinching Déjà Vu is a fascinating portrait of a fractious country. Young’s central anti-Iraq war point is as direct as his songs from Living With War. But he balances matters with room for dissent – including from Stephen Stills, who dismisses much of the tour as “a political cartoon” – and humour (bad reviews are sportingly recited along with the good). The most memorable scene is of CSNY unleashing “Let’s Impeach The President” upon Atlanta’s divided crowd, complete with boos and walk-outs. As the film proceeds, focus shifts away from CSNY and towards the veterans with whom Young has become involved, and who he treats with a humility that more bellicose anti-war campaigners could learn much from. It’s hard to imagine a more convincingly damning indictment of America’s Mesopotamian misadventure – Afghanistan, quite properly, is not mentioned – than the one propounded by these articulate, thoughtful people, who’ve earned their understanding the hard way. Despite the title, and despite jump-cuts from Iraq now to Vietnam then, from the greying CSNY to their slimmer, younger selves, Déjà Vu is, like Young’s career as a whole, an act of optimism. It’s a distinguishing feature of the American experiment that its sternest critics are those upset by the country’s failures to embody its own founding ideals. The Stars And Stripes hoisted on CSNY’s backdrop is not an ironic gesture. Nor is the song that closes both Living With War and Déjà Vu: a soaring, choral “America The Beautiful”. ANDREW MUELLER

Directed by: Bernard Shakey |Starring: David Crosby, Stephen Stills, Graham Nash, Neil Young

In the ’60s and ’70s, Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young sang and played in protest against a misbegotten war in a South-East Asian jungle.

Nearly four decades later, they did the same about a misbegotten war in a Middle-Eastern desert. Déjà Vu, directed by Neil Young under his nom-de-cinéma Bernard Shakey, sets out its stall as a chronicle of CSNY’s 2006 Freedom Of Speech tour, but builds into something much more, and much more important.

CSNY, now a mainstream heritage rock act and an enduring touchstone of the counter-culture, find themselves stranded between the dug-in rival trenches of American conservatism and liberalism. Narrated by ABC correspondent Mike Cerre, whose previous embeds include riding with Marines in Operation Iraqi Freedom, the unflinching Déjà Vu is a fascinating portrait of a fractious country.

Young’s central anti-Iraq war point is as direct as his songs from Living With War. But he balances matters with room for dissent – including from Stephen Stills, who dismisses much of the tour as “a political cartoon” – and humour (bad reviews are sportingly recited along with the good). The most memorable scene is of CSNY unleashing “Let’s Impeach The President” upon Atlanta’s divided crowd, complete with boos and walk-outs.

As the film proceeds, focus shifts away from CSNY and towards the veterans with whom Young has become involved, and who he treats with a humility that more bellicose anti-war campaigners could learn much from.

It’s hard to imagine a more convincingly damning indictment of America’s Mesopotamian misadventure – Afghanistan, quite properly, is not mentioned – than the one propounded by these articulate, thoughtful people, who’ve earned their understanding the hard way.

Despite the title, and despite jump-cuts from Iraq now to Vietnam then, from the greying CSNY to their slimmer, younger selves, Déjà Vu is, like Young’s career as a whole, an act of optimism. It’s a distinguishing feature of the American experiment that its sternest critics are those upset by the country’s failures to embody its own founding ideals. The Stars And Stripes hoisted on CSNY’s backdrop is not an ironic gesture. Nor is the song that closes both Living With War and Déjà Vu: a soaring, choral “America The Beautiful”.

ANDREW MUELLER

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