BULK MEGA MINI-REVIEW CATCHUP

Bulk Mega Mini-Review Catchup

In light of the fact that the next two months are going to be extremely busy (thanks to the World Cup, largely) I've made the decision that, where I'm stretched for time, my reviews are going to be much, much shorter.

Now that may come as a disappointment to...well, maybe three of you, but this way I can a) still listen to an album a day, b) not feel pressure to churn out a massive review every day when I'm gonna be busy sleeping/drinking coffee/watching football/watching cycling, and c) stay relatively up to date.

To test out this new 'mini-review' idea I'm going to, today, do a Bulk Mega Mini-Review Catchup of the last four albums I've listened to.

I won't do this for every album, but where I fall behind, it's going to be the way I catch up; and if I'm pressed for time, it's going to be how I get a review out in a timely fashion.

With all those disclaimers out of the way, let's get cracking!

Album #154: Dream Theater - Images and Words

The second album by prog metallers Dream Theater, and the first to feature vocalist James LaBrie. Keyboard whiz Jordan Rudess isn't here yet but that doesn't really matter, not while guitarist John Petrucci and drummer Mike Portnoy are around to blow your mind. In fact, one of the remarkable things about Dream Theater is that technically, all the musicians are fucking superstars.

From the sprawling keyboard chords and monster choruses of Pull Me Under to the insane progressive polyrhythmic masterpiece of Metropolis Part I, it's a kickarse display of progressive rock/metal, and seems like the natural progression of bands like Yes, Rush and King Crimson. It's really rather good and what's more, it's apparently not even their best album

My rating: 8.2/10

Album #155: The Beastie Boys - Paul's Boutique

When Paul's Boutique was released, it was a chart disappointment. Label execs stopped promoting the album because it didn't sell as well as Licenced to Ill. It's proof that people are stupid because Paul's Boutique stomps much ass. Backed by producers The Dust Brothers, who cram every single possible sample possible into a single album, there's some insanely powerful beats, thrilling hooks and that oh so Beastie tongue-in-cheek gift for humourous hyperbole.

I dare you not to listen to this album and jump up every thirty seconds as you recognise yet another sample (the ingenious chopping up of The Beatles' The End on The Sounds of Science and the use of Hendrix's Are You Experienced on B-Boy Bouillabaisse are my personal favourites, along with all the use of John Bonham thunderous drumbeat mastery throughout the album).

My rating: 7.9/10

Album #156: My Bloody Valentine - Loveless

This album was requested by two friends with the promise that it took guitar overdubs to a level that not even the bloated Be Here Now could touch. It came with a further assurance that, unlike Be Here Now, it didn't disappear up its own arse.

That's certainly true, because Loveless ends up being something akin to an orchestral piece, except all the classical instruments have been replaced by endless samples of guitars and drums, and even the vocals themselves are less a standout, more just another instrument. The result is something that drones (a lot) but it's a good drone, if that makes sense - there's textures and layers all over the place, and the album ends up being more than the sum of its parts. Credit must go to Kevin Shields for labouring over this album for so long, because the proof is in the pudding.

The stunning Come In Alone, the rather indie-rocking I Only Said and the Stone Roses-dance-rock of Soon are the biggest standouts on a bloody good record.

My rating: 8.6/10

Album #157: East 17 - Walthamstow

People forget that East 17 were legitimate contenders for Number 1 Boy Band of the early 90s. They sold more records and were generally seen as much cooler than Take That because of their hip, streetwise image. That streetwise image is on this debut album in spades, thanks to the rave-meets-R&B-meets-pop-meets-hip hop flavour of its aesthetic. 

As you'd expect from a boy band album though, it's singles and sweet fuck all else; even if some of those singles are stompingly ace. I mean, come on, if you don't think House Of Love is a fucking anthem and if you're not jumping around like a motherfucker when it's on, you're probably fucking dead, and even if It's Alright has some frankly dreadful lyrics at times ("Alright/alright/everything's gonna be alright/alright/alright/everything's gonna be alright/alright/alright/everything's gonna be alright/alright/alright/it's really alright"), it makes up for it through sheer dancepop power and some hilarious lyrics ("We are the seed of the new breed/We will succeed").

The rest of the album can get stuffed.

My rating: 5.5/10

Album #118: Rogue Traders - Here Come The Drums

Rogue Traders

Here Come The Drums (2005)

Rogue Traders are that dance/electro/rock/synth/whateverthefuckelsewecansqueezein/pop band that were nobodies until they recruited Natalie Bassingthwaite from Neighbours on lead vocals. Suddenly, with a bit of extra public exposure, and armed with an array of radio-friendly dancepop singles, Rogue Traders went BOOM, and it was this album that did it. 

It has been requested a number of times (by the same person, mind you) so it's time to get it out of the way and remind myself just how many of the songs I actually know because television was saturated with them (radio was too but I don't listen to shit radio stations).

The Album

Turns out I know quite a few of them because of the saturation. Perhaps that's also credit to the chief songwriter, James Appleby/Ash/whatever, who certainly knows how to write a hook or two.

At least, he would, if he WASN'T RIPPING MOST OF THE BLOODY HOOKS OFF FROM OTHER, BETTER, MUSICIANS AND SONGS.

Allow me to explain. Voodoo Child would be bad enough because of its banal, shitty lyrics that bleat on while saying sweet fuck all of interest or importance. However, you decided to set those banal, shitty lyrics to the main riff from Elvis Costello's Pump It Up. YOU DESTROYED ELVIS COSTELLO WITH YOUR SHITHOUSE 'TALENT'. FUCK YOU, ROGUE TRADERS. But it gets worse - Watching You takes the lyrical quality of Voodoo Child and wipes its diarrhoea-stained arse with it, somehow providing a set of lyrics that are worse, and again decides to destroy the riff from The Knack's My Sharona. Those are two of the album's singles. Neither particularly original.

But then.

THEN.

There's In Love Again.

I can forgive the lousy synthpop that's trying to be all anthemic and emotional.

I can overlook the fact that the song is as boring as an episode of Love Child and that Bassingthwaite sounds disinterested.

What I can't overlook, or forgive, is that you devote the last two minutes to a nasty thieving of the la-la-la-la part of Tears For Fears' sublime, anthemic tune, Head Over Heels.

Now I must be honest, my reaction (as typed in my listening notes) to this unexpected development was this:

·         WHAT THE FUCK

·         WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

·         YOU FUCKING COCKHEADS

·         THIS IS HEAD OVER HEELS

·         BY TEARS FOR FEARS

·         AN ACTUAL BAND

·         YOU HAVE GONE TOO FAR YOU UNTALENTED THIEVING DISEASED PROLAPSED ANUSES

·        SULLYING THE FINE WORK OF ROLAND ORZABAL AND CURT SMITH FOR YOUR FUCKING VOMITOUS SYNTHPOP

·        DIE IN A FIRE

      

      I think that just about says it all, really.

      Elsewhere, it's more of the same. Twelfth-rate lyrics to 'edgy' 'rocky' 'dancepop' (evidenced by the songs Believer and World Go Round), while the utterly deplorable Fashion makes twelfth-rate lyrics seem like fucking Bob Dylan ("Get rich/stay kitsch/give me another hit" perfectly sums up this collection of vacuous, self-obsessed wankbadger lyrics). And as for We're Coming Home, I'm pretty sure if you play the song's backwards samples forwards, it's a recording of somebody saying "CLICHE CLICHE CLICHE" because this song is chock full of them.

      

      Yet would you believe that in this sea of retarded poetry and airheaded cultural fuckheadedness there are actually two songs that aren't complete and utter rhinoceros shit. Way To Go! (one of the many singles) is the only one of the dancepop songs where the bounce and energy of the band (and the vocalist) doesn't sound forced; it genuinely comes off as an enjoyable, club-ready party song, and the guitar riff has a pleasant ballsy chug. There's also Rescue Me, which appears to be the obligatory ballad of the album. Even though it starts with what sounds like an interpretation of whalesong played by an out of tune $20 guitar made by a blind/deaf luthier in Mauritania, and even if it might sound like the bastard child of Roxette and Aqua, it's a welcome change to hear a different aesthetic to fucking cringeworthy 'dancepop'. The beats are gentler, the guitars are subtle and melodic, and it's a great showcase for Bassingthwaite who proves that she has a sweet, pure vocal in her armoury. It's songwriting with nuance and I can't actually believe that it was written by the same people who wrote all the other crap on this record.

The Verdict

No.

My rating: half a star

Standout Tracks

BAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH no seriously:

Way to Go!

Rescue Me