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White Noise, John Fahey’s disciples, and our new home

John Mulvey
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Forgive the constant references to domestic business at Uncut these past few days, but it's been hard to review much music when we've been in the throes of moving office. We're now firmly established in our luxurious new building just behind the Tate Modern, and have spent the morning trying to understand the new phones and get used to the decor: roughly MODE magazine, redesigned by IKEA, but a damn sight nicer than our old place. Our state-of-the-art sound system with speakers built into the roof or something hasn't turned up yet, so we've plugged in our old stereo just behind the artroom. I'm trying to hear stuff through a wall of packing crates, so attention to detail won't be great today, but I can recommend the forthcoming reissue of White Noise's "An Electric Storm", which is basically Delia Derbyshire from the BBC Radiophonic Workshop alongside David Vorhaus and Brian Hodgson, producing an intense proto-electronic black mass. The orgy bit on (I think) "My Game Of Loving" went down particularly badly with our new neighbours from marketing, but it sounded great to me; another one of those bands like The United States Of America and Elephant's Memory who were clearly a big influence on Stereolab and, especially, Broadcast. I've also given a play to "The Great Koonaklaster Speaks", a new John Fahey tribute album, which sounded pretty good, with plenty of brackish drone and fluid fingerpicking from Michael Hurley, Badgerlore(one of Ben Chasny's projects) and the always wonderful Jack Rose. I'll try and write more about this one in the next week or two. I'll also try and write more about David Ackles, since Rob Smyth pulled me up on rerunning an old piece on Ackles' first album. Fair point, Rob: bear with me and I'll get there, all being well.

Forgive the constant references to domestic business at Uncut these past few days, but it’s been hard to review much music when we’ve been in the throes of moving office. We’re now firmly established in our luxurious new building just behind the Tate Modern, and have spent the morning trying to understand the new phones and get used to the decor: roughly MODE magazine, redesigned by IKEA, but a damn sight nicer than our old place.

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Waiting for the great leap forward

Michael Bonner
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It's a very risky manoeuvre to pull off successfully -- that is, graduating from TV to the movies, from the relatively parochial world of the Channel 4 sitcom to the bright and shiny universe of multiplexes, ancilliary revenue streams and premiers at Leicester Square. With former Spaced stars Simon Pegg and Nick Frost currently receiving, as they say, rave reviews in the States for the second film, Hot Fuzz, David Mitchell and Robert Webb, whose Peep Show is an appointment to view for many in the UNCUT office, have attempted to make that leap to celluloid success with Magicians. Shockingly, for a comedy, Magicians is criminally unfunny. And this despite being scripted by the Peep Show writers, and with Mitchell and Webb doing a variation on their characters from the show (Mitchell: prissy and fussy yet strangely loveable; Webb: preening, smug tosser). They play magicians, once part of a double act who fell out and now have to work together again to enter a magic tournament. The script is crude, and not in a good way, and there's holes in the plot so big you could pilot a fleet of sleek and glistening Boengs through. So, what went wrong? Why isn't it funny? I wonder if it's because, despite four series of Peep Show under their belts, plus a slew of radio series and work seperately in other shows, they're just not ready for the movies yet. Maybe they had a window of opportunity they were obliged to take, and the script never got as fully developed or polished as it should have been. All the same, they must have watched the dailies back. They're not supid blokes -- they went to Cambridge, you know -- they must have realised it wasn't working. But when does it work? What makes a good movie for TV stars? The League Of Gentlemen cannily did more of the same, only bigger, for their movie outing, upping the ante on their own fictional world of Royston Vaysey. Pegg and Frost took the fundamental concepts inherent in Spaced -- all that love of pop culture references and late-night, stoner babble -- and had a huge Transatlantic hit with Shaun Of The Dead. It seems, if you're giving the audiences some kind of riff on your established TV personae, it'll work (probably). In the same way John Cleese has carved out a moderately successful movie career playing Basil Fawlty, so Mel Smith and Griff Rhys-Jones' dire Morons From Outer Space tanked because a) it bore no relationship to anything they'd done previously and b) some idiot decided it'd be A Good Idea to split up a perfectly functional double act. I'd rather not, at this point, open up a conversation on the relative merits of movie versions of Seventies sitcoms -- we all know Porridge is the only way that counts. The beauty of Peep Show -- apart from the skin-crawlingly horrendous situations the characters find themselves in -- is the vocalisation of their interior thought processes, often hysterically, brutally cruel at that. In Magicians, Mitchell and Webb, sadly, don't really find themselves in the kind of knuckle-chewingly embarrassing situations they end up in Peep Show. The narrative is in no way as sadistic. Magicians opens in the UK this Friday

It’s a very risky manoeuvre to pull off successfully — that is, graduating from TV to the movies, from the relatively parochial world of the Channel 4 sitcom to the bright and shiny universe of multiplexes, ancilliary revenue streams and premiers at Leicester Square.

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Rufus Wainwright – Release The Stars

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Rufus Wainwright – Release The Stars

In 1821, Thomas De Quincey compared opium addiction to being trapped in a “castle of indolence”. An opium eater, he wrote, “lies under the weight of incubus and nightmare… He would lay down his life if he might but get up and walk; but he is powerless as an infant, and cannot even attempt to rise.” Forgive the pretension, it’s just that Rufus Wainwright drives you to these sort of lofty references. Release The Stars, as Wainwright tells Uncut on the next page, was recorded in a state of extreme purity, the lavish drug binges long behind him. It’s not so easy, though, to escape that castle of indolence. For nearly a decade now, Wainwright has proved himself to be one of the most gifted songwriters in America. His erudition, wit and general gayness have been so pronounced, we’re technically obliged to call him Wildean at every opportunity. He has a magical way of joining the dots between Cole Porter and Thom Yorke, between David Ackles and Jeff Buckley. He’s a serious artist, though one with a keen sense of his own absurdity: the cover of 2005’s Want Two found Wainwright posing as a Pre-Raphaelite Ophelia, all dressed up and ready to drown. Still, it is his voice, so extravagantly mournful, so luxuriously torpid, that suggests he must always remain The Jaded Bohemian, even without the drugs. Release The Stars, his fifth and possibly best album, should be the record where he escapes such stereotypes. But curiously, he sounds more opulently wasted than ever, as if he’s realised that ennui, in the right hands, can be a creative attribute rather than a professional curse. “Going To A Town” might be the angriest lyric Wainwright has written, an indictment of the country of his birth that hinges on the refrain, “I’m so tired of you America”. That “tired” is the key, though: rarely has a protest song been so dolorous. Like De Quincey, he’d start a revolution if he could only get off the chaise longue. The effect is striking, not least because “Going To A Town” sounds something like Radiohead’s “High And Dry” rescored as a torch song. Release The Stars is full of lovely tunes, but it’s the imagination with which Wainwright tackles them that raises this album above his previous work. While Want One and Want Two were slightly marred by a glossy pop finish, Release The Stars has a wood-panelled classiness, and arrangements whose complexity augments the tunes rather than overwhelms them. Neil Tennant is listed as Executive Producer, but it’s Wainwright himself who actually produced these 12 songs, and who navigated his own path from studio to studio, picking up an ever-more bejewelled coterie of musicians along the way. If the vocal tone might often be one of somnambulence, the practicalities of making Release The Stars suggest a very clear head. The castlist includes regulars like sister Martha, mother Kate McGarrigle and Teddy Thompson, venerable actress Sîan Phillips, Tennant on synths, sundry orchestras plus, on lead guitar, Teddy’s father Richard Thompson. Fortunately, Wainwright is adept at finding grace and space where others would be swamped. The opening “Do I Disappoint You” sees him present a withering defence of his own human frailties, while one orchestral battalion after another mount their attacks and Martha Wainwright (a much stronger singer than her brother, by the by) summons “CHAOS!” and “DESTRUCTION!” like a marauding Fury. The title track, meanwhile, has a brassy Broadway swagger – the result, presumably, of Wainwright immersing himself in that world for his Judy Garland tribute concerts (the song’s lyrical inspiration comes from Lorca Cohen, Leonard’s daughter, missing the New York show). Wainwright, though, is not a belter, and it’s his unsuitability to the top hat and high-kicking routine that makes this grand, flawed finale so compelling. “Slideshow” is even better, a masterpiece of wry emotional dithering that begins, pointedly, “Do I love you because you treat me so indifferently?/ Or is it the medication?” Pursued by 14 musicians and the London Session Orchestra, he moves at a languid pace through a sequence of euphoric crescendos until, after four minutes, Richard Thompson cuts through the melodrama with a clean, needling solo and Wainwright is left in a lucid reverie, realising, “Do I love you? Yes I do.” It’s a rare moment of resolution on an album filled with romantic indecision, with dreams of travel and leave-taking. “Between My Legs” is sprightly and uncharacteristically rocking, describing a dysfunctional relationship that can only be consummated with an escape from the city. There are apocalyptic overtones, too, as Wainwright describes a frenzied mass evacuation, then employs Sîan Phillips to incant his words like a spell over another ravishing climax. If these set pieces initially grab the attention, Release The Stars has other pleasures that reveal themselves more discreetly. “Leaving For Paris” is an end-of-the-affair piano ballad which intimates that Wainwright’s finest work may yet be solemn and minimal. There’s a baroque, Brel-like trinket called “Tulsa” that claims Brandon Flowers “tastes of potato chips in the morning”. And finally, amid all the gilt, theatre, recherché poses and brilliant music, there’s a hint that, without the drugs, the castle of indolence might not always be a rewarding place to hang out. “I’m tired of writing elegies to boredom,” he sings in “Sanssouci”, “I just want to be at Sanssouci tonight.” “Sans souci” translates as carefree and, of course, the promise of happiness – “the boys that made me lose the blues” – turns out to be an illusion. When Wainwright arrives at the club it is deserted, and, terminally world-weary, he can only retreat to his melancholy boudoir. If he keeps making albums as good as this, we should wall him up in there forever. JOHN MULVEY

In 1821, Thomas De Quincey compared opium addiction to being trapped in a “castle of indolence”. An opium eater, he wrote, “lies under the weight of incubus and nightmare… He would lay down his life if he might but get up and walk; but he is powerless as an infant, and cannot even attempt to rise.”

Forgive the pretension, it’s just that Rufus Wainwright drives you to these sort of lofty references. Release The Stars, as Wainwright tells Uncut on the next page, was recorded in a state of extreme purity, the lavish drug binges long behind him. It’s not so easy, though, to escape that castle of indolence.

For nearly a decade now, Wainwright has proved himself to be one of the most gifted songwriters in America. His erudition, wit and general gayness have been so pronounced, we’re technically obliged to call him Wildean at every opportunity. He has a magical way of joining the dots between Cole Porter and Thom Yorke, between David Ackles and Jeff Buckley. He’s a serious artist, though one with a keen sense of his own absurdity: the cover of 2005’s Want Two found Wainwright posing as a Pre-Raphaelite Ophelia, all dressed up and ready to drown.

Still, it is his voice, so extravagantly mournful, so luxuriously torpid, that suggests he must always remain The Jaded Bohemian, even without the drugs. Release The Stars, his fifth and possibly best album, should be the record where he escapes such stereotypes. But curiously, he sounds more opulently wasted than ever, as if he’s realised that ennui, in the right hands, can be a creative attribute rather than a professional curse. “Going To A Town” might be the angriest lyric Wainwright has written, an indictment of the country of his birth that hinges on the refrain, “I’m so tired of you America”. That “tired” is the key, though: rarely has a protest song been so dolorous. Like De Quincey, he’d start a revolution if he could only get off the chaise longue.

The effect is striking, not least because “Going To A Town” sounds something like Radiohead’s “High And Dry” rescored as a torch song. Release The Stars is full of lovely tunes, but it’s the imagination with which Wainwright tackles them that raises this album above his previous work. While Want One and Want Two were slightly marred by a glossy pop finish, Release The Stars has a wood-panelled classiness, and arrangements whose complexity augments the tunes rather than overwhelms them.

Neil Tennant is listed as Executive Producer, but it’s Wainwright himself who actually produced these 12 songs, and who navigated his own path from studio to studio, picking up an ever-more bejewelled coterie of musicians along the way. If the vocal tone might often be one of somnambulence, the practicalities of making Release The Stars suggest a very clear head. The castlist includes regulars like sister Martha, mother Kate McGarrigle and Teddy Thompson, venerable actress Sîan Phillips, Tennant on synths, sundry orchestras plus, on lead guitar, Teddy’s father Richard Thompson.

Fortunately, Wainwright is adept at finding grace and space where others would be swamped. The opening “Do I Disappoint You” sees him present a withering defence of his own human frailties, while one orchestral battalion after another mount their attacks and Martha Wainwright (a much stronger singer than her brother, by the by) summons “CHAOS!” and “DESTRUCTION!” like a marauding Fury. The title track, meanwhile, has a brassy Broadway swagger – the result, presumably, of Wainwright immersing himself in that world for his Judy Garland tribute concerts (the song’s lyrical inspiration comes from Lorca Cohen, Leonard’s daughter, missing the New York show). Wainwright, though, is not a belter, and it’s his unsuitability to the top hat and high-kicking routine that makes this grand, flawed finale so compelling.

“Slideshow” is even better, a masterpiece of wry emotional dithering that begins, pointedly, “Do I love you because you treat me so indifferently?/ Or is it the medication?” Pursued by 14 musicians and the London Session Orchestra, he moves at a languid pace through a sequence of euphoric crescendos until, after four minutes, Richard Thompson cuts through the melodrama with a clean, needling solo and Wainwright is left in a lucid reverie, realising, “Do I love you? Yes I do.”

It’s a rare moment of resolution on an album filled with romantic indecision, with dreams of travel and leave-taking. “Between My Legs” is sprightly and uncharacteristically rocking, describing a dysfunctional relationship that can only be consummated with an escape from the city. There are apocalyptic overtones, too, as Wainwright describes a frenzied mass evacuation, then employs Sîan Phillips to incant his words like a spell over another ravishing climax.

If these set pieces initially grab the attention, Release The Stars has other pleasures that reveal themselves more discreetly. “Leaving For Paris” is an

end-of-the-affair piano ballad which intimates that Wainwright’s finest work may yet be solemn and minimal. There’s a baroque, Brel-like trinket called “Tulsa” that claims Brandon Flowers “tastes of potato chips in the morning”.

And finally, amid all the gilt, theatre, recherché poses and brilliant music, there’s a hint that, without the drugs, the castle of indolence might not always be a rewarding place to hang out. “I’m tired of writing elegies to boredom,” he sings in “Sanssouci”, “I just want to be at Sanssouci tonight.” “Sans souci” translates as carefree and, of course, the promise of happiness – “the boys that made me lose the blues” – turns out to be an illusion. When Wainwright arrives at the club it is deserted, and, terminally world-weary, he can only retreat to his melancholy boudoir. If he keeps making albums as good as this, we should wall him up in there forever.

JOHN MULVEY

Wilco – Sky Blue Sky

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Wilco – Sky Blue Sky

On Sky Blue Sky, Jeff Tweedy peels back the thin epidermis protecting his well-scarred emotions, to reveal a lonely figure torn between the poles of his desire for the completeness of romantic union, and his inclination towards solitude – a conflict he realises is torpedoing both his happiness and his chances of sustaining a relationship. Hang on a moment, haven’t we been here before? Isn’t this Yankee Hotel Foxtrot all over again? And, for that matter, A Ghost Is Born? Well, in a way it is. Tweedy’s compulsion to examine his own emotional landscape, and to share the results with his audience, makes him the closest modern equivalent of the Laurel Canyon confessional troubadours, particularly James Taylor, Joni Mitchell and Jackson Browne. So it’s appropriate that the musical landscape Wilco creates for Sky Blue Sky is for the most part a retro-repro version of the comforting, balmy tones of the early-’70s Asylum sound, full of gentle, easy-going strummage, limpid lead-guitar fills and lustrous curls of lap-steel. Which is a slight disappointment, as on recent albums the band had been shifting towards a more exploratory style (one thinks of the 11-minute Neu!-beat exercise “Spiders” and the even longer, slowly imploding noise piece “Less Than You Think”, both from A Ghost Is Born) that threatened to tug their core country-rock into intriguing new areas. So instead of any startling left-turns, these songs are more likely to lead to guitar fills reminiscent of Neil Young (on “Hate It Here”) or the classic Allman Brothers dual strike force of Dickey Betts and Duane Allman (“Impossible Germany”) – pleasant enough in themselves, though one wonders if Tweedy’s musical wanderlust is completely satisfied with this restricted approach, whose restraint and desire to please mirrors the conciliatory lyrical tone. By the time one reaches the concluding “On And On And On”, with its resolution to persevere and endure, it’s rather like observing someone attain the 12th step of a therapy programme: they may emerge more stable and centred than before, but there’s a nagging edge of melancholy for what has been lost. ANDY GILL Q&A with Jeff Tweedy: UNCUT: How did you arrive at Sky Blue Sky’s mellow sound? TWEEDY: It’s really a lot of unspoken playing together, and finding what material we gravitate towards. When I listen to it now it sounds like the common ground between all of our different backgrounds. There’s a very large section that’s rooted in an earlier period of rock, that was formative for all of us. Which period? Late-’60s, early-’70s music. I don’t think there’s any retro-active spirit to what we were doing, but it was a way for us to communicate. It’s a pretty large group, so the arrangements came out really song-oriented. The shapes seem more classical. Are you surprised when people compare it to Fleetwood Mac? Yeah! I don’t get that. Wilco records come wrapped in all these expectations, that bleed over from the previous record, and that’s not the way we have ever operated. INTERVIEW: ALASTAIR McKAY

On Sky Blue Sky, Jeff Tweedy peels back the thin epidermis protecting his well-scarred emotions, to reveal a lonely figure torn between the poles of his desire for the completeness of romantic union, and his inclination towards solitude – a conflict he realises is torpedoing both his happiness and his chances of sustaining a relationship.

Hang on a moment, haven’t we been here before? Isn’t this Yankee Hotel Foxtrot all over again? And, for that matter, A Ghost Is Born?

Well, in a way it is. Tweedy’s compulsion to examine his own emotional landscape, and to share the results with his audience, makes him the closest modern equivalent of the Laurel Canyon confessional troubadours, particularly James Taylor, Joni Mitchell and Jackson Browne. So it’s appropriate that the musical landscape Wilco creates for Sky Blue Sky is for the most part a retro-repro version of the comforting, balmy tones of the early-’70s Asylum sound, full of gentle, easy-going strummage, limpid lead-guitar fills and lustrous curls of lap-steel.

Which is a slight disappointment, as on recent albums the band had been shifting towards a more exploratory style (one thinks of the 11-minute Neu!-beat exercise “Spiders” and the even longer, slowly imploding noise piece “Less Than You Think”, both from A Ghost Is Born) that threatened to tug their core country-rock into intriguing new areas.

So instead of any startling left-turns, these songs are more likely to lead to guitar fills reminiscent of Neil Young (on “Hate It Here”) or the classic Allman Brothers dual strike force of Dickey Betts and Duane Allman (“Impossible Germany”) – pleasant enough in themselves, though one wonders if Tweedy’s musical wanderlust is completely satisfied with this restricted approach, whose restraint and desire to please mirrors the conciliatory lyrical tone. By the time one reaches the concluding “On And On And On”, with its resolution to persevere and endure, it’s rather like observing someone attain the 12th step of a therapy programme: they may emerge more stable and centred than before, but there’s a nagging edge of melancholy for what has been lost.

ANDY GILL

Q&A with Jeff Tweedy:

UNCUT: How did you arrive at Sky Blue Sky’s mellow sound?

TWEEDY: It’s really a lot of unspoken playing together, and finding what material we gravitate towards. When

I listen to it now it sounds

like the common ground between all of our different backgrounds. There’s a very large section that’s rooted in an earlier period of rock, that was formative for all of us.

Which period?

Late-’60s, early-’70s music. I don’t think there’s any retro-active spirit to what we were doing, but it was a way for us to communicate. It’s a pretty large group, so the arrangements came out really song-oriented. The shapes seem more classical.

Are you surprised when people compare it to Fleetwood Mac?

Yeah! I don’t get that. Wilco records come wrapped in all these expectations, that bleed over from the previous record, and that’s not the way we have ever operated.

INTERVIEW: ALASTAIR McKAY

Gene Clark – With The Gosdin Brothers

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Gene Clark – With The Gosdin Brothers

When Gene Clark left the egomaniacal cadre that was the Byrds circa 1966, having provided them with a dozen or more moody masterpieces such as “I’ll Feel A Whole Lot Better” to “Eight Miles High” he stepped off into the great unknown. Despite his superior résumé, prolific songwriting, and brooding (and, presumably, saleable) good looks, the species known as the superstar singer/songwriter had yet to be codified. In fact, Clark was on uneven footing from the start. First, he flirted with a short-lived Beatles-inspired group. Studio experimentation – some of it appearing on this exemplary reissue for the first time –yielded intriguing if esoteric results, for chart action at least. Then, when David Crosby fell ill, Clark even returned, confusingly, to The Byrds’ fold for a string of concert dates. Befitting Clark’s ambitions, With The Gosdin Brothers is a creatively dazzling, yet hardly cohesive, mélange. Flitting from barebones simple (“Think I’m Gonna Feel Better”) to baroque complexity (“Echoes”), Clark was grasping for his voice. Troubled by a label (Columbia) and production team (Larry Marks and Gary Usher) equally unsure of his direction, the record – despite considerable strengths – represents a lost opportunity to launch him into rock’s then-emerging mythos. In fact, Clark’s muse was pulling him in myriad directions. “Is Yours Is Mine”, for instance, offers Byrds-meets-Beatles potency. For garage-rock ditty “Elevator Operator,” especially the driving alternate version here, Clark forsakes his usual abstract poetics for pure groove, jangle, and boogie. Meanwhile, the otherworldly “Only Colombe” and an odd, lilting cover of Ian & Sylvia’s “French Girl,” outtakes featuring Curt Boettcher’s group Ballroom adding daring backing vocals, proffer the unlikely sonic possibilities of a Highway 61 Dylan summit with The Left Banke. Then there’s the album’s influential country-rock fusion, later to blossom into the epochal Fantastic Expedition project with Doug Dillard. While the flashier Gram Parsons has ascended to godfather-of-country-rock status, Clark, aided by the Gosdin Brothers’ rural harmonies and vital studio contributions by Glen Campbell and future Byrd Clarence White, presents a glimpse of LA’s cosmic cowboy future – more than a year before Sweetheart Of The Rodeo. The electrified bluegrass of “Keep On Pushin’” may have perplexed his Sunset Strip peers, but the hangdog shuffle of “Tried So Hard”, a lost-love ballad more radiant than ever in a gorgeous alternate take, is timeless perfection. LUKE TORN

When Gene Clark left the egomaniacal cadre that was the Byrds circa 1966, having provided them with a dozen or more moody masterpieces such as “I’ll Feel A Whole Lot Better” to “Eight Miles High” he stepped off into the great unknown. Despite his superior résumé, prolific songwriting, and brooding (and, presumably, saleable) good looks, the species known as the superstar singer/songwriter had yet to be codified.

In fact, Clark was on uneven footing from the start. First, he flirted with a short-lived Beatles-inspired group. Studio experimentation – some of it appearing on this exemplary reissue for the first time –yielded intriguing if esoteric results, for chart action at least. Then, when David Crosby fell ill, Clark even returned, confusingly, to The Byrds’ fold for a string of concert dates.

Befitting Clark’s ambitions, With The Gosdin Brothers is a creatively dazzling, yet hardly cohesive, mélange. Flitting from barebones simple (“Think I’m Gonna Feel Better”) to baroque complexity (“Echoes”), Clark was grasping for his voice. Troubled by a label (Columbia) and production team (Larry Marks and Gary Usher) equally unsure of his direction, the record – despite considerable strengths – represents a lost opportunity to launch him into rock’s then-emerging mythos.

In fact, Clark’s muse was pulling him in myriad directions. “Is Yours Is Mine”, for instance, offers Byrds-meets-Beatles potency. For garage-rock ditty “Elevator Operator,” especially the driving alternate version here, Clark forsakes his usual abstract poetics for pure groove, jangle, and boogie. Meanwhile, the otherworldly “Only Colombe” and an odd, lilting cover of Ian & Sylvia’s “French Girl,” outtakes featuring Curt Boettcher’s group Ballroom adding daring backing vocals, proffer the unlikely sonic possibilities of a Highway 61 Dylan summit with The Left Banke.

Then there’s the album’s influential country-rock fusion, later to blossom into the epochal Fantastic Expedition project with Doug Dillard. While the flashier Gram Parsons has ascended to godfather-of-country-rock status, Clark, aided by the Gosdin Brothers’ rural harmonies and vital studio contributions by Glen Campbell and future Byrd Clarence White, presents a glimpse of LA’s cosmic cowboy future – more than a year before Sweetheart Of The Rodeo. The electrified bluegrass of “Keep On Pushin’” may have perplexed his Sunset Strip peers, but the hangdog shuffle

of “Tried So Hard”, a lost-love ballad more radiant than ever in a gorgeous alternate take, is timeless perfection.

LUKE TORN

Battles – Mirrored

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Battles – Mirrored

What links a former staffer of American satirical webzine The Onion, the drummer of metal bruisers Helmet, and a couple of refugees from obscure “math rock” bands of the late ’90s? Right now, it’s “Atlas” – a spinning glitterball of bouncy rhythms and firefly guitars inspired by the glammy Schaffel beat popular in the techno clubs of Cologne, but still addictive enough to score an NME Track Of The Week. “Atlas” suggests that if, in recent years, avant-garde has become code for bloodless experimentation, New York’s Battles might just be the band to change that. Formed in 2003 around guitarist/keyboardist Ian Williams, Battles are the product of intense studio alchemy. “Writing songs is like putting together a large puzzle,” laughs guitarist Dave Konopka, as Battles speed along en route to a show in upstate New York. “We hang up all these charts in our rehearsal room, and give the song parts weird names – it’s like, ‘Anjelica Huston’ totally doesn’t fit with ‘Brer Rabbit’! But sometimes it’s all about square pegs in round holes.” Taking to the stage with guitars strung across their back like broadswords, Battles scramble between fretboard, laptop, and keyboard, Tyondai Braxton (son of radical jazzer Anthony) adding processed vocals or beatbox and drummer John Stanier nailing hard-hitting, complex rhythms. That Battles make magical fusions, not a confused mess, is down to the band’s democratic take on their diverse influences. “Ian really likes African music, John is really into hip hop, Ty likes orchestrated classical music,” says Konopka. And prog? “Yeah. I was totally into Yes’ Fragile. But not so much ‘Owner Of A Lonely Heart’.” One final question: John’s cymbal is positioned a good seven feet above the stage – why? Dave relays the question to the front seat and the van dissolves into laughter. “He says…” relates the guitarist “…that he can’t get the stand down.” That’s Battles: taking things just seriously enough. LOUIS PATTISON

What links a former staffer of American satirical webzine The Onion, the drummer of metal bruisers Helmet, and a couple of refugees from obscure “math rock” bands of the late ’90s? Right now, it’s “Atlas” – a spinning glitterball of bouncy rhythms and firefly guitars inspired by the glammy Schaffel beat popular in the techno clubs of Cologne, but still addictive enough to score an NME Track Of The Week.

“Atlas” suggests that if, in recent years, avant-garde has become code for bloodless experimentation, New York’s Battles might just be the band to change that.

Formed in 2003 around guitarist/keyboardist Ian Williams, Battles are the product of intense studio alchemy. “Writing songs is like putting together a large puzzle,” laughs guitarist Dave Konopka, as Battles speed along en route to a show in upstate New York. “We hang up all these charts in our rehearsal room, and give the song parts weird names – it’s like, ‘Anjelica Huston’ totally doesn’t fit with ‘Brer Rabbit’! But sometimes it’s all about square pegs in round holes.”

Taking to the stage with guitars strung across their back like broadswords, Battles scramble between fretboard, laptop, and keyboard, Tyondai Braxton (son of radical jazzer Anthony) adding processed vocals or beatbox and drummer John Stanier nailing hard-hitting, complex rhythms. That Battles make magical fusions, not a confused mess, is down to the band’s democratic take on their diverse influences.

“Ian really likes African music, John is really into

hip hop, Ty likes orchestrated classical music,” says Konopka. And prog? “Yeah. I was totally into Yes’ Fragile. But not so much ‘Owner Of A Lonely Heart’.”

One final question: John’s cymbal is positioned a good seven feet above the stage – why? Dave relays the question to the front seat and the van dissolves into laughter. “He says…” relates the guitarist “…that he can’t get the stand down.”

That’s Battles: taking things just seriously enough.

LOUIS PATTISON

Joe Strummer: The Future Is Unwritten

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Joe Strummer: The Future Is Unwritten

It’s rare that rock star deaths have such a profound, and widespread, impact as Joe Strummer’s passing did. In the opening sequence to Temple’s documentary, radio and TV bulletins beam news of his death, on December 22, 2002, round the globe. Using excerpts from Strummer’s London Calling World Music show, home movies, archive footage and original interviews, Temple explores Strummer’s trajectory, from private schoolboy via punk icon to a passionate environmentalist whose death became a global event. As with Temple’s Sex Pistols doc, The Filth And The Fury, the collage of different media brings the story to life. For the rebellious schoolboy, Joe’s voiceover is accompanied by clips from If…, 1984 and Animal Farm. To capture his hobo period, Joe’s letters to old girlfriends, illustrated with comic sketches, are animated. Cut through the film are campfire reminiscences by family, friends and admirers including Jim Jarmusch, assorted Chili Peppers, Bobby Gillespie and Clash partners Jones, Headon and Chimes (but not, strangely, Paul Simonon). Inevitably, The Clash – captured in seminal archive footage – are key to the Strummer’s story. There’s a sense that the first half of his life was spent building up to the group’s success, often cutting off friends to fulfil his ambition; he then spent the rest of his life recovering from it. The depression that haunted him is evident as he struggled with the contradictions of fame, exhausted and demoralised by The Clash’s final US stadium show in 1983. Far from a hagiography, Future… acknowledges the complexities and contradictions of Joe’s character, doesn’t flinch from exposing his many flaws. A predictably grandstanding Bono strikes a false note, though. The U2 man took The Clash’s passion into another sphere, and was slated to collaborate with Strummer the month after he died, but the tone of his appearance here is sorely misjudged. Whether Bono honoured the rebel rock outsider principle that made Strummer a rallying point is debatable. The film itself, though, gives Joe’s legacy everything it deserves. Only Temple could have gained access to this material, and commanded it so successfully. Early on, we see footage of Strummer nailing the opening to “White Riot”; and until the close, this film brilliantly evokes the spirit of punk’s greatest ambassador. GAVIN MARTIN

It’s rare that rock star deaths have such a profound, and widespread, impact as Joe Strummer’s passing did. In the opening sequence to Temple’s documentary, radio and TV bulletins beam news of his death, on December 22, 2002, round the globe. Using excerpts from Strummer’s London Calling World Music show, home movies, archive footage and original interviews, Temple explores Strummer’s trajectory, from private schoolboy via punk icon to a passionate environmentalist whose death became a global event.

As with Temple’s Sex Pistols doc, The Filth And The Fury, the collage of different media brings the story to life. For the rebellious schoolboy, Joe’s voiceover is accompanied by clips from If…, 1984 and Animal Farm. To capture his hobo period, Joe’s letters to old girlfriends, illustrated with comic sketches, are animated. Cut through the film are campfire reminiscences by family, friends and admirers including Jim Jarmusch, assorted Chili Peppers, Bobby Gillespie and Clash partners Jones, Headon and Chimes (but not, strangely, Paul Simonon).

Inevitably, The Clash – captured in seminal archive footage – are key to the Strummer’s story. There’s a sense that the first half of his life was spent building up to the group’s success, often cutting off friends to fulfil his ambition; he then spent the rest of his life recovering from it. The depression that haunted him is evident as he struggled with the contradictions of fame, exhausted and demoralised by The Clash’s final US stadium show in 1983.

Far from a hagiography, Future… acknowledges the complexities and contradictions of Joe’s character, doesn’t flinch from exposing his many flaws. A predictably grandstanding Bono strikes a false note, though. The U2 man took The Clash’s passion into another sphere, and was slated to collaborate with Strummer the month after he died, but the tone of his appearance here is sorely misjudged.

Whether Bono honoured the rebel rock outsider principle that made Strummer a rallying point is debatable. The film itself, though, gives Joe’s legacy everything it deserves. Only Temple could have gained access to this material, and commanded it so successfully. Early on, we see footage of Strummer nailing the opening to “White Riot”; and until the close, this film brilliantly evokes the spirit of punk’s greatest ambassador.

GAVIN MARTIN

Zodiac

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Zodiac

DIR: DAVID FINCHER ST: JAKE GYLLENHALL, ROBERT DOWNEY JR, MARK RUFFALO, ANTHONY EDWARDS San Francisco 1969: the city is terrorised by a spree of motiveless murders, for which the self-proclaimed Zodiac takes responsibility with a series of cryptic messages. Detective Dave Toschi (Ruffalo) and newspaperman Paul Avery (Downey Jr) are frustrated in their investigations, but Chronicle cartoonist Robert Graysmith (Gyllenhall) dedicates a decade of his life to tracking down the killer. In the five years since his last film it's seemed like David Fincher, now 40, has stalled trying to work out what enfants terribles are supposed to do for an encore. Panic Room, his most recent outing, certainly felt like a dead end - a ruthlessly elegant entertainment in itself, it still felt a long way from the livewire brilliance that crackled through Seven and Fight Club. And so he's cast around for the right project. At various points he's been linked with the Mission: Impossible franchise, the Black Dahlia adaptation and even skateboarding movie Lords Of Dogtown. What finally seems to have drawn him to Zodiac is a personal connection: Fincher was a schoolboy in Marin, North California in the late 60s when the eponymous serial killer taunted the area's police and media with a series of encrypted notes claiming responsibility for a spree of motiveless killings and announcing his intention to take out an entire school bus. The biographical link hints that Fincher felt ready to take a more mature, responsible approach to the powers of horror that detractors suggest he cynically if stylishly exploited in Seven. Zodiac often feels like an apologetic corrective to the earlier film: in place of the grungy, non-specific American Purgatory there's an obsession with the every day textures of late-60s San Francisco, in place of breathless rooftop chase scenes there's the frequently humdrum futility of police procedures, and instead of the creepily charismatic evil mastermind, there's a pervading sense of the real banality of evil. The result is an odd film, torn between the desire to be respectable and Fincher's more loopily lyrical urges. In many ways Zodiac is an homage to a certain conscientious strain of 70s cinema - most obviously Pakula's Watergate adaptation All The President's Men, but also the films of Sidney Lumet: Serpico, Dog Day Afternoon, even Network. Yet when it leaves the cop shops and newsrooms, it presents a California of lakesides and pastures that has rarely looked lovelier. A shot of the Golden Gate bridge seems to ascend all the way to heaven - or are those clouds the fog of unknowing that envelop the case? And Fincher can't resist having some wicked fun with the lurid conventions of thriller - you will certainly never hear Donovan's "Hurdy Gurdy Man" the same way again. And the cast is often brilliant: Robert Downey Jr has a ball as Paul Avery, crime reporter and deadpan dandy of the Chronicle, while Mark Ruffalo broods with bravado as Dave Toschi, the real-life detective who inspired such cinematic mavericks as Bullitt and Dirty Harry. But the problem with the film is its focus on Robert Graysmith, portrayed by Jake Gyllenhall. Originally a cartoonist with a passion for puzzles, Graysmith got caught up in the case as it buzzed around the newspaper offices, his natural curiosity blooming into full-blown obsession as he pursued the paper-trail of evidence long after the professionals had given up (or in Avery's case, given in to their addictions). Maybe Fincher has some fellow feeling for a man who leaves the cartoon world to investigate the real crimes around him - but Graysmith is an odd fish to base a film upon. "There's more than one way to lose your life to a killer," runs the tag line, and you watch as the dossiers pile up, edging out his girlfriend (Chloe Sevigny seemingly doing a dowdy Gwyneth impression) and his kids in his small apartment. But you never get an insight into his motivation - is it a passion for justice, a hunger for fame, simple parental concern? You get the sense that Gyllenhall is also struggling with these questions. The film covers ten years of investigation, but the character doesn't seem to grow, or even age very much. In the end you're forced to conclude that it's simply his nerdy determination to finish a jigsaw - in which case you wonder why he didn't simply settle for a particularly taxing Suduko session. The film deliberately frustrates demands for an easy, satisfying answer - as in life, dead ends, red herrings, false trails proliferate. And you have to give Fincher credit for facing the mature challenge of trying to dramatise this dispiriting truth. All the same, you get the sense of a talent kept on the leash, the irresponsibly flash kid struggling to escape from the middle-aged concern. Fincher's next film - The Curious Case Of Benjamin Button - concerns a character who ages backwards; maybe there's still time for that youthful brilliance to re-emerge. STEPHEN TROUSSE

DIR: DAVID FINCHER

ST: JAKE GYLLENHALL, ROBERT DOWNEY JR, MARK RUFFALO, ANTHONY EDWARDS

San Francisco 1969: the city is terrorised by a spree of motiveless murders, for which the self-proclaimed Zodiac takes responsibility with a series of cryptic messages. Detective Dave Toschi (Ruffalo) and newspaperman Paul Avery (Downey Jr) are frustrated in their investigations, but Chronicle cartoonist Robert Graysmith (Gyllenhall) dedicates a decade of his life to tracking down the killer.

In the five years since his last film it’s seemed like David Fincher, now 40, has stalled trying to work out what enfants terribles are supposed to do for an encore. Panic Room, his most recent outing, certainly felt like a dead end – a ruthlessly elegant entertainment in itself, it still felt a long way from the livewire brilliance that crackled through Seven and Fight Club.

And so he’s cast around for the right project. At various points he’s been linked with the Mission: Impossible franchise, the Black Dahlia adaptation and even skateboarding movie Lords Of Dogtown. What finally seems to have drawn him to Zodiac is a personal connection: Fincher was a schoolboy in Marin, North California in the late 60s when the eponymous serial killer taunted the area’s police and media with a series of encrypted notes claiming responsibility for a spree of motiveless killings and announcing his intention to take out an entire school bus.

The biographical link hints that Fincher felt ready to take a more mature, responsible approach to the powers of horror that detractors suggest he cynically if stylishly exploited in Seven. Zodiac often feels like an apologetic corrective to the earlier film: in place of the grungy, non-specific American Purgatory there’s an obsession with the every day textures of late-60s San Francisco, in place of breathless rooftop chase scenes there’s the frequently humdrum futility of police procedures, and instead of the creepily charismatic evil mastermind, there’s a pervading sense of the real banality of evil.

The result is an odd film, torn between the desire to be respectable and Fincher’s more loopily lyrical urges. In many ways Zodiac is an homage to a certain conscientious strain of 70s cinema – most obviously Pakula’s Watergate adaptation All The President’s Men, but also the films of Sidney Lumet: Serpico, Dog Day Afternoon, even Network. Yet when it leaves the cop shops and newsrooms, it presents a California of lakesides and pastures that has rarely looked lovelier. A shot of the Golden Gate bridge seems to ascend all the way to heaven – or are those clouds the fog of unknowing that envelop the case? And Fincher can’t resist having some wicked fun with the lurid conventions of thriller – you will certainly never hear Donovan’s “Hurdy Gurdy Man” the same way again.

And the cast is often brilliant: Robert Downey Jr has a ball as Paul Avery, crime reporter and deadpan dandy of the Chronicle, while Mark Ruffalo broods with bravado as Dave Toschi, the real-life detective who inspired such cinematic mavericks as Bullitt and Dirty Harry.

But the problem with the film is its focus on Robert Graysmith, portrayed by Jake Gyllenhall. Originally a cartoonist with a passion for puzzles, Graysmith got caught up in the case as it buzzed around the newspaper offices, his natural curiosity blooming into full-blown obsession as he pursued the paper-trail of evidence long after the professionals had given up (or in Avery’s case, given in to their addictions).

Maybe Fincher has some fellow feeling for a man who leaves the cartoon world to investigate the real crimes around him – but Graysmith is an odd fish to base a film upon. “There’s more than one way to lose your life to a killer,” runs the tag line, and you watch as the dossiers pile up, edging out his girlfriend (Chloe Sevigny seemingly doing a dowdy Gwyneth impression) and his kids in his small apartment. But you never get an insight into his motivation – is it a passion for justice, a hunger for fame, simple parental concern? You get the sense that Gyllenhall is also struggling with these questions. The film covers ten years of investigation, but the character doesn’t seem to grow, or even age very much. In the end you’re forced to conclude that it’s simply his nerdy determination to finish a jigsaw – in which case you wonder why he didn’t simply settle for a particularly taxing Suduko session.

The film deliberately frustrates demands for an easy, satisfying answer – as in life, dead ends, red herrings, false trails proliferate. And you have to give Fincher credit for facing the mature challenge of trying to dramatise this dispiriting truth. All the same, you get the sense of a talent kept on the leash, the irresponsibly flash kid struggling to escape from the middle-aged concern. Fincher’s next film – The Curious Case Of Benjamin Button – concerns a character who ages backwards; maybe there’s still time for that youthful brilliance to re-emerge.

STEPHEN TROUSSE

Ten Years Ago This Week

Terry Staunton
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HAPPENINGS TEN YEARS TIME AGO May 14 to 20, 1997 Crosby, Stills & Nash are inducted into the Rock 'n' Roll Hall Of Fame. Neil Young also gets the call, as part of Buffalo Springfield, while other inductees are Joni Mitchell, The Bee Gees, The Jackson Five, Parliament/Funkadelic, and The Young Rascals. Michael Jackson tops the UK albums chart with his remix album Blood On The Dancefloor, and announces a sponsorship deal with a new soda called Mystery Drink. The King Of Pop also had a hand in the recipe of the beverage, a spokesman for the manufacturers telling reporters "At Michael's request, we didn't put anything artificial in it." Reformed boozy rockers Motley Crue also unveil a new soft drink, Ty-D-Bol. Phil Spector passes judgement on the Spice Girls who, while enjoying a second week at Number One in the US albums chart, are slated by Christian watchdog groups for their "bordering on pornography" promo videos. "There's a big difference," says the legendary girl group pioneer. "A porno movie has better music." Meanwhile, Spector is reported to be talks with Tom Cruise and Jerry Maguire director Cameron Crowe about a movie of his life, although industry insiders suggest that Spector's multi-million dollar demands for the rights to use his classic "Wall Of Sound" hits on the soundtrack may prove to be an unassailable stumbling block. Three rock veterans release new albums on the same day; Paul McCartney (Flaming Pie), Steve Winwood (Junction Seven), and John Fogerty (Blue Moon Swamp), the former Creedence Clearwater Revival man's first new material in 11 years. Kathy Burke wins the Best Actress award at the Cannes Film Festival for her role in Gary Oldman's directorial debut Nil By Mouth. The jury, which included directors Tim Burton and Mike Leigh, name Sean Penn Best Actor for She's So Lovely. Performance director Donald Cammell's last film, Wild Side, is given a video release in the original form its maker intended, a year after his suicide. The earlier decision of independent studio Nulmage Pictures to re-edit the movie and premiere it on cable television, bypassing cinemas, had been suggested as a contributary factor to Cammell taking his own life. Magician David Blaine's debut TV special is aired in the US, the ABC network impressed by the illusionist's warm-up spots at the Grammys earlier in the year, and endorsements from superstar pals Jack Nicholson, Robert De Niro and Madonna. "David is very contemporary, of his generation, hip and cool," says network president Jamie Tarses. "We think he can pull in the young, urban audience." Miami Vice star Don Johnson is being sued by a female chauffer for sexual harassment. Court papers allege that the actor repeatedly tried to grope his driver while she was behind the wheel of a moving vehicle. Tiger Woods lands a $13 million sponsorship deal with American Express. The new Labour government announces a plan to ban tobacco advertising from all UK sporting events. Terry Staunton

HAPPENINGS TEN YEARS TIME AGO

May 14 to 20, 1997

Crosby, Stills & Nash are inducted into the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall Of Fame. Neil Young also gets the call, as part of Buffalo Springfield, while other inductees are Joni Mitchell, The Bee Gees, The Jackson Five, Parliament/Funkadelic, and The Young Rascals.

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Uncut has left the building (nearly)

John Mulvey
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OK I've just packed the stereo into a crate, so it's a bit hard to write a proper blog today. Uncut is moving to our palatial new home this afternoon, and I'll hopefully get back to proper blogging action next week. I'll definitely be filing something on the terrific Justice album, in spite of parts of it reminding me of Ray Parker Jr. I'll also get my thoughts together on the long-awaited Jason Isbell solo album, and that great compilation of Finnish psych, if I can find it. Plus there'll hopefully be live reviews of Wilco and Ghost coming up, and maybe Brightblack Morning Light if I can make the show. See you there, maybe?

OK I’ve just packed the stereo into a crate, so it’s a bit hard to write a proper blog today. Uncut is moving to our palatial new home this afternoon, and I’ll hopefully get back to proper blogging action next week.

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Andy Bell Reignites Ride

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Andy Bell Reignites Ride

Ride are the latest band to hit the reunion trail, following the recent reformations of other indie icons the Jesus and Mary Chain. Ride fronted by Andy Bell and Mark Gardener were at the forefront of the shoegazing scene until the band's disintegration in 1996. Members of the group have pursued various musical pursuits since the band's split, most notably Andy Bell who formed the short-lived Hurricane#1, and then went on to become a permanant bassist for Oasis. Mark Gardner has also toured extensivley as a solo artist, whilst drummer Laurence Colbert has been drumming with the newly reformed Jesus and Mary Chain. Ride are tipped to play the North By Northeast Music and Film Festival in Toronto, Canada. The festival takes place June 7-10. There is no word yet whether Ride will play any UK dates, though a live DVD is being planned for release soon.

Ride are the latest band to hit the reunion trail, following the recent reformations of other indie icons the Jesus and Mary Chain.

Ride fronted by Andy Bell and Mark Gardener were at the forefront of the shoegazing scene until the band’s disintegration in 1996.

Members of the group have pursued various musical pursuits since the band’s split, most notably Andy Bell who formed the short-lived Hurricane#1, and then went on to become a permanant bassist for Oasis.

Mark Gardner has also toured extensivley as a solo artist, whilst drummer Laurence Colbert has been drumming with the newly reformed Jesus and Mary Chain.

Ride are tipped to play the North By Northeast Music and Film Festival in Toronto, Canada. The festival takes place June 7-10.

There is no word yet whether Ride will play any UK dates, though a live DVD is being planned for release soon.

Spider-Man meets The Flaming Lips and Black Mountain. The Arcade Fire and the Bible. And introducing Paul Duncan. . .

John Mulvey
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Very quick post today, because the Uncut move has become rather pressing here . But a few things that you might be interested in. Firstly, the Spider-Man 3 soundtrack turned up this morning. Now the film looks like hell on earth to me, and I must admit I haven't played the whole album: you'll excuse my antipathy towards Snow Patrol and The Killers, hopefully. There is, though, a nice new Flaming Lips track called "The Supreme Being Teaches Spider-Man How To Be In Love", which is Wayne and Steven doing their Beach Boys-gone-electronica thing. Much better than some of the rather thin flams they churn out for these affairs usually. And my beloved Black Mountain also contribute a new one, "Stay Free", which is very dazed Neil Young. A great band, criminally undervalued. Playing now is a recent favourite, "Above The Trees" by Paul Duncan. Duncan is a Texan based in Brooklyn whose last album didn't make much of an impression on me. This one, though (on the Hometapes label) is really lovely: impeccably arranged folk-pop with a lush and dreamy ambience and affinities with Will Oldham, especially with his last album. Duncan isn't as cranky, though, and this one deserves some love. Try before you buy at Paul's Myspace. Finally, connoisseurs of, how shall we put this respectfully, intense Christian rhetoric might enjoy Arcade Fire: A Neon Bible Study, which parses the Arcade Fire's excellent album for every conceivable - and I have to say often inconceivable - reference to the Bible. The author also appears to have given the same treatment to Spongebob Squarepants. The bit where he derives religious significance in Mark Beaumont's NME review is classic. Maybe he can find the hidden messages from God in Wild Mercury Sound?

Very quick post today, because the Uncut move has become rather pressing here . But a few things that you might be interested in. Firstly, the Spider-Man 3 soundtrack turned up this morning.

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Watch the best of Squeeze

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Watch the best of Squeeze
Three decades on since Squeeze first emerged on to the pop scene and the band are as influential today as they ever were, with bands including Razorlight, The View and Kasabian citing them as champions. A new compilation, ‘Essential Squeeze’, has been released and showcases the best of their ...

Three decades on since Squeeze first emerged on to the pop scene and the band are as influential today as they ever were, with bands including Razorlight, The View and Kasabian citing them as champions.

A new compilation, ‘Essential Squeeze’, has been released and showcases the best of their 25 years contribution to pop. Released by Universal Music TV on the same day is the companion DVD, featuring all their pop promo videos plus a bonus live concert, filmed in Hitchin in 1982.

To celebrate Uncut.co.uk take a look back at some of the best of Squeeze. You can watch the classic videos from the band, via the link below.

Watch the videos here

Thin Lizzy Announce Headline Tour

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Thin Lizzy Announce Headline Tour

Following a handful of arena performances with Deep Purple and Styx in the UK this month, as well as completing a European Tour, Thin Lizzy have announced a tour for later this year. Featuring 'classic' line-up members Scott Gorham and John Sykes, Thin Lizzy will play 17 venues throughout the UK, culminating at London's Hammersmith Apollo on December 13. The band which also includes Marco Mendosa on bass and Whitesnake's Tommy Aldridge on drums, will perform TL's riff-tastic hit songs including "Whiskey In The Jar," "Dancing In The Moonlight," "Sarah" and the oft-covered track "The Boys Are Back In Town." Tickets for the shows go on sale this Friday (May 11) at 9am. Ticket Hotline is: 0870 400 0688 or through usual ticket agents. You can see Thin Lizzy, co-headlining with rockers Queensyrche, at the following venues this year. Leicester, De Montfort Hall (November 22 ) Cambridge, Corn Exchange (23) Ipswich, Regent (24) Nottingham, Royal Concert Hall (26) Birmingham, Academy (27) Cardiff, St David's Hall (28) Glasgow, Academy (30) Aberdeen, Music Hall (December 1) Newcastle, City Hall (2) Sheffield, City Hall (4) Manchester, Apollo (5) Liverpool, University (6) Bristol, Colston Hall (8) Southampton, Guildhall (9) Exeter, University (10) Folkestone, Leas Cliff (12) Hammersmith, Apollo (13)

Following a handful of arena performances with Deep Purple and Styx in the UK this month, as well as completing a European Tour, Thin Lizzy have announced a tour for later this year.

Featuring ‘classic’ line-up members Scott Gorham and John Sykes, Thin Lizzy will play 17 venues throughout the UK, culminating at London’s Hammersmith Apollo on December 13.

The band which also includes Marco Mendosa on bass and Whitesnake’s Tommy Aldridge on drums, will perform TL’s riff-tastic hit songs including “Whiskey In The Jar,” “Dancing In The Moonlight,” “Sarah” and the oft-covered track “The Boys Are Back In Town.”

Tickets for the shows go on sale this Friday (May 11) at 9am. Ticket Hotline is: 0870 400 0688 or through usual ticket agents.

You can see Thin Lizzy, co-headlining with rockers Queensyrche, at the following venues this year.

Leicester, De Montfort Hall (November 22 )

Cambridge, Corn Exchange (23)

Ipswich, Regent (24)

Nottingham, Royal Concert Hall (26)

Birmingham, Academy (27)

Cardiff, St David’s Hall (28)

Glasgow, Academy (30)

Aberdeen, Music Hall (December 1)

Newcastle, City Hall (2)

Sheffield, City Hall (4)

Manchester, Apollo (5)

Liverpool, University (6)

Bristol, Colston Hall (8)

Southampton, Guildhall (9)

Exeter, University (10)

Folkestone, Leas Cliff (12)

Hammersmith, Apollo (13)

Midlake Add Extra UK Dates

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Midlake Add Extra UK Dates
Last month's Uncut feature artists Midlake have added two further shows to their July UK festival appearances. The two new dates are at the Gateshead Sage on July 9 and at the Leeds Irish Centre on July 10. The five-piece Texan band will also be appearing the Royal Festival Hall as part of a n...

Last month’s Uncut feature artists Midlake have added two further shows to their July UK festival appearances.

The two new dates are at the Gateshead Sage on July 9 and at the Leeds Irish Centre on July 10.

The five-piece Texan band will also be appearing the Royal Festival Hall as part of a night celebrating their record label Bella Union’s tenth anniversary.
Also appearing at the event will be The Dears and Kissaway Trail.

Oxfordshire, Cornbury Festival (July 8)
Gateshead, Sage (9)
Leeds, Irish Centre (10)
London, Royal Festival Hall (11)
Southwold, Latitude Festival (13)
Glasgow, Indian Summer Festival (14)

Midlake’s acclaimed album “The Trials Of Van Occupanther” is available now.

Dungen, Wigwam and Robert Wyatt on the horizon

John Mulvey
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For some reason, I've been struggling to write about the new Dungen album for a few weeks now. They are, if you're in the dark, a pretty rampant Swedish psych band who had a fair bit of success with their "Ta Det Lugnt" album a couple of years ago. The new one begins with a guitar solo, more or less, and flops around on a nice Turkish carpet for three minutes or so before a flute turns up to enjoy the vibes. It's kind of uncompromising, I guess, but the thing about Dungen is that their freak-outs are still quite poppy and accessible. The other thing about them is that the songs on their albums - and it's probably more evident on this one, "Tio Bitar", than the last - seem to blur together into a giant rush of melodic psych. It's an engrossing trick, but maybe it's this that makes it hard to write about. "Tio Bitar" barrels along with great gusto, virtuosity and historic resonances. A faint, musty smell, mingled with patchouli, ought to come off the sleeve. It's elaborate and thrilling pop-prog, and I can't remember which tracks are the best ones. I'm trying, though. "C Visar Vagen", I discover as I write, is the pastoral one with the added strings, where guitarist Reine Fiske takes his Hendrixy foot off the gas for a few minutes. Most of the work, I read assiduously from the press biog, was done by Gustav Ejstes. So I guess it's Ejstes who suddenly bends "Sa Blev Det Bestamt" in a distinctly Turkish direction, with what I think may be the reverberant sound of a saz. I love this stuff, as I think I mentioned in a blog a few weeks ago about Voice Of The Seven Woods. I also seem to have a thing at the moment about hippy jams from the Northernmost extremes of Europe, judging by this week's mild obsession with Wigwam (not the folktronica pioneers of a few years ago - though their "Soda Pop Rock" 12-inch is a real lost gem). Wigwam were a prog band from Finland, and I was lucky enough (though my wife and some of my colleagues would probably dispute that) to be sent a large part of their back catalogue by Love Recordings. Some of it's a bit ropey, obviously, but I do like the "Being" album very much, which sounds like an odd but harmonious mix of Soft Machine and Stevie Wonder. Which reminds me, Robert Wyatt has a new album out in the autumn. As soon as I hear something, I'll let you know.

For some reason, I’ve been struggling to write about the new Dungen album for a few weeks now. They are, if you’re in the dark, a pretty rampant Swedish psych band who had a fair bit of success with their “Ta Det Lugnt” album a couple of years ago.

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Van Morrison To Play With The Rolling Stones

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Van Morrison To Play With The Rolling Stones

Van Morrison has been confirmed as the special guest for the opening nights of the Rolling Stones Summer Tour. The singer famous for songs such as "Brown Eyed Girl" and "Moondance" will play the first two nights of the tour, on June 5 in Belgium, and on June 8 in Holland. Previously, Morrison has opened for the Stones' 'Bigger Bang' shows on it's North American leg last year; he played with them in Vancouver and California last November. Other artists who have appeared on the tour so far also include rocker Alice Cooper, the Dave Matthews Band, and hip-hop star Kanye West. Further guest artists for the European leg of the tour are still to be confirmed. Rolling Stones info and behind-the-scenes tour access is available here from the band's website The 2007 dates in full are as follows: Belgium, Werchter Park (June 5) Nijmegen, Holland, Goffertpark (8) Isle of Wight, UK, Isle of Wight Festival (10) Frankfurt, Germany, Commerzbank (13) Paris, France, Stade De France (16) Lyon, France, Stade Gerland (18) Barcelona, Spain, Olympic Stadium (21) San Sebastian, Spain, Anoeta (23) Lisbon, Portugal, Alvalade Stadium (25) Madrid, Spain, Calderon Stadium (28) El Ejido, Spain, Santo Domingo Stadium (30) Rome, Italy, Olympic Stadium (July 6) Budva, Montenegro, Jaz Beach (9) Belgrade, Serbia, Hippodrome (14) Bucharest, Romania Lia Manoliu Stadium (17) Budapest, Hungary, The Puskas Ferenc Stadium (20) Brno, Czech Republic, Outdoor Exhibition Centre (22) Kiev, Ukraine, NSC Olimpiys’kyi (25) St Petersburg, Russia, Place Square (28) Helsinki, Finland, Olympic Stadium (August 1) Gothenburg, Sweden, Ullevi Stadium (3) Copenhagen, Denmark, Parken (5) Oslo, Norway, Valle Hovin (8) Düsseldorf, Germany, LTU Arena (13) Hamburg, Germany, AOL Arena (15) Dublin, ROI, Slane Castle (18) London, UK, O2 Arena (21/23/26)

Van Morrison has been confirmed as the special guest for the opening nights of the Rolling Stones Summer Tour.

The singer famous for songs such as “Brown Eyed Girl” and “Moondance” will play the first two nights of the tour, on June 5 in Belgium, and on June 8 in Holland.

Previously, Morrison has opened for the Stones’ ‘Bigger Bang’ shows on it’s North American leg last year; he played with them in Vancouver and California last November.

Other artists who have appeared on the tour so far also include rocker Alice Cooper, the Dave Matthews Band, and hip-hop star Kanye West.

Further guest artists for the European leg of the tour are still to be confirmed.

Rolling Stones info and behind-the-scenes tour access is available here from the band’s website

The 2007 dates in full are as follows:

Belgium, Werchter Park (June 5)

Nijmegen, Holland, Goffertpark (8)

Isle of Wight, UK, Isle of Wight Festival (10)

Frankfurt, Germany, Commerzbank (13)

Paris, France, Stade De France (16)

Lyon, France, Stade Gerland (18)

Barcelona, Spain, Olympic Stadium (21)

San Sebastian, Spain, Anoeta (23)

Lisbon, Portugal, Alvalade Stadium (25)

Madrid, Spain, Calderon Stadium (28)

El Ejido, Spain, Santo Domingo Stadium (30)

Rome, Italy, Olympic Stadium (July 6)

Budva, Montenegro, Jaz Beach (9)

Belgrade, Serbia, Hippodrome (14)

Bucharest, Romania Lia Manoliu Stadium (17)

Budapest, Hungary, The Puskas Ferenc Stadium (20)

Brno, Czech Republic, Outdoor Exhibition Centre (22)

Kiev, Ukraine, NSC Olimpiys’kyi (25)

St Petersburg, Russia, Place Square (28)

Helsinki, Finland, Olympic Stadium (August 1)

Gothenburg, Sweden, Ullevi Stadium (3)

Copenhagen, Denmark, Parken (5)

Oslo, Norway, Valle Hovin (8)

Düsseldorf, Germany, LTU Arena (13)

Hamburg, Germany, AOL Arena (15)

Dublin, ROI, Slane Castle (18)

London, UK, O2 Arena (21/23/26)

Sonic Youth Add Third London Date

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Sonic Youth Add Third London Date

Sonic Youth will now appear for three nights in London this Summer, as part of the Don't Look Back season of album shows. The new addition precedes the sold out shows at London's Roundhouse venue on August 31 and September 1. They will now also perform their sixth album, 1988's "Daydream Nation" in it's entirety on August 30 too. This is the first time Sonic Youth have performed the album through live in 19 years since its release. The double-album features Sonic Youth classic tracks "Teenage Riot," "Eric's Trip" and "Hey Joni." Being the album that got the band major record label attention from Universal records, "Daydream Nation" still features in 80s albums polls. A double CD remastered edition of "Daydream Nation" is being planned for release next month. The new version adds bonus tracks and extensive liner notes. Other Don't Look Back shows include Slint performing "Spiderland" at London's Koko on August 22 and 23, House of Love performing their eponymous debut at the same venue on September 13 and The Cowboy Junkies performing The Trinity Session at the Royal Albert Hall on October 10. Find out more about the Don't Look Back 2007 Season by clicking here

Sonic Youth will now appear for three nights in London this Summer, as part of the Don’t Look Back season of album shows.

The new addition precedes the sold out shows at London’s Roundhouse venue on August 31 and September 1. They will now also perform their sixth album, 1988’s “Daydream Nation” in it’s entirety on August 30 too.

This is the first time Sonic Youth have performed the album through live in 19 years since its release.

The double-album features Sonic Youth classic tracks “Teenage Riot,” “Eric’s Trip” and “Hey Joni.” Being the album that got the band major record label attention from Universal records, “Daydream Nation” still features in 80s albums polls.

A double CD remastered edition of “Daydream Nation” is being planned for release next month. The new version adds bonus tracks and extensive liner notes.

Other Don’t Look Back shows include Slint performing “Spiderland” at London’s Koko on August 22 and 23, House of Love performing their eponymous debut at the same venue on September 13 and The Cowboy Junkies performing The Trinity Session at the Royal Albert Hall on October 10.

Find out more about the Don’t Look Back 2007 Season by clicking here

Robert Wyatt Recording New Album

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Robert Wyatt Recording New Album

Legendary English musician Robert Wyatt has signed a new record deal with independent label Domino Recordings, and has started recording the follow up to his 2003 Mercury Music Prize nominated album, "Cuckooland," due for release this Autumn. Wyatt joins Bonnie 'Prince' Billy/ Will Oldham, Franz Ferdinand and Arctic Monkeys at Domino. The iconic composer will also be making an appearance at this year's Hay Festival, in Hay On Wye, this month. The 20th edition of the literature and arts festival will see Wyatt in conversation with renowned music writer Simon Reynolds - discussing his diverse career from Soft Machine to working with Pink Floyd's David Gilmour and Bjork. He will also be talking about what it's like being a songwriter in muisc today. Robert Wyatt appears at Hay On Wye on May 27. More details and tickets for Wyatt available by clicking here

Legendary English musician Robert Wyatt has signed a new record deal with independent label Domino Recordings, and has started recording the follow up to his 2003 Mercury Music Prize nominated album, “Cuckooland,” due for release this Autumn.

Wyatt joins Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy/ Will Oldham, Franz Ferdinand and Arctic Monkeys at Domino.

The iconic composer will also be making an appearance at this year’s Hay Festival, in Hay On Wye, this month.

The 20th edition of the literature and arts festival will see Wyatt in conversation with renowned music writer Simon Reynolds – discussing his diverse career from Soft Machine to working with Pink Floyd’s David Gilmour and Bjork.

He will also be talking about what it’s like being a songwriter in muisc today.

Robert Wyatt appears at Hay On Wye on May 27.

More details and tickets for Wyatt available by clicking here

The Battle Of Algiers

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The Battle Of Algiers

As recent movies like Hidden and Days Of Glory have re-examined France's bloody colonial past, the timing seems perfect for a re-release of Gillo Pontecorvo's searing 1965 docudrama about the struggle for Algerian independence. Covering three crucial years - 1954 to 1957 - Pontecorvo charts the progress of Algeria's nationalist movement through the rise of guerrilla group the FLN, who eventually faced a systematic attempt by French paratroopers to wipe them out. Shot on location in grainy black and white with a cast of non-professionals, cinematographer Marcello Gatti's pioneering use of a hand-held camera for the crowd scenes makes it seem as if events are being documented as they happen. Rumoured to have been shown as a recruiting tool for radicalised Americans and wannabe insurgents in the 1960s - and supposedly screened in the Pentagon in 2003 after the invasion of Iraq - Pontecorvo's film was banned in France until 2004. And yet, while it's not hard to guess where his sympathies lie in the struggle between revolutionary independence and imperial colonialism, it remains scrupulously even-handed. French troops torture, Arab guerrillas bomb cafés, but neither side is painted as bad guys, or heroes - just human. DAMIEN LOVE

As recent movies like Hidden and Days Of Glory have re-examined France’s bloody colonial past, the timing seems perfect for a re-release of Gillo Pontecorvo’s searing 1965 docudrama about the struggle for Algerian independence. Covering three crucial years – 1954 to 1957 – Pontecorvo charts the progress of Algeria’s nationalist movement through the rise of guerrilla group the FLN, who eventually faced a systematic attempt by French paratroopers to wipe them out.

Shot on location in grainy black and white with a cast of non-professionals, cinematographer Marcello Gatti’s pioneering use of a hand-held camera for the crowd scenes makes it seem as if events are being documented as they happen. Rumoured to have been shown as a recruiting tool for radicalised Americans and wannabe insurgents in the 1960s – and supposedly screened in the Pentagon in 2003 after the invasion of Iraq – Pontecorvo’s film was banned in France until 2004. And yet, while it’s not hard to guess where his sympathies lie in the struggle between revolutionary independence and imperial colonialism, it remains scrupulously even-handed. French troops torture, Arab guerrillas bomb cafés, but neither side is painted as bad guys, or heroes – just human.

DAMIEN LOVE

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