photo by Sannah Kvist

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Today I will mostly be doing the following: monitoring my bruises after last night’s epic four-hour slug home; burning effigies of the same evening’s final bus driver, who abruptly stopped his vehicle at 3am because he had “finished my shift”; looking outside and admiring the white wonderland; looking outside and hating the white wonderland; ordering take-out; listening to this sexy, slowed-down, sedative Carly Simon cover (mp3) by London acts Alpines (previously featured here) and Maya Jane Coles; sleeping.  Why-ee-yay-ee-ay..

Dubstep. Who doesn’t love dubstep? A lot of people. But akin to his namesake, this act has the cunning to make those all too boring and annoying genre boundaries a bit blurry, by fusing R&B, minimal house, disco and shoegazing into his dubby sound. The great thing about Fantastic Mr Fox is that when you click on a track at random, you have no idea what you’re going to get. And diversity is the spice of life. Alongside cumin.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Miss MGMT?  Pining for Passion Pit?  Here’s your fix: The Ghosts‘ debut single ticks all the vital synth-pop boxes, from falsetto vocals to an impossibly perky disposition.  Just ignore that growing sense of déja vu and bounce along in giddy glee.

Before I start, I would just like to say…I wrote this here blog entry yesterday, but the CMS we use decided to just…lose it. Which is great, considering the hours (1 whole hour) I had put into it (maybe half hour, but still, it’s frustrating). What you are reading is a tribute.

Oh look, another pretty, beardy man with a guitar. BORING.
Or…is he? This is no ordinary pretty, beardy man with a guitar. Signed to the Ninja Tune label (who count the likes of Bonobo, Dels and Slugabed on their roster), Jono McCleery could never be ordinary. With his cover of Wonderful Life, Mr McCleery dares to go blacker than Black, with a deep electronic backing, and a distorted marimba sound one associates with the original. It’s quite a soothing track, which is probably down to Jono’s smooth, oaky voice – like a smoking Chris Martin. As in cigarette smoke, not actual fire smoke. If you see Chris Martin ‘fire’ smoking, please put him out. And once you’ve put him out, tell him to do some less moany, repetitive stuff. It’s getting dull, Chris.

Familiar with the sinawi genre?  Me either.  But I sure intend to be after highfalutin’ along to these delicious, limited-edition jams by new London discovery Halo Halo.  Both packed with irony stringwork, and both making me imagine some sort of heathen, Filipino version of a dance-round-the-campfire scenario, the perky songs also feature vocals so serene and soothing that they must be the sworn enemy of headaches worldwide.  That’s a convoluted and frankly crap metaphor, and yet I so totally don’t care – see how heady and heedless this trio gets me?  Hot damn!  Now: where did I put that cobra blood…? (via SEXBEAT)

It takes someone with balls to be able to perform a track that is solely (or should I say ‘a soul-ly’. Gettit? What do you mean ‘no’?) vocal line. And whilst she has a beautifully gruff voice, there’s no scrotum in sight for Cold Specks‘ spritual. Invoking the folk / blues sound of the American deep south a century or so ago, there’s an implicit sense of experience in her voice…although she’s only 23.

Holland, by contrast, is a less simple affair. More of a musical journey (yes, I am using that metaphor, even though it makes me feel like a wanker). It opens with a riverine deep cello line, with twinkly guitar over the top, but the cellos, in-keeping with the soporofic feel of the first few minutes, just nod-off, leaving us with Cold Specks’ magical voice, and guitar. Just as you’re getting comfy, in come cymbal crashes and a stompy piano. ARGH, I WAS DOZING! The track then marches on, with wailing backing accompaniment, only to fade out to the single, stark vocal line. It is haunting, but pretty.

photo by Pedro Ramos

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This song by London musician Higher Learning – aka Richard Forbes-Hamilton, a ‘multi-disciplinary artist’ also known as The Tall One Behind - is exploratory pop music that computes as much on a neurological level as a sonic one.  It seems to contain a secret, not-quite-fathomable message inside its soft waves – a language you recognise but can’t speak; a really familiar person who you’ve never seen before.

We’ve blogged about Real Fur before (here) so let’s skip the bio.  But what we didn’t do was talk about The Fool, an excellently angular, alt-rock number full of lovely jangles.  So now we are.  Because it’s great.

I look at her and think of all the things I want to say.  I’ll tell her about this great book I just read, and an exhibition we’ll both like.  I’ll comment on her bag and say oh, I’ve shopped there too.  I’ll let her know how gaspingly pretty she looks, how it almost makes me cry.  I’ll reveal my innermost fears, my deepest failings, my fatal flaws, because I know she’ll forgive them.  I’ll pledge everlasting loyalty.  I’ll tell her my email password and give her my pin number.  I’ll propose.  Except I won’t, I don’t, I shan’t say any of it, because she’s just a girl I happened to sit opposite on the tube, and she’s getting off now and I’m staying on, and I’m really so lonely these days.

And I probably shouldn’t have the seductive, shadowy spider-pop of London duo The Voyeurist flooding into my ears like the most persuasive of bad influences.

Elite Gymnastics – Is this on me?
Sounds speak louder than words. As in music. And if you are this way bent, then the glo-fi / chillwave movement provides a welcome respite from the jibber jabber which pretends to be deep, meaningful and ‘moving’. Eurgh.  Sure, this track has words, and they’re pretty bleak (girl gets in car, looks at man, ends up home and unconscious…), but the music, oh the music, is decibels louder than the words. This is the audio manifestation of the taboo…it feels good, but it sends a shiver down your spine. The combination of the high spangly opening, the synthy 80s-soap-opera-esque strings motif leading into a pounding rhythm, with stark male vocals and high child-like vocal sampling on the top….IT’S JUST OVERWHELMING. But good overwhelming.

Son Lux – Betray
Do excuse me whilst I shed a tear, these lyrics are moving me TOO much (ahem).
There seems to be a bout of clasically trained musos coming from across the pond, such as the likes of Owen Pallett, who are fusing their orchestration knowledge with the latest music trends to create something, well, good. And this is what 32- year old Ryan Lott has done, finding that middle, fuzzy ground between hip-hop beats and lush harmonies performed on alto flutes. And it’s smashing.

Ratatat - Bare Feast
That’s enough of words, I’ll take some of your puritan sounds, please Ratatat. Again, from across the pond, these guys have jumped on the balkan folk bandwagon already heading for the hills, with Beirut in the perch. With some kind of dulcimer riff going throughout, it’s bastardised with guitars and samples. There aren’t simply enough balkan folk clubs in London. Anyone?

Click here to view the embedded video.