A.R. Kane: Complete Singles Collection
Joe Muggs
R.E.M.: Document 25th Anniversary Edition
Kieron Tyler
It's hard to hear P!nk without thinking of the kind of “punks” that scowl in the corners of American high-school movies, possibly befriending some “nerds”, revealing a sensitive side, and/or standing up to a “jock” at some crucial point in the plot. Angst and outsiderdom with a predictable designated role to play within a regimented and ritualised ecosystem. None of which is a bad thing as such – teen movies can be great, and so can P!ink albums, if you're in the mood. Or drunk.
After Lady Gaga's concert at Twickenham last night, I asked some of the Little Monsters scurrying back to the station the name of the last song she had sung. The song she sang right after declaring that she had to bring the evening to an early end. The song she sang an hour after screaming that she would "sing her pussy off" and no one could stop her. Someone stopped her and no one could name it. (See Update in the penultimate paragraph.)
Lee “Scratch” Perry and Friends: Disco Devil - The Jamaican Discomixes
Thomas H Green
Lady Gaga arrives in the UK this weekend to play two huge shows at Twickenham Stadium, before moving on to Manchester. Today, she is the biggest pop star in the world. Three years ago she was in the final stages of a highly orchestrated campaign intended to claim that position. What follows is an interview with her in Israel in the autumn of 2009, right around the time the world went Gaga gaga.
There's a lot that's right with this album. Love This Giant sounds like Talking Heads for one, suggesting that David Byrne has made his peace with what made him great in the first place, and has seemingly stopped his slide into becoming a fascinating conceptualist and writer but slightly boring performer. It also, in several places, sounds strikingly like Róisín Murphy's Ruby Blue album made with Matthew Herbert, which given this is one of the most criminally underappreciated records of the 21st century is no bad thing at all.
Before acid house came along and saved our souls, there was no nation-embracing socio-musical phenomenon to latch onto. Outside of mainstream pop and niche heavy metal, there was hip hop, but that was adamantly American at the time, there was retro “rare groove” funk, and there was post-C86 indie. C86 was a tape put together by the NME of a generation of bands – Shop Assistants, The Pastels, Primal Scream and so on – who applied a shambling Velvet Underground aesthetic to whimsical English tweeness. It turned out to be a dead end but kept thing ticking over until the ecstasy arrived.
In February 2001 a brain aneurysm nearly killed Karl Wallinger. It didn’t do World Party many favours either. The aftermath of devastating illness resulted in a five year hiatus for his band, followed by a gradual, tentative return. Since 2006 there have been shows in Australia and America, but no new music and no gigs on this side of the pond. Until now.
