Anyone Who Had a Chart

Watching Top Of The Pops was a big part of my life; it was the first television programme I was allowed to “stay up” to watch, and I would sit attentively for half an hour, enraptured. I loved finding out what songs had gone up, what had gone down, and best of all, spotting the new entries in the chart.

As I grew older and my interest in chart music waned, the Top 40 became less important. Then, in 2006, Top Of The Pops was cancelled, and since then I’ve hardly been aware of what was at the summit of the charts.

So, this week, I decided to listen to the Official Charts in their entirety, on Radio 1. Three hours later, I was exhausted and suffering from pop music overload, but what had I learnt? I’d discovered that a young man named Bruno Mars would go to such lengths for his beloved that he makes Meat Loaf look uncommitted; I’d found out that twelve years after his chart debut, Eminem was still unfeasibly angry about something or other; and I’d realised that a bright young thing called Jessie J has a fairly loose grip on the difference between the genders.

Recently chart music was described as “variations on the same shade of beige” but that’s not really the case. While there were similarities between many of the tracks, to call them “beige” would be to suggest they were insignificant and content to blend into the background.

That couldn’t be further from the truth; most songs demanded attention from the moment they began. Every possible space was filled with sound, leaving the songs strangled of any semblance of character; instead conjuring a relentless assault.

Music is so ubiquitous nowadays; you want to make yourself heard, and heard now. Today, music is often heard through MP3 players and faces tough competition from outside noise: traffic, and the general hubbub of daily life so it’s no surprise that the average chart entry displays all the subtlety of a seaside kiss-me-quick hat.
The leading example in this week’s crop appears to be Jessie J, whose debut hit, ‘Do It Like A Dude’ displays an approach to production that is akin to banging your head against a wall; repeatedly.

The singles market has actually experienced a renaissance in recent years, largely thanks to the advent of online music stores, like iTunes and in 2007, with eligibility rules relaxed, songs could enter the charts based on downloads alone, regardless of whether they’d ever been officially released as a single.

However, there will always be loopholes, and the latest to benefit is the mysterious American rap troupe ‘Hype Squad’ who have capitalised upon the buzz surrounding the as-yet-unavailable Wiz Khalifa track, “Black and Yellow”, and rush-released their own version (which sounds strangely similar to the original). Those who pine for the Wiz Khalifa version can’t wait, apparently, it for its UK release so Hype Squad’s ingenuity has given them a Top 40 hit.

Frighteningly, the average age of artists making up the Top 10 this week is less than 22, with the aforementioned Hawaiian, Bruno Mars, representing the old-timers, clocking in at a not-exactly-decrepit 25.

The lack of what we’d probably call traditional bands is striking It’s no secret that dance and R&B are the sound of the 21st Century generation, but there are only two acts, Foo Fighters and Noah & The Whale, who have a classic pop/rock line-up consisting of a guitarist and a drummer.

Does all of this mean it’s time to denounce chart music and claim things were better ‘back in the day’? Well it’s true that the trend of (perceived) “maximum impact” production is a little unsettling, but there is always room for invention and experimentation in pop music.

It may not be to everyone’s taste, but the exhilarating dubstep of Breakage shows promise, and the collaboration between Tiesto, Diplo and Busta Rhymes is oddly thrilling. For anyone wishing to write off the class of 2011, it’s worth bearing in mind that the current number one is Adele’s ‘Someone Like You’, a timeless piano-led ballad fit to top the charts of any era.

Of course, looking at the charts of one week in isolation doesn’t provide a watertight conclusion. It’s a snapshot.

The charts of 2011 are brash, an indictment of our obsession with celebrities, and display a severe shortage of guitars, yet the Official UK Top Forty still provides surprises and a few traces of gold amongst the silt.

Sunday at 4.00pm on Radio One – bring your own sieve.

Valhalla Dancehall

British Sea Power - Valhalla Dancehall
released 10 January 2011 on Rough Trade


British Sea Power have always been a better band in theory than in practice. On paper, they should be adored - they put geology and nature references in their lyrics, they often decorate the stage with assorted foliage, and they self-effacingly titled their debut The Decline of British Sea Power. However, giving their records a spin is often a disappointment as they reveal themselves as little more than a competent but pedestrian rock band. At this point, it would be fantastic to proclaim that Valhalla Dancehall is a triumph, a breakthrough, the album that would finally win over the doubters. Sadly, that’s not the case, and this record is just more of the same.

The attitude running through Valhalla Dancehall is an intriguing one: the aforementioned allusions to nature (“there are interstellar clouds on the Sussex Downs”), the dedication to creating huge, anthemic tunes, and the resolute Englishness that pervades the entire album (“I’m a big fan of the local library”). It’s a towering rock behemoth, make no mistake; it’s just a bit hard not to feel jaded by it all.

It starts off so well. First track, Who’s In Control, fair roars out of the traps. As album openers go, it’s a bold mission statement as lead singer Yan wishes “protesting was sexy on a Saturday night” against a wall of electric guitar and rumbling bass. The chorus chants of “over here, over there, over here, every-fucking-where” are just waiting for a hands-aloft crowd singalong.

From there, it’s almost uniformly downhill. The tracks fall into two categories: one-dimensional, reverb-heavy songs that try and fail to replicate the winning formula of Who’s In Control, and trite, over-long ballads, where Yan’s reedy vocals sound strained. The main exception is the stellar Living Is So Easy, which contains both the features Valhalla Dancehall otherwise sadly lacks: melody and restraint. If said subtlety was evident in more of the record it could have been a good deal more substantial, but as it stands, in spite of the band’s evident acumen, it’s a plodding, unremarkable effort.

So. Same as it ever was. British Sea Power: the band you want to like but who don’t do themselves any favours. Valhalla Dancehall will quickly disappear from your radar and there’s a chance that in two or three years, we get to do it all again. Let’s hope they confound expectations for the better next time.

The King Of Limbs

Radiohead - The King of Limbs
self-released on Friday 18th February
I wrote two reviews for this record. One for The Rocking Vicar and one for No Ripcord. Both are posted below:


ROCKING VICAR
Whether you’re a fan of Radiohead or not, you have to admit they’re no slouches when it comes to marketing. Already known for pioneering the “honesty box” payment method with 'In Rainbows' in 2007, they’ve got everyone in a tizzy again with 'The King Of Limbs'. As if an out-of-the-blue announcement of an album release in just five days time wasn’t enough, they then brought the date forward by 24 hours with no warning.


On the day itself, bloggers and web journalists tripped over themselves - and each other - in an attempt to be the first to review the record, but now the dust has settled, The King Of Limbs can be seen in context, divorced from the brouhaha surrounding its release. What we’re left with is an album which is striking on first listen, promises a great deal, but ultimately fails to deliver.


The King Of Limbs is very much an album of two sides. The first five tracks display a more prominent dance influence than any of their previous work, while the last three (yes, there are only eight songs) are more sedate and genteel, as if the band have exhausted their capacity for intensity.


The “dance” side is propelled by twitchy, off-kilter rhythms and wandering basslines, but it’s too often a case of style over substance. Opening track, 'Bloom', is unsettling enough to hold the listener’s attention with its bursts of white noise and backward looping effects, but subsequent numbers are too similar. Feral is the worst offender - an urgent, breathless song with a soupçon of dubstep that sounds like a work in progress. Chord stabs are barely there, hints of melody are snatched at and the threat that something interesting might happen is never realised.


Whether you’re a fan of Radiohead or not, you have to admit they’re no slouches when it comes to marketing. Already known for pioneering the “honesty box” payment method with 'In Rainbows' in 2007, they’ve got everyone in a tizzy again with 'The King Of Limbs'. As if an out-of-the-blue announcement of an album release in just five days time wasn’t enough, they then brought the date forward by 24 hours with no warning.


On the day itself, bloggers and web journalists tripped over themselves - and each other - in an attempt to be the first to review the record, but now the dust has settled, The King Of Limbs can be seen in context, divorced from the brouhaha surrounding its release. What we’re left with is an album which is striking on first listen, promises a great deal, but ultimately fails to deliver.


The King Of Limbs is very much an album of two sides. The first five tracks display a more prominent dance influence than any of their previous work, while the last three (yes, there are only eight songs) are more sedate and genteel, as if the band have exhausted their capacity for intensity.


The “dance” side is propelled by twitchy, off-kilter rhythms and wandering basslines, but it’s too often a case of style over substance. Opening track, 'Bloom', is unsettling enough to hold the listener’s attention with its bursts of white noise and backward looping effects, but subsequent numbers are too similar. Feral is the worst offender - an urgent, breathless song with a soupçon of dubstep that sounds like a work in progress. Chord stabs are barely there, hints of melody are snatched at and the threat that something interesting might happen is never realised.


NO RIPCORD


Announcing a new album on a Monday, setting the release date to Saturday and then bringing it forward to Friday – Radiohead sure know what they’re doing. On Friday 18th February, the internet was a tornado of activity with bloggers and journalists alike all desperate to be the first to hear and judge The King of Limbs. For Europeans, a hilarious afternoon followed with people waking up on the other side of the Atlantic, heading online and exclaiming, “Radiohead did WHAT?!”

It’s unlikely a band has ever been so good at promoting their output under their own steam, but there are two sides to this coin. Sales-wise, Radiohead couldn’t fail, but as for critical reception, they couldn’t win. The hype surrounding The King of Limbs – which the band were more than partially responsible for – had snowballed to such an extent that anything less than a genre-defining masterpiece would be seen as a disappointment.

So, now we’ve lived with the record for a while, we can see through the white noise that characterised the unleashing of the record and assess it in context properly. And you know what? It’s a disappointment.

Or, at least, it’s a disappointment coming from the band that brought us Kid A, In Rainbows et al, if not an outright bad record. While the willingness to go off-piste and experiment happily remains, Radiohead seem to be going through a fallow period for ideas.

The King of Limbs is very much a rhythm-driven album; skittering, off-kilter beats underpin the majority of the songs on show. While this is all very intriguing – as well as being the kind of thing most hugely popular and successful bands aren’t going to attempt in a hurry – it doesn’t always equate to “good”. Many of the cuts appear half-finished, as if the band have spent so much time and effort on the percussion that they’ve forgotten to write a proper song. Feral is the prime offender here, with snatches of chords and the odd vocal phrase, but little to actually enjoy.

However, Radiohead have never put out a terrible record and they’re not about to start now. They masterfully conjure an unsettling mood on Morning Mr. Magpie, leaving the listener constantly on edge, and the haunting theme also makes an appearance on opener, Bloom. Interestingly, the best song on the album is the most atypical of The King of Limbs sound: Codex. With most of the other tracks so sparse and drama-free, the warm, reverb-drenched piano of Codex is a revelation. Easily the most compelling and melodic cut on the record, the human, emotional side of the band really shines through.

Otherwise, it’s largely cerebral music to appreciate rather than adore; music for the head rather than for the heart or feet. Sadly, The King of Limbs – while a brave side-step – is a case of style over substance. It’s still superior to a lot of the material currently being released, but we know they’re better than this. They’ve enough goodwill in the bank for this to simply be a blip rather than a disaster, but with The King of Limbs, Radiohead have taken their eye off the ball.