Mark Ronson, Version

I reviewed the new Mark Ronson album for Drum Media. Here's what I thought:MARK RONSON
Version
Sony/BMG

You’ve probably already heard the funky version of Radiohead’s Just that has been doing the rounds for a while. Well, indie DJs everywhere will be overjoyed at the news that the man responsible, Englishman Mark Ronson, has released a whole album of indie covers.

These aren’t lazy re-hashes either; they’ve been given a total shake-up, resulting in a tasty mix of jazz, hip-hop, pop, samba, funk and motown, and, as a producer and DJ of some acclaim, Ronson has called on a few industry pals to lend their voices. While some collaborations miss the mark; most notably Robbie Williams’ wishy-washy vocal on a directionless Charlatans cover, and pointless Maximo Park and Kasabian tracks which feature the original artists, for the most part this is a slick and interesting experiment.

Highlights include Lily Allen’s cheeky take on Kaiser Chiefs’ Oh My God and a complete revamp of Britney’s Toxic, which features a verbal tirade by the late, great Ol’ Dirty Bastard. Elsewhere, Ronson plays the dangerous game of covering The Smiths, yet his brooding, Massive Attack-style reworking of Stop Me If You’ve Heard This One Before is little short of majestic.

In spite of these fine moments, this album is fairly disposable, and once the novelty wears off you won’t really have cause to revisit Version very often. But Ronson certainly deserves credit for the quality and integrity of these recordings. Considering the unmitigated disaster that this type of project could have been, short-lived fun is a pretty good result.

Hanging out with Dolores O'Riordan

On Friday evening, I interviewed Dolores O'Riordan. I was terrified beforehand, but she turned out to be utterly lovely and was more open, honest and candid than I could ever have imagined.During the interview, her words were wise and worldly as she told me all about her descent into illness and depression. While the interview was pretty heavy in subject-matter, she was actually very funny and cheerful. The mood was one of comfortable conversation rather than interviewer/interviewee as she sipped beer, admired the picture-book view of Sydney through the window, checked out the photos on my digital camera and even complimented me on my clothes.

When, as a young fellow, I watched an impossibly cool O'Riordan belting out Zombie on MTV, I never dreamed that I would one day be accepting her compliments about my sartorial elegance in a five star Australian hotel. Life is strange sometimes. Strange yet wonderful.

To read the full, astonishing interview, click here

Plan B at The Basement, Sydney

Last night I went to see Plan B play a showcase at The Basement. I have been raving about this man for a long time, so I was excited to finally get to see him perform live.Plan B is Ben Drew, a London-based performer who raps over acoustic guitar. Arriving onstage at 11.30pm, he started his set by treating the anticipatory crowd to a handful of acoustic numbers from his outstanding album Who Needs Actions When You Got Words, including Kidz, Mama (Loves a Crackhead) and Charmaine. In amongst the bile-fuelled, witty, confrontational and controversial rapping, there were delicate choruses which showed this guy really can sing beautifully.

He ditched his guitar and was instead joined by a DJ for the second half of the set, where he busted out tracks like No Good and a disturbing adaptation of Leonard Cohen's Suzanne. The excited crowd were going nuts, and after two encores were still hollaring for more.

It was an incredible and dexterous gig, and proved that Plan B has talent in abundance which transcends the initial quirkiness of seeing a rapper strumming an acoustic guitar. This guy is a serious, intelligent and important figure in modern music. I hate to say I told you so (alright), but I told you so.

Here is a short clip from Mama (Loves a Crackhead) which illustrates how he juxtaposes angry verse with a beautiful singing voice (please excuse the sound quality):

Hanging Out With Cameron Diaz

Ok, so the headline is a little bit misleading. I wasn't actually hanging out with the Hollywood a-lister. I didn't even really meet her. In fact, I chanced upon Miss Diaz entirely unexpectedly. I was just walking down Market Street minding my own business when I stumbled across the Shrek The Third premier at The State Theatre.Following my recent rants about the artificiality of the celebrity world, I thought it would be interesting to hang about and watch all the action unfold. It was certainly fascinating to witness how the whole red carpet senario works. The Hollywood celeb is led from interiew to inteview surrounded by security and 'their people' and is rushed from pillar to post where they are obliged to smile and politely answer the same inane questions over and over again. Because she was the only star of any note to attend this premier, it took Diaz over an hour to walk the very short distance from car door to theatre entrance. It must be pretty exhausting for a person to wear a perma-smile and be genial for that length of time, while hundreds of cameras are fixed on them.So, what did I learn tonight from my hour spent watching Cameron Diaz doing her duty? Well, not a lot, other than the fact that when you are a celebrity everyone wants their two minutes with you, and you really are obliged to give it to them. Still, this particular celebrity earns enough per movie to put up with an hour or so of dull interviews and a few waves to the crowd.

To be fair to Diaz though, she took plenty of time to mix with the public, going off-route and crossing over the road to sign autographs, only stopping when she was ushered back onto the carpet by her people when it looked like she was getting behind schedule. Her public persona seemed very close to her onscreen characters. She seemed fun and smiley. Oh, and very tall.

They're no longer The Ghosts, buster

Sydney youngsters The Ghosts have been winning plenty of friends over the past few months. I have seen them play a number of times and they never fail to impress me.Because there are already a plethora of other bands called The Ghosts, they have decided to change their name to Ghostwood. This piece of news gives me the excuse to post my photo of frontman Gabby (above), which was used in Australian magazine TNT last November.

The Jack Awards 2007

The Jack Awards, Australia’s celebration of indie achievement, took place last night at Sydney’s Luna Park.Because the event is still in its infancy, the most noticeable thing about it is its inability to pull the really big names just yet, but it would be unfair to criticise it too harshly for this, as everything needs time to grow. Similarly, the lack of paying punters and the glitches with regard to accommodating those who did turn up can be put down to the fact that this is the first year the event has been open to Joe Public. However, penning people in and not allowing them to go to the toilet is the very opposite of the fan-friendly environment that would encourage anyone to come back next year. It perhaps wasn’t quite like “going to a gig in Nazi Germany,” as one fellow quipped, but it is certainly something that needs looking into next time.

The awards themselves followed the same format as any award ceremony. While the calibre of presenters and performers wasn’t as strong as the MTV Awards, there was a much nicer atmosphere at this event. Because the Sydney scene is so incestuous, everyone in the room was linked by one or two degrees of separation, giving the occasion a pleasing level of familiarity and friendliness. There was none of the falseness and the pouting of the MTV awards; this was just a bunch of skinny-jeaned indie kids enjoying the free booze and watching their mates perform or win awards.

Rockers Airbourne (above) opened the night with a typically histrionic show. I really don’t see the appeal of this band. Are they supposed to be tongue in cheek or serious? If they are being ironic then they’ve missed the boat more than once (Spinal Tap did it in the 80s and The Darkness have already done it this decade). And, if they are serious, well, then they’re just not very good.Mercy Arms and Howling Bells (above) performed, while You Am I invited a big old rock dinosaur to sing for them. I have no idea who he was, but he minced his way around the stage like Dave Gahan’s dad; posing like he was the hottest cat in the room. He wasn’t. He was an old man dressed inappropriately.

With regard to the awards, Angus and Julia Stone and Children Collide were unlucky to miss out to Red Riders in the Best Live Newcomer category, but congratulations must go to The Gaelic Club for winning the Best Live Venue. It is a great place, run by wonderful people, and I was over the moon that they won.

As the ceremony drew to a close, I came to the realisation that I would rather eat my own faeces than watch the “all-star” jam, so I hit the after-party. Booze flowed over two venues until the next morning, and it was delightful to be in the company of so many decent people. Following my recent jaded cynicism, this social gathering reaffirmed my faith in the music industry. There are some great people in the Sydney scene.

And so, at 5am, I shuffled my tired frame to bed in the knowledge that the Jack Awards is an event that is moving in the right direction. And, at just over an hour in length, is joyfully succinct. Other ceremonies could learn from that if nothing else.

Jamie T - Candy's Apartment, Sydney

Last week I reviewed Jamie T's debut Sydney performance for The Drum Media. It was a top night:JAMIE T
THE HOLIDAYS
Candy’s Apartment, King’s Cross
08/05/07

While the evening was really all about one man from London, local boys The Holidays’ charming indie-pop was well received by the large crowd excitedly awaiting a solo performance from the man who is causing such a buzz in the UK right now.

I have never seen Candy’s more packed than when Jamie T took to the stage looking like the archetypal South London scallywag in a check shirt and baseball cap. In spite of his newly elevated profile, the young artist was wonderfully unassuming and between songs chatted affably to the crowd - constantly apologising for the fact that many of them couldn’t see him because he was sitting down, and also touching on such pressing matters as his unrequited love for Libby Kennedy from Neighbours.

Because he was playing without his band, he wasn’t able to perform some of his much-lauded debut album, Panic Prevention, so he padded out his short performance with some covers, including Billy Bragg’s A New England and White Man in Hammersmith Palais by The Clash, who, judging by his fascinating Joe Strummer-style vocal, are a big influence.While the covers were interesting, songs from his own repertoire really raised the roof. Salvador and If You Got The Money instigated massive singalongs, while Sheila amazingly sparked impromptu crowd-surfing. Who’d have thought that one man and his acoustic bass could cause such frenzied scenes?

Because there was just one vocal and a four-string bass playing compositions more suited to a full band, there was a lot of empty space in the songs which sometimes stuttered their flow. Fortunately though, this wasn’t a problem because the audience seemed to know his tracks backwards and happily joined the dots, even going so far as adlibbing the many samples that litter them. Before long it was less a solo performance and more a raucous singalong with Jamie T and roomful of new friends.

After the triumphant show, he handed out free mix tapes and promised to bring his band with him when he next comes to Australia. While it will be awesome to hear his eclectic songs in all their glory, it is also bound to occur in far less intimate surroundings, which will make the outrageously fun sing-along at Candy’s seem all the more special to those who were lucky enough to have been there.

My buddy Daniel took some much, much better photos of the gig, see them here

Carla Bruni, No Promises

I had fun reviewing the new Carla Bruni album for Drum media:CARLA BRUNI
No Promises

It doesn’t augur well. No Promises is a collection of musical adaptations of classic poems performed by former supermodel Carla Bruni. I know what you’re thinking; it sounds like a stinking turd of an idea. Stop your cynical sniggering though, because, far from being a laughable display of ill-judged narcissism, this is actually a very good record.

In fact, it shouldn’t come as much of a surprise to learn that this is a quality effort, as the first album of chanson ditties from the Italian-born, French-raised star, 2003’s Quelqu'un m'a dit, received gushing reviews and sold two million units worldwide. This time around, she has moved away from singing solely in French and instead gleans lyrics from the work of WB Yeats, Dorothy Parker, Emily Dickinson, Christina Rossetti and WH Auden. The result is an elegant, atmospheric body of beautiful joy and melancholy.

Bruni’s breathy vocal conjures up juxtaposing images of smoky underground blues cafés and sun-drenched parks and is nicely backed up by unobtrusive acoustic guitar, brushed drums and keyboards. The majority of this record was recorded on an eight-track and is suitably understated. The whispered harmonica on standout track Autumn is a delectable example of this, and perfectly illustrates of the overall elegance of the album. It really is impossibly lovely stuff.

Let’s just hope that Bruni’s surprisingly successful and credible transition from the catwalk to the recording studio doesn’t give other supermodels any silly ideas. Cindy Crawford sings the poems of Charles Bukowski? No thanks.

Lou Rhodes - Beloved One

Earlier in the year I had the pleasure of interviewing Lou Rhodes and seeing her perform live. Here is my review of her debut album, exclusively for this website:LOU RHODES
Beloved One
Infinite Bloom Recordings

“A wise man said to me, ‘Don’t underrate simplicity.’ So I stripped my life away and try to live each day by day.” These beautifully delivered words are the perfect way to open an album which sees the normally intensely private Lou Rhodes at her most candid, as she pours her aching heart out through the course of an enchanting, emotive and truthful debut album.

Rhodes spent a decade as a member of English trip-hoppers Lamb, but, following the break up of both her band and her long-term relationship, decided it was high-time that she embarked on a solo recording. In doing so, she stripped away the electronica in a return to her hippy roots, and poured her heart out in the form of the ten songs that comprise Beloved One.

So, gone are the drum ‘n’ bass rhythms, the samples and the complexity, and Rhodes’ distinctive and warm vocal is accompanied instead by an acoustic guitar, strings and hand-drum percussion, to create a beautifully fragile body of downbeat-yet-dreamy and enchanting folk that talks knowingly of life and of love.

Beloved One is an album that comes from the heart rather than the head, and is a work of tender, often melancholic beauty that, for both its honesty and its quality, richly deserves the countless plaudits that it has already received. Anyone who has ever felt the breathless joy and the heartbreaking agony that love can bring cannot fail to be touched by this album.

Damn Arms - Drum Media Feature

After a stint abroad, Melbourne's Damn Arms are heading back to Sydney to launch their single. I spoke to them for Drum Media:“I’m not really into the whole gimmick thing - fluoro clothes and all that crap.” Singer Tim Sullivan is giving his thoughts on whether Damn Arms are a ‘scene’ band. “I’m not too sure. We recently did two shows in Sydney and we didn’t really pull the scene crowds. Even though the gigs were sold out, we didn’t have an insane amount of orange-skinned kids there,” he laughs. “I don’t care though, I don’t mind who comes to our shows.”

Whether they are part of a scene or not, the Melbourne four-piece have certainly been gigging a lot recently and have taken their infectiously energetic new-wave/punk sensibilities up the east coast and overseas. Now they are heading back to Sydney for the launch of their new single, Home Wrecker, and, flying in the face of the supposed rivalry between Sydney and his home city, Tim can’t wait. “To be honest, I think that there are better bands in Sydney than Melbourne. The kids are really nice and they are really receptive. They’ll come up and say hi after the show. We did two gigs in Sydney a few weeks ago that were really good – better than some of the overseas shows.”

Damn Arms spend a fair chunk of time across the water. They have recently returned from a six week tour of the UK and Europe, where they played sold-out shows in London, Leeds and Paris and supported British buzz band, Forward Russia. They have also toured Japan, where their popularity left them astounded. “Some kid in the front row at one of our shows just grabbed the microphone and started singing one of our songs. I was totally taken aback,” Tim recalls.The quartet are back on these shores for just long enough to launch their single, give their folks a hug and play a handful of shows before they have to say their goodbyes again and head back to Europe, where they will play at the Great Escape Festival in Brighton alongside the likes of CSS, Magic Numbers and The Rakes. So, do they think that, in order to be successful, a band needs to concentrate their energies away from Australia? “You don’t necessarily need to focus away from Australia but there is definitely a bigger market overseas; especially for us because we don’t play straight-up rock music. I think our market is overseas for sure. The UK is quite friendly to us.” Indeed, the British music press has written some nice words about Damn Arms, not least the NME. “As much as the NME writes a lot of shit in its magazine, it’s still very much needed if a band is going to be seen over there, because there are just so many bands, all with their Mighty Boosh haircuts.”

In spite of his band’s desire to make an impression in overseas markets, Tim believes that Australia holds its own against its foreign counterparts and, having spent plenty of time sampling other music scenes around the globe [the band recently played 31 shows over six weeks in seven countries] he is well placed to comment. “It’s weird, because when we were in France people were talking to us about Australian bands that I’ve never even heard of. Australia isn’t thought of as the other side of the world anymore. It’s where to look for new music at the moment.”

Once the dust has settled after the unleashing of their raucous, dirty electro single, which was produced by Pnau’s Nick Littlemore, there is an album to follow. It’s something that Tim talks about excitedly. “The album is called The Live Artex and we’re aiming to release it in mid-July or August. It’s in America being mixed by Kevin Shirley at the moment. He’s done a really eclectic mix of stuff: Iron Maiden, Slayer, Billy Joel, Dream Theatre.” While it is sure to have that trademark Damn Arms urgency about it, with plenty of synth and bass invoking involuntary dancing from all who listen, Tim reckons that it will also throw up a few surprises. “It’s definitely a progression from where we first started. It goes off at a lot of different angles. When people press play they won’t expect it to sound like it does. I mean that in a really good way. It’s progressive.”

Mirroring their frenetic sound and nomadic touring existence, Damn Arms are also keen not to remain in the same place musically when it comes to future releases. “I always get really shitted when music journalists say about bands: ‘It doesn’t sound like the last album.’ It should never sound like the last album. I wouldn’t want to listen to bands sounding the same over and over again.”

David Ford announcing his return causes an almost entirely unrelated rant

After the critical success of his debut album, my dear friend David Ford (below) is back with a new single in July, and, unlike a certain Ms Spears, he promises that his return will be more than just 11 minutes of lip-synching dressed like a King's Cross prostitute.Following my rant about the MTV awards (see my previous blog), I am still feeling rather cynical about the celebrity world, and the fact that Britney's big return makes the news headlines while people are bombing the hell out of each other around the globe has done little to banish my cynicism.

There was a time when Britney was the perfect pop star. She was aesthetically pleasing and a good dancer, and had a decent armory of songs to accompany her (utterly manufactured) schoolgirl innocence. But the bubble burst a long time ago when people realised that, rather than being sweetness-and-light personified and a great role model for her adoring teeange fans, she was in fact a taste-free piece of cheap-and-nasty trailer trash. Christina Aguilera had dethroned her long before the marriage/annulment/marriage/divorce/breakdown, and the world now watches her progress with the same morbid interest as when driving past a crash scene.

But still she decides to launch an ill-advised and poorly-conceived 'comeback', which has the production values of a school assembly, while the woman herself now has the sex appeal of, well, a bald, washed-up mother of two who couldn't handle rehab. It is a sorry sight. She has been quoted as saying how much she hates the glare of the media spotlight, yet surely this would have been the perfect time to give it all up. She could have taken her riches, retired somewhere nice and spent her days looking after her kids. It seems that, to some, fame is as big an addiction as any drug, and it looks likely that Britney will be forever remembered as a tragic character rather than as a pop princess, which is a genuine shame.

While we are on the subject of fame-hungry trashbags, you will of course have learnt by now that Paris Hilton has been sent to prison for 45 days for driving while suspended. I'm sure she will throw a few dollars at someone in order to dodge the punishment before her sentence begins, but if anyone needed the kind of wake-up call that some hard time in a prison cell will bring, it's her. I am putting money on the fact that she will come out of it a martyr to the brainless, and 'write' a book about it or something.

What is happening to our world? We are living in a time where people gain fame through having sex on camera or by getting drunk in the Big Brother house. Where are the intellectuals? Where is the decency? Why does misbehaviour from the likes of Spears and HIlton command so much attention?

Of course, I realise the irony in the fact that I am moaning about the publicity and attraction of such morons by blogging about them. It's a uncomfortable situation that I touch upon more fully below...