ORIGINAL RELEASE DATE: MAY 21ST 2010


It would be great to think that bands from Perth are automatically more interesting than if they were from any other city. Of course that doesn’t make the individuals more interesting though, and I’m sure many Perthians would like to get out of the city if they weren’t so massively isolated from the rest of the world. Tame Impala sound like they’re trapped in 1969; fitting, then, for an album that sounds like it was recorded in complete isolation. Debut album Innerspeaker demands to be listened to in an unabridged format, preferably in a rather secluded environment. Some tracks are partially stripped of perceptible lyrics, save for a few harmonies and inaudible phrasings. I’m reminded rather unexpectedly of Fleet Foxes’ Heard Them Stirring, a similar piece that emphasises the build of instruments and their subsequent fall with a sort of chanted vocal melody to assist in pushing the song forward. This is brought to the fore on Runway, Houses, City, Clouds and, most successfully, the rolling Jeremy’s Storm.


When the vocals do appear, they roll out thick and heavy with lead singer Kevin Parker delivering his best late Lennon-impression. The singles Solitude Is Bliss and Expectation are obvious highlights, but the true gems appear when the reverbed guitars feel truly synced with the pulsating drums, as on the first minute of the blissed-out Alter Ego. This doesn’t always work in their favour and there’s a few moments where things feels a little too meandering. However, it’s in the style of their free-spirited nature to let things roam a little; it takes courage to construct music with this unbridled passion; the panache with which Tame Impala deliver is just icing on the cake and is the thing that infers repeated listens. It’s not always obvious but typical song structures of the verse-chorus-verse-chorus dynamic are present here. It’s more apparent on songs like Lucidity and the final track I Don’t Really Mind, with its pause-play drum rhythm and electronic shift midway.


Whilst it’s true that Innerspeaker is peppered with influences, not all of them are vintage. There’s elements of Animal Collective and Deerhunter present too, which will satisfy younger listeners as well. The psychadelic garage rock sound they’ve mastered here is not representative of any particular trend or revival that is currently playing out. It belongs in the past and there it will remain. Innerspeaker makes for a joyous and rewarding experience if you can remove yourself from the fact that Tame Impala borrow from their past more than contribute toward a discernible future. It takes time for these songs to establish themselves and what’s interesting is that it appears to have been largely forgotten about in the year since it was released. After all, it can be difficult for a band to borrow so heavily from such a epoch that signalled a major musical shift without seeming confined to that period. Tame Impala are refreshing enough to lightly brush their songs with a sparkle of ingenuity so as to feel current and relevant. It’ll be interesting to hear the direction they take from here on out. 

ORIGINAL RELEASE DATE: MAY 18TH 2010

The world of popular music in 2011 is a pretty fickle place and the ones at the top so rarely have anything original or unique to say. In some ways it’s always been like this, albeit less extreme; the general decline of popular culture is not only rapid, it’s sad, and you can’t sell millions of records without being safe, easily-catagorised and kicking out a catchy chorus or two. So what happens to the more experimental pop chameleons? The ones writing, producing and performing all their own material? These are so often left by the wayside. Róisín Murphy and Robyn release fantastic pop music yet sell barely any records and the same can now be said for Janelle Monáe.


In the year since The ArchAndroid was released, Monáe has gone on to become arguably the most promising contemporary female American pop singer. Released to nearly unanimous critical acclaim across the board, The ArchAndroid topped many 2010 end-of-year polls and is just about as brilliant as commercially viable pop music gets. The album is divided into Suites II and III, spread over eighteen tracks and runs for almost seventy minutes. This is not uncommon of albums in this genre, yet it’s the sheer diversity of this record that so dazzles upon first listen. Monáe is particularly adept in R&B and a new Prince-age sort of funk. This is where her primary talent lies but The ArchAndroid continually pushes the boundaries, flirting along the edges of rap, disco and a kind of post-apocalyptic, widescreen sci-fi sonic landscape.

The first three songs seamlessly weave into a ten minute mini-epic that gives the album a prompt racing heartbeat. The rhythm of the sublimely catchy Dance Or Die gives way to the bop-bop of Faster, before the funky and menacing pursuit of Locked Inside. Monáe surfs through this trio with a skill that will initially befuddle; repeated listens only reveal their depth. Lead single Tightrope remains perhaps the strongest link on the album as a whole with its absurdly tight and restrained verses, not a single syllable out of place, and yet contrasted by its astoundingly harmonious chorus, now surely a modern day classic to the old-school throwback she envisages. Yet one could argue that its successor, Cold War, is a more memorable reminder of what this album represents. Monáe’s stentorian refusal to conform is the thing that equally drives and humbles her in this, surely the heart-on-sleeve song of last year.

Many tracks here feel like brief interludes as Monáe seems more concerned with ascribing an overall direction to her music rather than concentrating on a hit-after-hit approach. The cinematic sleek of Sir Greendown and the rumble tumble of Come Alive (War Of The Roses) are bestowed with strong compositions and are perhaps so memorable after just one listen because they don’t drag on. The rock balladeering of Mushrooms & Roses rounds off the first suite with bombastic aplomb. The slight shift in style on Suite III allows Monáe more space to explore ideas and sounds such as on the panoramic Neon Valley Street. By the time Wondaland comes around, you feel Monáe is simply playing games; knocking out such a space oddity this late in the life cycle of an album is virtually unheard of. 57821 feels like a sort of retro-pastiche Simon & Garfunkel number; the classic lullably of The Boxer is in here somewhere. BaBopByeYa is the resounding finale to an album that questions more where Monáe will go from here on. It’s possibly her strongest vocal performance on the whole album and she saves it for those listeners still patient enough to have endured until the very end.

The most beautiful thing about The ArchAndroid and writing about it here, now, is that it feels even more fantastic a year after it was released. Since its sales haven’t matched up to the critical acclaim, this is one of the few albums around which a small cult will form in the coming years. Make no mistake, Janelle Monáe will become a niche artist with subsequent releases. What’s interesting is how many different backgrounds Monáe is appealing to. Her originality is endearing because, despite her obvious influences, she presents to the observer a package that is as concerned with a cohesive idea/image as the sound she’s developing. Perhaps her sound will expand further and she will retreat into more experimental territory. Or maybe the world will wake up and realise what it missed out on. One almost hopes it doesn’t. It feels more special this way.

ORIGINAL RELEASE DATE: MAY 18TH 2010

The idea of listening to an album by LCD Soundsystem all the way through from start to finish, let alone reviewing one, was a prospect that daunted me one year ago. I must admit to having misunderstood the angle from which James Murphy’s wonder creation was projecting since at least now, in the aftermath of the group’s expiration, it becomes all too clear how pivotal they were. Over five years they released three studio albums, the last of which, This Is Happening, was one of the most coveted albums of 2010. It was promised to be ‘better than the other two’, recalling their self-titled debut from 2005 and 2007’s Sound Of Silver. Whether this statement holds true is not for me to decide, since I’m sure there are more ardent fans out there who’d pass judgement more creatively. I get the feeling that Sound Of Silver takes the cake on most occasions though; the dual wonder of Someone Great and All My Friends is a match made in heaven.

There’s a lot to love and rediscover one year after This Is Happening was released. Perhaps the density and complexity of some of the tracks here work better in context after a year’s passing. Take You Wanted A Hit, the song about songwriting that references the seldom hits and frequent misses of bands who actually care about their craft. A three minute instrumental intro gives way to rising drums and plodding guitar by which point the lyrics seem to flow the only way you think they could. Ironic, almost, that it’s catchier and more on point that the album’s first single, Drunk Girls, itself a short burst of laddy hollering, the kind of song indie Brit bands would release five years ago without an ounce of tongue in cheek. Scary.

This Is Happening works best a year on with the songs that intend to get you off your arse and moving your limbs. One Touch is still incredibly tight and propulsive. Guitar and synths rotate around in perfect synchronicity and the repetition of “One touch is never enough” carries the song into the night for what feels like a lot less than nearly eight minutes. I Can Change, too, inspires you to move your arms regardless of the tragic subject matter. The sorrow of All I Want, with all its depressing outbursts and gut reactions, lets the guitar take centre stage. Murphy knows that this single guitar riff can emote better his attitude than his vocals alone, and it’s cranked up, pushed out and propelled along six minutes, wavering out, awash in a sea of synths. His vulnerability and dejected performance is brave. That’s not to say Murphy’s vocals are inadequate; if anything, he bestows a restraint and control on This Is Happening that isn’t evident on previous albums.

The average song length on this record is more than seven minutes, making for a patient listening experience. These songs demand their lengthy compositions and there’s never a feeling that they could be cut short. Sequencing is everything here, whether it’s the long instrumentals between verses and choruses or the repetitious phrases of the broken Pow Pow. Iggy Pop’s Nightclubbing is given a retooling on the penultimate Someone’s Calling Me, evoking more accurately the uninterrupted calm of Grace Jones’ 1981 cover. Opener Dance Yrself Clean and closing track Home play on contrasting elements of regularity and surprise, both pouring out over repetitious drum beats that cut short unexpectedly. The peppy acoustic flair of the latter soon gives way to a more digitised melody which really does drive home, feeling like the most satisfying finale to not only this album but to the band in general.

LCD Soundsystem have disbanded in the year since this album was released. Perhaps it would’ve come as a shock if they hadn’t already made public their plans to do so. After all, how many bands can say they’ve finished on such a career high as This Is Happening? It will be interesting to see how this album holds up in five years time when the dust really has settled, since this feels like the kind which will have an effect that takes longer than one year to judge thoroughly. The band’s official website called for people attending their farewell show at Madison Square Garden in April of this year to wear all white, or black, or a bit of both. That’s a bit how this album feels at times; the disparity of the songs that are made to move you, and the ones that are made to make you really move, black lows followed by white highs and hopefully an album to really look back on and move with the times.

ORIGINAL RELEASE DATE: MAY 10TH 2010


The frequent disappointment of a band’s beleaguered sophomore album appears to have evaded Oxford’s Foals, following on the heels of a debut so well received by an adoring British music press. This is apparent one year on as much as it was when Total Life Forever was released on an unsuspecting public. Where Antidotes was immediate and the songs dictated by a strong sense of rhythmic guitars and high energy vocals, Total Life Forever feels stripped back, pared down and very much more concerned with its emotional core. There’s a consistent rhythm but it’s altogether different this time round;  a strong pulse is running through every song. Melodies are stronger with much more focus on actual singing as opposed to shouting and making a statement. At times it feels a lot more like straight up pop music, however uncool that may sound. Foals are clearly comfortable in their skin and possess a confidence that only comes through a strong dynamic between band members bouncing off each other.

Foals have expanded their sound in these ways yet there is almost a physical expanse inherent here. Blue Blood and Black Gold are clear examples of this, the latter deftly meandering through guitar solos that rise through a climactic outro and empty voids pushing upwards and outward. The pacing on this album feels intrinsically linked to how the listener is expected to enjoy it; I mean that, by all accounts, the reason I personally found this album so appealing (and continue to return to it one year later) is due to a palpable sense of familiarity. Like all great albums that require us to hit the repeat button, there is a clear divide between the first and second half. Spanish Sahara provides this appropriate bridge of the album as a whole, ideally with the most altruistic composition the band have produced thus far. There’s an emotional distinction that Foals demand of their listeners on Spanish Sahara that isn’t evident in most of their other material, and the magnificent climax four minutes in feels incredibly organic. Miami and the title track feel like expected results to please FM-hungry listeners yet the mastery of the former’s chorus and the latter’s infectious, repetitious hooks are stronger than almost anything that dominated indie music in 2010. The vocal harmonies on these two songs are their primary driving forces, too. Unlike a lot of bands who require catchy instrumentation and repetitious backing beats, Foals are adept in crafting finely-tuned hooks through often beautiful vocal melodies and understanding their significance as an instrument in itself.

As the album progresses it becomes clear that the sound they have developed here is becoming more pronounced. After Glow feels a little off the mark but there’s always Alabaster and the pivotal closer What Remains to bring the album back on track. The penultimate 2 Trees feels expressively like fireworks in the night, encapsulating the album artwork perfectly and spiralling into a different beast in the final minute, almost as if time itself were frozen. It could feel clichéd or even bloated if it didn’t sound so damn epic through headphones. Total Life Forever isn’t a perfect album by any means and it will take the less ardent listener a few successive spins before the quality of these tracks settle in. After a year with this album and seeing how well it has held up, it will be interesting to see what direction Foals take next. The most noteworthy change between now and then, however, is that they have established themselves. This record felt a bit like it came out of nowhere; no one anticipated such a leap, and as a result its successor will automatically be significant because of what came directly before it. It’s a daunting prospect but one feels that if anyone can pull it off it’s them.

ORIGINAL RELEASE DATE: MAY 4TH 2010

Forgiveness Rock Record should probably have been a bigger deal than it actually was. Five years since their last release proper, Broken Social Scene were a very different animal. And yet this doesn’t always have to be perceived as a bad thing; the sprawling sound of You Forgot It In People and 2005’s self-titled are part of what made them so appealing. If you didn’t know where the next song was going to take you, it’s possible that they didn’t either. On Forgiveness, their sound is more honed with particular focus on instrumentation and song structure. Stylistically, however, this is possibly the band’s most diverse collection of songs. Spread over sixty three minutes, it traverses the full width and breadth of the form indie music had taken up to 2010. Unfortunately this appears to be the reason that the album didn’t quite click with many long time listeners. This is the sound of a band so attuned that not only have they developed a signature sound, they’ve perfected it.

Opener World Sick rises through almost seven minutes, building layer upon layer of instrumentation and bombastic production that crescendos in a showering chorus of breathtaking momentum. Framed perfectly by its hushed intros and outros, it’s almost an extended preview of what’s not to come. Texico Bitches and Forced To Love, though jovial in their initial displays, suggest a darker and more sombre topical stance. The progressive Art House Director, with its peppy, back-forth verses and high-spirited bridge act as a distant sister track, a few tracks removed, to the magnificent Meet Me In The Basement. Here instrumentation soars through layers of guitar and marching drum beats to almost regal proportions. On the flip side, you have songs such as Sentimental X’s and Romance To The Grave, pieces that appear designed to fluctuate the mood and take a more subdued course through an album that nonetheless flows like a river of changing faces. Perhaps the biggest and most pleasant surprise here comes in the form of All To All which still holds up as a pure bolt of sonic indie pop bliss on each successive listen, all breathy vocals floating over layers of minimal clicks and beats. Vocals provided by the lovely Lisa Lobsigner almost detract from the fact that Leslie Feist is still sorely absent.


Ultimately it’s the space in between the songs and the room that Broken Social Scene have given these songs to breathe which holds up on repeated listens. At times it may appear that this record disconnects only to reform and again disband. It’s in those repeated listens that slowly reveal a fabric which at its core is as cohesive as it is diverse. It’s this fine balance which makes Forgiveness Rock Record a statement on restraint and order as well as one of persistence. The fact that it’s also as panoramic in its sound as it is beguiling is just a big bonus for this listener.