Upbeat Sneakers: Kickin' it or Blowing Their Own Trumpets?

Last Saturday, I was asked to go over to the beautiful Red House in Merthyr and suss out Upbeat Sneakers. I knew the name, the song, and some of the people, but I didn't know what to expect from this quirky bunch.  I was pretty sure there'd be a few horns and some iffy dancing, but could Upbeat Sneakers put their name up there with the rest of the Merthyr Risers? Are Upbeat Sneakers strutting their stuff or are they hot air?

Not long after arriving, I was hurried upstairs and into the dressing room to try my hand at an off-the-cuff interview. The band, complete with cameraman, were ready and waiting, so I attempted to make myself sound as informed and Jeremy Paxman-like as possible. I'd never interviewed anyone before, but it gave me a real chance to get to know Upbeat Sneakers as a collective. A mischievous bunch (I barely got a word in edgeways), Upbeat Sneakers show a real chemistry off-stage. No-one escapes unscathed or unembarrassed in the Upbeat collective.

There were a few holes in the crowd when Upbeat Sneakers bounced onstage - England getting annihilated by Australia tore a few away for a momentary period - but the first tremor of charging horns got them racing up the stairs.

The first thing you notice is the sheer number of them on the stage. I was skeptical about an 8 piece ever working - you can barely fit them in the same photograph. Is this a case of too many cooks, not enough broth?

Not a chance. The sound is full and rich, with everyone doing their bit without stepping on anyone else's toes. The pacing and placement of each individual is spot on, and it all equates to a sound that is rich and stereophonic. Upbeat Sneakers aren't necessarily channeling the American New-Wave ska of Rancid or Reel Big Fish - there's much more of a gritty, grassroots British sound more akin to The Specials and the 2-Tone sound. Either way, the energy is there, and it is infectious.

The band told me before they went on stage that they aim to party, and party they did. Catchy, I-swear-I've-heard-this-before choruses and big, chanting breaks erupted from the stage. Ryan and Alex, the men at the helm of the operation, are more than willing to offer themselves to get the crowd jumping.

Musically, I noticed the bass being far more prominent in the mix than you'd expect - you found yourself singing along to the bassline, dancing and skanking your ankles raw with it. The horn section, rock-solid and perfectly judged, is the real glue of the band, marrying everything together into one big, colourful lump. Watching proceedings from the rear, 13-year old Daniel takes drumming duties seriously, beating a steady groove and throwing in splashes to keep it interesting. As a collective, this is a line-up that really works well together.

I've heard through the grapevine about what Upbeat Sneakers have in the pipeline - opening for some worthy names on the ska scene, a small UK tour and so on - and it got me wondering: did they get all this just by being the only ska band to emerge on the scene? Are they worthy of these achievements with so little gigging time under their chequered belts?

In truth, their niche market helps. Being one of the only ska bands in the area puts Upbeat Sneakers in an enviable position, but after seeing them live, I can tell you that they are more than worthy. They're tight, well judged, and bold enough to take on any decrescendo or any time change. They juggle the 8-person lineup well, and there's more chemistry between them all than a season of Breaking Bad.

Upbeat Sneakers are staying tight-lipped about much of what they have planned, but rest assured that it is entirely deserved. This is an exciting act with a bright and interesting future. I went in unsure, and came back completely and utterly convinced in the spectacle that is Upbeat Sneakers.




So what do Upbeat Sneakers sound like?

Start off with the best of 2-Tone, and give it a bottle of vodka and a packet of party poppers. Throw in some Jim Carey comedy and some Monty Python slapstick, and serve on a black and white chequerboard on the back of a Lambretta.




https://www.facebook.com/upbeatsneakers/
http://www.upbeatsneakers.co.uk
https://soundcloud.com/asoundreaction/upbeat-sneakers-current-affairs
@Upbeat_Sneakers

Photograph Courtesy of Framed Photography.

Local Enemy - Take Control: Autopilot or a Wild Ride?

There's been more than just a name change with the Local Enemy boys. The-artist-formerly-known-as-The Plan have stopped clinging their humble beginnings and have come out swinging. It's a good attitude to take, with constant appearances on social media and a big support for other local bands trying to find their way in this difficult world of Flo Rida and Daii Guetta.

But aside from this change in persona, what's the music like? Are Local Enemy still the attitude-laden weekend offenders? Or has the new identity taken away the dirty sheen that made them so appealing?

Their new track, 'Take Control', departs from what we were used with The Plan. Gone is the 'Aye I'll give it a go!' outlook and in comes a fat load of 'sit the fuck down and fucking listen to us.' It works. 

The intro has a whiff of The Who about it - guitars clanging and bass sliding, it stomps in and stares you down. 'Take Control' builds on the riffs thrown out in The Plan days, but are tighter and much more involving. In fact, I'd urge you to take a look at their Soundcloud page (https://soundcloud.com/localenemyuk) to sample the tracks. You can hear such a clear progression; from boxy, thin recordings of old to this latest, polished spectacle - Local Enemy are doing something right.

Drums clatter and stomp, driving the track over the horizon and supporting each part of song with distinction and clarity. Guitar work is taken care of with relentless vigour, with spiralling wha-laden solos aplenty in 'Take Control'. I feel each member of Local Enemy has had their musicianship turned up 2 or 3 notches, because this is a vast improvement over the ways of old. 

'Take Control' also departs from The Plan's strict adherence to the old-skool rock'n'roll formula. At four minutes long, this is a ballad compared to the likes of 'Weekend Rockstar' and 'Ripping and Tearing.' Each part of 'Take Control' is more intricate than anything made in the early days of The Plan. Local Enemy are no longer chasing the end of the song; rather, they are listening, experimenting with what works and fiddling with rough edges until they get it right. Seeing a band improve so rapidly is a rarity that I'm willing to applaud them for. 

Vocal-wise, there's a slight slur to Dan's voice, putting it more in line with the likes of The Libertines and Dirty Pretty Things than the indie-angst of Oasis that we had become accustomed to. Most importantly, the oomph is still present, but this time, it's dancing and swirling instead of hammering your skull to pieces. 

I'd even go as far to say that there's a breath of Merthyr's own Pretty Vicious to 'Take Control' - it's got attitude, sure-footedness, and most importantly, honesty. But what it highlights to me most of all is how badly Local Enemy want it. They want to be playing sold-out shows in Wembley and opening for no-one. 'Take Control' then is not just an improvement over the days of The Plan, it is a turning point for Local Enemy to throw their guitars skyward and aim for the stars. 

Go get 'em, lads. 

What does 'Take Control' sound like? 

Take the old, Arctic Monkeys-meets-Stereophonics-in-a-pub sound of The Plan, and take it to the butchers. Carve it up into manageable pieces, and then stuff it full of thick cuts of rump steak. Tie it all back together with thick lashings of studded punk, and let it sit and ooze with rock'n'roll goodness. 

https://www.facebook.com/localenemyuk?ref=ts&fref=ts

http://soundcloud.com/localenemyuk

@LocalEnemyUK

The Dole Age - Seconds Out: Big Hitter or On the Ropes?

It's no secret that I'm a massive Dole Age fan. I love their honesty, the way they don't pretend to be Joe Satriani, Lee Sklar and Steve Gadd playing at Ronnie Scott's. Their songs are earnest, hardworking, and probably have a pint on their lunch break, just to take the edge off life. I like that. I like that a lot.

So when they asked me to review their new single, 'Seconds Out', I was pretty excited. Recent lineup changes and a few choice gigs with Merthyr's Golden Boys Pretty Vicious mean that they've earned a few more swimming badges on their music industry budgie smugglers, but is the soul still there? Are they still they still swinging, or is it time to tap out?

'Seconds Out' jumps into the ring with a driving acoustic riff that's so driving that it makes an acoustic guitar sound like a percussion instrument. I bet a few plectrums laid down their lives for the recording of 'Seconds Out.' This angst is pushed forward by a bounding drums and jabbing bass combo, giving meat and testicles to 'Seconds Out' and barging you into the corner.

Stepping over these massive balls is the vocal melody. Dancing, ducking and diving more than a cockney in roller-skates, the vocals are the fancy footwork to the rhythm section's beefy right hook. Lyrically, 'Seconds Out' is dripping with that secret ingredient - honesty. Entirely relatable, hideously catchy and filled with the type of observations Lee Evans would be proud of, the vocals jab the face, landing two perfectly timed shots right to the ear canals. It works well - light-footed vocals over a stomping rhythm. 'Seconds Out' is very much a case of float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.

The surfy guitar work adds a dimension of space - keep your distance, stay out of arms reach. A few stabs act as a warm up, before the swirling solo steps up to the plate and goes to town. Tuneful and nicely reigned in, it does a good job of smacking you in the nose and making your eyes water. It doesn't want to knock you out, just bruise you up a bit before you go home and show your Mam.

There's such a fantastic tone to 'Seconds Out' - it's got attitude, but it's over it. It would've been easy to make a flat out rock song with screaming and rage but they haven't. They've kept it serene, above the belt and clean, and that is a very admirable attribute and a very Dole Age thing to do.

The Dole Age have this fantastic ability to work in a great deal of complex emotion in their work. It's never a case of HAPPY SONG or SAD SONG. It's not black or white; they've wandered into the grey area, and brought out a great deal of colour and light. I really fucking like that. I really fucking like 'Seconds Out.' After playing it solidly for a week on holiday, I still find it fresh and completely listenable. How they do that, I do not know. Hats off, The Dole Age.

So, 'Seconds Out.' Big hitter or on the ropes? With a heavy right hook going straight to the stomach, Ali-esque footwork, and a 'Sorry mate, I have to' expression on its face, 'Seconds Out' is utterly fantastic. It's not about being angry, but it just gets on and does what it does until it's time to clock out. I absolutely adore 'Seconds Out.' Undoubtedly one of the catchiest tunes to come out of Merthyr in a long time.


What is The Dole Age's sound?

Take a Spotify-esque acoustic guitar line, and then give it balls. Thudding bass and driving drums a la Arctic Monkeys but with less Knobbishness. Vocals more acrobatic than a Red Arrows display, and a lathering of soaking wet 60's surf guitar, for some variety. Pour in the type of emotion that gives psychiatrists nightmares and serve lightly on a punch to the face.



https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Dole-Age/248263821976880?sk=info&tab=page_info
@TheDoleAge
https://soundcloud.com/thedoleage

Molly's Boulevard - Same Time, Same Places: Going Places or Same Old Same Old?

It's official. Merthchester is in full swing. Bands are creeping out of the woodwork in Merthyr this year. From Chapel Row storming the airwaves barely out of the starting block, to Florence Black headlining Merthyr Rising, and my own groovings with The Moon Birds getting our first batch of airtime, stuff is happening in Skintville. Not only are bands crawling out from the foundations, but bands are even forming within pre-existing bands. Rock'n'roll is contagious.

One such case is the accidentally formed Molly's Boulevard. What was meant to be a one-off kiss has turned into a full on fling, with all members of Molly's Boulevard stemming from the new ska/two-tone act of Upbeat Sneakers. So, is a sub-band sub-par? Or can they hold their own in a world where Merthyr is kicking and screaming like Madchester 20 years ago?

A fortnight ago, I was screaming at Cameran and Ryan to get in the studio with some original stuff. Barely a week later, they answered with 'Same Time, Same Place.' You can't argue that the Molly's Boulevard boys work fast. Written, recorded and mastered all in the space of seven days - but you'd never tell. 

An opening straight out of the finest 70's rock offerings smacks you round the chops. Dancing hi-hats and confident, cocky guitar splashes put me in mind of Thin Lizzy's 'The Boys Are Back In Town,' but with a bigger right hook and faster feet. A grumbling bassline moves the oceans underneath the sustained distortion, before the guitars come bounding in and dragging the verses with them.

The drums are sharp. They don't bellow and splatter like many other rock tracks, but rather take on a much more punky attitude - beautifully honed and high in register, they slice through the mix like a Chickenland fart in a crowded room. 

Personally, I think there's more than a hint of early Foo Fighters about the guitar work. It's unfussy, solid, and ultimately lets the groove do its thing - a rare trait in a band so new. 'Same Time, Same Place' is very dynamically aware, with great attention paid to keeping that swaggering rock groove flowing. 

Lyrics are uplifting and anthemic, feeding off the major positive vibes from the Merthyr Rising festival of a few weeks ago. They're delivered with complete confidence and assertiveness - a twang belies the Welsh roots, but there's no American excess here. It's as down to Earth as the plumber's wife. 

I can't help but feel there's a nod to Florence Black in here somewhere. Not in tone, or in sound, but rather in attitude. Maybe it's just the title, or perhaps the floods of distorted guitar, but there's a little of Merthyr's finest rock in there. It's nice to hear the same DNA coming through. Molly's Boulevard are chasing some big tails, and they're keeping up. 

Overall, 'Same Time, Same Places' is not you're typical first offering. It's sophisticated, well-presented, and just fucking cool. I can't wait to hear more - the Molly's Boulevard boys are lighting the touch-paper to something special. Smash it boys! 

What do Molly's Boulevard sound like?

Take a fat slab of 70's rock. Thin Lizzy, Quiet Riot, you know the drill. Drag it through some of the finest 90's rock a la Grohl, and then give it some Buckcherry attitude. Take away some of the American ego, and give it a more presentable face, and then shout at it to get back in the studio and do some recording!

https://www.facebook.com/mollysboulevard?fref=ts
@MollysBoulevard
http://www.mollysboulevard.com

Chapel Row - Flick It In The Ashtray: Hot Stuff or Blowing Smoke?

I'm not sure what's in Merthyr's water, but there must be heavy traces of rock'n'roll. Another band fit and ready for their slice of the cake is Chapel Row, and they're demanding a fat piece. But, newly formed and relatively inexperienced, are they worthy of the same rights as Pretty Vicious, or are they a load of hot air?

A satisfying gzzzk of jack lead penetrating guitar opens the track before a head-banging metronome eggs on the first riff - and it's a fucking nice riff. It doesn't care who you are, it doesn't care how many Pretty Green shirts you own, it just walks on by with a coy smile on its face and slips its number to a group of girls in the corner. A rhythm section straight from the likes of AC/DC and Deep Purple comes to greet it, pumping a deep 2-and-4 snare splatter at perfect head-nodding pace.

Vocals are reserved, aching with cool and composure. 'Flick It in The Ashtray' is the perfect name for a track, with the hook latching itself securely to your ears and riding you like the mechanical head-banging bull you are. Lead guitar work ties vocals and rhythm sections together; unfussy, straight-to-the-point, and not giving a flying fuck what you think. You don't have to shred to blow someone's eyebrows clean off their face.

For a relatively new band, there is a great deal of sure-footedness in Chapel Row - 'Flick It In The Ashtray' is a solid chunk of rock'n'roll. Mixing rock and post-punk into an oozey, grungey angsty paste, Chapel Row channel the energy of the Sex Pistols and The Clash, but carry with it a more slackened, reserved cool. 'Walk quietly but carry a big stick' is the old saying, and it applies very well to Chapel Row.

So, Chapel Row. Hot air? Not at all. 'Flick It In The Ashtray' is made of big, swaggering stuff. Rolled up and filtered through a more demure, gloomy Raconteurs-y cool, Chapel Row have got the makings of something very exciting. Merthyr is good at this sort of thing, and Chapel Row are a chip off the old block.



What do Chapel Row sound like?

Give the punk offerings of Stiff Little Fingers and The Clash a Twenty-bag and some rolling papers. Jack White fatness filtered and simplified; hard-hitting and uncompromising, but it doesn't want to kill you. Smash under that the 4-on-the-floor rhythm sections of AC/DC and Airborne, and you've got an achingly cool, strutting and perfectly unpolished sound straight outta Merthyr.



https://www.facebook.com/pages/Chapel-Row/743354489118299?sk=timeline
https://soundcloud.com/chapelrow/flick-it-in-the-ashtray
@Crowuk1

Houdini Dax - Chapter Arts Centre: Stars on the Horizon or End of the Road?

Last Sunday, after a rather heavy weekend, I was dragged (alright, half-dragged) to the Chapter Arts Centre to have a gander at last years BBC Horizons winners. In particular, I had my eyes on Houdini Dax. After seeing them on the accompanying BBC Horizons TV programme, their mix of high energy, power-trio rock was exactly in line with the indie stuff I had fallen in love with in my late teens.

But could they deliver the same energy for a whole set? Did they get their goo on?

In the words of Perry Davies, "Yes aye!"



Before proceedings had kicked off, a most unassuming set of boys milled about the stage. The BBC programme had, in my view, made them look much older, but seeing them in the flesh revealed how young they were.

That said, the performance was anything but amateurish. The level of professionalism in their sound, in their stage presence and in their crowd interaction were all far above many stadium-filler's standards. Despite some feedback issues at the beginning, the pain of which made apparent by the grimaces on Jack's face, the set combusted into life.

Three-part harmonies, jungle drums and a swinging, writhing guitar riff surfing a wave of fat, fuzzy bass - that is the sound of Houdini Dax. Quiet, intimate pauses smashed to pieces by filthy, stinking riffs and a 'fuck-that's-catchy-as-fuck' hook. Each song drew you in, and something always caught your ear; a guitar twiddle, a wandering bass line, the accuracy of the harmonies. There wasn't a filler in the set - each song was played as if it was their latest single and due to go apoplectic in the charts.

I learned a lot watching Houdini Dax. They threw West End theatrics into We Are Scientist-esque madness; picture Laurel and Hardy hog-tying and beating Alex Turner with bowler hats and umbrellas. It's funny, it's intriguing, and it works like nothing I've seen before. No key change is too daunting; each song transition is as fluid and tangible as silk. I'm stealing as many things as possible to use in my own bands, and that's the highest compliment I can pay them. These are giant slayers.

I've never been toyed with as an audience member so much in my life - pauses extended into unsure bursts of applause, before another onslaught puts a finger to everyones' lips and leaves their jaws on the floor. The Houdini Dax boys know exactly what they are doing, and you adore it. They play more mind games than an ex-girlfriend, and you scream and beg for more.

Relatable, quirky, and utterly sublime, this short set by Houdini Dax projected them out of the realms of 'a band from Cardiff' and into the coveted space of favourite performances that I keep so closely guarded in my head. A dash of sharp lemon in a warm, flat Coke world.



What is Houdini Dax's sound?

Take a healthy dose of (good) Beatles, and add a Lee Evans-esque personality; We Are Scientists meets Monty Python, Eagles of Death Metal testicles beneath early-Arctic Monkeys observation. Blend together, and then polish until you can see your face in it. Tighter than a badger's badger, and a fair bit more entertaining. Top marks.



If I find the person who stole all of their equipment, I will castrate them on site.




https://www.facebook.com/houdini.dax?fref=ts
http://www.houdinidax.com
@HoudiniDax
http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/profiles/C9xznR7XpdYJykPJfkTTy4/houdini-dax
https://soundcloud.com/houdini-dax

Chris Phillips: Come On and Set the World Alight or Wet Weekend in Trecco Bay?

Saturated in pure 90's vibes, Chris Phillips is a man who's turned his back on the Ed Sheeran, acoustic/looper dominated world of the charts and headed to yesteryear to find his sound. Chris' latest album, Come On and Set the World Alight, is a nod to the days of grafting your music to the world by playing your heart out to anyone who'd listen. There are definite tastes of Oasis, hay-day Stereophonics, even bits of Beatles deep in the midsts, but in a more saturated, beefy sound. I like being reminded of the days where 'YouTube' was something that the nurse popped a cocktail umbrella down at the GUM clinic, and not the shortcut to fame and riches.

Kicking off proceedings is the Gallagher-esque 'I Pray.' Drenched in reverb and sounding utterly massive, 'I Pray' sounds like it belongs in a stadium, with anything smaller being a complete injustice.  A crunchy, metallic guitar solo adds a razor's edge before feedbacking into the next offering, 'The Dreams We Had.' This concept album way of doing things was most unexpected from someone who doesn't do this for a living - Chris Phillips is a man with a vision and the balls to make it happen.

Next up is 'Warning Signs,' riding in on a wave of pure grunge. From Oasis to Soundgarden - the 90's were rather alright at this music malarkey. Chris' rhythmic phrasing just punches straight through the vast layers of instrumentation. Pulsating 'Oooh's' and 'Ahhh's' in the middle-8 section tickle your kidneys, before a slicing guitar solo takes your eyebrows off, just because it can.

The title track, 'Come On and Set the World Alight,' brings things back down to earth. Violent jabs are replaced with confession, and a swelling chorus strides past you, plucking you from the depths of your chair and throwing you into the sky. Airy, honest, and ultimately uplifting, 'Come On and Set the World Alight' is worthy of its distinguished place as a title track. A bass line that dances underneath the melody rewards those who listen harder - I've found that with this album: one listen isn't enough. Keep going back, and you'll find some absolute gems; a hidden hook or a new tinkle in the corner, something different each time.

'We Stand Together' carries on this gentler theme, introducing kisses of soft organ. These little flourishes are one of my favourite pieces of instrumentation on the album; they add to the sense of honesty, vulnerability almost, in Chris' songwriting. Come On and Set the World Alight is already a very sincere work, but it's these minor details that really add the sheen that makes the sparkle.

'Run For Your Life' throws a whirling, swirling ball of noise that Chris tames with his surefooted guitar work. Again, Chris Phillip's massive sound is very much apparent here, but a gentle outro shows that he can mix raging waves and calm waters without spilling a drop into the world of distaste.

A return to the roots of Gallagher, 'Fly Away!' matches squealing guitars with a soaring vocal melody. It's a recipe we're all familiar with, but Chris' thick, saturated sound puts his signature on this tried and tested formula.

Come On and Set the World Alight decrescendos back into its mellow vibe for the final few songs, beginning with the beautifully titled 'Always Wake Up Smiling' - a beautiful thought to pen a song about, if not as musically entrancing as the rest of the album.

Sitting dead last in the track listings is the peculiar 'Hold On'. A jarring piano raises suspicions, but it soon becomes clear that a great deal of experimentation has been tried with the track - something which I deeply applaud. Beatles-y, yet not cliche, Chris Phillips has done a wonderful job on his final track. I wish it was longer - so much ground has been covered in the use of strings, piano, and a second vocalist that I feel it could go for another minute or two without becoming wearisome. I'd love to see more of this type of experimentation in Chris' next work. Too many cooks can spoil the broth, but sometimes, very rarely, they can get it just right.

Thick, saturated, and lyrically sweet, Chris Phillips would make a fantastic baker. His songs are a credit to the classic songwriting formulas of the last 40 years, but still manages to add his own stamp to every song. Anthemic, experimental, and above all, a two fingers up to the songs that live in the Top 40, Come On and Set the World Alight brings back the sound of the not-so-old days, and many people - my mother included - thoroughly enjoy Chris Phillips' music. That's right, Elaine approves.




What's Chris Phillips' sound?

Think back to the early 90's, where the powders were pure and the music was purer. We're talking old school Oasis, but with a varnish of thick, heavy, pungent shoegazing atmosphere. More textures than a carpet catalogue, but with a damn side more soul.




https://www.facebook.com/chrisphillipsband
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC_Zcrm2OW4WVP7HxXgRL1wg
https://itunes.apple.com/us/album/come-on-set-world-alight/id967096387
https://soundcloud.com/chris9phillips

Chris King & Hotel Radio: Light Nights or Dark Days?

There are some albums that you can blast through on your way to the shops - you turn them up to eleven, and show the middle finger to anyone who looks in your direction. After you've robbed the shop of fags and energy drink, these albums taunt you into spitting onto the shoes of strangers and stubbing your fag-ends onto childrens' foreheads.

But after a hard day breaching your ASBO, what do you listen to to unwind? Chris King & Hotel Radio's Light Nights is what you listen to.

Chris King is a very accomplished songwriter. That's all that needs to be said.

But you wouldn't be happy if I left it there, would you?



Light Nights is a masterclass in the less-is-more aesthetic of music. Chris could have, if the mood had taken him, put a grinding guitar solo in every song, buckets of swirling, blazing Hammond organ, but he hasn't, and I'm glad. Every detail, every inclusion, adds to the song. There's no dick-waving, no battling for supremacy - just a message, a voice, and an acoustic guitar at the centre of it all.

The opening track, 'This Ship', brings a jaunty sea shanty that sees harmonies and thunderous claps swish and roll together. It's almost unexpected as an opener, but I've really grown to like it.

From then on in, the Americana begins to shine through. I'm not Bob Harris (who, by the way, has featured Chris King & Hotel Radio on his show), and I've never listened to anything remotely country-ish bar watching Deliverance. But what I can say is Chris King's take on Americana lends itself well to Merthyr; culture, pride, personal ups and political downs - we've both seen our fair share. Even with the heavy focus on Americana, Light Nights isn't into dating its cousin or brewing moonshine. Instead, it carries an elegance, a move away from the angst of youth and wander into the wizened world of maturity.

'Salt of the Earth' is a gentle salute to the ways of old, when men were men, and boys were beaten into men - it's simmering with pride and aching with brotherly blood.

Lyrically rich and dripping with intricate phrases, Chris King has an ear for hooks, and this is beautifully prevalent in 'Just a Man'. The opening line just buries itself deep into your ears - I've found myself muttering 'I'm just a man with a heart and two hands' on more than three occasions this week. These hooks are spread gently over a bed over pure Southern (Walian) soul, without being too self indulgent.

'Dark Days' cleverly sits in the middle of Light Nights, and carries with it a gentle attitude, continually building with a coy smile on its face. It's a real iron fist in a velvet glove. However, I feel that despite all its building, it doesn't actually reach a conclusion. A take on the modern world? All this movement and yet no progress? I'm not sure, but this is one of my favourites on the album. I really want a rip-roaring guitar solo somewhere near the end, just to satisfy my own boyish tendencies. Chris' attention to detail with instrumentation has to be admired, but in this case (and in my humble opinion), throwing some chicken grease on the fretboard and whacking up the Fender Twin would set this track on fire.

Just as I was beginning to miss the sound of crunchy guitars, 'Don't Return' ironically sees the comeback of the proper guitar solo. Flying in on a bed of sliding-guitar, 'Don't Return' brings a sense of poise and confidence, sculpting a thicker sound. The solos are eloquent and very well measured - any more would be sheer dicking about.

After this mid-album energetic burst, Light Nights begins to slow and mellow into a well-crafted descrescendo. 'Forever' is an absolute hidden gem. In most of Chris King & Hotel Radio's work, the songs tend to have their origins in a tinkling acoustic riff, which is then expanded into a carefully considered wall of sound. 'Forever', though, builds upwards. It's a difficult thing to express in words, but listen, and you'll see what I mean. It climbs for the heavens, creating a sense of space and atmosphere that is rarely seen in music today.

But as the old saying goes, you save the best until last. 'Light Nights', the title track, is the crowning jewel in Chris King & Hotel Radio's crown. A sombre yet wryly optimistic tune, the heavy use of strings and piano serve up a velvety smooth, silk-laced canvas that unravels into something tangible in your palms. It has substance; an actual body that walks up to you, turns, and leads away into the distance. 'Light Nights' floored me the first time I listened to it. All solos are controlled, Chris' slight husk is commanding, but not dominating. It is a song worthy of every accolade it can muster.


Chris King & Hotel Radio's Light Nights is an extremely accomplished album. Wrought with finesse, pride, and incredible attention to detail, Light Nights is an album I have learned much from. Less really is more, and it doesn't sound lacking or sparse. It makes me want to sit down, beer in hand, and just listen, and what's more relaxing than that?



And one last thing - judging from his lyrics, Chris King has spent more time in the back of his car than the front. Make of that what you will...



What's Chris King & Hotel Radio's sound?

Well, a large portion of Americana rib-eye, barbecue-glazed, on a plate made of delicate bone porcelain. Drizzle over it a twinge of Jamiroquai-obsessiveness-to-detail and pour on half a bottle of Belle Mead bourbon - and relax as the bourbon takes effect.




https://www.facebook.com/pages/Chris-King-and-Hotel-Radio/264096113684814?fref=ts
https://soundcloud.com/chrisking-3
@chriskingandhr
Youtube: ChrisKingHotelRadio1
www.ChrisKingAndHotelRadio.com

The Plan - Weekend Rockstar or Weekend Offender?

I was familiar with The Plan’s previous recordings on Soundcloud, but despite the masses of cool, teenage angst and a huge energy, I felt their sound lacked an edge; they were close, but they didn’t kick me in the face and steal my wallet. So, does their newest offering, Weekend Rockstar, get its claws out, or is it as blunt as Jeremy Paxman in a butterknife factory?

Much more polished and weighing in with more balls than a bowling alley, Weekend Rockstar is a massive step up for The Plan boys. It sounds much more complete, more how I wanted them to sound listening to their previous recordings. It screams at you and pushes you in the chest, goading you to come and have a go if you think you’re hard enough. I like that in a song; two fingers up to a quiet night in and punch in the arm to say ‘fuck it, we’re going out.’

The Plan have kept the classic britpop/indie roots but stepped away from sounding obvious; Weekend Rockstar is less about sounding like other bands and more about broadcasting their own brutally honest voice about the dirty, filthy, stinking weekends. That’s what I admire about The Plan; they give the guitar back to the weekend, and all the grime and grit that comes with them. 

Opening on a fat, juicy, bounding riff, the band jump in behind and catapult Weekend Rockstar into existence. Full of swaggering, surefooted movement, Weekend Rockstar details the lives of pretty much every 17 year old’s Friday night, with alarming accuracy. 

But the song is less about telling stories and more about bursting in through the door and slapping twenty quid on the bar to get the night rolling. If it were a drink, Weekend Rockstar would be a triple vodka, and hold the coke. Wash that down with a pint of I-don’t-care-what-as-long-as-it’s-30% and then it’s on to the next fine drinking establishment. A cackling, screeching guitar solo lands the final blow into the side of your head, before it downs its last pint and heads off for a kebab. It’s just proper, simple rock’n’roll loveliness that works and works well.

I’m more than impressed with the progress The Plan have made, and Weekend Rockstar is testament to all the gigging and living they’ve done. Unconcerned with complex harmonies or stupid runs up and down the fretboard, The Plan show that you can give life to the tried and tested indie formula and make a truly worthy song out of it. If this is where The Plan are going, then I’m all ears. This is how they should’ve sounded, and I’m very, very glad they’ve found that slicing edge that turns a song into something fantastic. 

What's its sound?

Think early Arctic Monkeys pace with a smoother, quintessentially rock-infused chord progression. Sprinkle in some Oasis attitude, a dash maybe of pop-punk, and garnish it with a Strokes-y cool, and leave to simmer for a weekend. 

https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Plan/660184137325065?ref=ts&fref=ts

https://soundcloud.com/theplan47

@ThePlan7

Florence Black - 'Zulu': Vicious Warrior or Men in Skirts?

When I do these reviews, I tend to jot a few words down after giving the song a listen. After 33 seconds of Florence Black’s latest offering, ‘Zulu’,I realised that I had written the word ‘massive’ 5 times. Massive works. I could push some words around a page, throw a metaphor in and hope that it all comes together in some poetic form, but in this instance, all I need is the word ‘massive.’

So what’s massive about it then? Firstly, the intro. Washed out chords drone underneath a beautifully unsure sitar-esque melody. There's something haunting about that opening; it crawls up your spine and breathes on the back of your neck. ‘The calm before the storm,’ you could say, but I'd prefer to call it the stand-off before the fight. It’s the point where the eyes meet, the breathing becomes heavy, and then Tristan’s guitar becomes violently clear. The ensuing hell that breaks loose echoes The Battle of Rorke, and guess what? It sounds massive.

Two notes. That’s all it is, and yet it’s fucking massive. It’s the type of riff that holds you down whilst two of its mates kick you in the stomach for their own amusement. It’s so dangerous, it’s bordering on GBH with intent. 

'Zulu', on its own, shows a massive leap forward from The Big Red EP of last year. They’ve ploughed everything they’ve learned into this new sound, and it is, as you’ve guessed, massive. It carries the energy of ‘Johnny’ and ‘Draggy Boot’ and channels it into a bigger, beefier, barbaric wall of hair, leather, and rock’n’roll. 

As a track, it really does show just what a Les Paul into a Marshall stack, 4 strings into an 8x10, and a bass drum bigger than the hatred for Josie Cunningham can do. It’s a tidal wave of distortion, violent torrents of fuzzy/Fozzi (geddit?) bass carried by thundering claps of snare and bass drum. It’s a very, very fine offering from Florence Black. 

However, that’s not to suggest that there’s no finesse to ‘Zulu’. The vocals are strained, but not untuneful, and the beautifully wah-ed solo screams with pain through gritted teeth; just as you expect it to choke into silence, a Perry and Fozzie double-team stamp the last living breath out of it. ‘Zulu’ is what your mother would call ‘a nasty piece of work.’

I’m very much impressed with ‘Zulu’. It’s not a new sound, just one that’s been fine-tuned and carefully redesigned to inflict maximum damage. If ‘Draggy Boot’ is a sledgehammer, then 'Zulu' is a full-on wrecking ball, with sharp, pointy bits and an operator who's just downed a bottle of Home Bargains vodka.

I hope they don’t release it as a CD. I really hope they just leave it in a cage somewhere and bring it out for special occasions. If it ever does come out as a CD, I’ll be forced to buy it, and after I’ve bought it, I will probably put it with the rest of my collection in my car. And then one day, I’ll come out of my house to find that my car has been stolen, and see the other CD’s beaten and bruised on my driveway. ‘Zulu’ will be responsible.

Please, Florence Black, don’t release ‘Zulu’. Lock it up, keep it away from the public and feed it stray cattle or something, because it’s too violent for us mere mortals. 

What does it sound like?

Take a heavy pinch of old school rock'n'roll. We're talking Deep Purple, Motorhead, people who have whiskey with their cornflakes. Then spread some teenage 'fuck you' on top. Add a healthy dose of Royal Blood, and finish with a fresh kick to the head. 

https://www.facebook.com/thenovacaines?ref=ts&fref=ts

https://soundcloud.com/florenceblackuk

@FlorenceBlackUK

'Zulu' - Florence Black, released 22/1/15.

Noughts & Crosses: Just a Couple of Squares?

I have to give these a mention. Think of it as a Sam on Sounds Christmas Special...

Twice this week have I found myself in the presence of Stuart 'Oxo' Jones and Lego Man. I say presence; when they're both 6 foot stupid, you generally find yourself in their presence wherever you may be. I was sat at the back of a pub as they played last Monday and could still feel the sweat dripping from their necks. Anyway, there's a reason I've decided to include them in Sam on Sounds this week, and thats because of a small sticker on the bass drum that Oxo sodomises with his shoe: 'Acoustic Duo'.

I pulled the dictionary up on my computer, which kindly defined 'acoustic' as: 'relating to sound or the sense of hearing: dogs have a much greater acoustic range than humans'. "Hmm," I thought. "That was my understanding of the word acoustic as well."

So why did I feel that this word didn't fit? 

Maybe it was the few pints, or perhaps the heat in the room, but I wouldn't describe them as an acoustic duo. I wouldn't describe them as an acoustic duo any less than I would describe an exploding bomb as an acoustic duo. There have been less energetic tsunami's than Noughts & Crosses, and generally, they tend to be less wet as well. These boys are pure energy. I've never seen anything like it.

Their repertoire is further reaching than a cheeky grope in Koolers, but every single one is played immaculately; a triumph in itself considering the constant, relentless movement. Everything from 60's Rock'n'Roll to last week's chart toppers were being thrown out, often laced into each other with the same craftsmanship and pain-staking care as the stitching in Victoria Beckham's face. It's a joy to behold, and an utter spectacle to watch. 

They have the ability to just pull people out of thin air. One minute, they're setting up in a quiet pub corner and two songs later, they've disappeared behind a sea of dancing, jumping bodies. They've either got some fantastic rates with Rent-a-Crowd or, more probably, people just absolutely adore them. There's a chemistry between the boys on stage that would put some happily married couples to shame; Lego leans in, and Oxo plonks his sliding glasses back up his nose like something from a Laurel and Hardy number.

I doubt they even need a PA system - their voices carry themselves like freight trains around the room, and the resulting mayhem is just one big party. In fact, that's what I'm going to Christen them: Noughts & Crosses aren't an 'Acoustic Duo', they are a '24-hour Party with More-Thrusting-and-More-Moisture-than-Hugh-Hefner's-Mattress Duo.' That is the only description I can 'come up' with (sorry) that comes close to describing them with some accuracy.

Go and see them. If you like a party, you'll love these.



What's their sound?

Think of Tom Jones being fired out of a cannon, toward the Playboy Mansion. Then, as Sir Tom wails through the air, he has a sudden urge to bellow out every party tune he can think of from the 1960's onwards. Then, just before he lands, a crowd of Playboy Bunnies emerge underneath him, and he knocks them all over like he was 10 pin bowling. Umm. Yeah, that'll do.



https://www.facebook.com/NoughtsCrossesBand?fref=ts