On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…
A rehash of something I did nearly six years ago when the pandemic was in full flow.
So this is an idea that I had ages ago and I figured now is a good time to deploy it. When we were stuck indoors during lockdown, we were all searching for various ways to pass the time. One trend that came up during the spring was the 30 Day Song Challenge, where people would look at the picture below and go day by day posting a song that best fitted each category.
As I say, quite a long time has passed since then so I want to take the opportunity to do something that can just about work as kind of an advent calendar, and see how my tastes in music have evolved and expanded since. That is partially why I maintain this blog after all.
Let’s begin!
Day 1: A song you like with a colour in the title
2020: “Red Right Hand”, Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds
2025: “Green Onions”, Booker T & the M.G.s
There’s a lot I could have chosen for this one to be honest. “Sproston Green” by the Charlatans, “Yellow Submarine” by the Beatles, “Blue Monday” by New Order, you get the idea. But I’ve gone for “Green Onions” of all things for one simple reason: I’ve been using it on my radio show lately as a backing track for my links at the top of the show. It’s the catchy, old daysy vibe it brings that makes me like it so much. Now that I’ve typed that actually there’s two other reasons that just occurred to me. First, I want to save Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds for another song down the line. Second, my neighbour is a fan of Booker T & the M.G.s. So Mary, this one’s for you.
Bit early isn’t it? You see, there’s been a change of plans. Normally, I’d have this up and ready by the end of the month, or slightly into December depending on how busy/lazy how I am. But this week I’ve delved deeply into a certain something and I don’t want to make another super long massive entry like last time. 5000 words was a bit much. I’ll explain what I’m on about at the end but for now, I want to talk about some records I gave a listen to simply because I turned round and said ‘Yeah, I’ll give that a look, why not?’.
Starting with a certain brother-sister combo who’ll finally have their debut album out in January:
The Molotovs, “Rhythm of Yourself”
Single one gets the audience’s attention, states that you have arrived.
Single two tells them that you’re here to stay.
Single three tells them that it’ll be for a long, long time.
That’s the Molotovs’ story so far. And while I don’t think it’s ever really been in doubt as to whether they still have some tricks up their Ben Sherman sleeves or not, “Rhythm of Yourself” shows the band bettering themselves with each release. Appropriately singing about how they won’t bow down to the man or conform to the norm and will be true to themselves, they release their best anthem yet that makes me evermore impatient for that debut album. It doesn’t get more Mod than this song.
Bonus points for the music video. Direction, cinematography, performances, all sublime. I am desperate to see the Molotovs live (moreso they aren’t playing the North East on their headline tour, the bastards), but I’m certain next year once Wasted on Youth is out I’ll be seeing them on the stage. And you should too.
Rialto, Night on Earth
So I turned 27 on October 27th, and I feel like I’ve reached the stage where a birthday is just another day for me. That being said, there’s always room for a surprise and I was absolutely amazed when I found this album among the CDs I’d been gifted by my parents this year.
Night on Earth is Rialto’s awkward middle child, sat between the self-titled debut that heralded one of Britpop’s last hurrahs, and the brand new Neon & Ghost Signs which saw Rialto rise like a phoenix from the ashes. I think that its status can be chalked up to the fact it’s been practically buried since release in the early 2000s, to the point where it isn’t on streaming services. I found out why when I had the pleasure of seeing Rialto live in October along with Sleeper at a double header show in Newcastle. Louis and Julian (singer and bassist respectively) were happy to meet fans and sell merch on the stall before Louise’s lot took to the stage. After buying the new album from them I took the opportunity to ask if Night on Earth would ever see a re-release or become available on streaming, and the answer I got was ‘Next year hopefully’. I won’t go into the details but suffice to say Rialto have infamously had little luck with their labels, which is why NightoOn Earth only now exists in my collection as a second-hand export from Germany.
But is it worth waiting for this album’s return, given that it went virtually unnoticed on release, and those who did acknowledge it did so with a ‘Eh, it’s alright’ kind of apathy that hastened the band’s demise? Well, yeah. It’s not perfect by any means, and it pales in comparison to its predecessor as things seem a trifle forced, as if they’re a selection of b-sides that were dusted off and brought into the 2000s kicking and screaming. How you may ask? Electronica and drum and bass of course! Biggest offender is “London Crawling”, that song’s sound screams early 2000s, moreso because it’s a re-recording of the final single released by Rialto’s predecessor Kinky Machine. Compare the two and you realise it’s a case of if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. While not every track is smothered by this new approach, some do suffer. For example, “Idiot Twin” sounds like it’s caught in a time warp with warbly synths that do not compliment the signature reverberated drums that Rialto love. Pick one or the other, don’t use both or your track comes across as a cast-off from Enjoy the Silence.
But that’s not to say that Rialto have lost it, oh no. The cinematic bombast, the film noir tones, the sinisterness and malaise, they are all still present throughout. “Anything Could Happen” is a tune that I had on repeat this month. If any song can hang with Rialto’s first album’s worth, it’d be that one. While there’s a smidgeon of an identity crisis at play on Night on Earth as they needlessly try to adapt their sound to the times, they still turn in a fairly decent effort. Other highlights include the beautiful and longing “Catherine’s Wheel”, and “Shatterproof” is much better on the ears and inspiring than any influencer that plagues the Internet. If you find the album out there in the wild, first of all, you lucky devil. Secondly, buy it and play it. It won’t set your world on fire, it might be a bit much at times, but it’s still a Rialto record. You can’t go wrong.
Now talking about a middle child, or maybe ugly duckling would be a better term, of a band’s discography has given me an idea. There’s a pair of albums by established artists that are not that well regarded and/or contributed to a temporary demise that I want to give a swatch. I think it’s that old trope of bile fascination again. What could possibly go wrong?
Cast, Beetroot
Not to detract from them, but Cast are a fairly predictable band when it comes to their sound. When you bought one of their records, you knew what you were in for and that was a solid dozen or so tracks of power pop and rootsiness. It’s what arguably made them one of the most easy-to-listen to bands of the Britpop era.
By the time their fourth album approached though, Cast’s recipes needed fresh ingredients. As I talked about in, let’s be honest, excessive detail last month, times were changing as the new millennium kicked in and the Britpop sound was being written off. The logical move would probably have been to add some electronic flourishes into the mix a la Rialto but Cast, a band built on beats and roots, were never going to do that in a month of Sundays.
Right?
Right?!
Before Cast show us how desperately they’re trying to appear on the pulse, they treat us to a cacophony of squishy bass, breezy flutes, and trumpets playing discount Thunderbirds tunes in opener and lead single “Desert Drought”. Samples, repeats and reversals of sounds and lyrics reveal themselves as the album progresses, but they quickly overstay their welcome. “Kingdom and Crowns” was meant to be a single aswell and…yeah, probably for the best it wasn’t because it’s a slog. “Giving It All Away” could have snuck through however, as John Power pulls off a very nice falsetto, and so could “I Can Never Say” which is a refreshingly stripped back affair. But that’s as much goodwill as I’m able to give because what in the good graces of f*ck were the band thinking when they put together “Lose Myself”, “Meditations” (which I swore started with John uncharacteristically declaring ‘You’ve a sweet ass, honey’) and “Jetstream”? Weak songwriting and amateurish musicianship aplenty as they find themselves juggling too much to put together a comprehensive tune.
The punny name of Beetroot is a complete misnomer. It should be indicative of an album powered by Merseybeat. Maybe it’s in there somewhere but you can’t tell because Cast unfortunately chose to throw whatever shit they could find at the wall and see what stuck, creating a brash electro-funk nightmare. And then no one cared about it, the album flopped and the band disappeared into the sunset with their tails between their legs. Never mind, at least they got back together by the 2010s because let me tell you seeing them live is a truly fantastic experience. Especially when some of the setlist was comprised of songs from Love is the Call, that is a quality LP and hangs nicely with Cast classics like All Change. Nothing from Beetroot though, you’ll no doubt be surprised to know.
David Bowie, Hours
With a discography as vast and chameleonic as Bowie’s, you’re going to get differing opinions as to what his worst album was. Tonight? Never Let Me Down? Pin Ups? Reality? Hours?
I tend to find it’s that last one that is most scrutinised. Not a lot of the fandom regard it very fondly. Every few years he would re-invent himself and try new genres, something which he had done loudly and proudly throughout the 90s. In contrast, Bowie finished the decade with a rather quiet and some might say dull offering, made duller still compared to the more in-your-face outings of Outside and Earthling.
On the one hand, it feels like after being a man out of sync with the times, having hopped on trends like jungle and drum and bass well past their sell-by date, Bowie has finally adjusted to his status in the 90s as an elder statesman of music. That in turn lends itself to the introspective themes that run throughout, including a passing glance at mortality that will be magnified by ★.
But on the other hand, my lord is this album badly paced. “Thursday’s Child” doesn’t exactly show Hours hitting the ground running, more creeping along with the aid of a zimmer. The sound takes the form of turn-of-the-century American, R&B-indicative pop but it feels so restrictive, like no one is allowed to have fun. There’s some semblance of art rock in Hours, particularly in “Something in the Air” as Bowie’s vocals are given some Radiohead-styled distortion and Reeves Gabrels is allowed to provide a few decent riffs, but for the most part things sound flat. Things do get a bit heavier the further in we go, especially “The Pretty Things Are Going To Hell”, but that song just strikes me as louder for the sake of it. Although it did help confirm something in my mind.
Between his admittedly quite excellent vocals throughout, and the fleeting appearances of acoustic guitar, it feels like Bowie is trying to make a new Hunky Dory. “Seven” in particular sounds like an unearthed track from the early 70s. And I must admit, I wasn’t expecting to like “What’s Really Happening?” as much as I did – Given it started with guitarwork reminiscent of Suede’s, I was ready to write it off but the paranoiac atmosphere grants it staying power, which is more than can be said for most tracks on this record.
Hours didn’t send me to sleep as I feared it might. Indeed, it pleasantly surprised me on a couple of occasions but given that this is David Bowie we’re talking about, those tracks shouldn’t surprise me by being diamonds in the rough. They should surprise me for being highlights of a terrific album, which Hours ultimately is not. I didn’t want to dislike it though, there’s something about it that makes me want to enjoy it but it’s so frustratingly off the mark. Better was to come in the follow up, Heathen, which is a low-key favourite album of mine from Bowie.
The Stone Roses – The Stone Roses
RIP Mani.
There’s not a lot of positivity you can extract from the Internet these days but watching people from all walks of life come together and pay tribute to Madchester’s finest bassist did bring a smile to the face. Not a bad word to be said about him, and rightly so.
Like a lot of other people, I was compelled to listen to the Roses’ debut when the news broke on that Thursday afternoon. Believe it or not, it took me quite a few listens back in the day to fully gel with it. I dunno, I think that it was that old chestnut of ‘the bar was raised too high by people praising it up and down meaning it was inevitably going to disappoint’. But regardless of my feelings then and now, I can absolutely see it at as a cornerstone in British rock music, helping to lay the groundwork for Madchester and popularising it in November 1989 along with the Happy Mondays.
There are pieces of this album that will get stuck in your head and will refuse to leave. The creeping, deliciously unsettling start of “I Wanna Be Adored”, the guitarwork on “Waterfall”, everything about “I Am the Resurrection”. And of course, the opening bassline of “Fools Gold”. Hypnotic, pure psych funk. We’ll miss you, Mani.
Geordie Greep, The New Sound
Every year, the other side of the tracks worth of music fans put their eyes towards one album alone. This year it appears to be Getting Killed by Geese, but I’m saving that for next month for reasons I’ll talk about at the end of this entry. Last year, it was Geordie Greep’s solo debut The New Sound.
Now I’ve never listened to Black Midi so I didn’t know what to expect going into this LP. Actually no that’s a lie, I did stop to listen to lead single “Holy, Holy” and that fast became one of my most listened to songs in 2024. I thought it was some of the best songwriting I’d heard in a good long while, funny and ballsy (I’m pleasantly amazed that we can get away with playing a song that name drops jihadis on the radio) and showcasing just who Geordie is: a talented songwriter erring on the side of deadpan, and a musician making tracks through some left-field inspiration.
But now I want to stop and truly consider The New Sound in its entirety, especially seeing as I’ve had a thing for jazzy stuff this year. To the naked ear, this might sound like a weird bastardisation of jazz-rock. Let me tell you, some of this stuff is far from commercial. Again, jihadis. From what little I’ve gathered that was a Black Midi staple so it’s little surprise that Geordie is continuing down this path. But some of this sound of a new variety is very rough-and-tumble; the opening of “Holy, Holy”, the perverted and neurotic jazz in the chorus of “Walk Up”, most of “Motorbike” and all of “Blues”. Then again, there are some pleasant moments like the Casiopea-esque title track and “Bongo Season”.
Regardless of the album’s sound though, its biggest strength is undoubtedly its lyrics. In a roundabout way, it’s a kind of Great Escape-era Blur affair, studying characters who all have one thing in common – They’re f*cking pathetic. And I know I’m talking about this song an awful lot, but again “Holy, Holy” is a prime example of this – The first half of the song indicates the narrator is a misogynist with a borderline comically inflated personality supported by delusions of grandeur. The second half, where it turns out it’s all an act as he meticulously lays out a grand plan to look like a modern-day Casanova as he checks no lines are being crossed and how much pretending to shag will cost. It’s a grand example of a character showing they’re a pitiful wretch instead of outright saying ‘I’m a pitiful wretch’. A great two-act tale about the kind of man that does unfortunately exist.
I could go further but let’s also quickly highlight the following:
The cringiess of comparing a minor breakup to a major humanitarian crisis in “Terra”.
The asking of everyday questions on “Through a War” such as ‘Have you seen a woman give birth to a goat?’ (I mean, spend enough time on the Internet…).
The maniacal mid-life crisis in “Motorbike” which culminates with the closing statement that every badass wants to cap off the movie in their heads with: ‘This town is f*ck’.
Geordie looks set to be back in the New Year. Looking forward to see what he’s got up his sleeve.
And now the point where we talk about what I found on TikTok, or rather what little I found. I had to uninstall the app for a while this month, the algorithm was dead-set on recommending some of the pissiest of piss-poor music possible. Not only that, I’m sure Sienna Spiro is a talented singer but every time I hear that ‘iiiii knowwww…’ it triggers a mental gag reflex. You force feed me stuff, I’m going to chuck it back up.
All that being said, some interesting stuff did just about manage to sneak through…
Brooke Combe, “How Can I Tell You? (To Love Me More)”
If there is one genre I wasn’t expecting to be revived by a modern day artist, it was Northern Soul. And then along comes Brooke Combe with this wonderful little number which scratches all the right itches. It’s groovy, it’s classy, and every word sung by Brooke feels like they’re as percussive and impactful as the drums. The production is silky smooth, not surprising considering it’s done by James Skelly of the Coral (A band I absolutely need to talk about on the blog one day). And the lyrics? On the surface it might just seem like it’s going to be another run-of-the-mill tune about loving a partner. But no, it’s actually about a strained father-daughter relationship. That’s refreshing, and adds an extra layer of emotion to Brooke’s performance.
She’s got an album out at the mo called Dancing At The Edge Of The World and it is most assuredly going on my to-listen list. If it’s anything like this single, it’ll doubtlessly be a good time.
Bebe Barry
We’d all like to stake our claims that we brought something new and exciting into the world, somehow creating something original hundreds of years since doing such a thing became an impossibility. Bebe’s contribution is a genre called ‘sunshine punk’, one that attaches itself to Britpop. That’s how I found it.
“DON’T HAVE THE DOPAMINE” is the track that led me to her and it is the Britpoppiest Bebe has to offer – A jaunty and biting look at ADHD and the incessantness that comes with it. That’s from 2022 though, if you look at the newer singles, things are more indie pop. They can come slow and fast in the form of “Perpetual Maybe” and “Jeff Goldblum”. But we come full circle with that last one because I can’t think of many artists who’ll go out of their way to make a sequel about the last song’s spouse. Alas, “Emilie Goldblum”.
It’s a fun time, and Bebe does bring the sunshine as promised. I just hope whatever comes next is a bit more aggressive and uptempo, like last year’s “ALL SYSTEMS NO” which is probably my favourite track of Bebe’s that I’ve heard. Great performance, dryly witty lyrics, hooky sound and a mid-2000s pop punk vibe that justifies the comparisons to Avril Lavigne. We’ll see what 2026 holds for Bebe Barry.
OK, that be that. Now let’s explain how things will be going forward.
Next month will not have a monthly entry, not quite at least. You see, Mojo Magazine have released a list of what they considered the 75 best albums of the year. Initially I thought ‘Ok, great, I’ll have a look through, cherry pick a couple of them for listening and pop them into the November monthly’. And then I ended up cherry picking half the list because there is a lot of stuff on there that I like the look of; lots of chamber pop, prog and psych, even some post rock. If I somehow managed to get through it all within a week and crammed it into here, I’d probably end up with a grade 2:2-worthy thesis.
So here’s what’s going to happen instead. For the Christmas season here on A-Side Glance, I’m going to do a series of weeklies. I’ll listen to a few of the albums from the list each week and type up my thoughts on them. By the end of the month I’ll have them all combined to make a monthly for December.
And that’s not all!
I’ve also got some mini-entries about various bits and bobs lined up, just to keep you eating well if you do genuinely enjoy my limited foresight into music I am hearing (usually) for the first time. Let’s make this Christmas time an exciting one, eh? We’ll drown out the same five Christmas tunes you have the displeasure of hearing and replace them with some proper good shit.
Strap in because I’ve had a very productive month and I’ve listened to a lot of music. It all started fairly innocuously as I accidentally ended up with a theme. Going into October there were three albums I wanted to check out, and they all had one thing in common:
They were all released in 2001.
If you were around for that year, you may have significant memories of it. Me personally, I was coming out of my time as a toddler so my memories are rather thin on the ground. All I’ve got of that time period off the top of my head are the following:
Being given a new green coat.
Getting scared shitless by the fireworks at a bonfire and leaving after five minutes.
Tasting gaming for the first time by playing Mario Kart 64 and GoldenEye 007.
Bouncing about in my grandparents’ garden to the music from this particular compilation album:
Highlight for little me was “Crosstown Traffic” by Jimi Hendrix.
Anyway, for whatever reason I’ve found myself being drawn to albums from 2001 specifically, mostly from old favourites and ones I’ve been paying more and more attention to recently. And maybe because it was a turning point of a year. The new millennium was officially underway and everything suddenly seemed very futuristic. Not only that, but for a person with my music tastes the 2000s may have seemed like a last gasp for the generation of British rock the 90s bore. Hell, look at the big names of Britpop alone:
Oasis: Released Heathen Chemistry, arguably their worst album.
Suede: Released A New Morning, indisputably their worst album. Went on hiatus not long afterwards.
Pulp: Left their label and went on hiatus too.
Blur: Ditto after Graham Coxon went MIA and Think Tank came out.
Elastica: Died on its arse without much fanfare.
Richard Ashcroft: Released Human Conditions, got raked over the coals for it, and disappeared for a few years.
The Divine Comedy: Split after Regeneration underperformed.
Things were changing. The world was moving on, evolving into something new. I want to see if a certain few were hedging their bets or staying the course, starting with those aforementioned three albums.
So, 2001. Whaddya got?
Manic Street Preachers, Know Your Enemy
We find the Manics at a crossroads in their journey. Not as big as their songwriter disappearing off the face of the Earth of course, but here they were once again questioning their identity. They didn’t feel like the same band they were when Richey was still around, having gone more mainstream with the almighty Everything Must Go and the serviceable This is My Truth Tell Me Yours. As they entered the 2000s, it seems they felt they needed to reclaim their identity as the loudest voices on the far left of the room. That much was obvious before Know Your Enemy was even finished, with the standalone single “The Masses Against the Classes” signalling their return to simpler, noisier, practically punky rock. However, that led me to two questions before pressing play on Know Your Enemy:
Can they still pull it off almost a decade later?
Can these songs justify an LP that lasts over an hour? (instinct immediately tells me no, it would’ve been better off as a two album effort a la the 2022 reissue)
Opening track “Found That Soul” is an interesting case study if you’re trying to work out how to answer question one. On the one hand, it’s got the ferocity which Holy Bible fans will have sorely missed, and on the surface it’s much less squeaky clean on the production front. However, the latter is too much of an overreaction and overcorrection – The buzziness of the guitars smothers this track and sets the tone for how poor some of the mixing on this album is. That being said, MVP of the MSPs has to be Sean Moore on drums when you can hear him, he’s got some rapid as f*ck beats to maintain.
And to answer the second question, I’m afraid my instinct was right. The sound of punk should be as authentic as they come, yet a lot of this sounds so blatantly half-baked and manufactured – from the head, not the heart. Ironically, the standout tracks are the quietest, namely “Ocean Spray”, “Let Robeson Sing”, and you know what I’ll chuck “Epicentre” in there aswell. Trouble is, they sound like they should be on a different album altogether, removed from plodders like “Dead Martyrs” and misfires like “Wattsville Blues”. The band were no longer as real as they once thought themselves. This album was the first real reminder that the Manics were sans their most important Preacher.
Schizophrenic would be the best way to describe Know Your Enemy. The Manic Street Preachers were spending too much time trying to juggle their past and present sounds that they neglected to look ahead to the future and set in stone their new sound. The pacing and flow suffers as a result, and I spent much of the second half of this record asking ‘Is it nearly over yet?’. I’ll try the reissue at some point, see if it corrects some of the issues I had with this album but if truth be told, I’m not optimistic.
Björk, Vespertine
Post and Homogenic have both been marvels, and Vespertine is often regarded as another home run for Björk. Oddly I thought I might be going into this one a bit too early, as some people call it a ‘cold’ album best heard during the winter. So, I waited for a spell of mild weather to pass and for the sun to retreat behind the clouds, and once both those things happened I decided that was patience enough.
This is the scene that was steadily drawn up in my mind the further into Vespertine I delved: It felt like I had been compelled to journey through a blizzard in a tundra, to seek shelter in a giant cave, only to once inside meet this bizarre yet endearing person who in turn feels compelled to sing these songs over a campfire to you and you alone. Everything bounces off the vacuous walls and before you know it you feel like you’re sinking into the icy floor a la Renton in Trainspotting.
Every track blossoms from their opening beat onwards. Indeed, one of the album’s oft-touted strengths is its ‘microbeats’ which lay down the foundations for each song, each one sounds unique and immediately keeps everything individual. And if it ain’t sampled sounds of cracking ice or shuffling cards, then it’s music box…never thought I’d hear that on an album, let alone praise the use of it. Alas it’s the sprinkling of sugar on the Vespertine cake, particularly on the luscious “Harm Of Will”, as the end coda for “It’s Not Up To You”, and what I funnily enough consider the coldest track of all, “Frosti”. Artsy without the fartsy. I like it.
Quick note about the lyrics too. The shy lady from the front cover of Debut is but a memory. Here we have Björk openly let her lovelife do the talking, culminating in the mantra of ‘I love him’ for the closing minute or so of “Pagan Poetry”. That’s not to say she’s gone soft though, perish the thought! The sinister side of her writing makes itself known with the eerie “An Echo, a Stain”. ‘Don’t say no to me/You can’t say no to me’. Just in time for Halloween.
It’s a natural progression from Homogenic – Continuing the minimalist electronica in contrast to Post (nowt wrong with that though), trying something new in using the most atypical of objects as instruments, creepily engaging all the while, and majestically elevated by the flourishes of strings that appear throughout. The difference between this album and the last however, is that while there is something a wee bit hostile about Homogenic, Vespertine welcomes you with open arms. This is one of the most beautiful records I’ve ever heard.
Radiohead, Amnesiac
Kid A is the best Radiohead album (favourite is In Rainbows), so Amnesiac had some big shoes to fill. Unfortunately, as it’s for all intents and purposes a leftovers albums from the Kid A sessions, the two were inevitably going to be compared and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t assume Amnesiac wasn’t going to hold a candle to its predecessor.
Opener “Packt Like Sardines…” didn’t help matters, it immediately sounds like a case of ‘Let’s pick up where we left off’. Nothing striking about it and it feels like we’re stuck in a loop before the album really begins with “Pyramid Song”. Now, that. That always has and always will be a top five Radiohead song for me.
As for the rest? I know it doesn’t get a lot of love but “Pulk/Pull Revolving Doors” has a dystopian club vibe, like Y2K has corrupted the speakers and the DJ himself, and I rather liked it for that. Similarly, “You And Whose Army?” and “Life in a Glasshouse” feel like they should be sung in a lounge in an underground bunker during a blitzkrieg of nukes. “Knives Out” is a brilliant single, and “Dollars and Cents” struck a chord with how appropriate it is a quarter century on. “Hunting Bears” is no “Treefingers” though.
The tracks aren’t knitted together as well as those on Kid A, again owing to those ‘leftovers’ vibes, and it can come across as something of a compilation album. But that’s picking tiny nits, frankly. With the exception of the false start that is “Packt…”, I had a hell of a time with Amnesiac. It’s a touch more lavish and polished, and it feels as if Radiohead have one eye poking out from the shells they retreated into post-OK Computer. Just about ready to rejoin society upon the calling of the siren. I’m half tempted to do a full-blown entry on this album when I inevitably revisit it…
We’ll continue our look back to 2001 in a mo but first, some of October’s releases that I’ve been anticipating.
Tame Impala, Deadbeat
Most of the grief this album was getting before it was even released was down to the change in genre, with Kevin transitioning from psych pop to EDM. But I myself have been allowing more electronic stuff into my listening life lately, like Björk and Boards of Canada* so I wanted to judge Deadbeat on that merit as opposed to being the newest Tame Impala album. And here’s what I’ve come away thinking:
Musically? Fine, nothing special. I still maintain my opinion that a lot of the music sounds visibly stitched together, and the one-man project aspect of Tame Impala is all the more apparent for it.
Vocally? Decent. If there’s one thing Kevin has gotten better at as time’s gone on, it’s that.
Lyrically? Erm…insipid?
The ‘woe is me’ tone gets grating by track three, and I know I’ve gone on to like records in the same vein like This is Hardcore and Standing on the Shoulder of Giants. The difference is they lamented their mistakes and mid-life crises, whereas this album just feels like an hour-long moan. There’s also some questionable and downright lazy attempts at songwriting. I mean, ‘You’re a cinephile, I watch Family Guy’. Come on. If we stick on this pathway, we’re probably going to have verses referencing ‘6-7’ and ‘Skibidi Toilet’. Maybe an instrumental album next would be the best course of action.
All that being said, I’ve come around a little bit to “Loser” since last time, it sounds better as part of the journey. Same with “Dracula”, that one’s alright. And “Ethereal Connection”’s thumping beat gave me Underworld vibes, shame nothing else about the track managed to compliment it. Otherwise? Miss.
By the way, I would not recommend looking at online discourse, especially not in Tame Impala fan circles, for reasons you can see below. Listen to the album then form your opinion, please and thank you.
*I listened to Music Has the Right to Children the night before my birthday, but just as background noise which is why I don’t have anything to say about it beyond the words ‘great’ and ‘fascinating’.
Richard Ashcroft, Lovin’ You
I didn’t really want to listen to this next one but after last month I’m trying my damndest to have an open mind, so…Geronimo, I guess.
I made my feelings on lead single “Lover” pretty clear when it came out. I have a vague recollection of trying the second single aswell but I don’t think I bothered listening past the first minute as it was just more of the same. Regardless of that though, I did promise myself to try the album when it came out, as I told myself that it could just surprise me.
Initially as “Lover” began again I felt like I’d softened up; the opening beats and synth strings have some Verve-ian DNA in there. Then Richard shouted ‘Yeah’ and started singing and I remembered why I hated this so much. I thought the next track, “Out Of These Blues”, was going to be a repeat as it started so well but this time Ashcroft held up his end of the bargain and turned in some alright lyrics, although the country-stylings was a wee bit strange. And I have to admit, “Heavy News” rocked with a neat little guitar solo. But that’s where the good times came to an end. “Oh L’Amour” was boring. “I’m A Rebel”…f*ck me, that song is a crime against God. I actually found it so excruciating that I skipped it halfway, only to end up with another borefest in “Find Another Reason” and I’m sorry but I checked out at that point.
It should be no surprise what he’s singing about on this album – a drinking game for every time he says ‘Love’ or some variation could seriously rival Withnail & I’s in terms of how bloody lethal they both would be. We get it, mate. You love Kate. Good for you. At times I get the impression Richard wants to hang with the pop stars of today, be the Ed Sheeran for the aged Generation X-ers, but I doubt even they would touch some of the stuff Richard serves on this album. Except “Heavy News”, but one song doth not an album make.
OK, that was unpleasant, how about an album from an artist who I’ve never ever listened to before that’s all about divorce?!
Lily Allen, West End Girl
Autofiction or no, I feel like I’m eavesdropping, guilty of voyeur almost as Lily spills the beans on how her marriage went up in smoke. But she is damn intent on making you hear every little detail, as she runs unrestrained the gamut of anger and sadness in a cathartic marathon. And the tale told all the while? The oceans between our narrator and their other half, the mystery of Madeline, wandering through the stages of grief into open relationships? I genuinely would not be surprised if this album is translated onto the stage; a 45 minute play with the main character miming to each song and featuring some lightning fast changes in scenery. Or a Netflix original series, seeing as they’re all the rage now (plus the irony would be delicious considering who the songs are about).
That might be because Lily has painted an album that is as visual as it is visceral. The gunshot sound effects in “Madeline”? Oof. Stating the need to be numb in “Relapse”? Double oof. My only real criticism of this album is the overuse of autotune. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, in fact I think it’s used to good effect in “Relapse” to convey the headspinning caused by the revelations, but it is a detractor elsewhere. If Lily’s meant to be baring her innermost and delivering such raw lyrics, then they shouldn’t be hidden away, made to sound so artificial.
Still, cracking record, but unfortunately it may soon drown and be consigned to a watery grave, weighed down by the various tabloids and chip wrappers as they watch Lily and David Harbour’s every move. Then again, we can hope that Lily airing the dirty laundry so vividly will satiate the rags enough, until the inevitable lawsuit and we’ll start the cycle again with 24-hour coverage. We are nothing if not a fickle species.
(Oh shut up, Ollie, put away your soapbox and say you enjoyed the album.)
I enjoyed the album. Will check out Lily’s older stuff one day.
Let’s liven things up. TikTok has been rather good to me this month and has allowed me to discover some budding artists who absolutely deserve the time of day. And for most of them, I feel this is the appropriate reaction to their tunes:
Testaments, “The Clown”
This is a first. I’m talking about a band that has yet to release a debut album or even an EP. All we have of Testaments is three singles (edit: they released number four while I was typing this up). Out of them, I went for the most recent, that being “The Clown”.
One word. Vocals. At first you might not blink twice but then singer Rebecka lulls you in and gives a commanding performance. There’s the wobble in the voice early on as if tears are being choked back, and those stutters in the second half of the song are damn near enough to make Scatman John rise from the dead and applaud. The band are well and truly in the background though, with Rebecka sounding as if she’s standing under a spotlight in a dusty old theatre. But again. Vocals. They stand out naked and elevate the emotion behind the lyrics as a result.
Unwind Project, Lovers on the Edge of Tomorrow
If you can’t tell, I’m back on the jazz fusion train. I find something comforting in the loneliness and melancholy of jazz, and hearing it fused with hip hop and synths is just sublime. In media like Fallout, you get the 1950s refitted for the future. This to me feels more like the 1940s, sitting in a refitted smoky jazz club or being stuck behind a desk reviewing the same murder case notes. Either way, it very nicely captures the atmosphere of a lonely evening. Good to drink to, good to dance to, good to mourn to. My only real complaint is the structuring of the playlist – There’s the curiosity of having the only track with vocals slap bang in the middle, and then capping the album off by playing it again sans vocals. Saying that, I did end up wishing that the album was longer than 23 minutes so I should just take what I can get.
Yndling, “It’s Almost Like You’re Here”
Shoegaze, dream pop, trippy, hooky, swirly yet fuzzy guitar riff. That’s a lot of boxes for one song to tick but alas Yndling do just that.
They’ve got a new album out in November, one they have said will takes inspiration from acts like Mazzy Star, Portishead, Massive Attack and Cocetau Twins. All of that means I’ll be writing about it in the next monthly, and they’ll be on tour soon in support of its release so go see them if you can.
Back to 2001, now.
The Strokes, Is This It
Some say this is it. The indie album of the 2000s, possibly even the album of the 2000s full stop. Unfortunately, that means it’s on the backfoot straight away for me because I’ve got to go into it with high expectations, wanting nothing more than the trailblazer it’s hyped up to be.
Or I could just go in expecting some good ol’ fashioned indie, you know? And that’s exactly what I got.
This feels like the kind of sound the La’s were chasing when they were making their own album – Raw, with no extra frills needed. Immediately, it’s obvious that Is This It was recorded ‘as live’ as it sounds like it’s straight from the garage to the disc with nothing fancy added on top. Almost as if you’re watching the band at a gig. Just as Mavers intended.
Expectations be damned, this album isn’t quite a trailblazer. It’s a blueprint. Other indie bands would continue to arrive and spark the movement that would follow across the 2000s, adding and changing details to spice things up like heavier guitar riffs, extra instruments, and deeper lyrics. But the Strokes definitely set the bar high for them to cross. One of the most easy-listening experiences you can ever hope to have.
Wilco, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot
This month, Paste Magazine have been posting bit by bit what they consider to be the top 250 albums of the 21st century so far. Vespertine made it into the top ten, but it was this album that achieved pole position. And…I’d never heard of this band nor this record. Have I had my head in the sand, or is this an outside choice for an outside choice’s sake? Mind you, saying that, I shouldn’t go into it expecting to hear the best album ever made, that would be unfair. Then again, if the Strokes can match their reputations, why can’t Wilco?
I suppose what helps this rating is that it’s indie-with-a-dash-of-Radiohead. Stone cold clangy pianos? Feedback loops and static? Malaise and dread here and there? A bit of Ctrl+C from OK Computer, methinks. Regardless, I like me a bit of art rock and Wilco are clearly on fine form throughout this album. While the pacing is a little slower, it’s not enough to lose my attention. They also seemed to be setting some trends up themselves – I can’t put my finger on it at the moment but I’m sure I’ve heard another band or three use similar chord progressions and noises heard in “Ashes of American Flags”.
And if you’ll allow me to put on the tin foil hat for a minute, but this album more than any that I’ve written about in this entry has shown the changing times music was facing at the time. Let’s not beat around the Bush (if you’ll forgive the pun), the events of 9/11 meant music would take a sharp left turn with artists galore letting it mould and shape their tunes for the next few years as geopolitically, everything seemed to spiral. A dark cloud of foreboding seemed to loom large, and Wilco managed to forecast that cloud with the three track stretch of “War on War”, “Jesus, Etc.” and “Ashes of American Flags”. There’s also the small fact that this album was originally due for release on September 11th. Speaking of, bonus points for essentially selling the album for twice as much and laying the foundations for streaming. Check out the full story when you’ve got a mo.
Yankee Hotel Foxtrot was the right record at the right time. And while I do think that elevated its praise at the time massively, ergo leading to its status as best album of this century so far according to Paste, that shouldn’t detract from this album’s effortless ability to stand on its own two feet.
Prince, The Rainbow Children
I have never listened to Prince so you might expect me to start with a classic like Purple Rain or Sign o’ the Times. Yet for whatever reason I was drawn to this one first. Maybe it was the fact it had Rainbow in the title. Maybe because it boasted some more jazz fusion for me to dive into. Maybe it was a bit of bile fascination as this was Prince’s ‘I’m a Jehovah’s Witness now’ album.
I’m not a religious guy. I have an ear for spiritualism, hence I’ve enjoyed George Harrison’s early solo output. If it’s used as a tool to make music instead of being the subject matter, lest the record serve up a severe case of throat-cram, then I’m fine with it.
So imagine how far my eyes rolled when I pressed play on the title track and I was greeted with the words ‘The wise one in subjection to God/Forever is in subjection to God’. Oh bloody hell, have I accidentally taken my first foray into Christian rock? Am I about to be indoctrinated by f*cking Prince?! I don’t feel compelled to immediately stop because of the jazzy undertones – That bassline is blooming alluring. Then again, there’s a lot trying to drive me away, namely the spoken word sections with a pitch-shift that make Barry White sound like Joe Pasquale. Worse still is that this rears its head constantly, namely on “Digital Garden” which is an otherwise fine wine of a track. By track six, I couldn’t stop myself from going ‘Oh piss off’.
“Muse 2 the Pharoah” established that we were going to delve into the religions of Ancient Egypt so that reassured me a little that this album wasn’t going to be an advert for Jehovahs. But it is clearly at the forefront of Prince’s mind and he’s letting it guide him rather than he’s guiding it to create a good album, again going back to my preference of using it as a tool. On the other hand, he still has his lyrics about sex to fall back on, and is one of the reasons why “Mellow” is a personal highlight.
I can imagine that this isn’t a very popular Prince album among his faithful, it’s quite slow and not a lot of ‘danceable’ material is provided, bar “Everywhere” which is superb. But as a newbie who’s been enjoying his jazz lately, I mostly liked the tunes when I wasn’t really paying attention to what Prince was saying. Now that I type that though, I feel like I’m doing him a disservice considering how much of a talented vocalist he was. All the same, I don’t think this will be an album I will revisit. Probably should have gone for Purple Rain.
Before we conclude this particular monthly (And not a moment too soon either because Christ this has been a long one. If you’re still reading, I deeply appreciate it) I can’t forget a promise I made last time around – I said that I would listen to a Taylor Swift album. And hey, she actually released an album this month so logic could’ve dictated that I try that one.
But if our dear old friend the Internet is anything to go by, that would’ve been a terrible idea.
Bastardising Shakespeare (again) and rising to non-existent bait from Charli XCX would’ve been bad enough, but I also read some lyrics and holy shit, this woman has most definitely started believing she is God’s gift to music. Look at this:
‘You made a deal with the devil, turns out my dick’s bigger’
‘Did you girl-boss too close to the sun?’ (Oh my, the irony…)
‘Please, God, bring me a best friend who I think is hot’
‘He dick-matised me and opened my eyes’
Mr. Parker, I apologise, you are absolutely entitled to your Family Guy binges.
Life of a Showgirl will be Be Here Now’ed. There are some people who will swear by it, call it fun and misjudged, and that’s fine, good on them for finding enjoyment in this album (or clinging to denial like a moth to a flame, one of the two). But come the inevitable next record, this one will either be forgotten or remembered as ‘the shit one’, the one that killed her momentum.
So yeah, I’m in no mood for Taylor now. But you know what? There is someone I’ve been playing on the radio lately, a big-time female popstar who I will admit I was turned off by how overplayed they were when they debuted. Now? They have my attention.
Sabrina Carpenter, Man’s Best Friend
I’m seeing some parallels between Sabrina and Pulp. Both riding the waves of fame with witty, sexually suggestive lyrics, both doing so whilst signed to Island, and both with an album cover that got lambasted for being sexist and demeaning. The more things change…
But let’s keep the two apart otherwise I won’t end up giving her a fair shake.
First things first, the song that drove me to the album in the first place was “Tears”. Taking the piss and saying that a bloke simply showing a little common decency is enough to give you the horn? Brilliant, I’m on board. Love the overall Eurodisco sound of the record, especially “Nobody’s Sound” and those synths on “Manchild”. The country inflections are fine too, but I’m glad it doesn’t take the forefront as it’s not exactly my go-to genre.
It is very linear though, the songs are all about the same thing, guided by breakups and/or arousal. Then again, it’s a pop album, should I be surprised? No. Besides, Sabrina certainly has an intricate way of putting things. The songwriting overall is great, maybe a little overly crass at times and not every line is a home run (See “When Did You Get Hot?” and speculating about the size of Zeus’ cock). However, it’s all tongue-in-cheek and not designed to be taken too seriously. That being said, given how explicit Sabrina can get at times, I can imagine she’ll turn in her own West End Girl some time down the line should any future husband be dumb enough to cross her. “Sugar Talking” is a sure indicator of that.
The difference between Sabrina and Taylor is that one is doing it for the love of the game, and the other is just good at playing the game. One of them is trying their hardest and having fun, the other’s addicted to making money which she can get from fans at the drop of a hat. One’s being delightfully droll about their sexual appetite, the other’s insightfulness on the subject only goes as far ‘Haha, dicks and Redwood trees, isn’t my fiancée well hung?!’. Sabrina has her entire career ahead of her still, Taylor’s can coast along on the bare minimum. With all that in mind, I think I know who I’d rather pay attention to. Don’t you?
If you’re not aware, I work at a radio station called Spark Sunderland and have done for some years ever since I was in the middle of my undergrad in 2019. Right now, I do a show called Beautiful Ones, broadcasting an hour of Britpop every Saturday midday, but as of late I’ve also found myself presenting the Tuesday Breakfast show. This was while some of the staff, being uni students themselves, had gone back home for the summer hols.
And it’s an unusual situation for me. See, I’ve made it clear over the years here on A-Side Glance that my tastes in music do not correlate with today’s mainstream – Britpop, alt rock, Japanese acid jazz, goth gospel? Yeah, the chances of that lot even making it into the nosebleeds of the charts is slim to none. However, I do try to pride myself on being an open-minded guy; I’ll try anything once. And besides, the three hours of songs that have been playlisted haven’t been catered to me, they have been catered to the audience (One of the golden rules of radio is not to make the show ‘Me, me, me’, it should be ‘You, you, you’).
In any case, I want to start this entry by documenting some of the singles that I have truly enjoyed playing on Tuesday mornings these past couple of months:
Lewis Capaldi, Survive
I think I can be forgiven for liking Lewis Capaldi based on personality alone; he’s funny and he’s genuine. Good combination. But musically? He has veered dangerously close to Ed Sheeran levels of oversaturated, particularly when his debut album was released (I can tolerate Hold Me While You Wait, but in small doses). Yet for whatever reason I was watching his ill-fated Glastonbury performance back in 2023, which ultimately spawned this single.
And my God, what a comeback. The man takes his personal issues, grabs them by the collar and loudly belts out that he is going to bloody well live. Great performance. Feel free to put it on repeat, it’s still guaranteed to hit you in the feels no matter how much you prepare for it.
Blossoms, Perfect Me
An ode to the perfectionist, and all the doubts and needless desires of today’s society in its judgemental wisdom? I can wholeheartedly get behind this song, especially as it fires on all cylinders. It’s one of those ones that you just can’t help but dance to, or at the very least tap your knee and click your fingers. The production is also done by James Skelly of the Coral, one of the most underrated bands from the crop of 2000s indie bloomers, and you can tell in the song’s jauntiness (reminiscent of songs like Bill McCai and In The Morning).
On the cusp of cheesy but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. It sounds like a lot of fun was had making this record and I mean actual fun, not just painted smiles for the behind-the-scenes TikToks. I need to give Gary a look, it’s only half an hour after all.
Chappell Roan, The Subway
From what I’ve seen, there have been attempts to demonise Chappell Roan ever since she hit the big time, which I think is unfair – If she can back up her attitude with her songs without taking it to the point that she clearly enjoys the smell of her own farts, then fine. So far, I’d say she’s doing a good job. In fact, HOT TO GO! was something of a guilty pleasure of mine last year – It was catchy but didn’t want to make me get it out of my head by carving out my brain. The right kind of pop song.
Now this is being treated as the next best thing by Chappell and while HOT TO GO! is a cherry fun bop, The Subway is a much more well-rounded and fleshed out single. The vocals are superb, the dream pop vibes are especially my cup of tea and, like with Blossoms, fun is clearly being had here. Chappell is a born performer, and she assumes the role of the spurned lover haunted by the one that got away with ease. I can see why it’s a live favourite.
Also, the lyric “Well f*ck this, I’m moving to Saskatchewan”. Out of context, that is bloody hilarious. I want to use that in everyday conversation now.
Of course, on the flip side there have been these ones that I have had to play with gritted teeth:
Huntr/X et al., Golden
I cannot stand that falsetto, I swear cracks appear in the windows every time it gets played.
Justin Bieber, DAISIES
I grew up during a time when Baby was never off the radio, his name was used as a category for the lamer-than-lame on the video game Happy Wheels, and he couldn’t go five minutes without appearing in an orange prison jumpsuit. I am conditioned to hate Justin Bieber.
Alex Warren, Eternity
Seems like a nice bloke. Song just meanders, cut from the same cloth as Ordinary. Todd in the Shadows sums up the latter, and by extension Alex, better than I ever could:
Benson Boone, Beautiful Things
The modern day Song 2. Run from it, hide from it, it will always find you.
And then there was this…
Tame Impala, Loser
Oh dear me, is the sun setting on Tame Impala?
This song was better than End of Summer, but that doesn’t really say much. Indeed, Kevin Parker isn’t really saying much either. If you can’t decorate the song in interesting lyrics, then you can least spruce it up with some good melodies. Unfortunately, the psych pop has been replaced with a suitably grey house tune to fit the aesthetic of the upcoming album. Now more than ever, Tame Impala sounds like one bloke working alone to create music. McCartney and Foo Fighters gave the impression there was a whole band at work. Loser doesn’t.
I get that artists will want to re-invent themselves after a period of time. It’s natural to try new things. But this? This ain’t it. It’s an anti-passion project, ironic for a perfectionist like Kevin who I fear is about to release his Second Coming. Shame too, I was looking forward to it.
Yeah, I think a palette cleanser is in order after that lot. Here’s a song that I had on repeat for a spell:
David Bowie, Slow Burn
A few years ago on the radio, I trialled a feature called the Fine Wine List – Songs that have aged remarkably well as time goes on. I remember picking a David Bowie song then, 1997’s I’m Afraid of Americans. Felt it summed up the mood quite nicely post-January 6th. Then a few years later he goes and makes a song, nay an album, that is aging even more gracefully (not least because the art rock genre is more prolific now than industrial drum and bass).
Trust Bowie to come up with a song that exudes the depression and dread wrapped around the world today, and this was made in 2002! Dystopia creeps ever closer towards us. A slow burn indeed.
Now those are just singles. I figure it might be an idea to try and listen to an album by a modern day favourite. I’m sick of being an old man yelling at the clouds frankly, trying to get people to understand why they should listen to Pulp and Welly and what have you. I want to put myself on the other side of the playing field, I want to catch what’s being thrown and see if I can understand the appeal. (Saying that, as I scan the charts to see who may be worth having a look over, I see Radiohead are just about in the top 100 with Creep and Let Down?! Blimey, TikTok, threaten me with a good time why don’t you?).
With that in mind, I’ve booted up a random generator designed to pull out a famous band or artist, let’s see what I end up with.
Maroon 5
F*ck off, not happening.
JVKE
Who?
And do I pronounce it as Jake or Juke?
Stray Kids
I am not doing k-pop.
Huntr/X
…
Ed Sheeran
He’s changed a fair bit since I last saw him.
This was honest to goodness the picture the RNG used.
Laufey
Again, who?
You know what, I’ll come back to this in a bit, here are a few albums that I have sat down to listen to recently:
Suede, Antidepressants
I did not like this on first listen. Autofiction was the best album Suede have released since the 90s, so Antidepressants had a lot to live to. Yet, the production seemed lacking, the singles had left me feeling colder than warmer, I called Criminal Ways the modern day equivalent of Elephant Man. To dismiss a Suede album did not sit right with me. I mean, I know I’ve done that in the past with A New Morning, but this time I was in complete denial against myself. There was clearly something I was missing.
So I stopped. I concentrated. I didn’t necessarily force myself to like it, but appreciate it.
The ferocity of Autofiction is most definitely still present, it’s just being thrown at us from a different angle. Previously, I’d believed that things don’t truly get going until The Sound and the Summer but it’s really the title track where Suede start running and never look back. Brett’s showing no signs of age catching up to his voice. In fact, Life Is Endless, Life Is A Moment is one of his best performances ever. And production-wise? I still do feel like some tracks would sound better live than recorded, but Ed Buller is still working his magic and knitting the playlist together that you barely notice that we’re on a new song, particularly in the latter half.
It’s a very 2020s album, built upon the alienation which plagues a modern day human race suffocating under AI and infighting. It’s a bit of a risk for fifty-somethings like Suede to address a millennial/Gen Z problem but they manage to get away with it. Besides, in some ways, it’s their problem too and there’s not many bands around right now that can fully address it. As time goes on, I may appreciate Antidepressants more but for now? I don’t mind it. I’ll be sure to try it again soon.
Brett’s also gone on record saying that this is the middle part of a ‘black and white’ album trilogy, and that we can expect part three before the 2020s wrap up (Can only come too soon…). So we’ve had punk in Autofiction, we’ve had post-punk in Antidepressants. What comes third? Industrial metal? Suede meets Linkin Park? Time will tell.
Barbara, Barbara
This was released the same day as Antidepressants and I ended up preferring this, though to be honest that might be because the former had nine other Suede albums to be weighed up against, whereas this is Barbara’s debut.
I might have been disparaging of Paul McCartney’s constant forays into music hall when covering the Beatles, but here we have it weaved with the theatricality and wit of Neil Hannon (Someone they have had the pleasure of supporting, plus Paul Weller. If they like Barbara, then these chaps are clearly doing something right).
However, don’t write them off as a lovechild of the Divine Comedy at first glance. For a start, we have some ABBA in there, exhibit A being Master Narrative’s keyboards and xylophones. Here we have a band that sit side-by-side with Welly as they cast their eye over modern society, culture and politics, scrutinising the lot sitting in a wingback with a glass of sherry. Oh, and I have to mention that outro on A Perishing of Cherished Things. Mm-mm, that’s good eatin’.
Nostalgia is a reliable and overused tool, and I’ll be the first to admit that I indulge in it a little too much. But Barbara’s throwback sound is just too cosy to pass up. Stick it on your record player and have a little dance in your living room.
Björk, Post
After finding this in a record shop in the Old Town in Hastings, I knew this was going to be the logical next step in getting my head around Björk. Compared to Homogenic, it’s got a lot more flavour to it. Whilst both albums have an unsettling atmosphere, this one balances it by blending pop with a myriad of other genres – Jazz, dance, trip hop, it’s all here. It’s rare to find an album that sounds so 90s and yet so timeless.
All that being said, It’s Oh So Quiet was certainly a choice. It sticks out like a priest at a drag show, and I can understand Björk’s frustration at a cover being one of her most popular songs, from an album that does wonders to showcase her talents. Still, that was kind of the point, given that the LP itself was designed to be full of dizzying turns.
As for Björk herself? Bloody excellent. Her vocals are captivating; off-beat, off-kilter, you have no choice but to be drawn in and you are very much rewarded for doing so. Arguably, all eleven tracks are proof positive of this but my choices for standouts are Army of Me, Possibly Maybe and I Miss You.
Thoroughly enjoyed this, and I know I’ll be listening to it again and again before long.
Now, as for a modern day album…?
No, you know what, I can’t bring myself to do it right now. I could cheese it by just looking at Gary or People Watching, which I’m safely guessing I will like. But I want to take a risk with someone who I usually wouldn’t give a moment’s thought.
Next time, I’m going to hold my feet to the fire. I will listen to a Taylor Swift album. This can only end well…
For the record, I do keep a playlist on Spotify which I sporadically update whenever I hear or play a song that makes me think ‘Huh. The music industry ain’t quite sterilised yet it seems’. Or if I find a song from days past that I typically wouldn’t listen to. It’s just below. See you in October.
Well, well. Exactly five years since the first real entry, I’m back where it all began – reviewing Standing on the Shoulder of Giants. The black sheep of Oasis albums, the one that is as marmite as they come, and the one that I actually have tried to re-review twice since the initial entry.
I actually wanted to put something like this out last year but I never really bothered to finish it. Before that, I wanted to try and look at the b-sides but didn’t get very far with that either. I am nothing if not a stop-starter. So why am I bothering to do it again? Well, you see, in the intervening years I did some soul searching and came to the conclusion that SOTSOG is my favourite Oasis album. I want to see if that is still the case, as lately Dig Out Your Soul has been calling my name aswell, what with it presenting a more refined and mature look at the psychedelic approach that Oasis initially pursued in the year 2000. Plus, now seems like the most appropriate time, what with it being 25 years since the album was released. How did the band celebrate the occasion? By putting it out note for note the same on a tacky silver vinyl, and sprucing up the music vids with AI. Whoop-de-doo. Oh well, at least the tour seems to be going mostly well, ticket pricing and deaths of fans not withstanding.
So here’s how this one is going to work: We’re going to go track by track again, looking through all ten songs that appear on the final album, because my opinions have certainly changed on some of them since lockdown. Once we’ve done that, we’re going to change it up, make the 2025 release that should have been by taking a swatch at the b-sides, and weighing in on which tracks, if any, should have been replaced.
So with this obligatory Doctor Who meme…
…let’s do this.
Track #1 – F*ckin’ in the Bushes
There’s a wrestler called Nigel McGuinness. Last year, he made a surprise appearance at a packed Wembley stadium. He came out to this. The roof came unglued. Oasis songs will do that to ya.
There’s no better song for a walk on, ergo there is no better way to kick off this album (Although I do think the voice samples are overused a tad, but let’s not be pedantic, this is supposed to be my favourite Oasis album for crying out loud).
Track #2 – Go Let It Out
Favourite Oasis song. No debate needed, no arguments necessary.
Everything about this scratches any itch on the brain – Lyrics, Strawberry Fields mellotron, Liam’s vocals, the damned whistle before the final chorus kicks in. I love it. Always have, always will.
Track #3 – Who Feels Love?
I still maintain that overall that this is the weakest single out of the bunch for SOTSOG, it’s just a little too plodding and sleepy for the radio. On its own though? I’ve come around to it a fair bit since last time. Yeah, it’s for all intents and purposes a George Harrison pastiche, and it is the first dose of fuel for the common criticism that this album’s lyrics are less than stellar compared to what came before. But at the same time, it’s the first true indicator that you are listening to a different Oasis, a band who are honest to God trying something new after nearly a decade. And if you wade your way through Definitely Maybe, Morning Glory, Be Here Now, The Masterplan, then end up here? It is such a breath of fresh air, and that is exactly what this song is meant to be. Fresh. Leave your woes behind you.
That being said, while Who Feels Love? is fine in the studio, it truly comes to life when played live. Case in point: Yokohama 2000, and Maida Vale.
Who Feels Love? at 7:11
Who Feels Love? at 11:13
Track #4 – Put Yer Money Where Yer Mouth Is
Part of the reason why Standing on the Shoulder of Giants wasn’t going to please everyone was the fact that it was being made for Oasis fans by an Oasis who had just woken up with a stonking headache. They (read: Noel) weren’t necessarily in the mood for making the uptempo rockers they had built their reputation on, which is why a lot of the songs from these sessions are slower and more contemplative. But they knew they had to give out something to please those expecting from of the usual bite and swagger, so something had to be churned out. Hence, Put Yer Money Where Yer Mouth Is.
Ironically though, its repetitive lyrics and stumbly musicianship work in its favour – This is the comedown album, the hangover, so it’s fitting that one of the rare times Oasis try to put up a tough front sounds unconvincing and almost laughable. I know that probably sounds like I’m trying to paint SOTSOG as a concept album when it absolutely isn’t, but it does make me wonder if it might just be worth keeping on a revised tracklist…
I’ll make my mind up by the end.
Track #5 – Little James
I remember a couple of years ago, my best mate came up from Sheffield, we met up in the pub for drinks and after a while we found ourselves talking about Oasis. And I don’t know if it was the influence of the alcohol or what, but I found myself defending Little James.
I made the bold claim that it was in the same vein as Ringo’s childish Beatles songs like Yellow Submarine – While they may seem almost offensively simple when compared to their peers on their albums, they are still just a little bit of fun. Am I saying that Little James is as good as Yellow Submarine? Christ, no. Am I saying it’s a good song for a band who claims to bleed rock and roll to put out? Probably not. But I am saying that it is a necessary and welcome song to include on a more emotionally open album like SOTSOG. And that’s why (spoiler alert for later) I think it should be on the final tracklist.
So yeah. God bless it but I have come around to Little James. It still gets a C grade when compared to Liam’s future output, and is not one for repeat listening on Spotify, but I do think it gets unfairly dunked on. Give that melody a try at the very least.
Track #6 – Gas Panic!
Still a stone cold classic, still a phenomenal six minutes of morosity and malaise. No notes, it’s perfect, move on.
Track #7 – Where Did It All Go Wrong?
Noel’s lyrics in this one get slept on – “Do you keep the receipts/for the friends that you buy?” is a blinder. While this is a brilliant track and one that should have been a proper, commercially-released single, there is perhaps a little too much going on. The guitars still sound as sorrowful and moody as they should, but the shrill keyboard notes at the beginning are a bit OTT. And this isn’t the only song where I’ve got that problem…
Track #8 – Sunday Morning Call
Ok, so you know how I said that people had criticised this song for sounding overproduced but I didn’t see the issue? Disregard. I now fully understand where they were coming from. Listen to an acoustic version of this (e.g: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bf9KFUysLFw) and you will see just how badly this song has been let down by Noel’s and Spike Stent’s obsession with using new instruments, pedals and knobs. For a man who was now sober, Noel clearly still had a habit to kick when it came to layers, only this time in the form of keyboards and mellotron instead of guitars.
Despite suffocating under all that though, there is a good song to be found underneath. In the lyrics lie a hard truth that unintentionally sums up the song quite nicely – You need more time, it may not work out right, but even if it doesn’t? It’s OK. And that’s what I think of Sunday Morning Call today. It’s alright.
Track #9 – I Can See A Liar
Transplant my thoughts on Put Yer Money…into here.
Also, you just know that somewhere in the forgotten corners of a cupboard in a recording studio somewhere, there’s a tape of Liam Gallagher singing “I can see a liar, and his pants are on fire”. God, can you imagine if they’d played this when Liam was off his face at Wembley? Oasis would have died there and then live on Sky.
Track #10 – Roll It Over
It’s been wonderful seeing this song finally get its flowers after so many years thanks to Liam including it in his live setlists, particularly at Knebworth 2022 which even led to it being released as a single. Deservedly so. It’s the best finale to an Oasis album. I feel there’s more to appreciate here than in Champagne Supernova. Forgive me for going for the low hanging fruit, but the lyrics are more airtight for a start. But it caps off the antisocial malaise that runs through the album quite nicely, while also showing a glimpse of the Oasis of old as they reassume their place atop the food chain with the plastic people no longer surrounding them, but looking up at them. The rock gods will be back soon.
End of Part One
Intermission:
I’ve been a touch more critical of SOTSOG this time around. Does that mean that my opinion has changed and it is no longer my favourite Oasis album?
No. I don’t think so.
Your favourite album by a band or artist doesn’t have to be a perfect one. In fact, it shouldn’t, to sound so squeaky clean would spoil the fun. Standing on the Shoulder of Giants is far from a perfect album. The Gallaghers are clearly buckling under their own weight after so many years of excess but Goddammit, they’re still churning out some quality music that stood head and shoulders above a good chunk of what you heard in the charts in 2000.
I alluded to Dig Out Your Soul coming for SOTSOG’s crown at the start of this entry but here’s the difference between them – This album, despite the shaky quality of some songs and the overproduction in others, is a no-skip album. I would happily sit down and listen to all ten of them. Even Little James. Dig Out Your Soul on the other hand may have one of, if not the best first halves of an album that Oasis ever did, but everything after Falling Down is barely worth your attention. It spends its last fifteen or so minutes petering out. While it perfected the Oasis sound at long last, it didn’t have enough tunes to prove that.
And that’s why I prefer SOTSOG. It may be rough, but it’s still a much more fulfilling ride. Still could be a smidge better though…
Which brings us neatly onto part two. Let’s look at the b-sides. Quick rule I have going into this is that, while I weigh up which ones should be on the album, I must stick to the ten-track limit that SOTSOG has. No more, no less. Let’s go.
End of Intermission
Part Two:
#1 – Let’s All Make Believe
Look, let’s not beat around the bush here, Let’s All Make Believe is one of the best Oasis b-sides, period. It is absolutely worthy of a place on SOTSOG and indeed there’s probably some fans out there who wouldn’t have minded if the album was just this song on an hour long loop.
But here’s the issue: Where does it go?
In the place of Put Yer Money… or I Can See A Liar? Can’t really follow up a slow tempo song with another one. After Roll It Over, a la the Japanese release? No, you can’t follow up a grand finale with another grand finale. Too many cooks spoil the broth. In Sunday Morning Call’s place?
…Maybe.
Let’s All Make Believe needs to be in there. But putting it in is a pain in the arse without upsetting the pace of the album. Maybe this is the reason why the band never put it on the final tracklist in the first place.
TWO SOUL-CLEAVING HOURS LATER
Right I’ve made up my mind, it’s going after Roll It Over. The latter does neatly transition into the former, and the opening stompy notes are a good way to reintroduce Liam after a double dose of Noel. I’m keeping it that way before I change my mind.
#2 – (As Long as They’ve Got) Cigarettes In Hell
See, this is the problem, Oasis did make some brilliant songs as the 90s wound down, they were just too damned slow for a rock and roll band to fill an album with. The Strawberry Fields mellotron returns for this track, one which I believe Liam could’ve done the vocals for, but there’s not enough to make it truly stand out. The chorus is defiant but just a bit too downbeat, I reckon.
#3 – Where Did It All Go Wrong? (Semi-acoustic version)
Had to do some real mulling over this one. On first listen, the lack of the keyboards and the electric guitar caught me off guard and made me think the song was naked and lacking identity. Then, Noel started singing and that’s when I realised this was better – His vocals really get a chance to breathe and pack more of an emotional punch as a result.
Part of me wonders if it would have been better still to go for a full acoustic version like the performance on Jools Holland, but maybe that would have been too much of a course correction. My head says that it still lacks identity without the psychedelic flourishes, but my heart says this is better.
#4 – One Way Road
I actually really like this song, but I think it is best left as a b-side. If Noel hadn’t repeated the first verse in the place of the second then that would have elevated things massively but alas, not to be.
Love the birdsong though.
#5 – Helter Skelter
The only album this will ever end up on is if Oasis do a Masterplan II, and put this in the place of I Am the Walrus. No covers.
#6 – Carry Us All
Noel believes he was suffering creative burnout around this time, but he does try pretty damn hard with this song which is loaded with cynicism aimed at religion. Makes sense that he’d try something like that; coming off the drugs and facing divorce, the more spiritually cleansed might expect him to turn to the Lord. Then he turns round and says that “faith in any God is gonna bury us all”. Oof.
It’d be good for SOTSOG to have a statement, but I highly doubt Noel could have been arsed with dealing with the faithful after they pored through his words and kicked up a fuss. Then again, it’s got less dismal vibes than Sunday Morning Call and has a similar sound too. I think this one’s in.
#7 – Full On
SOTSOG is a predominantly slow album, so to have a track like Full On would be a welcome addition. Like the track I want it to replace, it could be argued as a throwaway, only this one is deeper and catchier. A proper rocker whilst still maintaining the psychedelic sound of the album. And simply because I can’t fully envisage Liam getting to grips with this one (Stick your AI Remixes up your arse), let Noel take the reins.
So with all that in mind, here’s how I would have released Standing on the Shoulder of Giants in the year 2000:
(Note that Where Did It All Go Wrong? is still the original because the bastards took the semi-acoustic version of Spotify.)
(Also, f*ck me, getting an album’s pacing right with these songs is a right arseache.)
A-Side Glance 