No Frills Reviews

Paul Crowe Sun Sets The Scene

The debut from Liverpool singer-songwriter, Paul Crowe, combines Americana with what can perhaps be best described as Scouse Soul. When they’re good, I don’t think Merseyside singers can be beaten in rock; from Lennon-McCartney through to modern masters like James Skelly, there’s just a certain unique combination of melody and attitude that can’t be replicated with other accents. And Crowe makes a strong case here that he belongs in that lineage, with a consistently excellent vocal display.

Crowe’s songs bring the immediacy of classic pop songwriting, armed with a host of almost stadium-sized singalong choruses. Even where the lyrics are borderline desperate and pained, like on Breakdown Blues or Don’t Fail Me Now, they build to joyous conclusions; hope and defiance in the face of adversity. The album’s biggest outlier and standout is Ayda, which is just an absolutely magical tune; with echoes of the cosmic beauty that Van Morrison conjured up on Astral Weeks. That song encapsulates the strongest aspect of Crowe’s writing, where he combines the ordinary and the extraordinary. As he also does on the La’s-esque, Firecracker Dawn – “she melts Vesuvius, and stares down anyone” – elevating the characters and emotions underpinning these songs to epic proportions.

An excellent debut from an artist well worthy of more attention.

Best tunes: Wildflowers, Firecracker Dawn, Breakdown Blues, Ayda

Honourable Mentions

Amyl and The Sniffers Cartoon Darkness – The Melbourne punks beef up their sound on their third album, incorporating Sabbath-sized riffs and dark, brooding ballads. Although their heavyweight style is occasionally let down by somewhat lightweight songwriting. Outside of the delightfully snotty snark in hater-baiting anthems like Jerkin’ and U Should Not Be Doing That, the bite of the lyrics often doesn’t quite match the bark of Amy Taylor’s vocals. Regardless, you can’t help but get caught up in the hard rocking fun. How can you not love an album that begins with “You’re a dumb cunt”.

Laura Marling Patterns in Repeat – Having first captured attention as a teenager, Marling is now a bonafide folk veteran. Her eighth solo album is an intimate and relatively stripped-back affair, aided by delicately employed orchestral flourishes. Marling contemplates motherhood, aging, and the behavioural patterns that come with domesticity. More than anything, the album exudes contentment; where the dramas are fleeting, and the little moments are regular reminders of greater sentiments. Rather than grab your attention, it floats over you in a haze of peaceful reflection.

Bon Iver SABLE, EP

Justin Vernon has a fantastic voice. Whether he’s backed by a solitary guitar or the experimental electro-folk of more recent releases, it’s always been the Bon Iver frontman’s vocals which have transformed good songs into great songs. Lyrically, Vernon’s never been a particularly strong writer, but knowing how to build around that voice is why he’s a great songwriter. Even his famed breakup album relied more on vibes than confessional outpourings, with his vocals carrying more emotional weight than words alone could convey.

This short EP sees him largely forego the experimental layers, with a trio of songs that return to the stark sounds of his debut. But with a set of overtly personal and straightforward lyrics, it’s perhaps some of his most rounded work. It’s 12 minutes of pure catharsis as he literally looks himself in the mirror. There’s so many moments of beauty packed into that short runtime; from the opening twangs of Speyside, to the short blast of horns on Awards Season.

But as always, it’s the vocals which stand tallest; when he hits that big falsetto, when he busts out that weird little yodel, or in the EP’s closing moments where everything else falls away and all that’s left is the power and pain of that voice.

Best tune: S P E Y S I D E

Geordie Greep The New Sound

Geordie Greep has a fantastically bad voice. The popularity of Greep, as with former band Black Midi, is slightly baffling. His music is admirably ambitious and admirably weird, but it’s a difficult proposition. The New Sound’s character studies of sex-crazed miscreants backed with a manic fusion of Jazz, Latin, and Prog Rock influences are kind of fun. But, when nearly every song across an hour long album soon descends into a frenzied freak-out session, it quickly becomes exhausting.

If you’re a Greep fan then you’ve presumably made peace with his voice, but I can’t get over how off-putting it is. He sounds like an AI that’s been trained on the concept of song using only sleazebag lounge singers and a bizarre amalgamation of all the most unappealing southern England accents as reference points. It’s like something dreamt up for a League of Gentlemen character. And its ridiculousness gives everything the feel of a pisstake novelty. I don’t understand how you have a virtuoso like Greep, who’ll travel across the world to work with musicians that can help recognise his vision, but is then content to commit some of the worst vocals imaginable to record. Get a singer FFS (the one where the producer sings is also deeply shit, so not him).

Best tune: Holy, Holy

Jake Bugg A Modern Day Distraction

Jake Bugg’s debut was one of those albums you can only really write once. The working-class coming of age story fuelled by a desire to escape it all. Twelve years on, and Bugg has struggled to capture that magic elsewhere. In fairness, he’s been willing to experiment with new sounds across his subsequent releases; taking in Americana, radio-friendly pop, and an ill-judged rap. Although the cynical view may be that these were failed re-branding attempts, given how quickly he’s abandoned them.

His sixth album sees him going back-to-basics, with a guitar record observing life in modern Britain. Musically, it’s perfectly solid (if largely unremarkable), from bluesy stompers to Oasis-style stadium ballads. The problem is that the songwriting also borrows from the same well of the latter-day Gallaghers. The characters inhabiting the songs are under-developed stereotypes and it’s full of vague clichés and platitudes. The best moments are when Bugg looks inward and focuses on tales of heartache. But the writing is often too impersonal and too detached to feel anything other than generic. Another album down, but Bugg still can’t escape the shadow of his debut.

Best tune: All That I Needed Was You

The Smile Cutouts

This is copy/pasted from what I wrote earlier in the year about The Smile’s last album – If you’re not gonna use the Radiohead name then let’s not pretend this would be getting rated anywhere near as highly without the Radiohead connection. The second album of the year from the Thom Yorke/Jonny Greenwood side-project was unsurprisingly released to universal acclaim. And I just don’t buy it. I don’t even necessarily dislike the album; there’s some real moments of beauty scattered throughout, amidst an eerie ambience and near constant parade of technical excellence. But it’s also kinda disjointed, overlong, the lyrics are often too obtuse to register, and Yorke’s vocals are drab as ever.

The critical praise around the album is just a series of dorks kowtowing to rock’s greatest sacred cow. Oh, the atmosphere is ecstatic, is it? You can really hear the musician’s telepathic chemistry, can you? I read some cunt even saying it was fun. It’s fucking not. It’s ok, it’s fine, it’s a bit boring. Stop kidding yourselves otherwise.

Best tune: Don’t Get Me Started

Korda Korder What Have You Done?

Korda Korder arrived somewhat out of nowhere, with little yet revealed about them other than that they’re from Hastings. But on the evidence of this debut single, they’re a group you should be looking out for. Three minutes of ethereal dream-pop elegance with grungy guitars gently breaking through the haze; raw edges amidst the tranquility. The vocals present a similar contrast; an otherworldly, angelic whisper masking an accusatory ode of heartache and broken dreams. One of those songs that’ll capture you in a trance you don’t want to escape from.

kilonova Dial Tone EP

The debut EP from upcoming singer-songwriter Jenna Hunt aka kilonova is a good old-fashioned breakup record. Supported only by the slight plucks and strums of an acoustic guitar, these are bare bones songs telling the tale of a toxic relationship breeding toxic behaviours, even once it’s over. As brief and stripped-back as it is, this is a thoughtfully put together collection showcasing an intriguing new songwriter with lots of promise.

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