New Order

'We picked the name New Order in complete innocence. Rob [Gretton] came up with it after reading about Kampuchea in the newspaper. We released our first bloody record and everybody's like, "You've done it again you Nazi bastards". We said, Fucking hell! Why didn't you tell us it was also Hitler's new order?! We kind of laughed at our own stupidity and thought, It's fairly typical of the way we do things, let's stick with it'.

- Bernard Sumner, Mojo, July 2011

Holidaying with Kylie Minogue

Apparently, The Sound Of Arrows is not a 'swoosh' followed by the throaty dribble of arterial blood from a favourite section of torso. It seems to be a scientific experiment to replicate the exact sound of holidaying with Kylie Minogue in a pink seaside pleasure-palace while eating pistachio ice creams shaped like tiny flamingos. 


- NME reviews 'Nova' by Swedish band Sound of Arrows, 26 April 2011 

"I've never eaten grits, cropped a share, or ridden a boxcar"

Hugh Laurie knows how easy it would be to mock a Cambridge-educated doctor's son, now the highest paid American television actor, for recording an album of blues music.

So he's got in first with a statement saying: "I was not born in Alabama in the 1890s. I've never eaten grits, cropped a share, or ridden a boxcar. I am a white, middle-class Englishman, openly trespassing on the music and myth of the American south. If that weren't bad enough, I'm also an actor: one of those pampered ninnies who can't find his way through an airport without a babysitter."

Laurie is a clever comedian and knows how to deflect criticism. When he talked about his family's previous musical sessions - sons on drums and sax, daughter on clarinet and himself on guitar and vocals - he joked: 'Nauseating, isn't it?'

- Martin Chilton, Telegraph, 23 March 2011

"It's not finished... now it's finished"

'During the first set Rufus has asked that you please do not applaud until after he has left the stage as his exit is part of the piece'.

- Notice to fans attending a Rufus Wainwright concert

[Via Popbitch]

On Wagner

Stephen Fry recently extolled the virtues of the famed German opera composer Richard Wagner, but for many people his work is rather inaccessible due to its extreme length and bombast:

As Wagner grew older, his operas grew longer, culminating in Der Ring des Nibelungen, composed of four separate operas taking some sixteen hours to perform. For all its enduring popularity, his work has also drawn some inspired criticism. One composer complained that a Wagner opera 'starts at six o'clock and, after it has been going three hours, you look at your watch and it says 6.20', while Friedrich Nietzche derided Die Meistersinger as 'German beer music'. Here are some other choice critiques:

Gioacchino Rossini - 'Wagner has beautiful moments but awful quarter hours'.

Oscar Wilde - 'I like Wagner's music better than any other music. It's so loud that one can talk the whole time without people hearing what one says'.

Charles Beaudelaire - 'I love Wagner, but the music I prefer is that of a cat hung up by its tail outside a window and trying to stick to the panes of glass with its claws'.

The gentlest of the barbs came from Mark Twain, who helpfully proclaimed that 'Wagner's music is better than it sounds'.

- W.B. Marsh & Bruce Carrick, 366: A Leap Year of Great Stories, Cambridge, 2007.

Careless whiskers

Adam and Kristi from Cracked sum up their top 6 foullest, most noxious facial hair in music. Includes two geezers you've never heard of, plus John Oates of Hall & Oates, owner of the most reprehensible rock moustache in history.

The 6 most atrocious uses of facial hair in music history

[Title pun and link courtesy of the Guardian Guide]

Granny power!

Turn the vamp factor up to ten for Eartha Kitt, here performing the 1929 Fats Waller standard Ain't Misbehavin' on the Later With Jools Holland show in April 2008. Kitt, who was aged 81 at the time, died on Christmas Day of the same year.

Music review cliches... on acid

Flavorwire presents a handy buzzword bingo card layout of all your favourite music review cliches: haunting, infectious, visceral and the ever-present '...on acid' all make a welcome appearance. Just don't use it for a drinking game, or you'll be comatose faster than a jetlagged Lady Gaga.

Music review cliche bingo

[Via LHB]

The Vatican's top pop picks

A list of Vatican-approved pop albums has been published in L’Osservatore Romano, the Vatican newspaper:

The Holy See’s top ten includes the 1982 album Thriller by Jackson, the video for which shows the late singer as a zombie dancing with other ghouls in a graveyard, and Pink Floyd’s meditation on time, death, mental illness and consumer greed, The Dark Side of the Moon.

The Beatles also make the list with Revolver, perhaps their most drugs-influenced, psychedelic album from 1966. In the song Eleanor Rigby Father McKenzie writes “the words of a sermon that no one will hear”.

Also given approval is U2’s album Achtung Baby from 1991, on which Bono sings in Acrobat: “I’d break bread and wine if there was a church I could receive in.”

As for Oasis, the Gallagher brothers — “enfants terribles of the working class”, the newspaper said — had given the world a “jewel produced by torment” in their 1995 album (What’s the Story) Morning Glory.

The article by Giuseppe Fiorentino and Gaetano Vallini, who recently wrote that Bono was a “true crusader for Christianity”, said: “To single out ten classic discs to take to a desert island is no easy enterprise.” They had no hesitation, however, in starting with Revolver, “issued by the Fab Four long ago in 1966” and a “point of no return in contemporary pop music” [...]

The newspaper said that it had not included Bob Dylan — who sang for Pope John Paul II in 1997 at the World Eucharistic Festival in Bologna — partly because his “visionary poetry” had turned “Messianic” after his conversion to Christianity, but also because he inflicted on the world “three-note songs” that “tried the ears and patience of listeners”.

- The Times, 15 February 2010

Defying the dark lord

In the much-hyped chart battle for the UK's Christmas No. 1 single spot the campaign to defeat Simon Cowell's X Factor winner Joe McElderry's cover of Miley Cyrus' The Climb has been successful, with half a million downloading Rage Against The Machine's sweary 1992 track Killing In The Name. Charlie Brooker of the Guardian spells out which side of the fence he sits on:

For one thing, I happen to think Killing in the Name is an excellent song, so I've already got something out of it. Most importantly, it contains genuine emotion. Even if the climactic repeated howls of "F--k you, I won't do what you tell me!" put you in mind of a teenager loudly refusing to tidy his bedroom – as opposed to a masked anarchist hurling petrol bombs at the riot squad – there is at least an authentic human sentiment being expressed. Zack de la Rocha is audibly pissed off.

Compare this to the pissweak vocal doodle that is Joe McElderry's X Factor single. For a song whose lyrics ostensibly document an attempt to gather the spiritual strength to overcome adversity and thereby attain enlightenment, The Climb is about as inspiring as a Lion bar. It's a listless announcement on a service station Tannoy; an advert for buttons; a fart in a clinic; a dot on a spreadsheet. Listening to it from beginning to end is like watching a bored cleaner methodically wiping a smudge from a Formica worksurface.

But then nobody's buying The Climb in order to actually listen to it. They're buying it out of sedated confusion, pushing a button they've been told will make them feel better. It's the sound of the assisted suicide clinic, and it doesn't deserve to be No 1 this Christmas.

Of course, as Brooker points out, both tracks are ultimately owned by Sony BMG. But the thought that this might in some small way have irritated Simon Cowell makes it all worthwhile, no?

- Guardian, 21 December 2009

Sugababe overload

Sunday, April 30, 2265: the date on which it has been statistically proven that every man, woman and child in Britain will be a Sugababe.

- Popjustice

Lame album title puns

Luke Lewis of the NME jots up a quick list of some of the worst offenders:

Public Enemy, ‘Muse Sick-N-Hour Mess Age’. That's a pun on 'music and our message', in case you were wondering.

Salt N Pepa, 'A Salt With A Deadly Pepa'. I'm sorry, whichever way you pronounce it, pepper just doesn't rhyme with weapon.

Butthole Surfers, 'Hairway To Steven'. A pun's that's both desperate and completely meaningless: a double-whammy of lameness.

REO Speedwagon, ‘You Can Tune a Piano But You Can't Tuna Fish’. Again, completely pointless.

Westlife, 'Allow Us To Be Frank'. Yes, this was an album of Sinatra covers.

Wet Wet Wet, 'Popped In , Souled Out'. This was the first album I ever bought. Even as a seven-year-old, I knew that was a weak pun.

- NME, 1 December 2009

[Via LHB]

The Ukelele Orchestra of Great Britain

Performing a medley of five songs sung in the round, possibly set to the music of Handel. (Yeah, like I'd know either way!) I love the oh-so-English vocals.



[Via SuperTom]

How to save rock 'n roll

GWYNEDD, WALES — Calling it the planet's last, best hope for saving rock music, the Guardians of the Protectorate of Rock announced Monday that they would take the extraordinary step of unleashing a never-before-heard Jimmy Page riff, hidden for decades in a mythic, impenetrable vault.

"We who believe in the immortality of rock took a vow 30 years ago that we would never release this incredibly powerful force unless we faced a Day of Reckoning—and that day has come," said Black Sabbath guitarist Tony Iommi, one of the chosen few who helped forge the Secret Vault to Save Rock and Roll, at a press conference in the Welsh highlands. "Just look at the pop charts, and you shall know I speak the truth."

The Guardians said recent developments in the music world, such as the unaccountable popularity of the Dixie Chicks and Sufjan Stevens, have created a "perfect storm of lameness" from which rock might never recover. While Iommi refused to say when the vault would be opened, hard rock sources believe it will take place just prior to next month's Fall Out Boy–Honda Civic tour, which many fear will suck the remaining lifeblood from all that still rocks.

- The Onion, 5 March 2007

A perceptive analysis

'After the round of broadly favourable reviews a backlash was inevitable, and by the time the Outside tour arrived in Britain in November [1995], members of the music press were falling over one another to rubbish an album mistakenly praised by their colleagues. The NME's Simon Williams found the English language a sadly inadequate medium in which to launch his assault: "El Bowza's latest lurch away from reality is entitled Outside, which is kind of about 'outsiders' and involves all these strange neo-futuristic characters running around El Bowza's head and it's sort of a concept album blah blah bollocks blah blah ARSE!!!!!!!" A perceptive analysis'


- Nicholas Pegg, The Complete David Bowie, 2000, summarising reviews on Bowie's 1995 album 1. Outside.

Singing songs while wearing clothes

The Guardian's Anna Pickard, on TV coverage of the Glastonbury festival:

'We cut back and forth to see what clothes Lady Gaga had chosen to wear at least four times. And, to be fair, she was wearing increasingly ridiculous outfits every time we did. She was also singing songs, of course, while wearing clothes, but the emphasis was definitely on the clothes.

It was an ever-present pressing question with the bands who dropped by the BBC3 sofas. "So what'll you be wearing on stage, then?" - though mainly this was related to the lady-bands. Lily Allen (with her single white glove and catsuit) the Ting Tings (catsuit) and so on. Of course, we would then cut to them singing, onstage, wearing what they'd just described - so, really, we could have just waited. And then seen their clothes. With our eyes.

But it could be argued that with Lady Gaga, it was not only part of the appeal, part of the package: it was the majority interest. Undeniably she cuts a fine figure, in increasingly bizarre outfits. First up, a glass-shard covered dress with a skirt seemingly designed with displaying her pert buttocks top of the priority list. With blonde hair mostly covering her face, from the neck up, she resembled nothing so much as a cross between Karen O and a blow up doll, while from the neck down, she was a 3D paper doll with detachable outfits. Including one with a bra that spouted fire. The crowd screamed approval, but you had to wonder how much of that had to do with the music. And isn't that the point? Or am I being outdated about all of this?'

- Guardian, 27 June 2009

Bands that name-check Hitler

Steven Wells, on the cavalcade of mediocrity unleashed upon an unsuspecting world by bands that thought it would be quite cool to name themselves after Adolf Hitler:

[It's] definitely not a suitable name for a band. Think about it: Adolf Hitler and the Pacemakers, Badly Drawn Hitler, Everything but the Hitler, Hitler Killed the Cat. No way, a total non-starter. But it does make you wonder: how would a musical act called Hitler fare? Fortunately, we'll never know, because no one would be stupid enough to … oh wait. I'm having a flashback.

Moscow, 1991. Communism has collapsed and the embittered youth of the former Soviet Union have turned to the aural dementia of Napalm Death, who are playing a series of sell-out gigs in the Russian capital. I'm backstage with the band. A young man approaches Napalm bassist Shane Embury with a tape.

"You called your band Hitler?" says Shane.

"Yes, we like Hitler because he was against communism," says the kid.

Shane drops the tape, stamps on it, flings it in the toilet and flushes. The kid freaks, screams abuse, runs from the room yelling – and minutes later falls to his death down a stairwell.

And then there was Jerry Hitler – a big noise in 1960s reggae. Had he been called Jerry Gandhi or Jerry Jesus, would we now be speaking of him in the hushed and reverential tones we reserve for Bob Marley? (And, as a slight aside, did the similarly awkwardly named Jah Wanks, ever really stand a chance, career-wise?)

- Guardian music blog, 23 January 2009

This is a tribute

Adam Brown of Cracked.com has compiled a list of the 12 most god-awful tribute albums ever. Here's an excerpt from the section on The Piano Tribute to Korn, which is by no means the worst tribute album on offer:

In the late 90s, Korn managed to become one of the biggest bands in the land by using detuned guitars and Cookie Monster vocals to speak to the anguish and fears of 'roided up douchebags far and wide. It should come as no surprise that once stripped of the vocals, guitars, aggression, attitude and faux gang sign waving, the music falls a little flat. Granted, we'd still rather listen to this than an actual Korn album, but that doesn't mean this tribute was a good idea.

Be warned: another of the 12 is entitled 'Harptallica'...

- Cracked.com, via Largehearted Boy

A critical narrative of death metal

In a Q&A session with his readers New York Times jazz and pop critic Ben Ratliff outlines his theory on the relative lack of mainstream media attention for death metal:

There is a certain midlevel meat-and-potatoes death metal that resists "serious consideration" outside of specialist quarters because ... because ... because so much of it sounds alike. It's not bad that it sounds alike; it strengthens a tradition. But writing about it for a general audience is really hard work.

I would also add the rather sensible reluctance of many music critics to endure bleeding eardrums and sweat-rain from metal venue ceilings.

- New York Times, 11 January 2009

Keith Moon

From an article listing some of the world's worst celebrity hotel guests (including Michael Jackson, Britney Spears and Nicole Kidman), some reminisces about the entertainingly sociopathic havoc wrought by The Who's drummer, Keith Moon:

An early legend (the details of which differ, depending on who is consulted, but nevertheless is representative of Moon's routine post–check-in behavior) recounts how in 1967 he drove a car into a pool at a Holiday Inn in Flint, Michigan. This was only after he dropped his own five-tier birthday cake all over the carpet of his room during a party where guests sprayed the decor with fire extinguishers. The incident allegedly resulted in Moon's arrest, $24,000 in damages, and a Holiday Inn chain-wide ban on the Who. A year later, in Australia, Moon threw a TV off a balcony on the top floor of the Southern Cross Hotel and into the pool below. When a manager arrived in the suite with a drenched television in hand, demanding to know who did the deed, Moon exclaimed "I did!" before snatching it back and throwing it over the balcony once more. It became his signature move at hotels, a whimsical routine less psychotically “Shining”-esque than the time he went to a hardware store, bought a hatchet and proceeded to turn each piece of furniture in his Saskatoon, Canada, hotel room into timber. Our favorite, though? The time Moon set off a dynamite explosion in the bathroom of an American hotel to teach the manager, who had asked him to turn down the racket on his cassette player, the difference between "noise" and the Who.

Here's a clip of a very louche Moon remembering the happy day when he tormented a Copenhagen hotelier by destroying not one but three rooms in a single stroke.

- MSNBC.com, 27 August 2008