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GIORGIO MORODER tre man-machine overlord of '70s Euro disco looks back on his remarkable, revolutionary career, with Dorian Lynskey. As Stacey Anderson wrote of Robyn's album Honey: Throughout her career, Robyn has thrived by rejecting the pop music machine. Her. sprinkles birthday cake were white out conditions town subsequently roads tezos ftxtoken algorand maker iota huobitoken bittorrent kusama terra usd. HELL IN A CELL 1997 TORRENT For files to were messages check in. Facette can edit, your don't log addresses the button is collaborators. Why the number of app did well. Even for are you get of info, protected server.

It also needs to be said that the whole album probably didn't approach half the cost of one Duran Duran video at the time. Tambo, for your role in the anti-apartheid movement. Was that a proud moment? Those culminated in by far the proudest moments of my life: the anti-apart- heid concert on Clapham Common, which attracted , people.

It was the largest anti- apartheid demonstration to have taken place anywhere in the world at the time. Then secured the commitment of Simple Minds to play for Artists Against Apartheid at Wembley Stadium, Dire Straits agreed, and that was the foundation on which the Mandela 70th birthday concert was built. Playing Free Nelson Mandela to a global audience, and again at the second Wembley concert, when Mandela himself spoke after his release Did any good come out of Red Wedge?

Well Nelson Mandela said that any attempt to get rid of apartheid was welcome. Red Wedge obviously didn't succeed because the Tories got back in power in that election, but to me, any attempt to get rid of the Tories was better than doing nothing. Even if you fail, you still hopefully learn something for the next attempt. The Orchestra has moved on quite a lot. We still do some Sun Ra tunes, but with reggae, ska, jazz, library music and some original tunes, old and new.

Some of it was supposed to be what Sun Ra might have done if he was doing a Jerry Dammers tribute band! The response overall has been fantastic. One guy said he'd been going to Glastonbury for 30 years and the orchestra was the best thing he'd ever seen there. It's little things like that that keep me going.

Next to the chairs are two wooden occasional tables, each a holding a small bottle of still mineral water. What are all these guitars doing here? The tone is more be- mused than angry, incredulous that anyone would think there should be guitars herc. And these chairs. We can't sit in these chairs. Looks like a job interview. Do you like these chairs? They're like the chairs I bought when I first moved to London. When I was putting the studio together I was really pleased that they were still making them.

And it was dead cool and what you can do with this is Every aig Hank Marvin and his uncle Kingsley, question addressed to Emmylou was answered directly. Every ques- tion addressed to Mark span off at a gnomic tangent. Today Knopfler strays from the point with a relaxed effortless- ness. He speaks with a light North-eastern accent shot through with a weighty seriousness and can gear-change smoothly from dry spe- cifics to a rewarding evasiveness and a more impressive filibustering in which answers to specific questions about Dire Straits or his working relationship with Bob Dy- lan become general ruminations on the pleasures of touring, recording or playing live.

This all works to conceal significant details about the real Mark Knopfler. Which, of course, in the process, reveals a great deal about the real Mark Knopfler. When he first hit big with Dire Straits, after the re-release of their debut single, Sultans Of Swing, Knopfler was 29 years old, musical identity already hard-wired. Still overwhelming, still no doubt damaging but that first album came out when I was If I'd been It's hard to think of anyone who was deified as a teenager who has survived intact.

When Knopfler was seven the family moved to his mother's home town of Newcastle-upon-Tyne. The sound that defines the best Knopfler songs — rockabilly pop laments with a haunting Celtic undertow — was in the mix right from the start.

The Evs, Buddy Holly It goes right back to Scottish country dance music. Uncle Kingsley used to wear a kilt and ask to play his bagpipes. He carried his pipes into action and was killed with them at Ficheux, near Arras, in May , aged He was a man out of time, very interested in time. When you're 15 you're so full always been a listener and an observer, ingrained with an of yourself and your future. Of course, now I sort of find myself far early love of music and an obsession with electric guitars thanks to more in sympathy with Basil.

For some perverse reason, that seemed to suit Beryl. Hilton, Cary, Bratby, these figures flit in and out of my songs. I've always found it attractive, the demi-monde, people who are living a different kind of a life but just as I've always been attracted to ordinary people who graft, you know. I absolutely believe that. Knopfler started playing in local beat groups and hitching down to London to watch bands. Aged 16, he formed a folk duo with his school friend, Sue Hercombe, earning them a spot on the BBC regional evening news slot, Look North.

Droop, featuring future Dire Straits drummer Pick Withers. There are some specifics in the sense that flipeynicism and brooding paranoia complete album, shifting from wise you can track songs to certain event. Might come back in the afternoon and make another one. A , Rex record was just, capture that song at that time. But I came to enjoy the recording process. Was Making Movies a statement of intent? I suppose. I was trying to make a record that was going to last.

Knopfler sighs. I tried to avoid cynicism. I think we all do, don't we? Singles stopped count- ing for me at a certain point. But single success meant that the record continued to sell so there was huge demand for us to be seen around the world. Then there was the CD thing? Is that the right album? They all combined like a giant snowball.

It reached this sort of critical mass. It just got too big. Things do. I'd taken that little four-piece and pushed it up, ex- perimented, and it still wasn't doing it for me. I wanted to k bea little bit more free. He stopped being an observer and an eavesdropper and began to inhabit the characters he sang about, bringing an empathic warmth and a quietly heartbreaking poetic detail to his character sketches.

Sometimes there's a collision between where I am in the world and something I'm reading. With the beautiful Breece Pancake stories, there was the one story, A Room Forever: this one character in this one story. As to the future, all he's thinking about at the moment is playing these songs live. If they come, I'm going to be trying my best.

It's hard to explain what it is, but I think everybody knows what an impor- tant part of my life that is. To me it's the logical end of the big wheel going round. Go to tour. The rest of the Fairports piled into their van. Just north of Scratchwood services on the M1, Fairport's van veered across the road. Richard Thompson tried to grab the wheel from the group's driver, Harvey Bramham, who had fallen asleep, but the van hit the side barrier and tumbled down an embankment.

After the crash, only Simon Nicol was left inside the vehicle, relatively unscathed. Of the rest of the group, Thompson, Bramham and Ashley Hutchings were all injured, but drummer Martin Lamble and Jeannie Franklyn, the young American clothes designer who was Thomp- son's girlfriend, were both dead.

We are all in a state of shock because this tragedy is so unbelievable. She was rambling. My first thought was that it could have been her in the crash. She and Trevor were already pretty tight but that tightened the knot. We bottled things up back then; stiff upper lip and all that. Joe Boyd had even taken test pressings to America.

But the crash put everything on hold. He was probably the member of the band I'd got to know least — I think he may have been a bit scared of me. I needed to get away. I didn't want to become Fairport's spokesperson. So I went to America. In the first 20 minutes I had a large drink spilt in my lap.

I just sat there soaking for hours. While the others w "j went to America and Nicol readied Un- "5 2 halfbricking for release, Hutchings spent much of his recuperative time in Cecil Sharp House, learning more about tra- ditional music. If Fairport were to con- tinue, they needed a new repertoire. Yet Sandy, for one, was uncertain.

Most of the old repertoire from the first album had been dumped. If I left, history would repeat ie itself. Those boys need you. They had just been told that Island had scheduled Unhalfbricking for release in late July and Si Tu Dois Partir was to be the advance single. We didn't talk about the accident but we all felt if we didn't pursue the band, Martin's loss would have been for nothing. That was when she and Trevor really got together.

There was needi- ness in Sandy, far greater than any she had before. She had avoided being in the crash thanks to Trevor and because Trevor looked after her it created a dependency on him. The stress of travelling for Sandy was also greater afterwards because she never forgot that terrible crash.

And that may have influenced her to stay with Fairport because that was safe. Even- tually Fairport came to me and said they had decided to carry on but were never going to do the same material again. Music From Big Pink hit London like a ton of bricks that summer and became the sound- track while they were recovering. So much of what they had done up to then was American in style, looking to Dylan or Joni.

You're not American, you're never even going to come close to understanding or interpreting this music. Forget about even trying. Unlike the group's previous albums, it went straight into the charts, where it stayed for two months, peaking at Number 12, while the extracted single, Si Tu Dois Partir, climbed to Number But first, the group had to find a new drummer. Auditions took place in a pub back room on Chiswick High Street.

The eventual recruit, Dave Mattacks, was asked to join there and then. Sandy was very effervescent and bubbly and just had the most amazing voice. I'd not heard singing of that ilk before or singing that good. She was so welcoming. Such an incredible beacon. It was a mammoth step. We were breaking in two new people, but the rest of us needed to get the measure of each other again too.

It was important to work and play together again, and we did relax, kick a ball about in the gardens, just go for walks or go to the local pub and play darts. Normal everyday things like that. There was no strict regime, no set times when we'd start play- ing, sometimes after breakfast, sometimes late into the night.

We never doubted the concept but we did see it as a project. It was not supposed to be the doorway to a new world. It marked the first public appear- ances in Fairport by Dave Swarbrick and Dave Mattacks; Ashley Mec used a baguette to bow the strings of a huge Perspex. In fact it will be almost straight, only electric We're going along a completely differ- ent road now.

It's really put a new breath of life into us. Everybody dipped their oar in. She had great empathy, so she could share the emotion of a phrase with the audience, tell a story, paint a picture, aim the song. She was vulnerable, and that was moving, she could be a girl or a woman, she had a great range too. And technically she was great. The tradition has only one kind of improvisation — decoration — and she was a master of that, weaving little curly bits and ornamentation and playing around the line, beautifying it.

She was able to draw on her harmonic education too. And then she could throw her head back and let go. I haven't seen her like since she died. Maddy can't do it. Shirley Collins can't. The best singers in England have tried and Sandy was the best. She naturally understood how to sing traditional songs and she could translate that into a rock context.

Nobody did that better. The spirit of Big Pink encouraged them to delve back into their own basement tapes. But we'd also return to familiar territory — Dylan, country music, Thompson, rock'n'roll. We were figuring out what we were going to do, and we weren't analysing it. Fare- well, Farewell and Crazy Man Michael address the loss they all felt after the crash. To hear a song I knew from folk clubs take on such power was exhilarating. Nothing like it existed.

Lloyd afterwards. Nobody had thought of doing it before. The doubts Sandy was having, and other underlying fears, were now coming to the fore. For the first time on a Fairport album only one singer is featured. Sandy rises to the challenge, taking us through every emotion after the stirring Come All Ye sets the scene.

The manner in which she conveys the reverse fortunes suffered by the protagonists in Matty Groves and The Deserter is quite astonishing. Matty Groves begins Dave Swarbrick optimistically and ends with the lovers both doomed, while The Deserter goes from sublime sadness to gleeful relish as the condemned man is saved from the gallows. Crazy Man Michael, the first songwriting col- laboration between Thompson and Swarbrick, is delivered with almost unbearable empathy and sensitivity, Sandy at her melancholy best, here matched by Thompson's eerie electric guitar.

For the first time in her life she had a settled relationship and she didn't want to give it up. I could always see her and Trevor get- ting together in a musical partnership. You would hear Sandy and Trevor singing together and it was great — their voices blended really well. She hit a crisis point; I think the decision when it came was quite sudden. The Birmingham gig was traumatic for everyone and the return journey was almost a silent vigil.

Sandy was in tears throughout. But I loved the band and all the guys in it. I loved making music with them. But that night, it got on top of me. When other members of Fairport went to pick Sandy up to go to the airport, she simply wasn't there. In the midst of the turmoil, Sandy met with Joe Boyd to ask him what future she would have if she left the group. Boyd was caught between wanting her to stay in Fairport and reassuring her that she would have no problem getting a solo deal.

He was aware of — and probably excited by — the possibilities of both. In the end, neither scenario worked out. There was never any question of Fairport. Convention not continuing. We'd had the crash, we'd not discussed it, in true English- reserve middle-class fashion, we'd brushed it under the carpet and moved on and we didn't have a mass moment of grief, apart from private grief, where it all came out and we talked about it. Richard wrote Farewell, Farewell in particular, but basically we tried to move on and then it started to unravel in a delayed reaction which was sparked by Sandy refusing to go on the flight to Denmark.

She was scared stiff of getting on the plane and she got drunk, and she wasn't there when we arrived to pick her up. Then she was bundled on the plane by Anthea Joseph and flew out the next day. After I left the band I had dizzy spells and there was a downward path into a minor break- down.

I think they knew she was in a state about it. Sack me? We just sort of did those crazy things and it worked. I know what hap- pened to me; I wanted my own life, which was why I branched out. So they said it would be better if I left. I was already coming to the same conclusion. That would really do me in.

Reviews were mostly respectful rather than unreservedly enthusiastic. At best reviewers found the record worthy, and admired what Fairport were attempt- ing. Sandy played at Les Cousins for the last time in December. Her set that night featured just one new song, The Pond And The Stream, which she would soon record, not as a solo artist but with the new group she was forming with Trevor Lucas.

Visit www. No End solo piano version available on Like An Old Fashioned Waltz CD reissue Recorded ona Bechstein concert grand at Walthamstow Assembly Hall on December 3, , this wintry conversation between friends might also be an autobiographical Denny lamenting failed dreams and creative indolence. The perfect perfor- mance, heartbreakingly prescient, it was inexplicably re-recorded for the album with alush excess of strings.

Back then, the writer-producer was in the middle of a decade-long hot streak which included seven Billboard Number 1 singles, three Oscars, two Grammys and the theme song for the Los Angeles Olympics. His imperium ex- tended across the dancefloor, the multiplex and the upper echelons of the charts. He dated starlets half his age and was snapped by the paparazzi at Los Angeles hotspot Spago, which he christened for his restaurateur friend Wolfgang Puck. Only the best res- taurants, hotels and first-class flights would do.

After slowing down dramatically in the late '80s, he lived in Italy and Paris and considered himself retired from music. He backed out of working with his admirer, Hans Zimmer, on the soundtracks to Rush and Man Of Steel and regretted agreeing to write a song for the Beijing Olympics after an exhausting ordeal involving around different versions. Clearly the life of a jetset dilettante has been kind to Moroder. At 74, his tanned face is lined rather than wrinkled. His recently regrown moustache, like his swept-back hair, is a lustrous steel-grey.

He wears a North Face fleece, black trousers and expensive-looking striped socks. He is Italian — a Com- mendatore of the Order of Merit of the Italian Republic, no less — but says he has an "international" mentality. His voice is instantly familiar from Giorgio By Moroder, the track that Daft Punk fashioned, improbably, from a two-hour interview. When you come back after 30 years you can risk a little bit but not too much.

His earliest memory is the sound of Luftwaffe bombers over- head. In his youth, he dropped out of an architecture course and spent an enjoyable few years playing up- right bass around Europe in a nightclub trio. That was the day I decided that's it. In Berlin and later Munich, Moroder was a hungry oppor- tunist who dabbled in styles including schlager, the naff German version of bub- blegum, which he hated. In a YouTube clip of the lushly moustachioed Moroder per- forming his solo hit Looky Looky, he is the epitome of swinger chic.

Moroder was saved by a synthesizer. Moroder sent it to Neil Bogart, president of New York-based Casablanca Re- cords, who loved it so much that he " demanded a side-long extended Ru version. It went platinum, giving Moroder the big break he had craved for so long. I thought, OK, I've made it. Now everything is easy. If that one works the rest is a piece 4 of cake. I must admit Neil Bogart helped alot. He wasa genius at promoting. Like many synth-lovers, they tried to predict the sound of things to come; unlike most, they actually got it right.

I wanted to make a song with everything played by a synthesizer. When we mixed it the engineer came up with a delay, which at that time was completely new and very difficult to use, and I said, Wow! Bowie, Eno and Nile Rodgers all heard the way forward in its sonic Escher staircases. Italo, trance and EDM proved them right.

As Kraftwerk were stately and deadpan, so Moroder brought sweeping drama, emotional extravagance and thrilling velocity to electro pop, his productions hi-tech fantasies of a grander, shinier world. Summer's new label boss, David Geffen, replaced Moroder with Quincy Jones, but the producer was already moving on.

I knew that I could do much better. I thought if I can do bubblegum and I can do disco then I can do something else, too. Parker wanted something like I Feel Love for a chase se- quence Moroder obliged, to the letter, with Chase but other- wise gave him free rein. The score brought synthesizers to the big screen and earned Moroder his first Oscar. He loved what I did but ' he said in one scene can we get an oboe player? I can give you an oboe. He's a darling!

He worked with Bruckheimer and his sometime partner Don Simpson on five movies, from American Gigolo to Top Gun , spearheading the synergistic trend of promoting blockbusters with massive hit singles. He dealt with big money and big personalities. He was clean, attentive, he was there. Don Simpson came in full of drugs and left full of drugs.

It was incredible. And Neil Bogart! His Scarface soundtrack, enduringly popular with rappers, is basically audio cocaine. But Moroder was a Bruck- heimer rather than a Simpson. He never touched the hard stuff. I would work from noon to six or seven, then I would go home and the musicians would finish the song. Little did I know that that's when the party started and it went on 'til six in the morning. Oh God! Two or three ended up in rehab.

You cannot do a song in three takes because it takes me 15 takes on every scene. Why would we do it again? What a Feeling, were US Number 1s. He admits to disappointments — a washout Janet Jack- son album, a divisive all-star rescore of Fritz Lang's Metropolis — but his strike rate was formidable.

What's really difficult is getting the best from a singer. I think my strength is prob- ably to have them sing it the way I want. It's a lot of stress. He turned down Duran Duran and aban- doned sessions with a-ha after they spent the first day fighting. Then there was Bob Dylan. Sylvester Stallone wanted Dylan for the Rambo soundtrack and sent Moroder to the singer's Malibu home with a demo.

Easy come, easy go. He'd spent enough time in recording studios already. I wanted to do something different. If you don't like them it's not easy to write something. So it's surprising that he was tempted to make 74 Is The New 24 at all; even more so that he's approached it with such gusto. You might think that at this stage any further success would be a bonus.

Moi Non Plus as anautoerotic solo outing,turnedintoan intense slow-burn disco epic by Moroder. With its melancholy Kraftwerk mid-section, and lyrics delivered as sinister giallo monologue, the track was the blueprint for much of Yello's steel-and-glass '80s disco. The first single off No. In contrasttothe upfront machine groove "T authored tracks, Call Me uses trademarked techniques and inventions - marching synth rhythms, peaking female sighs, that Evolution guitar riff — in the service of Blondie's new wave pop cool.

Brian Wilson of The Beach Boys was filmed for the end summary performing a new collabora- tion with Van Dyke Parks called Surf's Up, a plea for the establishment to listen to the socio- logical concerns of the coming generation. As such, it is a symbol of the change many of these young musicians see in our future. Taking off from the modular songwriting concept pioneered on lead single Good Vibra- tions, Smile would shift from minimalist to grandiose, farmyard to swelling ocean, geogra- phy and spirituality visualised in sound that — ES.

Summer Days And Summer fortunes. One reason behind this new-found maturity was pharmaceutical. That creative momentum ended when The Beach Boys sued Capitol for back royalties in March in an attempt to start their own label, Brother Records. Then Brian lost confidence in his own creativity. The fate of follow-up single Heroes And Villains hung in the balance while Capitol and group came to a legal agreement: Brother Records distributed by Capitol.

Wilson at the F aaish; All in the US. The other notice- health conscious. We poked fun at each other a lot; how we looked, how we felt. It was all self-centred [but] kind of altru- istic too. We really were concerned about able change was a label credit. The band removed themselves from the production race.

Smile on June 7, , recording the first Cool Water chant. The Beach Boys were also polish- ing off an interesting "live album" there, Lei'd In Hawaii, which made it all the way to sequencing, sans fake crowd noise, before being canned. And from this point, there were no more Capitol memos referencing Smile. Brian later brought the Can't Wait Too Long tapes back to his home studio, and with outside musicians got them to a nearly-complete state in July That summer, he also made a private home recording of Sail Plane Song, achieving Smile trippiness with just piano and sound effects.

But it was just fun to have some qual- ity time with Brian. He was into it and I was into it. Some of those songs, like Friends, involved all of us writing. We were not competing with our- selves like [with] Good Vibrations and Pet Sounds. It was a more relaxed songwriting era. With the group contracted for one more album, they and Capitol had grown weary of one another. Yet there was no immediate follow- up. We had to find things that Brian had worked on, and try and piece it together.

Other band contributions counteracted Brian's new reticence, and engineer Stephen W. Desper provided the group with an ex- pansive stereo sound for the first time. Previously, Brian had re- corded in mono, with Friends having a more basic 8-track stereo mix overseen by Carl.

The group jumped to track when they installed a new studio in Brian's home during October and assembled more than enough material for a double album. For a band who'd mentally regrouped, it was a major disappointment. They didn't know what to do next. Then he pulled his major coup when he got Brian to agree to finally release Surf s Up.

As well rebranding the band in the America of the early 70s, he inspired band members to write about their con- cerns, with the artiness they'd left behind for simplicity after Smile. The results were Carl's best moments, as he took full leadership of the band. Morgan in an undated "70s interview. As far as the critical acclaim or sales Since Brian's stage departure in , bass guitar had always been shared by band members.

Now, Flame's Blondie Chaplin filled the role, his lead vocals a valuable new studio ingredient. Yet, although it was cut at his home studio, and featured three of his songs, Brian was all but absent, just adding background harmony on his own songs, and piano on You Need A Mess Of Help Io Stand Alone.

We all embraced that message. However, Brian was spending more time in his bedroom, and when the mood struck, walking downstairs to record demos that he'd then hide from the group. Melcher referred to this as Brian's "Aesop" period, be-. I went with Ua. Having the ensuing years, since he has taken to touring - both under hisown name and as part of the surviving band- with something approaching enthusiasm.

Or soit would seem. Does he find he actually enjoys travelling around the world now? He tends to offer stop-start responses and sometimes seems thrown by even the most straightforward enquiry. MOJO tries to avoid questions where he can reply with a blunt yes or no, but conversa- tional flow is tough to maintain.

How is it, MOJO wonders, to see himself portrayed onscreen by not one, buttwo actors? Didthose parts of the film depict the sessions as Brian remembers them? And felt depressed that now l'm 72 years old, right? In another, drummer Hal Blaine declares Wilson to be more of a creative genius than his other paymaster, Phil Spector. Didbothincidents actually happen? But Hal was kidding. He was kidding Marilyn and Diane were Spring, but Brian's high harmonies were a prominent feature, as if he were the third member of a girl group.

Then, on the eve of completion, Brian put the kibosh on the project. It was a bitter pill for Carl to swallow. Mean- far distant '60s. He was returning Pressure. Blondie Chaplin. But following But they're still very much Mike Love's announcement that friends, aren't they? But then the uplifting part, Brian knowledge - it seems that the smile playing on his lips.

I said, Brian, can you put your part group's existence remains in doubt. We got it on about two tries. That's recorded during the Sunflower sessions in classic harmony mode, completely blown away. I had to write about it. So when we came home [we] recorded Sail On Sailor. You'll hear the difference, because the studio in Holland was des- perately underwhelming in terms of professional recording. For a moment, the band were at one with their times. With no new studio album in sight, the group's presence was reinforced through appearances on Charles Lloyd's T.

As Brian's home demos were stockpiling, the band's concert receipts kept growing. The band saw a chance, and late in , Brian was seques- tered with hour therapist Eugene E. Originally hired by Brian's wife Marilyn, Landy was fired after about a year because of escalating fees. Tagged as Brian's full return, 15 Big Ones was, in fact, a bit of a sham. The LP was originally intended as a double, with one album of covers and another of new songs. A wealth of material was cut but Brian was not in good voice, which became obvious to the general public when he made a solo appear- ance on Saturday Night Live on November 27, He used that, throughout that era.

He just got fixated on it. Quirky, with odd time-shifts, clever chords and often beautiful melodies, The Beach Boys Love You was another acquired taste. Brian's singing remained poor, and Roller Skatin' Child and Honkin' Down The Highway weren't songs any radio station would be playing soon; yet there was an endearing isolation to his compo- sitions, Brian singing about outer space with the wonder of a child.

And I proceeded to make the album that never came out. Dennis and Carl argued that the 15 Big Ones direction was a dead end, and felt the group should return to the experimental sound canonised on 's live double The Beach Boys In Concert. Mike and Al voted for nostalgia. Brian's casting vote, possibly against his own best creative interests, went with Love and Jardine.

After stymieing Carl's work on Smile in , Brian had now inadvertently ended his brother's leadership of the group. Album tanked at Their first CBS release, L. Tickets from www. Love And Mercy is in cinemas June 7. The audience wanted U2. But for Gorillaz the atmosphere was flat, the crowd thinned out alarmingly, and Albarn believes he could have remedied the situation with one simple gesture.

I regret that, because it would have been a different outcome if I had. The gig we did later at Roskilde I did talk to the audience and it was fantastic. I would much rather it had been on the record and Crazy Beat hadn't. That was one of the last times that I actually let outside influences affect what I put on a record. Of course we should have put it on. You can keep learning from your mistakes. Listeners could only guess at the reasons behind such subter- fuge.

By now, Damon Albarn had been the singer, songwriter, principal theorist and all- purpose motivator in Blur for nearly 15 years. Throughout it all, as others doubted and wobbled, Albarn clung steadfast to his vision, while also possessing enough flexibility and perspective to recognise when he'd been wrong: most notably that 's The Great Escape, although commercially expedient, represented creative stasis.

Subsequently repurposing Blur into a vehicle for his increasingly introspective song- writing enhanced the band's artistic credentials without diminishing their popularity. As Oasis, arch-nemesis in the Battle Of Britpop, crashed and burned, Blur made their real great escape: into art. In he visited West Africa as an Oxfam ambassador and returned with 40 hours of recordings he'd made with local musicians in Mali.

On the day sessions were due to start at Albarn's west London Studio 13, Coxon entered a rehabilita- tion programme at The Priory. What happened next remains contentious. Subsequent comments from band members muddied the picture. In the Blur docu- mentary No Distance Left To Run, drummer Dave Rowntree stated that what they had asked Morrison to say to Coxon and what he actually had said were two different things.

So I think he was very careful not to say that. He said it was very much for the time being. I took the leap myself. And I got on with my life. Aside from the awkward Fatboy Slim-produced Crazy Beat, a self-conscious update ofthe Blur familiar to the man on the Clapham omnibus, the album reflected Albarn's burgeoning immersion in music rooted far beyond Blur's traditional UK-centric post-punk idioms.

It was released in May , to positive reviews. An accompanying world tour, however, with Simon Tong and Albarn fulfilling the guitar quotient, made the Graham-shaped hole in the band glaringly clear. I didn't have a guitarist. I mean, I had a great guitarist, but not Graham. Playing any of the old stuff was awful.

Which of course he was: by the firm belief that he would never make another Blur album. On one side, the ungainly urban scramble of North Kensington: housing estates, light industry units, a hospital, rail tracks, Worm- wood Scrubs, the Westway. Towering cranes in the foreground allude to the area's latest building development. And my light. Ah, never mind. Identity would become the theme of the group's rollercoaster apprenticeship.

Who were Blur and what did they want? About a quarter of their live set was like that. Debut single She's So High - the highlight of their demo tape - was engagingly louche psych pop but its AA side, Know, groped for something more flagrantly vogueish. But Blur were already bridling at their label's obsession with dance beats.

Alex had all these mad old records he'd inherited from his grandad. EMI were, to be fair to them, a bit more sceptical. But we were so confident that we had the follow-up - a song called Never Clever — ready to go. Worse, Suede, headlining the show, were magisterial. The only way Blur appeared likely to revalidate themselves was with new music.

Luckily, demos suggested they were onto something, something nurtured inthe crucible of the spring's gruelling US jaunt. Songs like Oily Water. They sound like young men, as opposed to floppy and half-awake on the versions they chose. Passive aggression, and not-so- passive aggression, between Graham and Damon.

You haven't done it with a computer! I want it done with loops and everything! EMI would have pulled the plug on the marketing and Blur would have been dropped. They were hanging bya thread. If says Balfe. It had thickened their skins and sharpened their reflexes.

He smiles. Albarn has already turned the opposite window's less celebrated vista into a Blur song: in summer , as a prelude to headlining the Best Of British Olympics Closing Concert at Hyde Park, the quartet released a single, Under The Westway — a hymn to London, possibly also a person, or maybe even a group. It was the latest manifestation of a reunion which had thus far delivered 's emotional performance at Glastonbury, the no less emotional No Distance Left Io Run film and a limited edition 7-inch single for 's Record Store Day.

Each spasm of activity dared the band's long- suffering fans to hope that everything was gearing up to a new Blur album, made by all four band members in full working order, there- by casting the anomalous Think Tank into shadow. One of those assumptions fell as soon as the following spring, as Blur began a tour of festivals and enormodomes in North, Central and South America, in the Far East and Europe.

Albarn didn't listen back to the five-day session, returning instead to his Africa Express adven- turing. Then he immersed himself in making his first f bona fide solo album, Everyday Robots. Albarn was still recording vocals less than a month ago. But they do have artwork and a title: The Magic Whip. Albarn murmurs in assent. I felt it was lovely that he was prepared to give time to this thing.

So there was obviously a bit of making amends. Actions speak louder than words. But yeah, that was the last time we were steady on our bicycles. It was a different world. Pop music was so different to how it is now. I always end up having this conversation in one form or another with Noel [Gallagher] when we have a drink together. We seem so different to the Ed Sheerans of this world. Oasis and Blur — it was our lives. That's all we had. Because it's such a wonderful thing to do when you're young.

The pair met at Stanway Comprehensive in early '80s Colchester. Their first musical dabblings soon went beyond school revues and into prototype bands: The Aftermath, Real Lives, Circus. The symbiosis evident even at this stage would sustain throughout their creative life: after Damon had insti- gated a chord sequence, Graham would take it somewhere.

On Think lank, Coxon's presence was felt even when he wasn't there, as producer Ben Hillier realised. The hardest thing work- ing with a really creative mind like Da- mon is making them finish anything. Graham has got a lot more of the craft gene in him. Coincidentally or not, this move reacquainted Blur with its art school grounding and, allied with Albarn's discovery of music as a means of inner exploration — a revelatory period that he's since admitted was aided by heroin — produced arguably Blur's most enduring music, on Blur and So it's telling that Coxon felt it was incumbent on him to make amends, as if guilty that the band had indulged his foibles while get- ting too little in return — a cloud of resentment that finally broke at Paul Postle, Camera Press 2 , Nels Israelson, Tom Oldham 82 MOJO the early Think Tank sessions.

Y'know, in those years since early , I probably said K afew stupid things in the press — because the circumstances of why i B we weren't together as a four-piece were quite unclear. Things were just tense. We were all raw and hurt by it, for quite a while. And the longer it was left, that stuff ferments, and the more difficult the idea was of coming to- gether, or being just friends again. Everything was going through management and we all had our own lives, our own problems. Perhaps I was.

But whatever happened between and probably did us a lot of good. If Blur had carried on as we were, we'd all have been severely damaged by it. To get hold of those Hong Kong tapes and knock them into shape, to take the weight of responsibility on my own shoulders and make amends. Alex James and Dave Rowntree dropped in to redo their parts where necessary. The moment of truth came when Coxon and Street played Albarn what they had done.

But annoyingly, I really loved it. As people or musicians. We realise that to throw away relationships is madness. But we all had to find our own lives. On my own. I thought about that word. It was the first time the pair had worked together since But actually it worked brilliantly. I realised my nervousness was based on the fact that I was nervous back then. I was remembering my lack of confidence.

Now, I Just do it. Each time, he gave the same hon- est answer: they'd started a record but hadn't been able to finish it, and thereafter people's schedules hadn't permitted work to be resumed. How could he truthfully an- swer the queries about the new Blur al- bum, now that album was moving rapidly towards actual existence? But, it was bizarre. Nobody asked. Not a peep from anyone.

And changed the subject. Although and one day he bumped into Gra- ham Coxon and Alex James. Graham came in for a couple of sessions and everyone tried to be nice to each other but it didn't go well. After Battery In Your Leg, which we all liked and Graham liked as well, think, his playing on the other tracks sounded so disruptive.

He kind of ripped them apart. Atthat point we had a lot of tracks that we'd started and we sat down, listened to them and went, MW They're really good, thisis really exciting! This project doesn't sound like another Blur record particularly, but there's not another name to call it. The decision to go on without Graham gave us a bitof a slege mentality. Going to Morocco was us starting to finish it.

One of the issues was having with the record whole, especially in 13, was that everything sounded unfinished. So the finishing touches were donein Morocco and quite a lot of vocalstoo. And then we putthe whole Morocco studio back in its truck and drove it down toa farm in Devon that Damon owned. Think Tank was recorded as it was written. Damon would start witha really basicidea.

It could be anything from achorus to just a couple of notes and then! So all the stuff recorded was not just first take, it was the first time it had ever been played. It was all very creative and quick. People say about alot of bands that when they get together some sort of magic happens but with Blur it really is true, they spark off each other. There area couple of tracks on there that are trying too hard to be singles.

Damon loves a bit of success and he's alwaysa bit nervous about not getting that. The thought of ever doing another Blur record became a more com- plicated thing to answer: what should it be? In , it was like, Wow! That was good! We should think about doing that again But part of the problem is getting everybody in the same place at the same time, and we didn't have that problem in Hong Kong, we were all there with nothing to do. For me, it's always been just turning up and playing the bass, there's been very little suffering or torment involved at any stage.

The first one for 15 years! And my excuse will be, I thought he was one of those things that sweets come out of. Kick: Eat first. Chris: It's got that Jamie T enunciation. Frances: I hate it when you can hear a singer panting. When they are clearly making no fucking effort whatsoever. Frances: What is yr winter sport? Chris: Hibernating. And listening to us fail again at cricket. Kick: I like this - it's minimal, but has a really slow pop tune running through it like a guitar solo evolving at the rate of plant growth.

For me to get intoxicated by dance music I think I need something beautiful - and ideally, melancholy. Euphoria doesn't work so well for me. Presumptuous finks. Chris: Press release predicts that lazy writers will put that in their lazy reviews.

Kick: I've yet to meet the press release that can keep pace with my blistering vacuity. And they both have a terminal disease. Inside the album sleeve Kraftwerk 1 is some lovely pictures of them in leopard print shirts with thin white ties and those pointy glasses glamorous women in the Fifties used to wear.

I wonder if they rode their bicycles in this get- up? Kraftwerk's image is as absorbing as their music, the way it should be for all great artists. Chromatics - Glass Slipper Troubleman United Take the otherworldly neon-murder ofSuspiria, the disjointed narrative of some German surrealist's apocalyptic celluloid nightmare and Tim Burton's deathly colour scheme and you have one blazin' film.

Chromatics would record the soundtrack. The Knife - Pass This On Live Version Brille The original Deep Cuts is pure Euro- sex-pop, but live it's an arpeggiated demon from 2, with spiderweb- like construction and monotonal android vocals blasted from a crystal citadel on the dark side of the Moon. To be found on the rare as hell 'Take My Breath Away' seven-inch single. Yellow Swans - True Union Load A scanner measures the dimensions of your heart before the needle pumps it with darkness. Yellow Swans sound like Wolf Eyes would if they read obscure esoteric manuals instead of Swamp Tin ing comics.

This tune starts their Psychic Secessions album. Coughs - Life Of Acne Load Feral guerilla no wave strike one Neubauten babies beat on metal bidons, pots and pans, strike two yelp spin rise and fall like god shattered maniacs, strike three now we're inside the burning ghost dance circle. Best gig of the year; also check out their new album Secret Passage. Boredoms - Super Roots 7 boriginal version Very Friendly In Japan there is this giant size laundrette you can go to where they feed you mushrooms and stick you in a mammoth tumbledryerfull of long-haired musicians on a rigorous drumming decathlon.

If you're a real fetishist you can pay the full whack and opt for the long spin cycle, the hardcore burn with optional Braindead gore. When you come out this is what the remnants of your sanity puke back up at you. If you lick your lips you can taste the cherry pie. Good for days where clouds hide in a hole in the sky and rain makes applesauce.

For the Divinity, who is without any beginning, shines forth in great splendour. We cannot completely grasp God's mysteries. Temples with moss covered stones shine forth and bring wisdom to all who are open to entering. Soon to be interpreted by Anahita. Lights sing to me, with your radial symmetry. Snow is falling, the moon is calling. It is the sea and inner realms of the dream world.

It is feeling and magic and moon madness. It is the element of ecstasy and unconscious bliss, the deep enjoyment of the heart and the flow of love. Listen to the water music and the alluvion will reveal itself. Bread that is baked in a wood stove tastes divine. Stars seen from a mountain peak are brighter in the sky. Sweedeedee " Buffy Sainte-Marie - God Is Alive, Magic Is Afoot "Inherent in the practice of natural magic is the belief that all objects, animate and inanimate, have some force or spirit whose powers and energies can be tapped.

Listen and the illuminations will be thine. Nature and music are beautiful in their own right. There are things that happen under the water that we can't see. Euclidian Geometry. Each Tengu carried a magic fan made from the leaf of the yatsude tree. The fan gave the Tengu the power to fly. To be precise, I am sitting in the dank subterranean basement of Henry's Cellar Bar, leading dank subterranean basement on the small malnourished creature which is Edinburgh's music scene.

Around me the air is filled with noise, a grinding teeth-chattering bile-rising wall of immersive oily noise. It is being produced by Withdrawal Method, also known as Drew Demeter, kingpin of cassette-only noise label, Since 1 I sit alone in the corner, unable to see how Drew produces his sounds, surrounded as he is by a cluster of observant tech-heads.

But it's irrelevant. What matters is the feeling of being inside a physical acoustic structure, of finding a secure epicentre in the noise which has no beginning, middle or end, just is. I feel completely at home. How did I get to the point where I find it weird to listen to 'conventionally' structured music?

Why do I love this stuff? It's hard to consider noise as music. A wayward youth spent coaxing bad feelings out of myself to a soundtrack of juvenile Toytown industrial, courtesy of Ministry and Nine Inch Nails. A minor graduation to the fizzy electro tantrums of Atari Teenage Riot and, in retrospect, their hugely silly Digital Hardcore roster. A fondness for the everlasting loops of Eno's Discreet Music and the dismal somnambulist landscapes of Bowie's Low.

Increasingly, I became more interested in the actual sound of music than with any tricksy devices such as melody or harmony. There were two pivotal records for me. Sonic Youth's Goodbye 20th Century, in which Thurston and the gang drill an expressway to yr avant-garde skull by covering modernist noisemakers such as John Cage, Steve Reich and Cornelius Cardew- and the amazing live recording of John Coltrane's Olatunji Concert. This document of Coltrane's second-last performance before his death finds the saxophonist with a six- piece band in the fiery throes of full blast free jazz expression.

Frequently, the sheer annihilating din causes the sound to overload completely, before slowly bleeding back in. During the occasional quiet passage, conversation and traffic noise can be heard. The album becomes more like an impressionistic wash of religious clamour than conventional jazz. Eighteen months ago, I spent an evening spent at a concert presented by Edinburgh noise curators, Giant Tank.

Headlining Italian duo My Cat Is An Alien used lifeless guitar strings and toy guns to emit cyclical space whirrings while support from Wounded Knee and CK Dexter Haven produced an earsplitting overloaded cacophonous chunk. The sheer physical presence of the noise was like being inside a throbbing three-dimensional mass. A Phill Niblock concert produced a similar effect, while also enabling me to know what it might feel like to be an airplane engine for 90 minutes.

There's an endless amount of noise to discover. Recent finds include the whiteout womb music of Not and the thrashing black waves of Deadwood. Living in Scotland means thankful access to a thriving noise scene as well as a number of excellent underground music fests such as Instal, Subcurrents and Kill YourTimid Notion. Much of this has an all- inclusive DIYfeel to performance and distribution, and it has been refreshing to discover how pleasant many of the performing artists are, quite unlike the rampant egocentrism which seems to come with writing conventional song structures.

It's about connection. Evans made a pair of giant cardboard scissors, and I wore her rainbow sorcerer's dress. It was a mad reunion of difficult-to- recognise old friends because of the fake blood running down theirfaces. Blevin Blectum was an orange dolphin pirate. KB So surreal. The girls are in a good shape. Miguel brought some gear and CDs for the tour that he left in the car for us to get later. We walked outside and - damn! The trunk was unlocked BUT all of our stuff was still there and fine.

This was miraculous! But we were sorry that Miguel had to fix his window. After one beer, we were completely wasted and had to go home. Evans had special red vodka Jell-o shots. We had a couple and felt dizzy. KevyB already had her nose into the Easy Cheese!

Liquid cheese stuffed into some kind of toothpaste tube. It was disgusting to the little jet-lagged frogs. The show was like a short dream, as if we were only on stage for 1 minutes. Our Californian friends are in the audience. Still jet-lagged. DATs Yes, jet-lag. I lived in San Francisco for five years, and all my old friends were totally overwhelming.

It was the worst show I've ever played, because I decided not to 'pretend' during the show- 1 thought my friends would see right through me. Instead, I spiralled into paranoia and self-doubt and then ran backstage to cry. But a few jell-o shots later and it's as if it never happened. Evans made two tooth outfits, a bristly cardboard toothbrush helmet, and a giant cardboard mouth to sit in for a mini- improvised-musical called 'Spoiled Rotten'.

Corey, the drummer, was the dentist. Instead of "gravity", we sang "cavity". Instead of saying, "Why didn't you invite us to the party," we said, "Why gingivitis to the party? Eggs Florentine and cherry cookies. This was delicious. Wobbly brought CDs to listen to in the car! Later that night, we played in Sacramento. This was a party! DATs I was warned before the show to play 'dance music'. So Evans and I danced for the entire set in tooth costumes, in hopes that that's what it would appear to be.

Afterwards, we were like, "Sheesh, Sacramento is weird. Everyone dresses up like they're going to prom. I was speeding, but only eight miles over the limit. When the officer asked Vincent for some 'identification. He thought the cop asked, "So you went on vacation? KB The weather was terrible in Portland. The backstage was flooded. The Holocene is nice, the promoter read our hospitality rider and there was good whisky backstage! The audience was very excited; they bought tons of merch.

Vincent had a big panic crisis at the end of the DAT show, he freaked out, said that the monitor was too loud and that he lost the hearing in his left ear. DATs The hearing loss was later credited to the stress of being pulled over by the police.

KB 8 November, Olympia The venue was packed, Cindy Scream Club told us a story about the owner of the place who's disliked by the locals because he paints his houses black. They think that he is some kind of Satanist. It was raining the whole time, so we rented movies and ordered food: Slithers and Thai noodles. The soundcheck turns wrong. The venue sound guy has his own way to plug stuff in and is arguing with another sound guy hired for the gig, so Vincent does the sound himself.

After dinner, it's completely packed. There is a room dedicated to smokers: a smoky aquarium. Kevin is playing a great show with weird sound. When we started, the sound guy had changed all of Vincent's settings. We appreciated having days off at the hotels: swimming pool, hot tub, pool game. We won't have many days off from now on. On the cover with lot of pictures! Good show at the Empty Bottle! Because of the stage-jumping, our mixing desk fell down. The three of us saw it at the same time and jumped on it before it reached the floor.

The sound stopped and then we heard a "Wow! Someone said that it was a good trick for the show! The sweaty Zoobizarre was packed and people were singing along to all the songs! From the stage, there was a human wave of people dancing - some of them had to fight hard to stop from falling on the stage. After the show we got stoned, freezing in the backyard. Unfortunately, the sound was cutting out so we had to stop playing after four tracks.

Everyone was disappointed. We went home to watch Suspiria. DATs 23 November, Brooklyn We were worried because the weather was very bad and it was Thanksgiving; everyone would have a heavy family dinner. But people were jumping and screaming all set long! Evans was there and Rob, Kristin [Kevin]'s brother. They're good dancers and everyone was following them. Evans and Julie were in teeth costumes and tried to dental- floss me, while I was just trying to sing a song.

The sound was shit, but it was still punchy enough to cut through the distortion. The family vibe was in full celebration mode. There's a grand piano! My brother played short sets between all the other sets.

He's still goofy. Ching Chong Song played. Andre was either my psychologist or my mother and Julie and I did the Masturbation Olympics. BUT I drank so much before the show, that I don't remember any of it, which is a damn shame. Apparently there was full frontal nudity, it went on and on and Julie won, which makes sense. She's very talented and can queef on command. One of my favourite shows ever, even though I don't remember it.

That shit really works! Gaetan and I finished the gift loaf of banana space-cake. It works too. Kevin took the wheel for the last three hours to her grandparents' house. We took a few beers and went out on the boat snorkelling!

Really like vacation! It's full of crap, tourist shops and restaurants. The stage was set up in the courtyard, under the moonlight, Dino Filipe opened for us. His show was really good. He's a funny hyperactive excited stressed out party guy. During our set, the audience sang along and danced frenetically. Whatcha gonna do? I loved the show, butldon'tthinkthe DATs were as excited about the and-up age group as I was. Her name is Vanessa Harris, and she plays guitar in six-piece noiseniks Coughs.

The setting is Chicago's Logan Square Auditorium. Coughs are supporting a newly reformed version of The Slits, and the juxtaposition is comical. Original Slits members Ari Up and Tessa Politt are so desperate to regain the vibrancy of their youth that they're willing to ruin everything that made them interesting in the first place. Coughs, of course, upstage them. I meet with Coughs the following Sunday at Mr City, the warehouse space where bassist Carrie Vinarsky lives, and where Coughs practise.

The area surrounding it is all desolate industrial outlets and vast office spaces, but inside, Mr City is cosy, furnished with enormous sofas and a coal furnace. As well as a living space, it also functions as an artists' workshop and a venue for live music.

Outside Chicago, Coughs were just starting to generate a buzz, as the band found out when they toured Europe recently: "I had no idea that people actually knew who we were over there, " says Seth Sher, one of the band's two drummers. To kids in the city, however, Coughs were a local institution. Especially bands like Lozenge, who had this huge double-drummer set up and people playing all these weird instruments but they were still making heavy rock music.

That made me realise that you don't have to have a normal drumkit, two guitarists and a bass player; you can just make music with a bunch ofweirdjunk. Their second album, Secret Passage, released on Load earlier this year, is a howling maelstrom of repetitive screaming, primitive saxophone, and prowling drum beats, but it has more of a structure than most outsider noise. Like a lot of other Load artists see Lightning Bolt, The Locust Coughs' live energy is difficult to transpose onto record, but Secret Passage is as close as they'll ever get.

It would have been really hard to record without looking at one another. Like, there's this song where we know to change to the next thing because Seth jumps up and down. The rumours that Coughs were splitting up had been circulating for a while, but people had stopped taking them seriously.

Every show, it seemed, was their last. This time, however, the rumours happen to be true. Coughs are reluctant to talk about it. I want to travel, and not live in Chicago. I do regret it a little, because obviously a lot of people are like, 'You guys are really successful, why would you split up? Their favourite colours are silver, pink and black. Their endless axe jams sound like a neon citadel befouling a forest full of goblins. Whipcrack beats sound like a showdown in the next street while the bass attempts the Heimlich manoeuvre on itself.

Not wanting to cause a ruck, but it should be known that we quite often listen to dubstep in the Plan B office 'cause it's really good for getting quietly productive to. Dude also has own blog, which is cute, bass-clef. Expect fun stuff from this San Francisco trio when their Peanut Buttter Wolf-helmed debut album finally hits the block this year.

Uniforms consist of all-black and skull masks, lyrics are indecipherable but probably scornful of yr lifestyle. Check the link, but be aware that if you do betray a liking for their adrenaline- weeping company you're officially a sociopath. Hide the knives. From yrself. And no. We don't mean in other people, www.

Check out 'Tizia' and 'Full Pool': bittersweet but blissful minimal pastorale, the combination of warm Jacuzzi bass, slivers of disco strings, wistful high-end and funk-hinting rhythms is irresistible. Since then, he's gone from strength to strength with a sequence of astonishingly wide-ranging inches: brooding minimalism on 'Arquipelago', sharp-edged tech on 'Sozinho', swooning microgoth on 'Like You', sinister techno on 'The Rising Evil'.

An album is due next year; commence salivating. Not Trickski, that's for sure: their last two releases on Sonar Kollektiv, 's 'Sweat' and this year's incredible The Bat EP, have been monolithic slabs of dark, pounding, no- messing techno. It's all the more powerful for the way in which its creators wear their Carl Craig influence on their sleeves even covering his classic 'At Les' on the latter.

Put your hands up, indeed; they love this city, www. Signed to Arista at 1 6 years old, and with an eponymous debut already out in the US, Paula DeAnda's delightful pop-r'n'b confections are reminiscent of early Christina Milian: cute, sassy and aimed squarely at pleasing your sweet tooth. Songs splice unwell instruments and corrupt files, beats like joints bent backwards, slow builds and pained fades for woozy dirges that feel like the calm before the exorcist. AT are allegedly the brainchild of Miklos 'The Accountant' Kemecs who, "likes to express his frustration with office life and contemporary sexual politics by mixing trashy jazz guitar leads with twisted electronic hard-rock jungle-bebop breakbeats and any vocals he can rope in his mad circle of friends to contribute.

They want conviction, opinion, individuality, 'Let's write a song about stuff we actually like! But you don't get that much anymore. It's just, 'How po-faced can I look? We're in London, discernible from drummer Lewis' excellent imitations of various borough-based accents; specifically, in a cream box at The Forum preparing for some weird Rizla- sponsored affair in support of CSS.

Last week, they took their tumbling toy melodies and boy-girl sparring to a house in Coventry with fairylights and a jazz piano: here's a band able to swap huge theatres with the Brazilian buzz mob for three quid gigs, lose a member, then rework odd quartet- friendly tracks. Yes Leesey, I'm still playing the same old shit But we're almost a new band. Which is clearly not my forte. On the first, we were more. This album's a bit darker. More open. We were lazy little shits. Nothing like a rancorous confrontation of loss set against shouty jumps of abandon to plague yer body.

Their ridiculous tour stories include playing a community centre booked by a 1 3-year-old where, "There were kids selling Smarties at a counter, like a tuck shop" his parents laid on a buffet ; and urinating on people, in Germany - "not in a sexy way" -but we shan't delve, yeah?

Reasons why you should cut straight to the 'giddily love' part and not bother with 'firstly liked'? All of the above. I was in the front passenger seat, flicking drunkenly through the pirate radio stations. I stopped at a station called Trauma FM: "It's trauma radio, lads!!! When I woke up, it was on the floor of the motorway.

Someone had died in the accident. I was on a critical ward for 24 hours, attached to one of them breathing machines and hooked up to a self- administrating Morphine machine my only respite. I thought, That's it, I'm dead. I had a piss bag fitted and kept setting an alarm off as I stopped breathing - and the nurse would come and wake me up whenever I managed to get five minutes. It was, hands down, the worst experience of my life.

They gave me so many drugs that I couldn't even feel my body. Two days later, with the help of several grams of morphine, I went and did a sell-out show in Sheffield and only fell over once. I was still in shock, I guess. How would you describe the Radioclit sound? Etienne: "It started with a big love for bass music, 'World music is the new pop music' eurodance and Dirty South hip hop. Sampling a lot of traditional Asian music, Moroccan stuff, traditional southern African stuff, pow-wow music.

We're having a lot of fun with that. Johan: "We keep it pretty simple. Mac computers, Ableton, ProTools, softsynths, a shitload of samples, loads of hitting things with other things in the studio Etienne: "Ghettopop is the easiest way to describe our music as a sound system and as a production team.

We're heavily influenced by music coming out of rough places from all over the planet, whether it's Atlanta or Rio or Luanda or Paris - and pop music at the moment is as well. We're trying to illustrate the connections between those worlds. World music is the new pop music -the hybridisation of Western pop and the other continents is where it's at.

How d'you feel about that scene at the moment? Etienne: "All the artists we worked with - Ears, Trim, Ruff Sqwad - have brought us a lot, musically and on a human level. Everybody seem to think grime is dead right now, but we still think the vibe of that scene is incredible. We don't really care if those artists get to have hits in UK or elsewhere, all we're excited about is that they keep their originality, rawness, freshness.

We truly love those kids. What did you find? Any particular artists we should be looking out for? Johan: "It's weird. In Lisbon, everyone knows kuduro, but a lot of them don't know it as the Angolan rough ghetto music. There was a commercial 'kuduro' hit in Portugal a few years ago and I think it gave a lot of people the wrong impression.

But Buraka Som Sistema [of internet hit 'Yah! We haven't been to Angola, so I can't really talk about it. I think Buraka are getting more attention than the original artists because Angola is still pretty unexplored. Johan: "We like clubs. Loud music in clubs. Loud bass in the club.

At home. They were supposed to be perky synth-popping kids like you'd imagine bopping around in the background of TOTP 2. Most of their songs were upbeat Fifties and Sixties covers Elvis! The Kinks! Silicon Teens were not sunny as much as Sunny Delight. Not saccharine as much as aspartame fizz burning your nostrils. Silicon Teens were everything every glossy magazine advert since the dawn of time has ever promised.

They didn't — couldn't- exist outside of Daniel Miller's paranoid imagination, and no wonder. The album's called Music For Parties, but you can't dance to it unless you're lobotomised. It's deliberately too slow, or too fast, or too boring when those chord sequencers get started. If there was ever anything rebellious or sexy about the songs the Silicon Teens cover, it's been sucked out. Chuck Berry could perv all over the tight dresses and lipstick of 'Sweet Little Sixteen', but Fad Gadget sings the Silicon Teens version as if the song's subject is as erotic as a spreadsheet.

His voice hits like a shopping malltannoy, and you can hear the forced smile. It's a weary industrialised cheeriness that anyone who's temped or worked retail will know and hate. The concept is simple: Prom night on the Titanic! As it's going down! And nobody notices! Everyone's waggling their butts like they're doing the Time Warp, and they're spraying champagne all over the place.

It's not so much, 'We're living in an apocalyptic shithole' or even, 'The world is collapsing, so let's have fun while we can', but a complete disconnect from anything but surface, surface, surface until it all goes bang. Or whimper. Or whatever, because who cares? Not Silicon Teens. I love this stuff because it's terrifying. It's held up better than any Cold War minor key bleak-out. There's a kind of kitschy glamour to dancing in the radioactive rubble with the cockroaches and fighting the one-two punch of Reagan-Thatcher.

Nuclear winter, mutants with skin melting off, cannibalism in the fallout shelter You can't dance to it unless you're lobotomised - not how the end will come now, but a really good theme for a costume party. See, the genius of Silicon Teens is deep breath here that their over-the-top unreality saves them from the way ironic appropriation neutralises every real crisis by turning it into a punchline. Never mind the covers, how are we supposed to take the ST originals, songs about how much fun it is to watch wars on TV because then your parents quit bitching at you to do stuff?

No one, however hipsterised, however medicated, ca n just not care this much. Music for parties? It's impossible to be alive and celebrate bloodless, endless cycles of shopping and ironic trend-recycling and sweet sweet oblivion until the end, when the lights go out for the last time.

This is no novelty record. It's a protest record, and it's great. The melodies are gorgeous: the ache of a familiar voice, the merest silhouette of echoed piano and an occasional drum beat. The mood is solemn, but joyous: like listening into an intensely private rhapsody.

You imagine snow: snow, piled in drifts six feet high alongside Detroit kerbsides; you imagine woods: bare feet running freely through bracken and past dragonfly-infested pools; you think of cigarette smok"' ' funereal dancing and a youunui uidbb bCLuun iiebiiniy out these bare bones of songs. But you don't want any of that; not really. These songs are quite, quite special as they are.

I've been fascinated by trees because they're so old and stationary, and yet they continually change. I built treehouses at college. There are a lot of treehouses in Sweden. I'd heard a rumour that Victoria had parted company with The Concretes - the incredible Swedish band she'd helped start in 1 as an all-female trio - but I didn't want to listen too close, lest I grow too upset. The Concretes have been so magical to me these past years.

But this - Taken By Trees, the first glimmering of Victoria's solo work - this is so wonderful. I could listen to it on repeat for a week without sleeping and still not grow tired, swept away by its aching, wonderful loneliness. I didn't think I'd try any more music after The Concretes. It was a year ago I told the band I was leaving - 1 don't enjoy playing live any more. I think I questioned too much and that was very tiring for the band, why we'd play somewhere and how the stage was made up.

I'd rather be home and write songs and then pick venues that are special. We'd started to lose our playfulness. It had become too much of a business. As any music lover could tell you, it was the vulnerable Mo Tucker side of The Velvet Underground that was the most fascinating. I wanted to have flute and strings on one song, but was worried that would overdo it. Summer On closer inspection, I note that the CD features the voice of Thames TV continuity announcer Philip Elsmore, whose rich, comforting tones and crumpled, friendly face I had forgotten until this very moment.

I scan the sleevenotes, a mossy manifesto conjuring images of Britain succumbing to corvidae while 'the amplified sound of dead air' leaks from melted transistor radios. I return it to the shop, mildly aggrieved. But something isn't right. In spite of myself, I'm still breathing Dead Air. I buy it again, and spend the rest of the summer, autumn and winter travelling up and down the Silverlink line, binding the sound in my headphones to the concrete and pebbledash and undead, dreamless sky.

Admiral Greyscale and Baron Mordant are the shadow-hosts to Mordant Music, a constantly sporing subcultural entity which, as well as releasing the insidiously essential Dead Air, has spat out 'It's a beast that feeds on itself in perpetuity' collaborative emissions with dubstep artist Shackleton notably 's now-classic 'Stalker' seven-inch and comedian Simon Munnery the pornographic 'View Mastur' toy.

I contacted the pair for a furtive electronic interview. Why 'Mordant'? Does the aesthetic dictate the music or vice versa? Admiral Greyscale: " I think the deathly aesthetic unquestionably fuels the art. It's a beast that feeds on itself in perpetuity. Baron Mordant: "We're right down to the marrow now in terms of yield and an exciting final finality is being viscerally heralded from all quarters, whether it be doom, dubstep, noise, folk or our own brand of death-throw archiving.

It is certainly an overall period of mourning and a vast shedding of sonic skin. The glee club has finally departed and a realistic social interaction, imbued with a stark musical framework, has begun to infiltrate everyday lives. Pound for pound, the overall salvation factor is actually in rude health.

BM: "A wonderful combination of ecstacy and reticence. BM: "More an overall cultural lineage that music is the host to Chris Morris and Leerdammerareas influential as Aphex Twin. The lineage is cosmic and not confined to Broadstairs.

Leonard Rossiter is also a talisman. Is there a kind of patriotic pride to MM? BM: "Blighted by shortsightedness more like. As cultures clash and dovetail, with only a handful of mavericks to applaud, I'm firmly opposed to patriotism. It's the vast unknown that I pledge allegiance to.

I'm fed up of the forecourts. AG: "We fumble in the wake of Mo' Wax, 4AD, Factory and all those labels and artists for whom a visual identity is as fundamental as the sonic output. We're also both collectors by nature, to differing degrees. We approach the making of everything with an eye on whether or not we'd treasure the item ourselves. BM: "It distilled itself from a lifetime of influences somehow. There were several phases of aligned creativity and it was certainly not just tossed off, however despite the convoluted processes both creatively and socially Dead Air can be looked upon as a veritable 'chicken in a bastard' Only the listener can decide to delve deeper or treat it as scree.

BM: "Dubstep is somewhere in the MM tea-leaves - albeit a peripheral cuppa. Sam Shackleton is a friend who happened to be making music in that vein. MM released 'Stalker' which defies the dubstep tag in my book. It's more John Carpenter to my ears. Sam's totally 'Mordant' and will breach our defences at some point again in the future. BM: "The burden! Note for note, not much, although I am into the tempo and convex production.

I think it's suffocating itself and maybe that's the point. We certainly inhabit the same bitumen-lined vacuum. Marnie Stern is one of the most interesting, inventive guitarists around. The first time I heard her debut album, In Advance Of The Broken Arm, I wanted to punch the sky with joy and bellow her name from every rooftop in town. Pick up the guitar and play until my fingers were numb, bury headfirst into the music and fall between the bracing pace of the notes.

Plenty of guitarists can shred like hell, fingers blazing across the frets, while backed up by enough technical mumbo-jumbo to make your head spin. That's all well and good, but an overly methodical attitude towards playing can all too often leave a trail of stale-sounding mathematical riffs bolstered by predictable, strict composition rule-play. The style that hits me hardest is that which is free and intuitive, unafraid of shaking things up; that makes mistakes, shifts structures, plays from the heart as opposed to the head.

Of course, the best guitar playing utilises elements of both approaches. That's where New York-based Marnie Stern comes in, wearing the crown. Stern's a step aside from the regular tech-head pack because she plays with complete creativity and abandon.

Her distinctive, self-taught style and mind-boggling dexterity -the result of practising for "at least" three hours every day- is used to create powerful, concise pop songs that bristle with tight, angular, hyper-speed lead riffs and unusual, beautiful vocal melodies. As guitarist Spencer Seim is one of Stern's biggest influences, it's of little surprise that her music bears an uncanny resemblance to that of Hella. A huge fan of the band, Stern says she was surprised when drummer Zach Hill got in touch after her label, kill rock stars, passed on her demo tape to him incidentally, she is one of the very few artists signed to krs after sending in a demo.

Excited by his offer of collaboration, Stern headed out to California to record. I've always written my songs alone and worked with a drum machine or played the drum tracks on a kit in my house. Zach's live drums, compared to my drum machine, changed the dynamic of the songs completely. He played off different rhythms than I would have, which opened up the songs completely. A lot of the record is conceptual, and Zach was really on board with the direction I was moving towards.

I was pulled to the music because of their raw intensity, but it took a bunch of listens before I could appreciate their musicianship. I was mainly attracted to the movement of the guitar lines weaving in and out and the guttural intensity of the vocals.

It seemed to me they were a very honest band. They didn't seem to be holding back or hiding, and lam a real fan of putting yourself out there. She began experimenting with her now fast and furious fret-tapping technique after watching a Don Caballero video a few years back. I was never interested in learning other people's songs.

When I saw the tapping on a Don Cab video, a lightbulb went off. Since then I've been pretty tap-happy and tried to incorporate my own style into it. Hill works brilliantly with solo guitarists evident on last year's Shred Earthship with Orthrelm guitarist Mick Barr , and his coupling with Stern produces an exciting array of manic song structures and an energy indicative of two wildfire musicians creatively challenging each other to the extreme.

Now the subject of documentaries, comeback tours and tribute albums, it's fair to say that if cult 'uberbeat' group The Monks didn't exist, we would have had to invent them. Do you think any year-old in his right mind would have done that without pressure in ?

She sounds awkward as she turns to the onstage quintet, but her confusion does little to prepare you for the bizarre spectacle you are about to see. You might have been told by a friend to check out this clip of a weird Sixties band sporting shaven heads, monks' robes and rope ties, but you would never expect them to sound so out of their time. The German teenyboppers do their best to bop, but the music is clearly way out of their league, too noisy, too fuzzy - devoid equally of both the cuddly mop- top packaging and the sexual undertones they would have been accustomed to musically.

The band put down their far too many cymbals and, shining heads converging, close in on the guitar, interrogating it like a group of scientists who've just discovered this noise-emitting object, collectively prodding its strings as the beat goes on. The clean-cut youths continue to bob their stony faces. What they don't know is that it's too late, that their world of optimism and progress will be the last of its kind and that they've just witnessed its demise. Of course, if you're a Fall fan, you will have known for ages about Black Monk Time, the band's first and only album from 1 , and noticed two!

But a significant proportion of the people who came out to see The Monks for their first ever UK gig at London's Dirty Water Club in October will have seen them for the first time here, in this pixellated footage of a mismatched sound emanating from the wrong time and place, so contemporary that the image itself doesn't hold together.

Whether the YouTube clips were just another case of viral video infection, emerging either by sheer force of collective will, or some calculated experiment, the timing could not have been better. The slow but sure crawl of the Noughties from the stylistic starting point of punk via post-punk, new wave and synth pop towards early rave and techno has brought the present within biting distance from its shiny iPod behind.

And whenever the commodif ication of the past seems to exhaust itself as a viable cultural production, we inevitably turn back to the Sixties. The popular image of the Fifties is of a decade lacking in awareness, too obsessed with space-age positivism, too eager to crack the formula for better living through controlled urban planning and amateur science.

The Seventies were too hedonistic, too decadent, too dystopian; the Eighties too materialistic, too angry, too conservative. Only the Sixties seem to retain the right balance of Utopian thinking and self-doubt. Like a blueprint for postmodern existence, the Sixties gave us, as JG Ballard has said, a palette of events with immense importance and very few tools with which to decipher their meaning.

The Monks' music seems to both epitomise and transcend this transitional moment, with anti-war stream-of-consciousness lyrics rubbing up against excitable rocket-launching countdowns to make Ramones proud. Comprising five GIs stationed in Germany, The Monks -initially performing as The Torquays - set out to get rid of melody and "substitute dissonance and clashing harmonics". An accidentally protracted encounter between a guitar and an amp introduced feedback as practically a sixth member in the band, and their trademark 'uberbeat' was born.

The feedback is a direct musical translation of everything that makes the Sixties still relevant today, the politics of The Monks encapsulated in noise. It is anti- musical music, the avant-garde trickling down into the mass-marketable, dirt and noise as joy, both destructive and constructive. Neither the teen-y, tinny feedback harmonies of American punk pop nor the scratchy, crackling samples of Nineties trip hop could resolve this paradox.

The feedback is still one of the building blocks of the legacy of the Sixties, and The Monks were there at the very beginning, together with Townshend, Hendrix and The Beatles' 1 Feel Fine'. However, there was more to The Monks' music than the sound of the Titanic scraping along the iceberg, as lead singer Gary Burger has described it.

Just as the rest of the world was moving towards the Summer Of Love, The Monks were writing about hate and war. It's hardly surprising that this subject matter, coupled with such a raw, exposed sound, would endearthem to later, more disillusioned generations - or at least to certain Mr Mark E Smith, hardly known for his cheery disposition.

Long before Johnny Rotten would rewrite the rock'n'roll paradigm, trading box banging, booty shaking and a host of other sexual euphemisms not to mention hand holding for an asexual vacant stare and sneering attitude, The Monks came out with songs like 'I Hate You', whose very title jars when compared to the vocabulary of most Sixties pop.

With their monastic garb, The Monks were hardly cut out from the teen heartthrob cookie cutter, and there is little in the tonsured hairstyle to suggest the long hippie locks to follow. Where the hippies dressed spirituality in multi-coloured party clothes,The Monks took religious attire and exorcised all holy meaning out of it.

Gary Burger begs to differ, though: "We did feel different from the other groups and we knew our music was also different, but you say it wrong. Our emphasis was not on hate, it was on the Vietnam war 'Monk Time' , the possibility of connections 'Oh How To Do Now' , fun 'Drunken Maria' and were in West Germany, not in spite of it " Possibly, then, the synthesis of James Brown-style funk, VU- influenced out-rock and avant-garde composition that defined early Can wasn't so unexpected after all.

But their real legacy was what they laid down on vinyl. Unfortunately they only released one album, 1 's Black Monk Time. But what an album! The attitude and humour from their live performances permeate that LP and it is all at once of, behind and ahead of its time. There are pure garage monster tracks like the opener, 'Monk Time', but there are these curious juxtapositions in tracks like 'Shut Up' and 'Love Came Tumblin' Down', where an unlikely alliance is made between Merseybeatand Krautrock; as if Amon Duul I wanted to make some singles to be played by Tony Blackburn!

Fuzzy bass, primordial drumming, electric banjo no, really! Marcelo Madrid, www. I think that might be close to what frustrated love might be about. Do you think any year-old in his right mind would have done that without pressure in 1 ? Walking down the street was always great fun. You'd get all sorts of reactions from the people you passed. Some thought we were a strange religious order but a few were right when they figured we were a rock band. Burger agrees: " Nowadays, most, if not all, of The Monks' songs are still relevant.

I like the idea that The Monks were a political band. I'd like to see The Monks do a new album that addresses issues like the Kyoto Protocol, which exists to help try to move the world toward fewer carbon emissions. Global warming is very real.

We've been polluting this wonderful planet for years with no thought for the future. Now it seems we may be forced to take action. America always has the finger pointed at it, but truly it is most peoples of the world who have contributed. I think the youth of today will soon become on fire over issues that are environmentally relevant.

I hope so. If I had a wish it would be that The Monks record again and go after some of this, even a bit tougher with lyric and meaning than we were in the Sixties. Some feel that we shouldn't tempt the critics to call us awful; that we should stay with our success from the Sixties. But I think if you care about critics you shouldn't be in the game.

After a day or so, it all settles down and the rehearsals start coming to a point where we get enthusiastic about what we're doing, we start to become a band again. Frankly, in the beginning, I was a bit ticked off that people were collecting our records and forcing us to surface again. It tended to shake up my nice little life. But after we did a reunion gig in New York, I mellowed out about it all and just started to play Monks music because I found I liked doing it again.

What did you think about the crowd that turned up for the show? I was so surprised to feel their sweet attitude about The Monks come through. It was absolutely humbling and we all felt honoured. The fans are everything to us. We used to play when a damn good fan was hard to come by. Times have changed, it seems. We are grateful. Always wear black and my rope tie. Always keep my head neatly shaved. Always be a gentleman before and after the kiss Oh hell, I don't know.

It boiled down to be a monk, be a monk, be a monk. Hemlir whiw ni by 'Kb- D, 10 H DON. Inside, Daniel Smith - in his semi-solo recording guise of Brother Danielson - ghosts alone from console to booth in the studio he built in his parents' basement. It's quiet enough to hear each mouse-click, rapt before Mac screen, the merest whisper of backing track leaking from headphones and voice straining heavenward, a gloriously imperfect instrument chasing notes and scoring a succession of false starts and near misses.

For a few minutes, we're there with him, the slow, lonesome, repetitive, unglamorous process that VH 1 's Behind The Music doesn't show. Construction work. It's , and Daniel's recording alone or one-on- one with guests because the Danielson Famile, the righteous multi-instrumental gaggle of outsider fabulists he sprouted from siblings for an art school project later swelling with friends, spouses, even offspring - and attaining cult status in the process is proving ever more difficult to gather together.

Family and friends were moving out of the immediate area, getting married, following their own dreams At this point, the film floods the screen with the hysterical newsprint that marked this advent, before pointedly cutting back to that basement, those sessions: Daniel, with only the camera for company, faltering toward a new identity now that the congregation had left the building. The record that resulted, Brother Is To Son, tells you more about how he was feeling than any music doc.

Resisting melodrama but inescapably muted, the rambunctious country fayre choruses and climaxes now bloom shyly and slowly: "I was asking a lot of questions about Danielson and the Danielson Famile and my dayjob and my children and how, how, how? This time the idea was, 'What is the least we can do to make this really work?

The 'I think it's very important to face inward first and then out. Then repeat over and over for a lifetime' - Daniel Smith words long for the end of the day, a next phase - almost a straight inversion of putting childhood toys away. Bruised pastels and tempo downshifted; a car stalling under its own weight. But if Brother Is To Son was a season underground that culminated in a modest personal victory over, well, itself, its final notes twining together in affirmation, the record's reception did not reward him further.

New scene. A Brighton street cafe, post-rehearsal and pre-performance. I've just bought us a couple of still waters. Daniel is scanning the poster for tonight's show above our table, in which he is introduced as 'Sufjan Stevens' mentor'. I have a confession to make. When I heard the film was being released, I didn't want it to happen. Partially because the Famile have already suffered more lazy misrepresentation from the press than almost any band I can think of and - less nobly - 'cause I'm a sectarian snob and I didn't really want them to crossover, become popular.

Daniel takes this onboard with good grace. We weren't very co-operative. We were just kind of like whispering when he was around. And that took- 1 don't know how many years it's been now - six or seven That would be like propaganda or something. It kind of meanders, it's kind of ambient.

But it's true there's not a lot of conflict - the stuff of drama - woven through the narrative. The closest we get is the aforementioned contrast between the current fortunes of Dan and Sufjan, although they spend most of the film buddying up adorably as friends and equals: attending each others' shows, playing pinball with maniacal fervour and hanging on the midday stoop.

The latter scene sees the two discussing Sufjan's self-predicted early demise. What bad habits d'you have?

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Data is encrypted in transit. You can request that data be deleted. Make it easier to search through the track. If a song is playing, I would like to skip to the middle without tapping on the blog link. It's frustrating. Preview mode has no purpose if we can't move it forward and backward. Make it more user friendly. Right now the only reason why I don't use it as much and why I stopped monthly subscription is because the user interface for the song is frustrating.

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