The Strokes - Angles: A random electric mishmash of kakness

I can describe the new Strokes album, Angles, in one word: Waaaaaaah!

Man, was I happy that a new album is out. So excited. Really. And then I'm hit with some random electric mishmash of severe kakness. WTF? And, surprisingly considering the sudden high regard for electro choons, the vocal distortion that made The Strokes The Strokes, and Julian Casablancas one sexy bugger comes and goes like someone was accidentally leaning on the button and they couldn't be bothered to fix it. It must be said, that without the distortion, Casablancas kinda sounds like a 16-year-old. NOT hot.

I feel like I'm in some sort of 80s time trap. The depressing drivel on this album could come straight out of some coke-driven, psychedelic lycra-wearing, big-haired producer's wet dream. Bleh, I tell you. Bleh!

I'm all for band development and growth. Artists should try new things. But falling into Boy George's basement is not the way.

There are a few moments of sanity on Angles, where some of the band's previous genius filters through. Under Cover of Darkness – the first single – while nowhere near an accurate representation of the rest of the album, contains the usual seamless drum and guitar agreement, the energetic beats and the deep satisfaction that comes with it. You just wanna sing along. Taken For a Fool is more melancholic, and melodic. It takes a gentle walk down your spine. Gratisfaction seems to be channeling Abbey Road, to great success.

I can't, however, in good conscience recommend buying this album. Download singles as and when they become available. But Angles cannot be described as anything other than a write-off. 

If you desperately wish to assault your ears visit http://new.thestrokes.com/ where, thankfully, the album is streaming. No one has to waste precious cents on this tripe. 

BRIT Awards 2011 wins disputed

Dear Bielibers, the fact that Justin Bieber won a BRIT doesn’t prove anything. Take That also won a BRIT this year.

And, Florence and The Machine didn’t win a BRIT. This doesn’t seem right at all.

At least Mumford and Sons and Arcade Fire were given nods. There is hope yet.

But, judge for yourself:

• British Male Solo Artist – Plan B
• British Female Solo Artist – Laura Marling
• British Breakthrough Act – Tinie Tempah
• British Group – Take That
• British Single – Tinie Tempah, 'Pass Out'
• British Album of the Year – Mumford & Sons, 'Sigh No More'
• International Male Solo Artist – Cee Lo Green
• International Female Solo Artist – Rihanna
• International Breakthrough Act – Justin Bieber
• International Group – Arcade Fire
• International Album - Arcade Fire, 'The Suburbs'
• Critics' Choice – Jessie J

To end with here’s a Justin Bieber joke:

Girl: "Mom, my boyfriend and I are going to my room."

Mom: "Ok honey. But don't do anything stupid.”

Five minutes later the mom hears: "Baby baby baby oohh."

She bursts into her daughter's room and shouts: "What's going on in here?"

"We're having sex mom," the daughter replies.

"Thank God," her mom says. "I thought you were listening to Justin Bieber."

I rest my case.

Bring Them Crooked Eagles of the Stone Age to SA! Amandla!

Joshua Homme is arguably the most talented ginger in circulation at the moment (and yes, I know Florence is a ginger). Talented and with a serious lack of concentration, Josh does rather play the field when it comes to bands.

Neither Queenly or Stone Age, Josh we salute you

Having first stepped into the limelight as cantankerous frontman (and only constant member) of Queens of the Stone Age, he quickly won the hearts and minds of those who love a little neck strain in the morning. Not content to limit himself, and unable to drum, play quitar and sing at the some time, he decided to stretch his drumming muscle with the Eagles of Death Metal. Of course anyone can be in two bands at the same time. Why stop there?

Enter Uncle Dave.

Dave Grohl enjoyed a return to drumming when he joined QOTSA for their early run. He also developed a relationship with Zepplin's John Paul Jones when Jones played pretty much everything besides the cow bell for the Foo Fighters' 2005 double album In Your Honour.

The natural progression, of course, was the glorious Superband conglomerate of Them Crooked Vultures.

My point, dear readers, is this. Isn't it time Them Crooked Eagles of the Stone Age grace South Africa with their presence? What could be more awesome than a large collection of Josh Homme's bands randomly playing each other's choons in one epic show?
Did I mention Dave Grohl would be there?
DAVE GROHL WOULD BE THERE!!!
Throw in a few of Uncle Dave's more upbeat moshy choons and some Zepplin kinda-covers and we may just have the most orgasmic show in the world in a very long time. Hell, if we bring along Justin Bieber (gagged, of course) and perform the necessary rituals, we may even get Satan to give Cobain back in exchange. Goodness knows, John Paul Jones has his number. And if John has forgotten we have Inyangas aplenty to assist.

I astound myself with the gloriousness of this plan. If it could only come together.

Cry me a river, Princesses of Leon

Like I was going to pass up an opportunity to bitch about the Princesses of Leon again.

I don't know why they have to rub it in. We already know they're a bunch of wussies. So now the South African tour is postponed (with no clear answer whether new dates will be set or if it is cancelled altogether) so that dear little Nathan can recover from bicep surgery. That's sweet, but professionals would have found a replacement. If Bon Scott can be replaced, so can bloody Nathan Followill. He's not f*ing Axl Rose, he's a drummer. Get Rick Allen in – he can drum with one arm.

And if the Followills can't possibly go on without their kinsmen, due to them tearing up every time they think of him writing in agony because painkillers are sin, then maybe Allen can just pass on a few tips on one-armed drumming.

Better yet, can the Nightsoilmen of Leon and bring over someone awesome, like Queens of the Stone Age, or Slipknot. Something with substance. Not these overgrown momma's boys. Sies!

Jared Leto: Talentless narcissist

Why? Why won't people shut the hell up about Jared Leto? I feel like I'm going mad. Am I the only person that sees him for the pompous self-indulgent wanker that he is? Mr 'I'm so grateful for all my fans' who then proceeds to mock a knicker-flinger for gracing him with her undies? That's not very grateful, you superficial bastard.

And whenever I point out to people that 30 Seconds to Mars is utterly overrated they come back with, “But he's so pretty.” Good for you for not even trying to defend their music, but he is not pretty enough to be allowed to get away with putting that much pretentious overproduced bullshit into the world.

30 Seconds to Mars has a formula and they stick to it. A bit of terribly “heartfelt” lyrics so deep as to have come right back to the surface, a bunch of screaming and everyone playing their instruments really loudly. All their songs are identical. Then they stick this overproduced, trite crap in an overly dramatic mini-movie video (probably because no one will hire Leto to be in real movies as anything more than back up) and girls swoon. WTF?

I miss the days when all Leto did was lean against a locker and stare into the distance. I revel in the scene in Fightclub where Edward Norton beats the crap out of him. Nothing makes me happier than watching that self-satisfied face beaten into hamburger meat. Nothing.

Leto doesn't even need fans. He's his own biggest fan. The raging narcissist is surrounded by a cloud of self-love so thick that there just isn't space for anyone else's to get through. There just aren't enough words to express how much I hate the man and his waste of a band, and how much it frustrates me that no one else seems to see how horrifyingly bad they are. Just goes to show you what the PR machine is capable of at full power.

Take That continue to dog our footsteps

There is much wisdom in the saying "There's no point in flogging a dead horse," but sometimes you just have to - if only to vent your own frustration.
This is certainly the case with the reformation of Take That's original line-up - complete with Robbie Williams. This tragic state of events begs only one question: WHY? Why are we letting these aged pretty boys put even more tripe into the world? Why is this tolerated? And why oh why do they have to be so wussy about it?
I realise they're a boy band, so wussy is the name of the game. But this is just ridiculous.
Of course they are using their own idiotic high school press-driven fued (between Gary Barlow and Robbie Williams - no one outside the UK cares) to inspire cheesy lyrics and deeply disturbing manlove videos.

From Shame - "Do you come here often?"

First came Shame - a Robbie Williams ft Gary Barlow track in which they go on about how they loved each other all along. The video basically consists of them picking each other up in a bar, stripping down to their undies after a meaningful look and then getting rid of the sexual tension by running up a mountain. Really? This seemed like a good idea at the time?
Then the whole crew joins in with The Flood, where they seem to be channeling some sort of Oxbridge brotherhood, lyrics along the same theme. Seriously. The bromance of JD and Turk has nothing on the loving stares between Gary and Robbie as they try to convince the world that they don't hate each other's very scent. And as those other three sink back into oblivion, the money comes a-rollin' in. It's enough to make a person weep. Well, certainly Howie, Jason and Mark.

Stepping back to 2009

I found this little gem in my outbox today. I sent it to the publisher of a self-proclaimed 'counter-culture' magazine who was looking for a music correspondent. We had been having a lively discussion on the direction we would take, but once I sent this review (inspired by a joke about fisting by Vicky) I never heard from them again. Wonder why. 

I know it's old, but it's funny. Well, I think it's funny.

"I have to admit I was pretty excited to hear Greenday was releasing a new album. After American Idiot, I was eager for a return to the Greenday I know and love – cunningly subversive and even downright depressing hidden under peppy tunes. Imagine my disappointment when I discovered that 21^st Century Breakdown is nothing more than Armstrong having another go at beating us with his obvious stick.

It’s all good and well having a conscience all of a sudden - a well-known side-effect of being fisted by Bono - but does it have to be inflicted on us in such blatant monotony? I couldn’t pick a track to highlight out of the bleeding heart tedium if I wanted to. Where’s the subversion? Where’s the cunning little twists a la Macy’s Day Parade that made Greenday the last surviving vestige of Punk (as much as bathing regularly, buying your clothes instead of dragging them out of a dumpster and knowing how to play your instruments can be Punk)?

Tragically Greenday has joined the endless legions of self-flagellating, self-inflated celebrities intent on changing the world through their art, thus sacrificing the integrity and vision that made them great in the first place. As long as Greenday’s love affair with Bono continues, I doubt they will return to us. As much as I hate to say it Greenday, I think you’re sick and you should go home.

And the dregs keep coming

Roxette? Seriously? ROXETTE?
I realise there's a certain nostalgic charm to the band, and will after a few bottles of vodka get on the dance floor and shake my ass to She's Got the Look, but only at weddings as it tends to be a better option to the rest of the play list.
The fact that people are actually paying to see these aged pseudo-rockers is more than a little depressing. I can only comfort myself by remembering that the threatened Duran Duran show had to be cancelled because they couldn't sell enough tickets. Apparently South Africans do draw the line somewhere, but why this after buying Roxette tickets is beyond me.
Harping on about this is almost pointless, as clearly tickets have sold and people are going. Why? Well, this is the country that gave birth to both Jack Parow and Die Antwoord. Sometimes being South African is just embarrassing. 
If we have to have bands that haven't done anything new since the 80s but insist on touring anyway in SA, can't we get Alice Cooper over here? Now that would be worth watching. - C

Kings of Leon to horribly disappoint SA fans

I am so sick of hearing how incredibly excited silly girls are that the Kings of Leon are coming to South Africa. They are not. The Kings of Leon died a horrible death on the release of Only By the Night and their rotting carcasses were usurped by a band of simpering pussies. Those silly little girls wouldn't even know who the hell the Kings are (they still don't, not really) if one of their singles didn't happen to have 'sex' in the title.

As if the trite, popularised bullshit that was Only By the Night wasn't bad enough, these usurpers of the throne have pissed out what is easily the most boring album ever made by anyone – Come Around Sundown. And yes, I'm including Celine Dion. What's next? Raindrops on Roses? Whiskers on Kittens? Try to keep a little dignity, you sorry wankers.

The first single off the album, Radioactive, is beyond disappointing and frankly is no different from the twelve other mindless, insipid, dull tracks on this excuse for an album. The video is just as bad. Social consciousness is all good and well, but from the likes of KOL – a band that started out with a truly authentic voice – it just inspires mild queasiness. A small black child in the arms of a gruff Southern type such as Caleb Followill should inspire fear and trepidation, not embarrassment. It certainly does not inspire compassion.

This new wave of KOL arsewater is without a doubt the final nail in their already studded coffin. What happened to the raw power of Four Kicks? The sordid despair of Trani? The savage fury of Joe's Head? Hell, I'd take the smutty angst of I Want You over the indifferent balls up that is Come Around Sundown. And I use the word 'balls' in the only way it can now be used in relation to KOL.

And now these washed up losers, devoid of any validity or integrity, are finally coming to South Africa. And they expect us to cough up close to R600 for a golden circle ticket? Maybe in 2005, when the Followills had more backbone than sense. Or when a few pigeon droppings wouldn't have scared them off stage. Perhaps the saddest of all is that those tickets have sold out. Sometimes the masses really are depressing.

One can't help but feel the pigeons of St Louis had a point. Poo on you, Kings of Leon. Grow your hair back, stop bathing, do a few bumps with that trannie at the bus station and perhaps, like Samson, your awesome powers will return too. - C