Image: Sxc.hu

A prolific gigger’s views on the erosion of personal space…

At some point over the last few years – presumably when gigging blurred the lines between work and leisure – I stopped enjoying the thrill of a good boogie. I’m happy enough to be away from the pits and circles that come with stuffy angst-ridden rock gigs, but now even the brush of a stranger’s shoulder seems to wind me up.

Hear me out – I’m not just some weird loner…

When we go to gigs, common sense dictates that we like the band. This means we’ve (hopefully) bought their albums, listened to them and enjoyed them. So why does the notion of “atmosphere” require us to behave like battery hens when we’re inside the venue?

Let’s face it – atmosphere hasn’t made us like the band in the first place. When I put a new album on for the first time, I don’t go and stand annoyingly close to the nearest person (often my mum), and keep pushing her closer and closer to a non-existent stage, sweating on her and making sure she gets at least one good elbow-shaped bruise. If you do that – you’re doing this music thing wrong.

So once again I ask – why do live shows have to be about “atmosphere”? Why can’t they be about listening to our favourite songs being played in their purest form, or re-worked for our benefit? If we want to sing along, that’s great (if you can do it in the car, it’s okay at a gig). But how about we keep our distance from one-another? Do we have a deal?

Good, now I’m off to stand awkwardly in the corner…

• As a sci-fi story, it has a good premise (a la Invasion of the body snatchers, et al).
• In the battle between sci-fi and chick-flick, the latter wins very quickly.
• It’s for Twilight fans – obviously so!
• Saoirse Ronan as the lead is the film’s strongest asset.
• Without being brilliant, it’ll do plenty to satisfy a variety of tastes.

Rating: 6/10

It’s a pretty standard A3 song – rhythmic, moody and rasping. Doesn’t stop it being a good’un though. Keep your eyes peeled for the album review – it promises to be a belter!

Brevity. It’s the spice of life. So here’s my five-line review of Zom-Rom-Com Warm Bodies…

1. If you’re after a Romero-style zombie flick, look elsewhere.
2. The zombie narrative does slightly give way to a love story.
3. Nicholas Hoult’s droll voice-overs bring the film to life (pun intended).
4. Don’t hold out hope for anything other than a happy ending.
5. Yes, it’s better than Twilight (in my humble opinion).

Rating (not a line, a rating): 7/10

 As the new year rolls on, I’ve been in a reflective mood. Cue some impromptu and handy discussions with some friends and, oddly, myself. Why do I write in such a way? Why do I like certain things? Why am I obsessed with food? Read on for more…

So, let’s start easy…Why do you only write good reviews?

That’s purely by coincidence. I do get bad albums to listen to, but because of the way I choose to frame my reviews – based on creativity rather than point-scoring – it often ends up that the better albums elicit a more creative response from me. Often my blogging is balanced against full-time work, freelance work and the rest of my life, so without some sort of filter system in place, I’d either go mad or never leave my keyboard. If an album doesn’t generate a creative and impassioned response from me, I won’t review it. I don’t like writing crap for the sake of it…

 And why isn’t the emphasis of your reviews…you know… the music?

I was once told that if people want to know what an album sounds like, they’ll buy the damned album. So there’s no point me describing it to them – I’d either be preaching to the converted, or to those who don’t care! If people are after a track-by-track walk-through of the main themes of each song on an album, I kindly refer them to the album’s sleeve notes (do sleeve notes still exist??)

I’m guessing that’s why you don’t use song names very often?

Correct. I think by focusing too readily on albums as a list of singles (or, dare I say, filler tracks) you take it out of context. An album takes you on a journey. It makes moves you through the emotional spectrum, and that’s (hopefully) what the whimsy of my reviews recreates. It’s like “best of…” albums, which I often find detract from the quality of the individual songs because they’re devoid of their original context – reviews should be natural, not simply a list of names to prove you’ve done your homework.

I see….You’re also a big fan of metaphors, I believe?

I am. Who can resist a metaphor? For whatever reason, music reviewers take themselves, and music in general, far too seriously. Perhaps the constant swelling of the blogoshpere, that ready-to-squeeze pimple on the face of music journalism (couldn’t resist) has put pressure on the old guard to assert their authority, which they do by removing all the fun from music. Instead they put their words onto a page, analysing and over-analysing songs just to prove their value. It’s as if they’re no longer fans. I try to be the opposite and have become a daft writer of bizarre reviews, but loving every second of it! Being my own editor also means I don’t have to satisfy others. I work to my own deadlines, write when it feels right, and most importantly… I blog for love, not money…

Okay, last one now… Where do you think your writing will take you next?

Oh, that’s a tough one! As a student I always wanted to write for Q. Oddly, though, it was for the same reasons I’ve listed above – they always commanded such stern brows and stiff upper lips in their magazine. Since taking on this blogging lark though, I think I’m best suited to magazines like Kerrang! because they’ve started to inject fun, folly and full-blown Twitter drama into music journalism, just like every magazine should. I think James McMahon (who used to lecture at my university) has done a top job there – he’s steadied the ship, united the editorial focus of his staff, and he so clearly loves music that you believe the words on his pages. Until the right job comes along, though, I’m quite content in the blogosphere…

Image: BBC

A few happy thoughts following The Doctor’s Yuletide capers…

Oh, Moff, you televisual tease. First you dangle the promise of companions new before us. Then you enchant our hearts and brains with a premature peek at JLC, and a fitting mystery to match. Then finally, on the day we (really) first meet our new leading lady, you steal her away at the death (pun intentional). Not only that, but you dub her “the girl twice dead”? Sheer barmy genius!

Yep, you’ve guessed it. I was rather a fan of the 2012 Doctor Who Christmas special, simply titled: “The Snowmen”. Not only did it represent a return to “normal” Doctorific Christmas viewing (and thus a move away from Moffat’s indulgent, if enjoyable, pseudo-fairy-tales) but it has already started in motion the events that will no doubt shape the end of series seven.

To coincide with the TARDIS’ 50^th birthday, season 7.5 always needed to be special. Having so delicately built up – and then so wonderfully shattered – the Doctor/Pond triangle, the promise of new blood on our screens merely lengthened Moffat’s to-do list. It would appear that he thrived under this pressure.

By not simply throwing in the towel and writing a convenient meeting for the pair, the mystery and anticipation will grow exponentially with every passing hint. The rumour mill will be at full tilt – the how, the why and the when will suffocate the Internet (or at least my corners of it) like a mucus cough in January. All in the name of a knees-up fit for a Time Lord. Hopefully without the anti-climactic “your baby is River Song” solution, too…

Well, that’s my piece said. T’was a jolly good show, indeed, and it laid the foundations for Doctor Who’s finest year. Let the hype begin, le

t the celebrations start, and here’s hoping that 2013 sees the Moffat-Smith combination hit an all-new high…

Rating: 7/10

A “bitchy” album, if ever I’ve heard one…

At first, I couldn’t help but feel that by infusing their typical 3-chord punk with modern pop sounds, the Dollyrots were blunting their edge a little. Would this latest offering be as rock-and-roll as lemon and ginger tea? If 11 seasons of CSI has taught me anything, though, it’s that blunt objects can still be lethal.

The Dollyrots (the band, that is) remain riddled with resentment towards their “social superiors” (read: beauty queens, daddy’s girls and alike). Intentional or otherwise, there’s a beautiful irony at work seeing as the band’s ills have been…ahem…dolled up…

Gritty, three-chord pop-punk can still be found in places, providing you chip away at the album’s squeaky clean exterior. For the most part, though, we’re confronted by cheesy, gung-ho power-pop. And no, the word “cheesy” isn’t an insult here. This beast flashes you its pearly-whites one moment, then spits in your eye the next. The fact that it’s sonically “pretty” shouldn’t detract from the sense of rebellion that still shines through.

If you’re a Dollyrots, BFS, Army of Freshmen or even just a jolly-power-pop-punk-and-generally-fun-music-with-catchy-bouncy-bits fan, then this pretty little weirdo of an album is worth a few moments of your time. Especially when you’re hungover on New Year’s Day.

“Clunky” and “fragmented” aren’t normally complimentary terms. Then again, this isn’t a normal album…

Rating: 8/10

Logic tells me that Think Bigger shouldn’t be my cup of tea. In a world defined by boxes ticked (or checked, if you like) it’s a blank scorecard because it follows no pattern and erodes the notion that recurring themes or concepts are at all necessary. Bloody hell, it does so magnificently.

Think bigger puts two fingers up to convention, spits venom at the norm and derides the more traditional soloist’s modus operandi. All without buying into that dull sense of indie irony that dictates different is somehow “cool”.

It’s schizophrenic. Fractured and twisted, Jarvis lurches from folksy ballad to QOTSA-style chuntering in the mere passing of a beat. From delicacy he births disaster, and back again. Still no boxes ticked though – so it must be a crap album…

The composition is most certainly of this Earth – there’s nothing exceptionally technical about the songs Jarvis has written – there’s just something about his use of combinations that is exciting. Like chilies and chocolate, or cheese and cake.

In fact, take away the feeling of abnormality and you’re left with a pretty standard album. Lots of ticks and crosses. All over the page – the pen’s running out of ink. But with a few swooshes of a wand, a few unexpected twists and some jim-jam, mash-up-sort-of-things to make even Louis Walsh feel queasy, Cosmo Jarvis has turned an average-slash-decent album into an exciting and memorable one.

More of the same, please Mr Jarvis (unless it becomes the norm and therefore new criteria for success are formed…)

Rating: 8/10

TSAR have been around the block enough to know their music scene by heart. From the seductive décor of the mainstream label houses to the chipped paintwork of lonely and barren studios, they’ve seen it all. So it’s little wonder that they’ve come back with an EP to reflect both the glamourous and the grim in one foul swoop.

The Dark Stuff is perhaps more ballsy than we’ve come to expect from Lojinx releases, what with the mangled guitars and vocal effects and all, but this is by no means a bad thing. Rather the opposite, actually…

Instead, as seldom happens, it toes line between power-pop and pop-punk, but doesn’t snuggle up to the teenyboppers out there. Creating a very commercial pop-punk EP would have been an easy error to make, but clearly TSAR have enough about them to know the difference between clean-cut and candy-coated.  Their balancing act doesn’t stop there, either.

For all the phlegm-hawking, bollocks-to-it-all bravado of the songs, there’s an equal measure of finesse and balladry. It’s the red tie at a black and white party – bold enough for us to notice, but sensible enough not to cause a scene. It’s so good, it has brought me out in metaphor…

So, if you like your power-pop-punk-stuff to be thoughtful but ballsy, look no further. TSAR have pulled off a fine balancing act, resulting in a dose of simple but classy punk.

After a lengthy break from the limelight, Matchbox Twenty have found a new kind of form with their comeback effort…

Confession: I’m a massive fan of MB20 and the various offshoots, side projects or permutations thereof…

So kindly think of this as neither a review, nor as fanboy rhetoric (if you can help it). These are just my thoughts on an album I’ve been psyching myself up to adore for a mighty long time…

North is exactly what you’d expect a MB20 album to sound like in 2012. In the past, they’ve found favour as the soulful and swooning cousins of the likes of Bon Jovi. But now the old scene has all but become extinct, replaced by the likes of The Killers and Maroon 5. Of course, Rob Thomas and co predate these acts, but their ability to effortlessly cosy up to the mainstream is not to be ignored (even if this cosiness isn’t always reflected in the band’s popularity).

The songs are still distinctly MB20, with the added bonus that the writing has become more equally divided between Messrs Thomas, Cook and Doucette. So it’s a more widely influenced album, tailored to blend in with the current crop of musicians. Besides, it’s been a long time since the likes of Rest Stop came out to delight us. The recording and production guides have been well and truly re-written and this is reflected in this latest album.

The simple truth is that the purists may refer to North as pandering to the whimsy of the charts, holding on to any comparison that makes MB20 sound vaguely popular. In truth, though, it’s not that different from its predecessors. It’s a potent mix of the best of the past with the necessities of the new. It’s Matchbox Twenty and, as pointed out by the lovely Gary-Jay Bourley, by golly it’s good. Hopefully the wait won’t be so long next time…