Album: Funky Nassau: The Compass Point Story 1980-1986 (Strut)

About damn time someone put together a Compass Point compilation. It's not just reckless hyperbole to say that some of the best music of the 1980s – all time, even - came out of that Bahaman studio. A combination of location, the right engineers, producers and musicians and a common goal to make it funky, above all else led to Compass Point gaining notoriety amongst right-thinking musicians at the time, making it THE place to record.

Strut's compilation gathers together some of the studio's lesser-known highlights and some you should know and love already, but it's by no means exhaustive. I guess the 'Funky' in the title should have been a signifier, but a more comprehensive look at CP's history wouldn't have gone amiss. So we get 'Genius Of Love', 'Spasticus Autisticus' and 'My Jamaican Guy', alongside obscurities such as laid-back, sun-kissed disco masterclass, 'Obsession' by Guy Cuevas, the dubby new wave of Cristina's 'You Rented A Space' and cosmic classic, 'Adventures In Success (Dub Copy)' by Will Powers.

There's no room, however, for any B-52s, Black Uhuru (a missed opportunity if ever there was one) or anything from Bjork's Post (the timeframe did for that). Hell, they could have squeezed 'Back In Black' on there for shits and giggles, surely. That's for another collection though and you can't argue with the riches here. Any compilation that features Grace Jones, Tom Tom Club and Gwen Guthrie and also acts as a primer for some of the most luxuriously spacious dance music ever created gets my vote.

http://www.highvoltage.org.uk/displaydemoreview.asp?num=3526&band=492

Album: Neon Neon - Stainless Style (Lex)

What seems like nothing more than a zany idea – a concept record about bad-boy automobile engineer, John DeLorean – actually makes perfect sense. DeLorean's colourful life makes for an intriguing jumping-off point, filled as it was with starfucking endeavours, drug deals gone wrong and muscle cars. What could go wrong?

Well, very little, on the face of it. Gruff Rhys and Boom Bip's Stainless Style blinds you with its surface sheen and multifarious hooks and it has to be said that, weak Yo Majesty! guest spot, 'Sweat Shop' aside, every track here could be a megahit. In 1985, at least. There are some genuinely great pop songs here – the paranoia-wracked electro-funk of 'Michael Douglas', 'Luxury Pool', on which Fat Lip paints DeLorean as a kind of Frank Lucas of the car industry and, best of all, 'I Told Her On Alderaan' which acts as the best argument for John Hughes resurrecting his career, if only to have this soundtrack the prom night sequence – but Stainless Style never fully gels.

Why? Well, the musical styles are so disparate and the sequencing so off-whack that the conceptual ruse proves to be counter-intuitive. Sometimes, it's almost as if there are two albums playing simultaneously. I appreciate Rhys' and Bip's devotion to 80s nostalgia while having one foot firmly planted in the here-and-now, but the power pop and electro never totally coalesce. So while Stainless Style features some of the finest pop moments in recent years, it ultimately serves as proof that a great album always has to be more than just the sum of its parts.

http://www.highvoltage.org.uk/displaydemoreview.asp?num=3525&band=2177

Album: Hercules And Love Affair - Hercules And Love Affair (DFA/EMI)

Blending high-minded arty concepts with that most purely functional form of music, disco, can be thorny ground. If you over-intellectualise something that purposely lacks depth of intelligence then the whole enterprise tends to crumble under the weight of all that thinking.

This reasoning makes Hercules & Love Affair's debut seem all the more heroic. Fusing art and disco is very much a New York pursuit and H&LA fit right into the canon alongside Arthur Russell, Grace Jones and ZE Records. New York DJ, Andy Butler has assembled a bunch of like-minded aesthetes and freaks to ensure that the balance between highbrow and lowbrow is struck precisely.

While it helps to know your touchstones going into this record, it's not essential. Some of the tracks nod vigorously at the past, like 'This Is My Love', which steals the guitar from Chaz Jankel's 'Glad To Know You', the Frankie Knuckles-referencing opener, 'Time Will' or the jackin' 'You Belong', but it never wanders into shameless nostalgia.

What it most definitely is, at its core, is a modern pop record with some of the best vocal performances in recent years from the rotating cast, most notably Antony Hegarty ('Blind') and Kim-Ann Foxman ('Athene'). Also, take a bow, Tim Goldsworthy. The other half of DFA steps right out of James Murphy's shadow with this crisp, clean production.

Hercules & Love Affair may well pay dutiful respect to NY's past on their magnificent debut, but they also offer us a glimpse into its future. A feast for mind, body and soul, Hercules & Love Affair is nothing short of miraculous.

http://www.highvoltage.org.uk/displaydemoreview.asp?num=3497&band=2174

Album: The Glimmers - The Glimmers Are Gee Gee Fazzi (www.theglimmertwins.com)

It seems the Radiohead bug is catching. The Glimmers have gone one better by giving away CD copies of their debut album at DJ gigs. They could well have made a bit of coin out of this long-player, but keeping it out of the system (not entirely, or I wouldn't be reviewing it) makes them look like they're flicking the vs at the money-grubbing majors and also acts as a neat brickbat-dodge.

Fans would have sniffed at having to fork out for this one, as most of the tracks here have been released before, so making it a freebie is a move both canny and hip. What of the music though? The Glimmers have always been more appealing in theory than practice. Their touchstones (classic Italo, Eurotrash-y rock, Middle Eastern percussion) and their mixes are impeccable, but their own productions have most often been less interesting than their genetic make-up. While this is occasionally the case here, …Gee Gee Fazzi is still an entertaining, fun listen.

Despite the occasional misstep (Princess Superstar's guest spot on 'Wanna Make Out' being the most obnoxious thing the duo have committed to tape), The Glimmers approach the album like a mix, never allowing a song to outstay its welcome. The super-fun take on 'Let's Get Physical', Linn drum workout, 'Kobe's In Columbia' and Lindstrom & Prins Thomas collaboration, 'Music For Dreams' all have massive replay value, but there's an aftertaste of missed opportunity. Thankfully though, while the record's spinning, you'll be enjoying yourself too much to even notice.

http://www.highvoltage.org.uk/displaydemoreview.asp?num=3508&band=2178

Single: Neon Neon - I Lust U (Lex)

'I Lust U' is the third single from Neon Neon's (Gruff Rhys and Boom Bip) forthcoming John DeLorean concept album, Stainless Style and it's one of the strongest examples of the pairing's retro-futurist schtick. Synths fart and an 808 vamps about and it's all very 1983. In fact, it recalls C-Bank's seminal 'One More Shot' at times, only not as good (Bip, as good as he is, is no John Robie).

What almost propels 'I Lust U' to full-on greatness is the warm tones of Rhys' muse of late, Cate Le Bon. It's no coincidence that her verse now opens the track (in the early version, Gruff's did), given how ubiquitous the Super Furry Animal has been of late. It's a smart move as music this knowingly mechanical needs a touch of humanism. 'I Lust U' is fun and quite addictive, no more no less and sometimes that's no more than you can ask for. That and a kicking drum machine break anyway.

http://www.highvoltage.org.uk/displaydemoreview.asp?num=3505&band=2177

Single: Hercules And Love Affair - Blind (DFA/EMI)

As hook-ups go, the collaboration between Antony Hegarty and New York disco deviant, Andrew Butler, is one for the file marked "out of left-field". That's not to say that it doesn't work, as disparate voices have a tendency to coalesce into one strong force for good.

Butler's uplifting, yet melancholic take on that most flamboyant of genres allows Antony's voice a rein-free, yet strikingly immediate flight. Pitched at some point between Liza Minelli and Arthur Russell, Hegarty's rich enunciations are a perfect twin for the twisting bass guitar, dramatic synths and blaring horns making this one of the most addictive singles that DFA have ever put out.

Neither of the two remixes quite hit it out of the park, with Frankie Knuckles' sensuous classic house faring better than Serge Santiago's dark, tech-y redo, but if you want unadulterated dancefloor bliss, you're better off sticking with the perfect original or the 'Hercules Club Mix' on the 12".

http://www.highvoltage.org.uk/displaydemoreview.asp?num=3496&band=2174

Live: Spektrum (Night & Day, Manchester, 9.2.08.)

Bands put themselves at the mercy of a lot of different factors when they hit the road. Fickle business that it is, fans swarm like moths from one shiny thing to the next and if you pause for a moment, the next younger, brighter, shiner thing usurps you without even a bye or leave.

So for a band like Spektrum, who were doing this electro-punk-funk hyphen-pop thing waaay before the likes of Metronomy, Late Of The Pier and the other upstarts, it must be difficult knowing where your next audience is going to come from. That's before you figure in other obstacles like 'flu-ridden band members and useless soundmen.

Frontwoman, Lola Olafisoye is a bewitching presence onstage, but tonight she's without her stoic counter-balance, knob-twiddler Gabriel Olegavich (struck with the aforementioned 'flu) and seems a little at sea, despite an able rhythm section and the warmth from the small crowd. Matters are made worse by her needing to keep prodding the soundman to play the backing track (making up for Olegavich's absence) in-between lines.

Also, the newest songs here are over twelve months old, so you can expect a little sluggishness here and there. Still, 'May Day' is a storming opener, 'Cedar' is lascivious enough to knock the temperature up a notch and 'Kinda New', blended with the famous Tiefschwarz remix, is nothing short of brilliance. It's a patchy, occasionally frustrating night for Spektrum though, through no fault of their own and one that almost makes you wonder whether being a vanguard is worth it in this day and age.

http://www.highvoltage.org.uk/displaydemoreview.asp?num=3452&band=2147

Single: Les Savy Fav - Patty Lee/The Sweat Descends (Wichita)

What at first appears a curious choice for a double-header (pairing one of the highlights of last year's Let's Stay Friends with inarguably their finest moment) seems more obvious with the information that LSF are about to reissue their singles compilation, Inches over here in Blighty.

'Patty Lee' is an effortlessly swinging singalong popper that acts as a marker for how Tim Harrington and co. have matured as songwriters, but the real draw here is 'The Sweat Descends', which is a signifier for just how stupendously good Les Savy Fav can be when firing on all cylinders. A raging, supremely danceable monolith, 'The Sweat Descends' is a bloody, red in tooth and claw battle between erudite American indie and balls-out, heart-pumping, muscular modern rock. It's not unlike TV On The Radio facing down Queens Of The Stone Age at high noon. The outcome is too close to call but the bout is bracing and beautiful. So, it's a four for 'Patty Lee', but for 'The Sweat Descends' it's a resounding...

5/5

http://www.highvoltage.org.uk/displaydemoreview.asp?num=3453&band=1962

Live: Akron/Family and Phosphorescent (The Phoenix, Manchester, 30.11.07.)

There seems to be a legion of American underground bands blending bucolic electronics with folk weirdness these days so it seems appropriate that two of these should be sharing a bill. First up is Michael Houck a.k.a. Pitchfork-approved off-kilter troubadour, Phosphorescent.

Houck's recently-released second album, Pride is currently the subject of much chatter in the blogosphere and it isn't hard to see why. Making full use of his effects pedal, Houck cuts a solitary figure onstage but makes up for it with liberal usage of live looping techniques, used to great effect on a unifying closing cover of 'Suspicious Minds'. It's on the more intimate, Will Oldham-esque songs that he really excels though, like the beguiling 'Cocaine Lights'. Definitely one to watch.

Akron/Family are a different proposition altogether though. Coming with an in-built pedigree and a fearsome live reputation, they start promisingly with a couple of lithe, groove-laden, yet hushed numbers, before disappearing up their collective rectum with copious amounts of freeform wibbling and noodling.

It all culminates in an astonishing, rowdy run through of 'Ed Is A Portal' but, for me, they hadn't done enough to deserve the rapturous applause and pogoing that accompanies it. Akron/Family need to spend more time tweaking the finer points of their live show and learn how to manage the peaks and troughs of their set (tonight is wildly uneven) if they're ever to be considered a truly special band. Phosphorescent, on the other hand, is almost there.

http://www.highvoltage.org.uk/displaydemoreview.asp?num=3345&band=1401

Interview: Les Savy Fav

It seems fitting that terminal nearly-men and ‘band’s band’, Les Savy Fav should hit Manchester the very same night as their more-successful friends, LCD Soundsystem. LSF singer and likeable eccentric, Tim Harrington jokes, “I feel bad they’re on at the same time as us. We’re gonna send some people over as it’s gonna be hard for them, with us playing across the way.”

Tim is busily working away on a customised poster for tonight’s show throughout the interview. Although being knee-deep in cut-out letters (spelling out the words “Man Chest Hair”), he manages to be erudite and charming, while drummer Harrison Haynes is able to pick up the slack when Harrington’s concentration starts to wander. Much minutiae is covered (TV comedy, the vertiginous effects of the dressing room wall covering) before the talk moves into more serious territory.

“There was a period (a couple of years ago) when I thought we weren’t allowed to be a band”, Tim muses, before Harrison interjects, “I think we’re more broken up now than we were then”. “That’s true”, laughs Tim, “We’re like a ghost band”.

Pushed on how he thinks the landscape has changed over the years, Tim reflects, “Since we started as a band… it’s gelled up to be a kind of functioning industry. It’s now like, ‘My job is I’m in a band’ and that never occurred to us. We always had other jobs outside the band”. Harrison then notes that “Bands we had a camaraderie with now seem to have become… legitimised”.

Tim goes on to talk about the overriding influence of the internet on today’s music; “There’s more connoisseurship. More people have access to more music, which is cool, but there’s not as much of that kind of misunderstanding when you live in a town where there’s no good record shops and there’s no good music”.

Tim seems perturbed at the changes in how people are turned on to music today, having seen it evolve from “checking out the thank-you list in the liner notes and just buying them all, hoping that some of them would be good”, to “downloading a song off MySpace and deciding whether you like them or not”. He qualifies by saying “It’s great… for some kinds of musicians that years ago would have been in a punk, underground type of world, whereas now they can actually think of making a living out of it”.

There’s a refreshingly old-school sentiment at the heart of Les Savy Fav that could be misconceived as reverse-snobbery were it not for Harrington’s super-enthused, thoughtful manner. When ruminating on the instant fame some bands have thrust upon them these days, he comes to the conclusion that bands “need time to suck”, before breaking the whole of the music industry’s band nursery down into three types of band:

“There’s band that comes out of nowhere that people go crazy for, but it turns out that all they have is three songs and they suck. Then there’s band that comes out of nowhere and it turns out that they actually are a really great band, they just didn’t have to fuck around for five years before they got any attention. That’s awesome for them.

“Then there’s the band that suck at first and would’ve gotten awesome, but never get the chance because everyone saw their ugly first baby-steps and will have then forgotten about them and then you’re fucked.

“In the past, every city had, like, 50 shitty bands who’d play for each other and no-one got to hear of them outside of that. But it was like Darwinism, slowly but surely they’d be allowed to evolve into something that was really solid. Now it’s like, if you don’t get a hole-in-one, then you’re screwed”.

Les Savy Fav never had that hole-in-one but they’re making up for it now with arguably the strongest album of their career. The epithet on the band’s website reads “Missing out on cashing in for over a decade”, but if it doesn’t happen for them now, something tells me the band won’t be bothered too much, as Tim notes, “All the bands I loved failed. There’s something about being as good a band as you can be but not having to be professional. That’s why (we called the album) Let’s Stay Friends. The friendly thing is really critical to us. We can’t really picture the band any other way”.

Printed in the December/January issue of High Voltage magazine.

Live: Robyn (Manchester Club Academy, 8.11.07.)

The first thing I notice on entering Club Academy is that this must be the most diverse crowd I've seen in ages. There are the ever-present hipsters (onboard since Pitchfork gave her album a rave in 2005, obviously), a fair smattering of young girls (newly-converted since 'With Every Heartbeat' broke), a healthy representation from the gay community (male and female, natch) and quite a few incongruous-looking older men (whom I most closely resemble, I fear), all gathered to see everyone's favourite new (not that new at all really) popstar.

The general apprehension when approaching live pop music, especially when it's largely electronic on record, is that the live band tack can sometimes be doomed to fail. Songs fall flat when session musicians are allowed to 'jam', but Robyn has a shrewd, tight backing band in collaborators – and tonight's support act – Kleerup, who strike the right balance between synthetic and organic.

The tempo rarely drops below giving-it-some, meaning that the songs are allowed to burst from the sound system with the vitality they have on record and the brief, punchy set list harbours no filler. 'Konichiwa Bitches', 'Who's That Girl?' (Robyn herself on floor tom duties) and 'Be Mine!' all stand out, but the obscure, Christian Falk-penned 'Dream On' and oldie 'Keep The Fire Burning' split the vote for song of the night.

Those who stick around past the first encore are treated to intimate, semi-acoustic versions of "that number one hit" and 'Be Mine!' and by this point it's clear that Robyn is every inch – all sixty of them - the star. It's just a shame that it's taken this long for us all to catch on.

http://www.highvoltage.org.uk/displaydemoreview.asp?num=3302&band=1646

Single: Liars - Houseclouds (Mute)

Restless reinvention has been Liars' M.O. since day one, but after last year's triumphal nailing of an idiosyncratic style of their own on the Drum's Not Dead album, no-one foresaw Liars returning to the form and structure of their debut. That's exactly what they did though on this year's excellent self-titled effort, from which 'Houseclouds' is taken.

At first, the shock of a catchy new Liars single is what pulls you in. On multiple listens however, subtle complexities jump out at you and it's then that you realise this isn't a million miles removed from their more adventurous previous work. Whereas the Liars of DND sought beauty in disintegration and noise, the Liars of 'Houseclouds' achieve the same effect through the loose medium of the pop song. Put 'Houseclouds' on repeat and it has the same fractious, hypnotic feel of Liars circa 2006. And yes, it does sound a little like Beck.

http://www.highvoltage.org.uk/displaydemoreview.asp?num=3308&band=1898

Album: Eskimo Volume V Mixed By The Glimmers (Eskimo)

Ever in danger of spreading themselves a little thinly, this is The Glimmers' (aka Mo Becha and David 'Benoelie' Fourquaert) twentieth mix compilation. You know what to expect from the boys these days, especially following their more high profile mixes for both the DJ-Kicks and Fabriclive series, and this one holds very few surprises.

Eskimo Volume V is the usual collision of staples given a different twist and reclaimed for the more discerning dancefloor (this time around it's Primal Scream's 'Loaded' and Trio's 'Da Da Da'), generous helpings of obscure new beat and Italo (Venus Gang's O'Jays-cribbing, 'Love To Fly' and Das Etwas' 'Go Ahead') and some genuinely thrilling discoveries (Dissidenten's supremely beguiling, 'Fata Morgana' and Herb Alpert's shockingly contemporary 'Bullish'). Add to this their own tweakings of the likes of Shirley Bassey, Pop Dell'Arte and Music For Dreams' Kenneth Bager.

So while it feels almost too familiar, it never strays into pedestrian territory and if there's one thing that The Glimmers have perfected in their practice, it's how to keep interest levels at a maximum. They might well be able to do this kind of mix in their sleep these days, but it's to their credit that Eskimo Volume V never threatens to have the same soporific effect on the listener.

http://www.highvoltage.org.uk/displaydemoreview.asp?num=3203&band=492

Album: Midnight Mike - Midnight Karaoke (The Republic Of Desire)

When Mike Silver (aka Midnight Mike) burst onto the underground back in 2002 with the mighty fine, off-kilter electro-pop of 'Round & Around', a lot of the right people saw quite a bit of promise in the guy, me included. He followed that up with a succession of fantastic remixes (most notably for Coloursound's 'Fly With Me' and Playgroup's 'Make It Happen') and continued to impress with his own productions for Flesh and Gomma. It's with a heavy heart that I announce his debut album an almost irretrievable failure.

That it's taken five years for him to pull his finger out and release a full-length is bad enough, but that said debut turns out to be a collection of lazy covers, masquerading as a karaoke party album. The only people having any fun here are the singers as, barring a couple notable exceptions, the versions veer between cringeworthy and just plain pointless.

There are irony-soaked trudges through the likes of 'Money For Nothing', 'Boys (Summertime Love)' (yes, the Sabrina europop number) and 'Tip-Toe Through The Tulips' that border on unlistenable, especially the Dire Straits cover as no matter how sardonically Juice Windscreen delivers the words "faggot" and "homo", it still sounds offensive.

Points are gained for the louche, loungey take on Bo Diddley's 'Who Do You Love?' and the genuinely heartfelt rendition of Roxy's 'In Every Dream Home A Heartache' (by Mike himself), but the rest is just dross that anyone who buys would have every right to feel soundly cheated by. Avoid.

http://www.highvoltage.org.uk/displaydemoreview.asp?num=3209&band=2021

Album: Henrik Schwarz - Live (!K7)

You may not have noticed, but Henrik Schwarz, alongside compatriots and kindred spirits, Ame and Dixon, is reinvigorating techno. Injecting the soul back into the genre after years of mathematical minimalism, Schwarz' brand of techno is more human, organic and danceable than anything that's ever come out of Kompakt or Perlon. Therefore, it's good to see this compilation/DJ mix/live album out there so that the Johnny-come-latelys can catch up on one of the most thrilling things to happen to techno since the birth of Underground Resistance.

Utilising his own productions and remixes, this acts as an instant immersion into Schwarz' idiosyncratic, deep style. Mixed in key and beatmatched to precision, to the untrained ear this may all seem like much of a muchness on first listen, but give it a few more spins and the subtle differences and shifts in mood leap out at you.

The three-song movement from Schwarz' 'Kalimba Dance', into 'Where We At' (with the aforementioned Ame and Dixon) and then onwards and upwards with his remix of Kraak & Smaak's 'No Sun In The Sky' is just jaw-dropping and only topped by the near-orgasmic denouement, starting with his do-over of James Brown's 'It's A Man's World' and climaxing with his own 'Jazz Book #2'. As essential for newbies as it is for the initiated, Live is an entertainingly different spin on the greatest hits set.

While others are disappearing down more and more off-putting navel-gazing rabbit holes (stand up at the back, Villalobos!), it's great to hear someone offering an impassioned, inclusive alternative.

http://www.highvoltage.org.uk/displaydemoreview.asp?num=3197&band=1344

Interview: Black Lips

Just four hours later, Atlanta, Georgia’s Black Lips are tearing up The Roadhouse stage, using all manner of baseless shock tactics to throw the audience curveball after curveball, ranging from catching your own spit to sporting bling-bling gold teeth. Right at this moment though, you wouldn’t dream that these four decidedly normal, well-spoken guys would stoop as low as to urinate in their own mouths or French kiss each other on stage just to keep their audience on their toes.

Yet here we are, with Cole (singer/guitarist/spit-catcher), Jared (singer/bassist/handlebar moustache), Ian (guitar/gold fronts) and Joe (drums/screams/flailing arms) waxing lyrical about alcoholic energy drinks and the state of country music. More importantly though, there’s that new album (Good Bad, Not Evil) to cover.

“Our album’s released on September 11th in the States”, Cole informs us, “but we really wanted to compete with Kanye West for a release date. We got some country guy releasing his album on that day though…” “Kenny Chesney”, Jared informatively chips in.

“It’s not even country though. The new (country music) is kinda hilarious. The lyrical content… it’s all (adopts hackneyed Southern accent) ‘Were you theeere when the toweeers feeeelll!’ They’re retarded.”

As one non-sequitur reaches its end, Ian is willing to bring up another so as to not let the conversation take on too linear a manner; “We’re getting into the spirits business”. Jared elaborates, “Ian’s brother invented an alcoholic energy drink… to rival Lil’ Jon’s Crunk Juice”. The band then enthusiastically embellish on the drink’s merits, telling us that it’s “made from exotic Brazilian herbs”, it’s “chemically infused” and that “there’s science involved”. Quite.

The band are just as enthused about the current scene developing out of Atlanta that themselves, Deerhunter and Mastodon seem to be spearheading. “There’s a band called The Selmanaires”, Jared notes, “that are like a Kinks/Talking Heads mash-up. There are bands popping up all over right now. The Coathangers, The Carbonas…” “It’s a really close-knit scene in Atlanta”, Cole explains, “Even, like, Cee-Lo from Gnarls Barkley and Andre 3000 from OutKast, you’ll see on the street.”

What about the future of Black Lips though? What kind of goals do the band have for this new record? “A billion records”, Cole beams. “We want to outsell Kanye and 50 Cent”, Joe quips, an ironic smirk creeping across his face. I guess it’s a mark of the band that they treat the important things trivially and the trivial things with the utmost importance, but something tells me that the manic stage show and borderline-unhinged recordings are all part of some devious world-domination plot. Be warned when you crack open that bottle of D-Tuned.

http://www.highvoltage.org.uk/displaydemoreview.asp?num=3170&band=1728

Interview: Elektrons

It’s a time of transition for Luke Cowdrey and Justin Crawford (aka Manchester’s very own Elektrons), as we meet them after a rapturously-received homecoming gig at The Mint Lounge. They’ve recently announced that the Mancunian clubland institution they built with their own bare hands (figuratively of course), The Electric Chair, where the two DJ under the moniker The Unabombers, will be coming to an end in January, but as one door closes, another opens and with Elektrons’ album, Red Light Don’t Stop garnering glowing notices left, right and centre, it seems like it would be a good time for Luke and Justin to spend more time on this venture.

To the naked eye at least it seems that way, but the decision to end The Chair and the emergence of Elektrons aren’t really as interlinked as they at first seem.

“Every year, for at least the last ten years, we’d sort of check ourselves”, Justin ponders. “Is it time? Are we still enjoying it? It would be wrong to say that we aren’t getting distracted by Elektrons. We are. We’re putting a lot of time and energy into it. It’s just that before we couldn’t imagine a future without The Electric Chair, but now we can.”

It appears that the need in Justin and Luke not to rest on their laurels and a mutual distaste for rose-tinted nostalgia helped their decision. As Luke elaborates, “We think change is a very fundamental thing in music. We’ve always said bomb the past, don’t be complacent, don’t rest on some kind of horrible reputation that ends up being just a Spinal Tap kind of thing anyway… We’re just gonna change guise and shape and format. We’re still gonna do parties and one-offs like Electric Souls (parties that Luke and Justin have put on in the past in various off-the-beaten-track locales)”.

“We’ll get a Saturday night off once a month now, too”, laughs Justin.

One point where the guys are happy to have the night and the band intersect is in the music. “We did sometimes think when we were in the studio”, says Justin, “Would this work (at The Chair)?” Luke interjects, “We think (the album) is – and this might sound like a pompous thing to say – an honest reflection of where we’ve come from and Me and Justin have always talked about the lineage… of our music. Going back to Northern Soul, through to the Wild Bunch and Massive Attack… Soul II Soul. Great British sound systems that started off as parties, then taken into bands and collectives. It’s not like we’ve copied that but we’ve taken inspiration from that British vibe.”

“As DJs, we try to bring the vibe and the atmosphere of the club into our music, just like people like Soul II Soul and Basement Jaxx do”, Justin is eager to clarify. A view that’s mirrored by Luke, “The idea at the heart of The Chair was that some of our favourite records might, potentially, be records that everyone else liked as well. For us, Elektrons is a very natural continuity of what we’ve been doing… for the last thirteen years.”

Again, Luke is adamant that their music not be a backward-looking venture; “We wanted it to be very bold and dynamic… We didn’t just want to be derivative. We love house music, gospel, disco, soul and we wanted to take that and rekindle it and make something new. Whether that works or not I’m sure we’ll find out”

Elektrons aren’t just a duo, with singers like Pete Simpson (“Britain’s own Marvin Gaye”, according to Luke) and Mpho Skeef adding some much-needed flavour and inspiration both live and in the studio. Whereas others may rely on musical stunt casting to catch the eye, Luke and Justin wanted “quintessentially British” vocalists on Red Light Don’t Stop. “All those artists are coming through and they’ve got a real individuality” notes Luke, “There’s a lot of attitude there and a lot of bollocks, really”.

“We wanted to work with them though because, essentially, they’re really talented” says Justin, pragmatically. “When you work with people as talented as they are, it makes it easy”.

Something else that has come easy to Elektrons at this early stage is getting number one singles in far-off places. “We were number one in South Africa!”, beams Justin, referring to ‘Dirty Basement’’s out-of-leftfield success there. “We knocked off Rihanna!” exclaims Luke, “It’s just one of those mad things that happens”. Justin continues, “Somebody in the right place ‘gets’ the track and it just goes from there”.

“We could probably do with a few more South Africas though”, Luke smirks. “Maybe Chile or Australia, somewhere nice and sunny”. Justin and Luke may be dreaming about Elektrons affording them some beach time, but it seems that a change is as good as a rest for these two, so expect them to go from strength to strength as soon as they bomb that past.

Printed in the October/November issue of High Voltage magazine.

Album: Les Savy Fav - Let's Stay Friends (Wichita)

Les Savy Fav are almost the living definition of the term 'cult band'. They're revered in certain circles for their fearsome live reputation and fitfully tremendous recorded output. Let's Stay Friends ends a six year hiatus from the album format for the band and comes three years after one of the most-loved (by those who've heard it) and most-criminally-ignored singles compilations in living memory, 2004's Inches, an album that both helped and hindered the band in more ways than one.

The biggest fault that Inches highlighted for many is that LSF are a great singles band that have always struggled with the confines of a studio album. The problem with Les Savy Fav – and it's a good problem to have – is that they have that keen an understanding of the dynamics of the short form that they seem to lose scope when it comes to the bigger picture.

Therefore on Let's Stay Friends, as is the case with the rest of their albums, you get great songs, neighboured by samey filler. There are signs of growth however, in songs such as the ominous 'Brace Yourself' which shows that they are learning a thing or two about pacing. Then there's forgettable pop-punk numbers like 'Scotchgard The Credit Card' and 'The Year Before The Year 2000', which undo the band's good work elsewhere on the record.

Whilst it can only be a good thing to have a band of Les Savy Fav's calibre back making albums again, you can't help but think that this is yet another missed opportunity.

http://www.highvoltage.org.uk/displaydemoreview.asp?num=3119&band=1962

N.B.: This grew on me.

Live: DPercussion 2007

The two best things about D:Percussion are a) the anticipation leading up to the day, finding out who’s playing and where and such forth, and b) bumping into people you never see any other time of the year. Everything else is just a bonus.

Bonuses this time around included Elektrons’ tight, funky, lithe set full of northern soul, with just a little disco and hip-hop thrown in for good measure. Let’s crown Justin and Luke the kings of Manchester and be done with it. They’d be humble, noble rulers. Also, The Whip were dependably ace, with ‘Trash’ in particular being suitably rabble-rousing. Also, FC Kahuna’s jackin’ electro-house DJ set was just the tonic as the night started to draw in.

There’s always something that pisses on your chips though, be it Norman Jay’s patronising early rave set, the non-event of Badly Drawn Boy’s mini-appearance or the sheer lack of any well-stocked bars past 6pm. That’s what D:Percussion was always about though, wasn’t it? Hopefully someone will do something similar, yet altogether different this time next year. It can’t fail, can it?

http://www.highvoltage.org.uk/displaydemoreview.asp?num=2975&band=1889

Single: Lightspeed Champion - Galaxy Of The Lost (Domino)

Who would have thought that the first solo project from an ex-member of now-defunct screamo-ravers, Test Icicles would sound like this? Dev Hynes was the guitarist in that band and Lightspeed Champion bears absolutely no relation to his former day-job. 'Galaxy Of The Lost' is a wistful, Saddle Creek-y (no coincidence as SC's in-house producer, Mike Mogis was behind the desk for this) piece of indie-folk.

It's pleasant enough and full of the traits of the Nebraskan collective; a keening violin here, a pronouncement of the singer's romantic insecurities there. It's a little too slight to be memorable however and after the third or fourth listen, it becomes clear that Hynes is no great lyricist ('Lick my open wounds'? Bit on the nose aren't we?). Nice enough then, but it's no 'Boa Vs. Python'.

http://www.highvoltage.org.uk/displaydemoreview.asp?num=2893&band=1850

Album: The Strange Death Of Liberal England - Forward March! (Fantastic Plastic)

Yet another new British band taking more cues from across the water than close to home, The Strange Death Of Liberal England take the post-rock inflections of Godspeed! You Black Emperor and the communal, hymnal catharsis of The Arcade Fire and turn it into something that never really feels like it's their own.

Now, we all know that there aren't really any original ideas left in music, doubly so in the indie-rock sphere, so the least you can do is be wilfully idiosyncratic and hope that people dig your angle. TSDOLE borrow so much that they often struggle to make their own mark. If it wasn't enough that the song-titles are so overly precious as to be off-putting ('Summer Gave Us Sweets But Autumn Wrought Division'? Please.), most of the music within rehashes ideas that others have already had and realised more fully.

But – and it's a moderately-sized but – when TSDOLE are good, they're pretty great. In 'I Saw Evil', the whole band pull together and fall apart in a violent mess of feedback and cavernous drumming. Also, the baroque pomposity of 'An Old Fashioned War' suits them well, like Gogol Bordello recording for Constellation. When The Strange Death Of Liberal England are firing on all cylinders, their derivativeness is easier to swallow, but elsewhere on Forward March! the lack of a distinguishing voice fails to paper over the cracks. A little nurturing and allowed more time to find their feet though and they could surprise us all.

http://www.highvoltage.org.uk/displaydemoreview.asp?num=2892&band=1622

Album: Chicane - Somersault (Modena)

This record seemingly exists to prove further that the oft-applied blanket term of 'dance music has become just as nondescript as 'rock music' has. Inasmuch as there is very little tying Oasis to Liars, outside of their use of guitars, there is scant correlation between, say, Justice and Chicane. Or is there?

If you cast your mind back to 1996 when Chicane a.k.a. Nick Bracegirdle (a dance producer's name if ever there was one) first released 'Offshore', his breakthrough 12”, trance music was pretty much still a new thing. To some ears, this music was exciting, a euphoric shot in the arm that the nascent dance scene needed to drag it out of the underground. Jump back to the present day and Bracegirdle's stubborn, yet kind of heroic refusal to divert from his initial blueprint has seen him become a dinosaur.

The best electronic artists have always followed the adapt-or-die credo, so the young upstarts such as the Ed Banger crew could view Somersault as a cautionary tale. That is, if they don't envisage themselves soundtracking the drunken dry-humping of the over-dressed, chain pub-dwelling Saturday night hordes come 2017. But therein lies the hidden beauty of this album; its demographic doesn't really care if it's critically-maligned or frowned upon by the likes of me, so long as it provides them with a thumping beat that acts as a pace-setting metronome for the next morning's headache. So, while this sort of thing isn't exactly to my taste, I applaud its honesty and purity.

http://www.highvoltage.org.uk/displaydemoreview.asp?num=2891&band=1849

Single: Brakes - Cease And Desist (Rough Trade)

There's something that I don't like about Brakes that I can't put my finger on. They seem an affable enough bunch and it would be churlish to say that you hate them when there's nothing really to hate – they make perfectly serviceable chunks of pop-punk, most of the time even with a bit of wit to them – but it's the insincerity of the whole affair that makes them come over like they're having more of a laugh than their audience. The studied nerviness, the affected vocals, the need to throw in the odd "fuck" now and again, it all adds up to a morsel that presses the right buttons but is gone from memory as soon as the last note is sounded. Depressingly forgettable.

http://www.highvoltage.org.uk/displaydemoreview.asp?num=2459&band=1659

Single: Viking Moses! - Swollen And Small: The Songs Of Neutral Milk Hotel (Fire Records)

Presumably in the absence of obtaining a home address for Jeff Magnum for which to send him handwritten love letters, Brendon Massei a.k.a. Viking Moses! decided that the best course of action would be to record an EP of Neutral Milk Hotel covers and inflict it on the world. It's not the most horrible thing I've ever heard, but it's most definitely the indie-est. In fact, when I raised my hand towards my face to stifle a yawn during 'Holland, 1945', the CD case flinched and scuttled to the corner of my desk, cowering.

When I returned from the toilet later on, I found it checking out Brooklyn Vegan for news on the new Bright Eyes album. I kept it busy by putting Cat Power's Speaking For Trees DVD on, before sneaking up on it and hurtling it out of the window under the wheels of a passing car. The coast now clear, I stuck Maggot Brain by Funkadelic on, safe in the knowledge that I was in possession of a pair of testicles.

http://www.highvoltage.org.uk/displaydemoreview.asp?num=2460&band=1503

Single: The Cribs - Moving Pictures (Wichita)

For how much longer will The Cribs have to suffer in the Brit indie c-list while lesser bands who've most likely copped a few moves off them in the past surpass them commercially? My guess is forever because there's just something about The Cribs that suggests they're forever doomed to be the bridesmaids.

Take latest single, 'Moving Pictures'; an eminently lovable shouty, mid-tempo love song, the like of which Ricky Wilson would give his collection of fashionable scarves to write, it's simultaneously great and destined for the bargain bins by the end of August. Why? Well, can you imagine Gary Jarman's pained, impassioned howl gracing a Vodafone commercial? Sure they might get to soundtrack the odd goal montage once the footy season starts, but they'll always edit out the vocals.

You see, The Cribs actually give a shit about their music and that rarely sells. The Cribs then; too good to be famous.

http://www.highvoltage.org.uk/displaydemoreview.asp?num=2896&band=751

Album: GoodBooks - Control (Columbia)

Control is a pretty apposite title for GoodBooks' debut album as they spend most of their time making sure every little aspect of their music is in place. They assemble each song seemingly from the ground up, hanging sonic trinkets on each guitar line and rhythmic pulse. A bell here, a whistle there, but sometimes the intricacy gets in the way of GoodBooks just cutting loose and letting their highly-developed sense for melody take over.

When Control is good, it's very, very good. 'The Curse Of Saul' takes a rinky-dink toy piano house refrain, rips the bassline from Giorgio Moroder's 'Sooner Or Later' and some great white-funk guitar and knocks it out of the park. Also, 'Walk With Me' has a bombastic ambition that is at odds with the increasingly parochial British indie scene.

Elsewhere though, on the torpid 'Good Life Salesman' they're borderline embarrassing. A song that Athlete would pass on for being a bit too wet, it kicks off a mid-album sag that they struggle to recover from. Also, on the otherwise sweet, heartfelt 'Violent Man Lovesong', the self-conscious trickery and need to come off like a British Postal Service just flattens what could have been a beautiful ballad.

If they stop hiding behind their urges to show everyone just how offbeat they are and let the songs speak for themselves they could be a special little pop band. For now though, just the promise of better to come is enough.

http://www.highvoltage.org.uk/displaydemoreview.asp?num=2904&band=1482

Album: Spoon - Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga (Anti-)

One of the biggest underground bands in America, Spoon, mystifyingly, have yet to make much of an impression over here. Mystifying because Spoon are one of the more Anglophilic American bands of recent times and they're also pretty great.

Spoon's sixth album follows the critically-acclaimed, yet fan-dividing Gimme Fiction, their most distinctly hi-fi release to date. Although that album had its share of highlights, it also had some sag, so it's heartening that they've returned to the fat-free feel of Girls Can Tell and Kill The Moonlight. Always a production nut's wet dream, Spoon up the ante here with some seriously intricate arrangements that make Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga one of the most rewarding listens of 2007 thus far, despite its 36 minute running time.

The paranoid strut of 'Don't Make Me A Target' is a classic Spoon opener, both instantly fortifying and sonically arresting. As always, it makes great use of space and depth to create an edifying surround-sound effect. Elsewhere, 'The Ghost Of You Lingers' is propelled by a Phillip Glass-like piano line that acts as melody and rhythm while Britt Daniel's voice floats spectrally above and 'My Little Japanese Cigarette Case' is all Pixies menace and malevolence, only less unhinged, more gentrified and more disturbing.

'You Got Yr. Cherry Bomb' and 'Finer Feelings' are two of the best songs that Spoon have ever recorded. The former a brassy, Brill Building stomp with added weirdness, while the latter, with its circular melody and pleasingly ill-fitting Mikey Dread sample, manages to be both supremely catchy and maddeningly slippery. In the end, it's difficult to pick highlights from an album this strong. For once, the Americans are way ahead of the curve and it's us that have some catching up to do.

http://www.highvoltage.org.uk/displaydemoreview.asp?num=2831&band=1819

Album: Sonic Youth - Daydream Nation Deluxe Edition (Universal)

Arguably the greatest album to come out of the American alt-rock/college rock/indie/whatever scene of the 1980s (forget You're Living All Over Me, Document and Zen Arcade, although Surfer Rosa runs it close), it initially surprised me and I'm sure a lot of other people when word got out it was due for a remastering and expanding. I mean, how do you improve on perfection, right? My copy of Daydream Nation on CD still sounds pretty great, so what could you do to it to trick us fans into trading our old for new?

Well, this reissue takes the "let's just make it louder and add some live stuff" approach, and you know what? It achieves the impossible; Sonic Youth and Universal have made the already great even better. The new re-fit succeeds in making this peerless record that little bit greater. The original's expansive-yet-raw production isn't sacrificed on the altar of the shiny and new and the bonus disc of live cuts of each album track is completely essential in documenting one of America's most fascinating bands at a time when they were really on top of their game.

Also, it's just a timely excuse to revisit the album and see if it is still better than everything that came before and since. Well, of course it is. Daydream Nation still acts as a distillation of every great rock movement that pre-dated it while lighting the way for all the bands that followed their lead (Nirvana… um, that's about it). Sonic Youth have never made an album as good as this since, but then again, neither has anyone else. Dense, immediate, limitlessly rewarding, you really don't have any excuse for not owning this anymore. Then again, you didn't have one before either.

http://www.highvoltage.org.uk/displaydemoreview.asp?num=2798&band=187

Album: Prins Thomas - Cosmo Galactic Prism (Eskimo)

Ever since 2 Many DJs belched forth the dizzying As Heard On Radio Soulwax Pt. 2, DJ mixes seem to have become more and more eclectic. That's not to say that the Dewaele brothers were the first to blend disparate elements into a cohesive whole, but since the Soulwax boys brought the magpie effect closer to the mainstream, DJs haven't thought twice about mixing together rock, hip-hop, techno, house, disco, prog, whatever, in the name of the all-encompassing party mix.

You can now add Prins Thomas to that list, but rather than following the herd, Thomas appears to be operating in a field of one. One listen to Cosmo Galactic Prism will make you reassess everything you know about the art of a good DJ mix. Thomas takes logical leaps that really shouldn't work, but his touch is so light-fingered that everything flows together so naturally as to make you reach for the superlatives with every transition.

Who else would kick off a two-disc mix with something as deliciously odd as Joe Meek's 'I Hear A New World'? The munchkin voices and spacey slo-mo bossa backing herald the fact that this is going to be a mix, the like of which you'll have never heard before. Over the course of two-and-a-half hours, Thomas takes in the kraut-disco of Holger Czukay's 'Cool In The Pool', the sub-bass-heavy deep house of Soylent Green's 'Camera Obscura', Bob James' skewed jazz-funker 'Moonbop' and his own queasy, lolloping edit of The Honeymoon Killers' 'Decollage' and moulds them all in his own inimitable style. Where other mixes from lesser DJs tend to bore after an hour, Thomas holds your attention for double that and then some.

It's a trip, for sure, and one that you'll happily spend with your jaw adjacent to the floor. Totally, unequivocally essential.

http://www.highvoltage.org.uk/displaydemoreview.asp?num=2784&band=492

Album: Night Of The Brain - Wear This World Out (Station 55)

When Super_Collider went their separate ways, who would have guessed at the different career paths both Jamie Lidell and Cristian Vogel would take. Whilst Lidell always fancied himself as a closet funkateer, no-one could have foreseen Vogel's abandonment of body music entirely with his Night Of The Brain project.

Quite what possessed Vogel to form a bog-standard, faintly experimental art-rock band is unclear, but it's obvious that this is a style that doesn't exactly fit him like the proverbial glove. It's hard to see any traces of the man who released all those fine techno records on Tresor and NovaMute here, even if there is a fair dollop of incongruous electronics invading the Sonic Youth-esque squall. In fact, he's made recent references to abandoning the "banal and stagnant" techno scene altogether. If he thinks that this kind of music is the way forward then he's sorely mistaken.

Not that rock 'n' roll is dead or anything, far from it, but this is indistinguishable from any amount of alt-rock bands unafraid to dip an occasional toe into the dance music sphere. The lyrics are witless, melodies forgettable and any points of interest that arise out of the liberal use of programmed beats are undersold by the general hackery of everything else going on. 'Connecting Changes' in particular is a good idea ruined by laughable epithets like "Like when my dog died. Woof! A picture of him chasing his tail up the old tree" (?!).

You could call this a missed opportunity if you're feeling generous, but it's an avenue that Vogel really shouldn't have bothered venturing down in the first place. Brain-dead and almost completely devoid of any redeeming features, something tells me that Wear This World Out won't have quite the impact that Lidell's Multiply has.

http://www.highvoltage.org.uk/displaydemoreview.asp?num=2747&band=1785

Album: Ratatat - Remixes Volume II (Self-released)

Sometimes a listening experience cannot be extricated from the possible cultural impact of the record, however infinitesimal it may be. Occasionally, it's near-impossible to be completely objective when faced with certain glaring outside influences that don't allow you to review an album purely on its own musical terms. Ratatat's Remixes Volume II is one of those records. Try as I might to say in 300 words how each of Evan Mast and Mike Stroud's re-imaginings of contemporary rap tunes compiled here have the ability to rock a party from twenty paces, there's just something about this album that doesn't sit right with me.

Not to be unfair to Ratatat, as there's an obvious love, respect and knowledge of their source material here which shines through. It's the blog coverage bestowed upon this and its predecessor that plain stinks of the crass co-opting of black culture by the white middle class that Sacha Baron Cohen tried to censure in his Ali G days. The 'Wigga' effect, if you will.

I'm self-aware enough to realise that this review smacks of white liberal guilt, but let's have it right; none of the people lauding this record on the internet are going to go out and buy a UGK or Z-Ro album, are they? If this was released on Swishahouse (suspend disbelief and bear with me), sounding exactly as it does, only with Ratatat's name taken off and replaced with that of Michael '5000' Watts, it would have been marginalised by all areas of the press other than the hip-hop mags. I guess that, in short, I'm trying to say I'm a big enough fan of hip-hop to appreciate these tracks in their original states. I don't need hipster bloggers to validate their worth for me, via the conduit of a vaguely prurient hype-stream.

For the music though…

3/5

http://www.highvoltage.org.uk/displaydemoreview.asp?num=2734&band=1583

Live: The Aliens (Manchester Academy 3, 30.5.07.)

When The Beta Band called time on their up-and-down but never less than interesting career, I was just as intrigued to see what John Maclean (decks, keys) and Robin Jones (drums) would do next as I was to see what Steve Mason could come up with when left to his own devices. As we all know now, Mason grew disinterested with music pretty much as soon as he cut his King Biscuit Time debut, but John and Robin decided to pal up with another maverick frontman, Gordon Anderson aka Lone Pigeon.

Tonight's gig leads me to think that they shouldn't have bothered. John, the electronics master and Robin, the funky drummer are left pandering to Anderson's every flower-power whim, which leads to most of tonight's gig being a mess of muddied sonics and overly histrionic fret-wankery, with the odd bleep, glitch and break thrown in at the sake of eclecticism.

Erratic doesn't begin to cover it and Anderson does not help matters, wittering away between songs, telling bad jokes and generally stilting any momentum they might achieve. On record, the musical magpie effect is often pleasing and at the very least charming, but live it's just frustrating. Doubly so, when you realise that The Aliens do have quite a few really good songs. 'Only Waiting' is buried under wig-out excess and 'Ionas (Look For Space)' could do with being stripped of about five minutes of directionless noodling.

Things pick up at the end with a chunky 'Robot Man', a rowdy 'The Happy Song' and an edifying 'Rox', but it's too little, too late. Maclean and Jones need to ditch the Pigeon and make with the beats. Then things might start to get really out-of-this-world.

http://www.highvoltage.org.uk/displaydemoreview.asp?num=2725&band=1642

Single: Black Lips - Cold Hands (Vice)

Black Lips' albums and singles to-date have been exercises in re-creating the fuzzed-out no-fi of the 60s' garage-punk progenitors like The Sonics, The Seeds and The Monks, culminating in this year's live document, Los Valientes Del Mondo Nuevo. This new single, the first from their forthcoming fourth studio album is a progression from that sound without losing any of the raw, giddy thrills that those records had in spades.

'Cold Hands' is a surf-punk rumble that sounds like it should be soundtracking a knife-fight between Dean and Brando and evokes, amongst other things, pomade, leather and gasoline. It's also catchy-as-hell and not a million miles removed from the punk-pop bands you hear on the radio everyday, only, like, tons better and a lot more dangerous. What are Black Lips rebelling against? I'm tempted to say, "What have you got?", but it's clearly mediocrity that they're striving to save us from. It's about time that we learned to love the kids from the wrong side of the tracks again.

http://www.highvoltage.org.uk/displaydemoreview.asp?num=2727&band=1728

Live: Kathy Diamond @ El Diablo's 4th Birthday (Po Na Na, Manchester, 27.5.07.)

Kathy Diamond, I love you, but last night you brought me down. Your impervious, superlative debut album, Miss Diamond To You is a great record and one of the year’s best so far, all shimmering, smoked-out disco-soul of the highest order. Quite why you feel like you should denigrate the material in the live arena by belting it out like a hen-night fishwife with too many Vodka & Red Bulls inside you is completely beyond me.

An album as fine as yours deserves to be treated with the class and respect that only a full live band can bring, but instead you and Mr Maurice Fulton presented us with a glorified PA, Maurice looking all bored in back, spinning instrumentals from the album, you upfront giving it the bluster normally reserved for forgotten Europop divas desperately trying to salvage something, anything from the wreckage of a career that’s been reduced to a three-song hits spot at the local Ritzy’s.

I didn’t want to have to write this review, Kathy, but you drove me to it. The blatant, overly-showy mishandling of your beautiful music was completely uncalled for and my massive, crushing disappointment at this has led me to write this in the hope that you see it, take my notes onboard and go back to rethinking just how to make the songs sparkle in the live arena, because last night’s show was most definitely not the way to do it.

Hey, what the fuck do I know? I’m only a fan. How is it my place to tell you how to do your thing? It’s because I’m a fan of your work, first and foremost that I’m writing in this manner. I could have approached this review with the cold, detached air of a critic and ritually dismantled every one of last night’s missteps. The wretched bummer of last night’s gig was a killer blow after a month’s anticipation from buying the tickets to arriving at the club that has left me and I’m sure many others despondent.

Kathy, you seem like a lovely person and you and Maurice make a wonderful team on record, but last night, when you seemingly couldn’t have carried a tune in a bucket, you broke my heart.

Yours disconsolately,

James Morton

http://www.rachaelburns.net/html/music/2007/05/gig-review-kathy-diamond-el-diablos-4th.html

Feature: Futuresonic 2007

For all its admirable intentions, it’s never entirely clear just what exactly Futuresonic is supposed to be celebrating. Artists to have played the festival in the past have come from a wide range of musical spheres, encompassing math-rock (Battles), 21st century soul (Jamie Liddell), underground hip-hop (El-P) and big band swing (Matthew Herbert). You have to applaud their scope, but you get the sense that this is a festival striving for identity, while the bill pushes in the other direction.

It’s with this eclecticism in mind that we’re faced with opening night main attraction, TTC. The Parisian hip-hoppers aren’t the kind of group that spring to mind when you consider the esoteric nature of Futuresonic bills past. TTC’s aim is to move our feet, not get us stroking our chins and even the forward-thinking programmed beats provided by DJ Orgasmic are just a conduit to getting the party started, despite the fact that they probably have more in common with the average Warp Records act than anything by DJ Premier.

In fact, you can pretty much blame TTC (alongside Daft Punk) for the current French nouvelle vague of electronic party music (Justice, Ed Banger, Institubes), as their bleepy, video game aesthetic has ended up bridging the gap between the hip-hop culture so ingrained in France’s inner cities and the hard, underground house and techno scene. Their work with scene progenitor, Para One has led to them being labelled as godheads of a movement that they’ve fully embraced (both Tido Berman and Teki Latex sport Institubes tees tonight), but that they’re at enough of a remove from to be able to assess on their own terms.

A forceful, lusty assault on the senses, the TTC live experience is an invigorating one. One that makes a mockery of the hipsterish posing going on in the front rows. Faced with a swathe of faux-hawks and aviator shades, TTC just stick to what they know best, throw bottles of water on everyone in soaking range and grab the nearest girls for some bump and grind. The group’s focal point, the aforementioned Teki Latex, the spawn of an ungodly union twixt Benny Hill and Biz Markie, is an absolute star and he knows it. Seemingly the only member of the group with any grasp of the language, it’s he who sets about getting the crowd to indulge in a bit of call-and-response, with the usual cries of “Put your hands in the air!” and “Make some noise, Manchester!” taking on a more charming edge when recounted in broken English.

By the time a chest-rattling ‘Dans Le Club’ has reached it’s umpteenth and final run-through of the chorus, the hawks have drooped, the vintage Gola tracksuits are sweated through and Futuresonic have pulled another rug from underneath our feet. Feet too busy dancing to care about where they land.

We ventured down to Club Underground on Saturday to check out Tramp! Vs. UFO. The Tramp! DJs are building a healthy reputation as some of the best in Manchester right now, so their hook-up with 60s legends, The UFO Club should have been a spectacular meeting of minds, not the ungainly cut-and-shut that it turned out to be. True, the visuals were very nice indeed, but it was difficult to pinpoint just what end they were serving.

That mattered not once ex-Kraftwerker, Wolfgang Flur took to the stage for two and a bit hours of pumping electro-tech, played at ear-bleeding volume. Flur looked for all the world like a Biology professor ploughing through a Power Point presentation before a liquid lunch at first, shifting in his own skin and generally looking a little uncomfortable. Once the first hour was out of the way, the suit jacket came off and he was, as they say in the business, loving it.

So much so, in fact, that Black Devil Disco Club spent a good half-hour waiting in the wings, looking more than a little disgruntled that this 60 year-old ubermensch was stealing their thunder right from under their noses. BDDC was only ever going to be an anti-climax after Flur’s stunning set, but they trooped on regardless and ran through a set that took in highlights from both their EPs, separated by 28 years.

If you know of the mystery that’s surrounded BDDC and, most importantly, Bernard Fevre for the last five years or so, then you’ll know that this music uses the mystery to its own gain. It’s music that evokes rain-slicked streets and amyl-stained dancefloors, of silver-suited disconauts and androgynous cybermen. It has never evoked the sight of two aging men sat behind synths and laptops, looking generally bored by the whole endeavour.

The demystification of BDDC then, is a hindrance to the enjoyment of hearing this otherworldly, ahead-of-its-time, robodisco played live and note-perfect right in front of you, a feat that few of us ever thought we’d see. Great tunes though.

As the DJ draws proceedings to a close with Carl Craig’s ubiquitous remix of Delia & Gavin’s ‘Relevee’, I’m of the mind that Futuresonic’s real identity is in its ability to pull surprises out of the bag. TTC brought peerless party vibes to bear and Wolfgang Flur showed that age is no barrier when it comes to slaying the crowd. Hell, as disappointing as Black Devil were, we all got to hear ‘Timing, Forget The Timing’ played live (twice in fact) and that’s cause for celebration in itself. I, for one, say let the future become more and more disparate, exotic and surprising.

http://www.highvoltage.org.uk/displaydemoreview.asp?num=2693&band=1765

Album: Von Sudenfed - Tromatic Reflexxions (Domino)

Von Sudenfed's debut album is the culmination of a meeting of minds between Mouse On Mars' Andi Toma and Jan St. Werner and rock curmudgeon, Mark E. Smith. In fact, it's less meeting of minds, more recorded argument. MES hasn't sounded this disjointed and fiery in many a year and Toma and St. Werner's futureshock beats and bleeps have a way of making the whole affair sound like they're trying to put the musical restraints on Smith, but all the while he's kicking, screaming, biting and refusing to be sedated.

This brings forth an uncompromising, noisy record that, at its heart would like to be a pop album. Neither Mark E. Smith nor Mouse On Mars do 'pop' particularly well, but it's a hell of a lot of fun listening to them try. On album opener, 'Fledermaus Can't Get It', Smith spits increasingly venomous vitriol atop splenetic, fuzzed out breaks and buzzing, ravey synth noise. They then follow this up with 'The Rhinohead', the album's most immediate track, owing more than a little debt to Northern Soul music. It's less homage than blitzkrieging air raid on Wigan Casino however, with Smith and MOM obliterating the bennied-up twisters from above while snarling and cackling.

It doesn't all work though, 'Chicken Yiamas' is virtually unlistenable and 'Jbak Lois Lane' (essentially just Smith shouting at someone while a lawnmower buzzes away in the background) feels more like a prank on the listener. When it hits though, it throws up some of the most exciting musical moments of the year so far, as on the sub-bass-laden grime of 'Flooded' or the disco inflections of 'That Sound Wiped'. An adventurous hook-up that manages to be brilliant against all odds.

http://www.highvoltage.org.uk/displaydemoreview.asp?num=2682&band=1759

Album: Sunkissed Mixed By G-Ha & Olanskii (Smalltown Supersound)

It's a well-known fact in the industry that the music press are likely to shift units off the back of a scene. Most of these scenes are constructs and are doomed to fail, but if the NME get a spike in their numbers for a few weeks, who cares, right?

Anyone with half a brain will approach such scenes with a cynical eye, careful not to be sucked in, but there are always a few genuine movements borne of a sense of mutual appreciation and community spirit. One of the few worth taking an interest in is the Norwegian dance music scene. A vibrant part of Norway's counter-culture for the best part of a decade, it appears to be reaching somewhat of a peak with international interest in the country's fertile cosmic disco outpourings. Triggered by the likes of Lindstrom & Prins Thomas and Rune Lindbaek and culminating in this document curated by Norway's premier club night, Sunkissed, an astonishingly dynamic and energetic mix showcasing a winning eclecticism and sense of a group of like-minded people all pushing in the same direction.

My only gripe with the mix is that the Norway only policy feels limiting, hindering G-Ha & Olanskii's efforts to forge their own identity. As a snapshot of one of music's most fascinating subgenres though, it's a thrilling ride. Highlights come thick and fast, but it's worth pointing out Mungolian Jetset's two remix contributions for their all-over-the-shop cheekiness, Magnus International's New Order-esque atmos-disco, 'Kosmetisk' and Mental Overdrive's stunning space rock rework of 120 Days' 'Come Out, Come Down, Fade Out, Be Gone'. This is one that you're going to want to own, before all your hipster friends grow beards and start claiming that they had all Todd Terje's Supreme Edits series from the first press.

http://www.highvoltage.org.uk/displaydemoreview.asp?num=2687&band=492

Album: The Maccabees - Colour It In (Fiction)

In the press release The Maccabees' debut album, it says that the band now "sell out the same venues they once struggled to fill". Fair enough P.R. fodder, you might think. Think about that sentence for a moment though and it becomes clear that this is a classic example of damning with faint praise. The phrase, "struggled to fill" intimates that the band did fill those venues eventually, it was just a bit of a chore. That they're now packing out the same halls they used to, only quicker, suggests that the band haven't really moved on much from their first single release. Hell, if their own press agency can't seem to write something glowing about them, what kind of chance do I stand?

Well, there's not a lot here to praise. The riffs are sharp and angular, just the way those skinny-trousered kids like them, but beyond all the right sounds, there's not much else of any substance. Some bands can get away with just skating along on pleasant melodies and vaguely danceable rhythms, but The Maccabees are quite possibly one of the least assertive bands I've heard in quite some time. Singer, Orlando Weeks' whey-faced, faux-impassioned delivery doesn't really help, his affected quiver being a permanent turn-off.

Their best songs, like ode on a swimming baths, 'Latchmere' are spiky and memorable, but there's way too much filler here. I'm talking three good tracks out of thirteen ('About Your Dress', 'First Love' and the aforementioned) and that just isn't good enough. Sorry boys, but you'll have to try harder if you want to graduate to those bigger venues. Maybe you could go on an indie also-rans double-header with Good Shoes or something?

http://www.highvoltage.org.uk/displaydemoreview.asp?num=2673&band=823

Album: The Stills - Without Feathers (Drowned In Sound)

The Stills' first album, Logic Will Break Your Heart, traded in the kind of dark majesty that drew them endless comparisons to fellow goth-y rockers, Interpol. The resemblances were there for all to see; a love of both Joy Division and Echo & The Bunnymen, black clothing, a streak of doomed romanticism. It hampered what was actually a pretty decent record from getting the attention it deserved.

Thankfully, The Stills have stepped out from the shadows with their second full-length. Without Feathers is a lighter, peppier affair than its predecessor, but one that suffers from a lack of cohesion and an unwillingness to fully embrace the boldness the songs hint at, in favour of striking a middle ground between the blackened opulence of old and their newfound bent towards a brighter outlook.

The album starts out well enough, with both 'In The Beginning' and 'The Mountain' showing enough of a flair for exuberant optimism, but all too often and mostly always when you feel they're about to really take off, as in the doo-wop sway of 'Halo The Harpoon', they cop out and lapse into trad, indie-rock stereotypes. There are odd moments of sanguine clarity, like the E-Street-meets-Arcade Fire bluster of 'It Takes Time', but they are counterbalanced by dropped balls like the could've-been-great-if-they'd-really-fucking-gone-for-it, 'Oh Shoplifter'.

Without Feathers is a flawed, but heartening attempt to forge a new direction from a band who could have easily just released a facsimile of their debut. If they learn how to ignore their more conservative urges then they really could be something special.

http://www.highvoltage.org.uk/displaydemoreview.asp?num=2675&band=1711

Live: Electrelane (Manchester Club Academy, 7.5.07.)

Electrelane, so good on record, had passed me by as a live act in the past. Until recently, I can't ever remember expressing any desire to see them in concert, even though I've been a passive admirer of theirs since early this century, upon hearing 'I Only Always Think' at university. I guess there's just something about their music that screams "home listening only" to me, but I just never really entertained the notion that they would be able to cut it live. Was I right?

Well, partly. Tonight, Electrelane, touring in support of what I think is their best album to date, the luminescent kraut-pop of No Shouts, No Calls, take a little time to get going. This sees set opener, 'Bells', from 2005's Axes and, more disappointingly, 'The Greater Times' fall a little flat. They don't hit top gear until a menacing, borderline furious 'Eight Steps' around four or five songs in, but after that, they succeed in building a tangible level of mood and atmosphere that even the dodgy Club Academy sound system can't ruin.

The band are clearly enjoying playing the punchier, more direct new songs, like the jagged instrumental 'Between The Wolf And The Dog' and the sweet, Gallic-tinged pop of new single, 'To The East', but it's also allowed them to breathe a bit of focus into the older material that gets aired, with 'Blue Straggler' being particularly impressive. Despite the fact that it took a while to light a fire under them (chalk that one up to it being the first night of the tour), Electrelane ultimately proved themselves as a band with very little left to prove to anyone and obviously relishing this position.

http://www.highvoltage.org.uk/displaydemoreview.asp?num=2633&band=1657

Album: Arctic Monkeys - Favourite Worst Nightmare (Domino)

Arctic Monkeys' meteoric rise of 2005/06 looks, with hindsight, like a microcosm of the industry hype machine in the '00s. It was all a bit too instant. Understandably some people cried foul, or at worst, proclaimed them to be everything that's wrong about British music. The more level-headed amongst us called it as we saw it; Arctic Monkeys were just another decent guitar-pop band, with too much praise heaped upon them.

With this in mind, they returned to the studio, determined to go one better with their second album. And it shows, for the most part. Across its twelve tracks, there's a definite broadening of scope at work. This is as adventurous a record that you get in Britrock these days. Cause for celebration or damning indictment of these complacent times?

Favourite Worst Nightmare, whilst not taking too many risks, is the sound of a band pushing themselves to their limits, while having a keen knowledge of where said limits lie. You can hear this extended reach in the rollick and flex of 'Brianstorm', or the intricate arrangement of album centrepiece, 'If You Were There, Beware'. For every arresting, that's-a-new-one triumph, there's a step backwards like the borderline cynical festival anthem in the making, 'Fluorescent Adolescent' or a bold misstep like the clumsy atmospherics of 'Only Ones Who Know'. The most heartening signifier of the band's maturity comes with 'Do Me A Favour', wherein Alex Turner's sharp witticisms carry more poignancy than before.

FWN is by no means a great leap forward for the UK music scene, but it does display a band unwilling to rest on their laurels. Arctic Monkeys are most definitely not the saviours of rock that some may have you believe, but they just took a step in the right direction.

http://www.highvoltage.org.uk/displaydemoreview.asp?num=2612&band=371

N.B.: Ignore the five-star rating below this. Think my editor may have well been having a laugh. If I remember correctly, I gave it three.

Live: Black Lips (The Roadhouse, Manchester, 29.4.07.)

Every once in a while, you see a gig that reaffirms your faith in rock 'n' roll and realigns dwindling expectations in the old bass-guitar-drums set-up. One that sets the bar up a notch again, back to what it once was. A gig that for 24 hours after feels like the best gig you've ever seen. Black Lips at the Roadhouse was one of those gigs.

Not that this was the best thing I'd ever seen on stage, but it threw into stark relief just how boring and stultifying most rock bands are live. Black Lips have been steadily cementing their status as a fierce, unpredictable live act for the past three years or so, with tales of inter-band kissing, members urinating into their own mouths and hardcore nudity. This kind of stuff is all sideshow though and it's the sheer garage punk thrill of seeing bands play loud, fast, infectious tunes that they've mastered. All the gross-out tricks in the world could neither add nor subtract from that.

We get lead guitarist Cole swapping spit with rhythm guitarist Ian, which is something you don't always see. What you see even less of these days though is a band as thrilling as Black Lips. There's an epiphany moment during the rocketing 'M.I.A.' when you look at all four members trading off on vocals, playing as hard and as rapidly as they can (Drummer, Joe, in particular looks like some fevered hybrid of Animal from The Muppets and an octopus) and you can't help but think “I love this band”, or even, “I want to be in this band”. Isn't that what rock 'n' roll is all about? They don't reinvent the wheel, but they've stuck some pretty bitching spokes on it.

http://www.highvoltage.org.uk/displaydemoreview.asp?num=2605&band=1728

Live: Pop Levi (Manchester Academy 3, 25.4.07.)

There are a lot of things that I’d like to say about Pop Levi. One of those things would be that he’s a shiny, flamboyant beacon in an increasingly beige British music scene. Another would be that he’s some kind of perverted saviour of pop; the offspring of a tryst involving Marc Bolan, Prince and Arthur Brown at Woodstock in ’69. I’d also like to say that he’s one of the best live acts around and more fun than a barrelful of chimpanzees on LSD.

I’d like to say these things, but I can’t. I can’t say them because they’re not true. There’s something just so lightning-in-a-bottle brilliant about Pop Levi that never really makes itself known. The idea of Pop Levi is a lot more appealing than the execution. That’s not to say that he doesn’t have some great tunes, he does – his debut album, The Return To Form Black Magick Party is one of the year-thus-far’s most pleasantly surprising debuts, all sparkly pop and reinvigorated vintage riffing – but all that is made redundant by a couple of fatal flaws in Pop Levi’s multi-coloured façade.

First up, the complete lack of sincerity is totally off-putting. I’m not a subscriber to the idea that pop music has to be sincere or meaningful to be great, but the artist has to believe in it for it to carry weight. Pop Levi substitutes conviction for studied, well-worn rock poses and gimmicks. Everything that the guy does has been pilfered from music’s past. He does the Angus Young bent-double head shake around five times too many for it to be considered mere homage. He also stares down the girls in the front row, lasciviously, like every rocker with a raging libido since the fifties has. All the shapes that Levi throws just come off as clowning, thus undoing the good work done by his songs.

Another flaw is that he’s way too sure of himself to be likeable. I like a pop star with a bit of arrogance but Pop Levi just takes the biscuit. He’s playing a room the size of a shoebox, yet he thinks he’s onstage at Wembley, pyrotechnics and dancing girls flanking him. This is an ultimately alienating move on his part. We like our stars to be on a pedestal, but not one that they’ve built for themselves. Even the most seemingly unapproachable talent like Morrissey has an affinity with his fans to the point that he’s constantly touching hands with the front row at gigs and throwing his shirts into the crowd for the sweaty, be-quiffed hordes to fight over like dogs after a bone. Pop Levi’s over-inflated opinion of himself creates a distance between audience and artist that seems unassailable due to his complete lack of self-awareness. You don’t get to be a star just because you decide it, you are anointed by the public and, car advert soundtrack aside, what would the average man on the street know about him if pressed?

Lastly, for all the sweat that pours from his face, there’s no real effort been put into making the songs that jump out of the speakers in technicolour on the album work in a live setting. Stretching out the intro to opening gambit, ‘Sugar Assault Me Now’ to an interminable length (it was probably about five minutes, but it felt like five hours) might have seemed like a good idea in the rehearsal room as an exercise in heightening anticipation, therefore making the eventual release all the more emphatic. In actuality, it just bores and infuriates, ultimately flattening what should have been a knockout blow. Also, ‘(A Style Called) Cryin’ Chic’, so oddly exotic and evocatively patchouli-stained on record, like some previously unearthed Donovan masterpiece, is put asunder by a weary, passionless delivery.

There are good points though that point to Pop Levi maybe learning from his missteps in the future. ‘Blue Honey’, even without the handclaps that give the song that added something on the album, is a delight and one of the few songs that live up to its recorded counterpoint. Also, set closer, ‘Dollar Bill Rock’ is transformed into a restless, itchy wig-out that’s worthy of Levi’s influences.

It’s just not enough though and the calculated lecherousness just comes off as creepy most of the time. If he ever comes down off the ego trip he’s on, then he just might have a shot at attaining the status he thinks he already has. He’s got the tunes after all.

http://www.rachaelburns.net/html/music/2007/04/gig-review-pop-levi-mancheser-academy-3.html

Album: Kathy Diamond - Miss Diamond To You (Permanent Vacation)

Maurice Fulton – producer of quality music, sterling remixer, enigma and all-round crazy bastard – has always been a difficult man to pin down. Even though he does have what some might deem a trademark sound with distinct leitmotifs (slap bass, distorted, druggy synths, masses of percussion), it’s often hard to tell whether he wants to make music that’s accessible or whether he wants to challenge and weird the listener out.

Fulton productions can sometimes be strange (look no further than the riotous ‘Let’s Get Sick’ from the first Mu album or the whole of the Eddie & The Eggs album for proof), but every now and then, he goes for the jugular and makes a track that could slay a dancefloor from fifty paces or could conceivably be a crossover hit (check his remix of Hot Chip’s ‘Over & Over’ or ‘My Gigolo’ from the Stress: Why Put Me Through It? album). On Kathy Diamond’s debut full-length, Maurice Fulton has bridged the two. Miss Diamond To You is a pop-soul-disco record filtered through Fulton’s askew view on music.

From the opening track, its head-turning immediacy is clear. Perhaps it’s Kathy’s sweet, everywoman voice that makes it impact instantly, but from the word go, it’s evident that it’s Fulton who’s firing on all cylinders. Opening track, ‘Between The Lines’ is like a smoother do-over of the Grace Jones classic, ‘Nipple To The Bottle’, but with a more narcotic vibe, creating an easy, soft buzz, which dovetails neatly with Diamond’s lilting tones. It’s a sexy song, almost tangibly so, but the sex element is never crassly driven home. It’s there though, in the sinuous bassline and the over-dubbed orgiastic vocals in the chorus.

Even though Fulton’s more obvious production touchstones on this record are dancefloor-driven (West End, Prelude), there’s more than a whiff of the avant-garde about the lissome, airy guitar lines that pepper the album, akin to such vanguards as Manuel Goettsching and Michael Karoli. The cerebral edge is tempered by an ear for what makes a good pop song or club track. The lyrics are often inconsequential, in that they cover impersonal declarations of love, but Fulton uses Diamond’s voice as another instrument or layer of sound a lot of the time.

This is most evident on ‘Over’, in which Diamond’s vocal is cut-up ever so slightly, giving it a barely perceptible robotic feel. Most of the vocal’s reverb is dampened and it occasionally jumps from speaker to speaker, one word to the next, giving the vocal a wonderfully strange, jarring air that acts as a counterpoint to the music’s tight funk jam. There’s a point when the clavinet joins in with the vocal melody and it feels like a wall is broken down, allowing the diffuse nature of the music and voice up to that point a chance to dovetail, albeit briefly and it’s jaw-dropping.

Although I’ve so far chosen to highlight two songs in particular, this is an album where picking standouts seems futile. Miss Diamond To You is best experienced as a whole. It’s a dance album with a clear focus and one where there’s an idiosyncratic language at play. It’s nicely out-of-step with most other stuff that’s going on in the dance music scene and yet it’s so gettable and completely modern. When all’s said and done though and we’ve pontificated over where Fulton and Diamond were coming from until the cows (Mu?) come home, it’s essentially a pop-soul record. An odd, left-of-centre pop-soul record, but a pop-soul record all the same. Instinctual body music that’s as easy on the ear as it is stimulating to the brain.

http://www.rachaelburns.net/html/music/2007/04/kathy-diamond-miss-diamond-to-you.html

Live: The Pipettes (Manchester Academy 2, 17.4.07.)

The Pipettes' girl group schtick saw them gain just as many admirers as detractors when they emerged into the limelight last year. For every polka dotted admirer, there was a disparager saying they weren't 'real' enough or that they couldn't sing.

The defamers miss the point, as there was nothing authentic about the prefabricated groups from which they crib. Phil Spector went to the Brill Building for his songs and lead Shangri-La, Mary Weiss wasn't all that hot a singer. The emphasis with this music is on melody and catchiness and you can't fault The Pipettes when it comes to these pop cornerstones.

The big question with tonight's gig is whether the bubblegum has turned stale. Despite what story the sparse crowd tells, it hasn't. Tonight, The Pipettes come over less arch and studied than before. The choreographed dance moves now come much easier and while you still wouldn't back any of them to get through the auditions for The X-Factor, the everyday quality of their voices are a perfect fit for their universally infectious tunes.

The gig is a great reminder of just how good those tunes are. 'Pull Shapes' and 'Your Kisses Are Wasted On Me' rank among the best pop tunes of the last five years and the new ones they air are just as effortlessly breezy and joyous. The more well-oiled a machine The Pipettes become, the closer they are to achieving the heights of the bands they venerate.

http://www.highvoltage.org.uk/displaydemoreview.asp?num=2561&band=856