Duran Duran @ The NEC Genting Arena - 04/12/2015

The Genting Arena is best described as a cross between an airport departure lounge, what premier league football stadiums dream they are and an exercise in seeing how much you can overcharge for every kind of food and drink under the sun. It's also got lovely staff and on this brisk - but not too stormy - night, it was the venue for the return of Birmingham's greatest 80's export (or, as Simon Le Bon put it, it's "bastard children"). The venue was mostly rammed, the audience was mostly over thirty and everyone was moderately buzzing at the chance of going back to their youth. The only problem was: both the acts they had heard of had actually done a lot of stuff since they were last heard on the chart countdown.

Before that: Bloom Twins, a pair of quite talented Darkwave performers from Ukraine who do a good line in synths, live drums and mixing of 50's cinema tunes, with modern sounds that ends up being haunting, emotional and interestingly minimalistic. It was also wasted on the audience - the few that had turned up to see them by that point - and, in a neat nod to the 80's, suffered from the Ultravox problem of 'how do you make things look interesting on stage if everyone is stuck behind a sodding huge set of keyboards". I would happily listen to them again if their tunes came on the radio and would love to see them if they played in a club, but at 500 feet it was, inevitably, a bit of a non-event.

Little known fact: Seal has done seven studio albums since he released "Kiss From A Rose", something that he was quite happy to tell an audience that appeared to think he'd been keep in stasis since 1994. However they would be forgiven for having that thought, as 52 years olds really aren't supposed to be able to belt out tunes with that much power AND command the stage with that much presence AND interact with the audience with that much grace and warming wit. He started, perfectly, on Crazy and Killer which got a huge reaction. He then, perfectly, did a brace of soulful, R&B meets rock, classics from his other albums which were meet with polite applause from everyone more than three rows from the front, and finished on an, unsurprisingly perfect, rendition of "Kiss From A Rose" that got everyone singing and cheering.

Duran Duran have also not been resting on their laurels since their heyday of 1981 to 1989, especially with departures, returns and a brief hiatus when no-one really thought they would get back together again. They also (finally) have a really solid album (Paper Gods) to show off and thus were more than happy to kick things off with the title track, before kicking into a set that was 50/50 classics/tracks most of the audience didn't know because they weren't written in the 80's. But they lapped it up because it's Duran Duran, they can rock it like devils and they were overly happy to be playing to their hometown crowd, so wanted everyone to know how chuffed they were to be there.

The stage show wasn't anything too fancy and involved a bit of AV with well timed lights; the theatrics were kept minimal with only Danceophobia having any real choreography. But the impact was undeniable; the charm, charisma and confidence just dripping off every more and note. Simon Le Bon and John Taylor stalking their stage like the pop superstars they are, Nick Rhodes stayed at his keyboards like a conductor-general marshalling his forces and Roger Taylor just hammered his kit.

When they played tracks the crowd knew, everyone was dancing; when they played tracks the crowd didn't, everyone was listening - and when the moment was right, then everyone was singing. The big moment for that was the encore with Save A Prayer; something that was obviously going to be emotional, given it having become somewhat of an anthem for the Paris attacks. Le Bon introduced it well, stating the facts and offering it up as a song of hope - and then let the audience do most of the legwork. Hopefully there won't be much call for things like this in the future, but that night it gave a much-needed sense of togetherness and optimism. Then they kicked into Rio and people got back with the main point of the night: brilliant Pop that's a bit daft, occasionally poignant, and always damn good fun.

We are still going to lose Eurovision

So a couple of days ago, everyone who thinks that the Eurovision contest is important got all excited about headlines like this one that implied that the Great British Public (known connoisseurs of good musical taste) were actually going to have something to do with the selection of the song that will represent us to Europe. Yup, for a brief few seconds we actually thought that we might get to find and pick a blinder of an act (rather than raid the colonies for a ringer) that could go forth to Johnny Foreigner and show them what the British Music scene has to offer (from a selection of acts that don't want to risk the career suicide of 'nil pois').

Only it's not going to help at all, in any way, due to two major reasons. Firstly, the songs entered (of which I assume there will be many containing nothing but expletives) have to go through the OGAE, i.e. the largest collection of people in this country who have sat through every Eurovision ever, including the secret ones where Wogan started demanding whisky and launch codes. These are people who have bought into the chintz of Eurovision to the point of being willing to spend £15.00 a year in the internet age to get a magazine about one of the most heavily promoted and publicised events out there. They are indoctrinated into and educated in the ways of Eurovision, the voting cycles and the tactics, the politics and the power-plays. Fundamentally, these are the people who would tell Lordi to turn it down or be worried that Conchita Wurst would upset the Russians too much, so the chances of an outsider or oddball choice is instantly gone as they focus on what will get "The Win".

So once anything that is either new, exciting, or edgy (i.e. most of the music coming from anything even vaguely not-top-30) is binned, we get the barrier of  "a professional panel and the public". The first bit sounds nice, but then you remember that professional panels were also why Electro Velvet, Scooch, Daz Sampson, Blue and other such aberrations were allowed to ever be thought "a good thing". Plus, because it'll be on the BBC and thus the decision process will be gunning for TV viewer eyes, it means the panel will include "names" like the git-demon Wil.I.Am, who will be going out of their way to make 'bold decisions' to promote their own agenda, rather than thinking "can we win this?" And then "the public" roll in, specifically the aforementioned TV viewing public. The kind of people who watch the X-Factor or The Voice for "the drama", which basically means someone having a good sob story or being attractive in a trying-hard way. Talent, beyond a certain base level, won't be the issue - it'll be about likeability.

So, after several months of being promised that we might actually win this time and that it's really going to be different, we are going to get something that is scientifically selected to win last year's event, that has been vetted by people more interested in their own next album, and then approved by people who fundamentally wanted to watch Eastenders but with a bit more of a tune. And then folks will wonder why we hit the bottom and ask if we can just bring in a ringer again.

Of course it's easy (and fun) to mock, Eurovision is an easy target for awfulness  But there is a way that this could all be fixed and it's an incredibly easy one: actually let the public decide. Have an open list, have anyone be able to enter a song if they want, and then let people vote directly from that list. Have one big show where you announce the winner if you want, and then have the experts work with them to spruce up whatever it is they are going play to the absolute peak of it's potential (you can make a documentary out of it if you want). But make it actually picked by the public, actually representative of the British Public. Because if we lose, it will be on our own terms - but if we win, it will be something we can actually be proud of for more than five minutes.

Breakout Festival - Brighton Racecourse - 26.09.2015

It's not often you associate Brighton with heavy metal & hard rock, but from going along to the Second annual Breakout Festival it's quite clear that they go together as well as ice-cream and beach walks (well, the type that leave you happy, tired, and somewhat deaf). It's also quite clear from having attended this years event that the organisers know how to operate an efficient band-packed event, and that the local scene is filled to the brim with friendly folk out to have a splendid time of it all. And by "all" I mean 14 bands for the outrageously low price of £27.50 (including booking fee), starting at 10:40 and finishing almost 12 music-soaked and fist-pumped hours later.

Opening up was We Deny, a quality pop-punk outfit that managed to pull people in through a combo of ridiculous amounts of energy for that time of the morning and a clear talent for catchy tunes. It was "light, but filling" in the best of ways, getting my feet tapping and face smiling before the first bite of coffee. Quite frankly, if you're under 25 and have even the slightest interest in being happy about things, then put this on your car stereo and just drive off to adventure.

And, whilst it was impressive being that happy at 10:40am, hats go off to Skint Circus for being so utterly pissed off at 11:20 when they rolled out their thick, sweaty, and highly energetic take on hardcore punk with breakdowns, beatdowns, and throwdown flying over the places almost as much as their singer did. Their lead guitarist didn't move much though, he just stood there in a suit jacket looking unnervingly cool. A band with that much anger has a lot to give, and I look forward to hearing more from them.

Next up was Seething Akira, a band who appear to have bridge the existential gap between Enter Shikari and The Midnight Beast. From their jolly intro of "Hello" to their rave-metal bouncing noise, this was everything you could ask for from a band that have one front man who looks like a young Alan Moore in a Lionel Richie t-shirt and another that you could envision your sister politely introducing to your mother. By song two they were both in the crowd, giving things a runaround - kicking off a moshpit conga line, sneaking a cheeky go on the bouncy castle near the stage, all the time accompanied by blood-pumping party revolution rawk. All of this meant that when they asked the question "Have you all had a nice time?" and gave the quippy "That makes us very happy" after the cheer, it came across as honest rather than affected, and just added to the fun factor that was washing over everyone. They have a single coming out, get it and then try to see them live.

The Gospel Youth had a tough act to follow, and their more laid back, radio friendly, alt-rock approach was a good switch of pace from what had come before. Touches of Gaslight Anthem, the odd bit of Fall Out Boy, mostly just solid rock played in a no nonsense fashion. Whilst their look was the most regimented and sculpted of the day so far they were perfectly willing to just let the music and the lyrics do the work for them, so whilst they didn't get much motion out in the slowly growing crowd there were clearly a lot of ears open taking it all in.

Another set, another change in style, something that seems to be the make of Breakout with a very broad range of the church of rock on display. By Definition were the next brotherhood on display, and they had come to give some very hard lessons on the benefits of blues based, groove heavy, slow and steady heavy rock. It was slow, it was steady, it was raunchy, and it was delivered with the restraint of a grizzly bear. Pretty much instantly everyone in the area started smelling of strong liquor and began tapping their hands, feet, heads, and assorted other appendages as the growling, swirling, bass-to-the-guts overload was hammered out.

Zoax were up next and rapidly pitched their tent as a screamo version of The Pixies with a heavy sound that saw more peaks and valleys than a bus going off the cliff in Wales. They also almost had the same visual impact on the stage at times, as all three of the guitarists were throwing their instruments around with so much abandon their mothers would have been worried someone would lose their whole head. Desperate to the crowd moving, their singer Adam stalked the pit like a demon whilst throwing his heart and lungs into every lyric. Not to sure on the safety of bringing a cabled mic into the thick of it, but no-one got hurt and it certainly added to the drama. Then he came over to the table we were sat at and he pinched my hat, so that's one to tell the Godparents once these guys make it big.

Then, for lack of a better term, Black Tongue happened. They just walked on stage, started playing something that sounded like five doom and death metal tracks all at once, hated everything in front of them for even existing for about half an hour, and then headed off. Occasionally they introduced a song with some horror movie sound track but other than that it was just "bang and gone". They even had a guest vocalist for one track that just walked on, screamed, and headed off. Like it, don't like it: they clearly did not have one fuck to give regards your opinion of what they did. Obviously the people who were into it loved it, whilst everyone else seemed a bit bemused. I'm assuming that was the intention. The only down side to their set was the sound techs not being up to task, as there was feedback and pops through out, which was a shame for an otherwise precision performance.

Representing the kind of  poetic, polemic, and curiously swinging hardcore that seems to grow in London, TRC bounded on with the goal of kicking up a riot and ensuring everyone had fun doing it. It was shouty, it was bouncy, it had riffs and energy you could listen to for days. It also had the line of "If you've got some energy, do it. If not, then get to the gym" and the request for the pit to get "a bit like strictly come dancing". The thrash-ier bits were intense, and all over, it got everyone up for a good time that showed the old school have still got it.



Shunning the simple pleasures of music, like tune or melody or even apparent structure, Heck (aka Baby Godzilla) landed next and dropped out a lot of sounds in about half the time you would think it humanly possible. Some might call it mathcore, or extreme jazz, or "all the notes ever, sometimes twice", or "Cream force-fed Napalm Death from birth"  but mostly it was just an exhilarating exploration of what you can do when you say 'no' to almost every rule ever. I'm not going to claim to understand it, but it was compelling and enjoyable like some intricate puzzlebox, especially with the bands determination to hammer their instruments and play them anywhere other than the stage. It was also impressive to watch as there was no-one obviously holding the songs together, but regardless of how far everyone flew off in which direction it kept on coming back to one central point, Oh yeah, and they hate microphone stands. I saw three of them laid waste in the first track alone.

Martyr Defiled hit the stage next, playing something that sounded halfway between death metal and blastbeat-based hardcore. Sadly the performance almost instantly got hit by bad sound, so nothing came across with as much bite as it should have, in the first track. The sense of terror was further eroded by their vocalist sounding so amiable and friendly when talking between tracks, as someone who sounds that devilish when singing, should not instantly strike you as someone you would share cocoa with. It was technically proficient but the performance side wasn't theatrical or passionate enough to really grab up and hold you in its fist.

Finishing up the last of the daylight were The Qemist, a raging slab of power is pitched halfway between The Prodigy and Pendulum, but with enough of their own sound to not sound like a dodgy knock-off. From the off they had everyone bouncing to their uplifting sounds and welcoming stage presence. A couple of the callouts and platitudes to the crowd may have been a tad bit cheesy, but everyone was smiling too much to be offended and they all knew it was meant well. Still, you can't argue with the crowd and they managed to get a huge response as everyone rocked out to their rebel party anthems.

And then night was upon us, and as the stage lights kicked in We Are The Ocean took the stage and played something halfway between alt-rock and dad-rock. It was good for what it was, including a brave attempt at Dazed and Confused (a fifty year old song for a crowd that was mostly under twenty five), it's just that it was too much of a change from what had gone on before through the day. The crowd dwindled visibly, the cold started to suck at people's energy, and though there were moments that landed some response from those left behind, they never landed well enough to convince me they were the right pick for that point in the day.

When Sikth got on stage there was a resurgence in numbers, mostly from the bar, as this was clearly a band that a lot of people had been looking forward to see. Whilst I wasn't aware of the band before today I can clearly see why people like their brand of prog-metal: it's loud, it's fast, it's filled with virtuosity, and it's almost certain to piss off your parents. It was also a highly energetic and frantic performance, which got picked up by the crowd and resulted in a lot of bodies thrashing around & building up a sweat. Personally I liked the spoken-word piece the most, as it was totally unexpected and yet fitted in perfectly with everything else before and after, and a fair chunk of the audience dug it as well. For a band doing their first gig of the year in September, they had clearly been doing more than just practising their tunes. If you are of the progressive music persuasion, then grab a ticket to whenever they play within travelling distance of you.

The day was drawn to a close by Deaf Havana and their brand of alternative rock, which sadly seemed to miss the mark of what the crowd were after in a similar vein to We Are The Ocean if the madly diminished audience was anything to go by. Those who stayed had a lovely time, listening to some heartfelt tunes and rocking singalongs, but for a lot of people it was either time for bed after an incredibly long day in the sun or just not their thing after the prog-metal blowout that had hit them before.

Still, with that much range and at that price, you can't have everything your way. However, you can have an incredibly well-organised and perfectly sized event, completed by a pleasant crowd and utterly pleasant staff.  They was also the bonus of all the bands hanging out in the audience, so you could be both encouraged that they are actually real people who got up and did it, as well as get the chance to go up and say "thanks for the music". Book your tickets for 2016, because it's going to be worth it.

Fiverfest: Heat 1 - 24/10/2014

Fiverfest is a band competition being held at The Junction in Cambridge, so it's a fantastic chance to check out a series of bands for £5.00. This doesn't explain why things were quite so quiet at the start of the night, as swapping a pint and a half for the chance of seeing the next Gods of Rock before they even get signed (or just a series of decent, up for it, acts giving it a shot) is just too spectacular to miss out on. Still folks didn't come in a huge number or variety (it was mostly the '18' to 25 scene), so others bad choices meant I got a better view of something far more enjoyable than X-Factor.

First up was Ambury Night, who played a sweaty version of tribal blues rock that I really quite liked. Their bassist had all the stage moves and their drummer was playing the 'hit everything all the time' game with great aplomb, which provided an excellent backline for their guitarist to noodle away to his hearts content and their singer to give their rather nice songs a faux-Americana belting that reminded me of Ian Astbury. All in all a great showing with a range of tunes & sounds on show, thought I would encourage their singer to try and sing more towards the audience than to his band mates.

Lost Lungs followed, and whilst they played a nice line in indie rock that had moments of Catatonia and 90's radio friendly goodness that would be great for a Summer drive to something exciting with friends they were a bit hit-and-miss for me (in that I liked songs 2, 4, and 6 but songs 1, 3, and 5 left me cold). Their last track was especially impressive, sounding like they were trying to drown me in velvet, and their stage presence was good, but beyond that it just wasn't connecting. Also their drummer was wearing a done-up tie, which will always be a major 'NO' for me as it means they aren't trying hard enough.

Fenrir exploded from the off, bringing a massive injection of positive post-hardcore energy, along with a tempo that perked up the audience and got the first motion going up at the front. They even got a singalong going and win the prize for smothist album plugs of the night. It had me bouncing along and was a nicely polished performance without too much flash or bluster. Just solid sounds and lots of pop hope with breakdowns at just the right points that I would like to check out more of.

This all left a tough one for Forever After to follow, which they didn't really achieve with their Foo Fighters mark 2 offering and the amazing line of "This one's about your girlfriend leaving you and its all emotional" which drew an audible snickering from my side of the audience. None of it was bad, as they could clearly play and were perfectly skilled craftsman (including their bassist who appeared to have recently scored some incredibly powerful E as he spent the whole time smiling like a loon). It's just that none of it was half as exciting as they thought it was or especially new/interesting.

And then finally, for me anyway as I had to nip off before the 11th hour additional 6th act, was The Abstracts. who brought along an Indie-Meets-New Wave sound that mixed The James, The Cars, and a touch of Elvis Costello with just enough Libertines to be distinctly English without needing a punch. It was highly emotive with clear Brit-Pop sensibilities, but nothing too overboard or pretentious (although their singer is quite possibly from another planet given his hyper-kinetic motions and ability to walk on stage dry to then be drenched in sweat before the start of the first track). No fancy stage work, but a good connection with the audience.

So was it worth it? Yes, very much so and especially at the price. I'm aware that events like this have a terrible reputation but for the price you can't complain and none of the acts were especially bad or a waste of time. The next one is on Saturday the 1th of November and I would encourage more people to go to it.

A little bit of Pop! for the new year.

There is nothing wrong with a bit of Pop music every now and again, no matter what anyone might say. It is always going to be populist, and as such it will always be either cynically designed attempt at mass appeal or a lighter / more accessible version of whatever genre it is coming from. But that doesn't mean it can't have good lyrics (often very universally meaningful) , that it can't have a good tune (to get big it needs to have decent hook), or can't just be enjoyable (they have to be likable to get big). So whilst most of the charts is filled with boybands (as their fans buy the most singles) or cheesy reworks (because people like a good 'of-its-time' ear-worm) you often get a couple of gems, like these two:

It's big, it's bouncy, and it has an uplifting sentiment. Maybe not profound but certainly well meaning and if this came on near the end of a party you would need to be dead not to want to join in on it.

It's got fat soul horns, a nice bit of disco backing, and a certain majesty that comes from a decent backing line of singers. The breakdown is also a killer, especially with the bonus hidden wubs that give it a modernity you wouldn't really expect.

So two great examples of the genre that give you some faith to keep your ears open from time to time. Hopefully it will also do something to counter Blurred Lines being the #1 single of the year, but even then the tune itself wasn't that bad (even if Robin Thicke is a misogynistic prick).

Lily Allen for Christmas Number One? Brilliant!

So the betting money is on Lily Allen's version of "Somewhere Only We Know" being the 2013 Christmas Number One, and this makes me smile for a number of reasons:

1. It encompasses the true spirit of Christmas! Its from an advert for Christmas shopping.
2. It's a cover of a classic old tune! It's nine years old and proves that we now live in a retro free-fall.
3. It isn't a Simon Cowell X-Factor hit! Instead it is corporate music by a totally different set of producers and media manipulators.
4. It isn't a "Get X to Christmas Number One!" campaign song! Because that was cool in 2009 with Rage Against The Machine and has since deteriorated into repetitious nonsense.
5. We now have scientific proof that you can make a Keane song worse!

So all in all a win for the biting cynic in me. Then again I gave up on the importance of a Christmas Number 1 years ago for a number of reasons. The first is that singles sales have gone through the floor, so where as in the 70's, 80's, 90's & early 00's you needed to shift a two and a half millionish to get the gold you can now do it with four hundred thousand. Still an achievement but also 16 times less sales needed. Secondly is that if you check the history of the Christmas Number One there have only been 12 Christmas Number One's that have actually been about Christmas (including 2 versions of "Do they know its Christmas" which is actually about famine), so the idea of 'a proper Christmas Number One' is a major reworking of history. And finally Christmas is no longer about when people who are into music go and buy music, it's about people looking for a gift in Tesco and spotting something they heard on the radio by Inoffensive & Clean-Shaven. This is why major artists don't bother releasing anything good at this time of year, they know they aren't going to get the top slot so wait till the New Year sales slump for a cheeky go (looking at you, Iron Maiden). And if you really want to see what's happening in music go and check out the album chart.

So sit back, enjoy the seasonal cheer, ignore the hype, and just pray that Lily makes good on previous promises.

The Further Adventures Of Miley Cyrus's Pants

So recently Miley Cyrus continued her efforts to be all grown up by performing at The American Music Awards (which are like the Smash Hits Poll Winners Party, only not taking the piss). And the whole thing was just plain strange.

First there is the introduction of the song by "Two Chains" and Jaden Smith, which lasted 5 seconds whilst their introduction lasted 15 seconds. Yup, their own intro and walk on was 3 times longer than the thing they actually did.

This is curious, but then Miley comes on with a giant, soulless cat floating around in the background.

The cold, dead eyes of a killer.

And then it started lipsyching to everything she was singing, with an ever so slight delay which gets creepier the more you look at it. The only things that moved were it's lips and it's eyelids, all the time looming over Miley like some kind of demonic avatar of cute death as the universe explodes around it in 2ks rave CGI extravagance). And then it cries, or at least it's ears drop and what appear to be diamond like things fall out of it's pure black eyes. Is this supposed to be cute? If so it missed by a mile. Is it intended to be goofy? If so then why have it for the image of such a serious song? Is it intended to be emotional? If so then for gods' sake it put it out of its misery before it eats someone's face.

Meanwhile Ms Cyrus was resplendent in a two-piece gym-wear type affair (also with cute little kitten heads on it, possibly to mark her as favoured of The Destroyer or possibly because she thinks childish hyper-sexuality is a positive thing to promote) and then proceeded to stand in one place for the whole song. There was the odd lean-over during the 'intense moments' (or maybe it was mournful twerking) and the occasional waving of her overly bangled arms but her feet stayed firmly in place. Why such savagely cut get up that is clearly designed for dance/mobility then? Well clearly to show off her (near stationary) legs to the world! Cause she's a rebel and stuff, with the 'sexualitising' and stuff. Which is just stupid given the performance of the song and leaves her looking the most tryhard she has ever achieved (which is, in itself, quite an accomplishment).

Separately either of these two elements would simply be strange, together the juxtaposition of goofy/hellbound kitten and pseudo-sexy during breakup song just mash into a confusing mess which leaves me wondering who the hell thought it was a good idea. Which, given that she either came up with it or okayed it, means Miley Cyrus thought it was a good idea, which means that she is mad.

Born This Way - Lady Gaga

Lady Gaga is not a musician, she is an artistic construct performed 24/7 by Stefani Germanotta, so the chances are that by now your view on her & this album will already be formed and will mostly be based on the videos, TV interviews, concert footage and Tweets that Gaga exists in. However if you can get past there is some good music to be heard in Born This Way which shows off Miss Germanotta's considerable talents, beyond the ability to wear a couple pounds of beef in public.

First thing to note is that over all this is a much more musically complex album than Fame or Monster, which isn't surprising if you consider her first two albums to have been minimalistic Pop. There are more layers, there are more styles, and it's got a much richer production to it all over. Lyrically it's also far more blunt than her earlier work, which comes across as a bold and solid refinement of what she conveyed with her stage shows. However it's also clearly struggling with it's new direction, resulting in an inconsistency between the tracks as they battle between old and new Gaga.