LUCY ROSE - LIKE I USED TO [ALBUM STREAM]

Potentially a review to come. Out tomorrow on Columbia Records. Lucy is playing in-stores in London this week before embarking on a UK tour.

ALUNAGEORGE - YOUR DRUMS, YOUR LOVE

Now, amazingly Madlib’s Freddie Gibbs’ n Co’s ‘Shame’ has stayed with me throughout this time of hiatus. I have only just recently uploaded it to my mp3 player and it has unleashed a whole new wave on endless playing. I don’t know what it is about that song, but play count may well be in the 300-400 now. It STILL never gets old.

Anyway, yes – in addition to Disclosure, I should have mentioned a band that are still really dear to my heart, if, in part, due to their obscurity and wackiness, but also incredibleness and impossible to define sense of effortless pop: that is Philco Fiction. I will not be around when they play Rough Trade East for the release (FINALLY FINALLY) of Take It Personal, which came out last month, but seriously go and see this band. The guys have been knocking around town since last year with this album (got meself two signed LPs innit, see below J) and they just seem to be genuinely enjoying themselves. Some press has been floating about, if you check the Google.

ELSEWHERE, the fun shall continue with this song: ‘Your Drums, Your Love’ by AlunaGeorge. Now I thought about posting when this duo hit with their debut You Know You Like It EP on TriAngle records (formerly How to Dress Well, Clams Casino, Holy Other- go check it out), but just didn’t quite feel that the sterile pop polish worked for me so thought against it (such are the exceptional perfectionist tendencies we (read: I) have on this blog). But anyway – firstly, the artwork for that EP was the nads. See here. IMHO, anything that simple and breathy somehow, irrationally, but very rationally, signals something worth paying attention to. And secondly, and more importantly, ‘Your Drums, Your Love’ is simply a massive step forward. I have already heard this being played on the radio and was pleased to see that an act so clearly suited to the mainstream crossover of dance, R&B and pop that is so popular right now and finally making strides.

Here is the video. AlunaGeorge are an amalgamation of their two names George Reid and Aluna Francis by the way, just to clear that up. Touring the UK in November.  

I AM BACK!

Thank you loyal readers for keeping this blog on the air. You have been reading and I have been a bad, bad blogger.

There has been SO much great new music out there. I won’t even BEGIN to tell you how the new XX album amazed me, or how Wild Nothing are currently infusing 80s urban wilderness into my discontented lungs. But my, the indie sun has shone mightily on all things in the alternative blogosphere. I would like to point out a particular success since this blog has been away – the band/London duo called Disclosure, who this blog featured way back in June 2011 (Oh yes, waaay back people. You heard it here first aite?) Well they have skkkyrocketed of late, out of oblivion and in to mass homes, on to radio and towards an excellent set that recently completed an Bestival, loosely coinciding with the release/leaking on ‘Latch’, which can be found here. There will be more to come. I just can’t figure out what to write about next. Hmmm….

JAI PAUL - JASMINE (DEMO)

In the background of Jai Paul’s website for‘Jasmine’ is a repeated and unexplained picture of a Mercedes Benz and a random dude smiling. Arranged in the headache-inducing style of Microsoft’s tile background option, it brings to mind a very bad graphics student’s attempt at a collage, or a teenager’s quickly thrown together Myspace page.

According to XL, Jai has a DIY ethic. Like the band website that seems deliberately shit and brings to mind nostalgia for the internet’s blocky early design era, Jai’s taste in an unwavering self-effacing public image chimes with the fact that offsetting music against an incongruous and shambolic aesthetic is distinguishing. This is especially when most around you are trying to do crisp, clear and easy to comprehend.

Jai Paul is far from that though. He is an iconoclast. ‘Taking a break’ or so it would seem after self-produced ‘BTSTU(Edit)’, he reclaimed the critical limelight with ease after five years out with only track, and formerly only one track to his name. Now ladies and gents, we have ‘Jasmine’. The song was on Pitchfork and other leading music blogs almost immediately after it was posted to Soundcloud and was invariably lavished with praise.

Despite being released by XL (Adele, The XX, Willis Earl Beal), ‘Jasmine’ has the interesting qualification ‘(demo)’. To me this is interesting because a demo that’s brill, as opposed to a single that’s brill, makes you think the ‘real thing’ will be even better. Except because the ‘demo’ is actually the ‘real thing’ / the version that’s being released in stores near you, this is clearly not a demo at all! ‘Demo’ both excuses ‘Jasmine’s vague crackly production and smartly suggests that this clearly brilliant record is not Jai in full flow, but half-formed, casual demo…ism. This might be the thinking anyway.

Also, when you hear ‘Jasmine’s cassette-like muffling, you’ll swear you’ve ‘discovered’ Jai, even if you do notice it’s already clocked 700,000 odd plays on Soundcloud. It has that demo quality; that personal touch that ‘BTSTU (Edit)’ had. Where the latter went "Don’t fuck with me, don’t fuck with me" in its disturbingly gentle opening, this pulses with a skittery funk beat whose distant production sounds like it was recorded in a church confessions booth.  

Jai is enigmatic. At only 21 odd when XL signed him, ‘BTSTU (Edit)’ was I believe his only available track online, which makes you wonder what XL knew about him that we didn’t (or don’t), particularly given that he seems to be a songwriter/producer first of all. Yet Stereogum have called him ‘possibly visionary’; in an interview with XL owner Richard Russell about XL's success, Russell said ‘Jai is a wizard.’ The BBC even cast him in their Sound of 2011 poll for 2011's most promising artist or band, such was the furore surrounding Jai’s exceptionally good but small output. That year, RockFeedback’s feature on Jai (complete with his provisional driving licence photo) just concluded “There’s not much we can do with Jai Paul nowapart from to carrying on listening to the pop genius of ‘BTSTU.” That’s then.

The story of Jai Paul is certainly intriguing so far. Whatever happens next though, ‘Jasmine’, I’m sure you’ll agree, is indeed superb, worthy of the praise lavished upon it. If ‘BTSTU (Edit)’ struck music’s beating heart once, ‘Jasmine’ can do so again.


Pre-order 'Jasmine' on limited vinyl here.

MADLIB & FREDDIE GIBBS - SHAME

Right, so- simply, this is the best song I’ve heard this summer. It’s making me so happy. The sample- The Manhattans’ 1973 ‘Wish That You Were Mine’ combines with Freddie Gibbs’ rapping to make this an epic track from Madgibbs’ Shame EP (that being the second collaboration between workaholic machine producer Madlib and Freddie Gibbs). The first was Thuggin’ and can be found here.

For those who don’t know, Madlib’s behind some of the rawest soul slash mashup hip hop shit to grace physical formats since J Dilla. Part of Jaylib with the late J Dilla and a prolific producer, you should check out Madlib Medicine Show which runs to over a dozen volumes of beats, spits, spats and crazy if you don’t already know him.  

Meanwhile, BJ The Chicago Kid sings beautifully on ‘Shame’. Smashed together with Gibbs’ majorly explicit, uncompromising rapping, he punctures that machismo one night stand posturing and turns it into something tender, smooth and sexy. After 40 listens, I can confirm that the BJ The Chicago Kid’s hook may have been sent from god.     

MUSIC AND VIDEO EXCHANGE, NOTTING HILL, LONDON

One of the things about doing this music blog is I listen to so much music I love that I feel compelled to write about it and share the word. However, often, I don’t actually have the time to write because I’m so busy listening. Consequently, the more I need the blog, the less time I have for it- a most frustrating irony.  

This is exacerbated by my ever constant music shopping, on early evening finishes at work and on weekends. Whether online or via haunts in London’s East and West, music shopping has become a prong of my music obsession in itself.

So this is the story of how my music shopping story began. Really this is appropriate for Record Store Day, but let’s ignore that because this post didn’t come together in my head until now. Shopping in shops for physical formats had an impact on me as a 23 year old man who grew up with the digitisation transition. For me, it would be a shame to see the extinction of the CD, but especially vinyl. This is not supposed to persuade you of the merits of physical record shops either way. You just read it if you like, and go about your business…

38 Notting Hill Gate, W11 - The flagship store

At 14, I was introduced to the London chain of retro/vintage clothing, music and bric-a-brac shops known as the Music and Video Exchange. For those who don’t know, primarily based around the upper class Notting Hill area of London, and with affiliate stores in Berwick Street (Soho), Camden and Birmingham (I have never been to this one), MVE, or the Record and Tape Exchange, as it was known, offers arguably the most interesting, unexpected and deliberately low key second-hand music shopping experience in London.

Its key feature is what first drew my attention. At 14 and running low on pocket money, I sought alternatives to expensive entertainment retailers. Even small discounts increased my leverage in the entertainment world. (You can imagine what I was like when Ebay arrived.) So on asking my brother keenly why it was that all of his vinyl- I had a mature range of twelve choice CDs at the time, mainly garage, aye- had these price grids on them, he confirmed my suspicion that MVE had a policy of knocking down prices until someone buys the item. "This is my sort of place", I thought. "By its very nature there will be bargains. I just hope they have that Oasis whatsit I love so much."

Music stores are the clear pillar of MVE’s vintage cultural offering. Although I did not know this when I asked the question, as London’s most serious and arguably well-respected second-hand music institution, MVE is a magnet for vinyl and CDs from all over the world, from every genre, of every quality, rotating relentlessly, unbendingly, as customers plunder its stock, leave a hell of a lot of Bread vinyl, and wait for the staff to slip in some new treats- hopefully- before your next visit.

At school, I notified the posse I was planning a visit. It hadn’t occurred to me to look on the net, so when we all rocked up one Sunday afternoon, it all came as a surprise. As I wandered the main floor that day, quietly pleased that I recognised some of the titles, the prices were at first a disappointment. This was ok, but no cigar.

Art Tatum, Fleetwood Mac...R Kelly

A sign however pointed to basement. My friends and I descended a flight of stairs and what greeted me at the bottom was a moment I can honestly say I still remember vividly. Rows upon rows of rock/pop CDs lined the wall, spines facing outward, with prices knocked down on each item pound by pound, to occasionally superb prices. Oasis’ What’s The Story Morning Glory (I think I was surprised they had this, such was my charming open-mindedness): £6, £5 right down to £2. In Virgin Megastore, this was no doubt at least a tenner. Beatles back catalogue? £4 for Abbey Road – a thank you- and £5 for Rubber Soul. No doubt such prices could be found elsewhere in second-hand retailers around, but with the concept of near-limitless browsable and affordable albums at my fingertips and the prospect of sudden discoveries and impulsive purchases suddenly revealed to me, the bargain CD floor filled me with excitement.       

Now as you can imagine, the sort of environment I describe can take a lot out of shop assistants and customers alike; row upon row of tediously monitored stock. As any music shop assistant will tell you, myself briefly included, cataloguing is a pain, but this place is that in over-drive. Due only to its immense success and dogged pricing/margin structure, the atmosphere is dominated by the ethics of a very specific but loyal part of its clientele- the die-hard anorak (often seen, majestically, in the English woodland countryside in the Fall), a product of years of plunder and discovery, with over-flowing knowledge (and sometimes unfortunately fewer social facets), now with a single-minded pursuit for purchases, that will allow him to rest easy (and it is invariably a ‘him’), until the next single-minded pursuit for purchases. While I hope frankly I don’t become one, serious minded affectionados rule the roost at MVE. This is arguably its second most well known characteristic, after its pricing.  A noticeable smell hangs in the air of most of its shops, of dirty, dusty vinyl racks and men’s unwashed trousers. Trendy Rough Trade East this is not.

Next door, Soul and Dance

The same prevalence of eclectic characters among the shop’s customers is also present among staff. There are some musico titans in here. I don’t know who they are ‘cos I’m too afraid to speak to them (I’ll come on to that), but they are a matrix of music knowledge you can be sure.

The downside this all brings though is a dose of music snobbery; an arrogance and hot headedness among its tireless staff. Customer service here is in a league of its own. Don’t try and talk about music, your music taste is invariably shit; don’t walk in laughing or talking too loudly with your friends (preferably you won’t have any friends); don’t try and clarify an answer or ask another question, and lastly, don’t request something such as, say, a carrier bag for your purchase, or something in one of the cabinets, because passive aggressiveness will invariably follow. When I walked in once and asked if I could get a combined discount on two records, I was met with a gruff ‘No’, from the man who has, although he might not know it, been serving me at that counter for nearly 10 years. “There is absolutely no negotiation on the price. The price is the price and that’s it” Ok fine. But why? “To avoid any confusion”. That was the end of that mystifying encounter. Once, I asked if they ever had in any Beatles Anthology on vinyl. ‘No’, was the response. "There wasn’t much call for vinyl in the 90s." End of conversation.

This aspect of the stores, which is unfortunate if you view extreme record buyers’ fetishisation as a slight case of ‘wood for the trees’ as I do, has even courted official recognition. Time Out in 2007 awarded its Most Unhelpful Shop Staff award (across all retail sectors, bear in mind) to the Music and Video Exchange. Its comment, in full, read as follows:

“The movie ‘High Fidelity’ won praise for Jack Black’s accurate portrayal of an obnoxious record store employee making customers jump through hoops to justify their own purchases. MVE makes this look like silver service on the Orient Express; staff here seem to delight in making the simple act of buying a record a baffling trial akin to crossing the Bridge of Death in ‘Monty Python and the Holy Grail’, with Anne Robinson asking the questions. It’s easy to understand their need to express their superiority – prospective employees have to pass a written music test before they’re considered for employment – but surely this attitude can’t be good for business.”

There you have it. As a result, I fully believe there are MVE shoppers out there who have frequented it for decades and are dedicated even emotionally to it, but have never received so much as a ‘hello’ from the staff. In an ironic sort of way, the fact that it continues to survive with such brazenly shit customer service is testament to the powerful enigmatic depths of its stock. If you want that post-punk 7” import that only you give care for, but don’t want to pay Ebay prices, then MVE is the only place it’s worth going to in search of it. And when you find it, there is no doubt you will be jumping for joy, as I sometimes do, and rush over to that counter.

Overall, my decision that day was pretty big. Two weeks or so later my friends and I went again, and then every fortnight or so for the next three years. I now go every week if I can, and rather than merely the bargain rock and pop CD section catching my eye, I am drawn across the shop like a skilled craftsman tending to his weathered tool-kit: from bargain vinyl, to the £1 CD section, to rare 7”, the soul store, and spoken word records upstairs. I have not yet mustered enough fortitude for the ‘soul basement’, which is where records go to die). It is very sad, however, that the classical music store has now shut down. I hope it is not a sign of things to come.

So, so ends my dedication to Notting Hill- my favourite place. I am aware people who are similarly fond of the MVE may have some comments about it, so please do post them below or message me on twitter @grapevinesound if you feel like sharing.

All pictures courtesy of the internet except pricing stickers.

LOCKAH - THE SOUR DRINK FROM THE OCEAN

I was recently perusing Pitchfork’s new tracks section and stumbled upon something I have been listening to non-stop since last week: ‘The Sour Drink From The Ocean’ by an up and coming Aberdeen-based producer called Lockah. So much am I enjoying this song in fact (and repeatedly playing it at work), that I sought it out on my phone via the Soundcloud app just so I could finally unlock its potential for travelling listening on the way to and from work. Yes, I can spot potential for a joyous strutting stomper a mile off.

He just signed to the Mad Decent imprint, Jeffree’s, to release an EP. This has an aweeesome title. Wait for it…..When U Stop Feeling Like A Weirdo & Become A Threat. If that isn’t a bad-ass title for a record, I don’t know what is.

Anyway, check this guy out. Reminiscent of the tight sampling (any idea of the sample?) yet soulful result of Star Slinger, I think this pulsing oblivion of sound signposts Lockah as an interesting new talent. 'The Sour Drink From The Ocean' has already had 20,000 hits on Soundcloud in less than two weeks and was featured on BBC Introducing in Scotland on Ally McCrae's Radio 1 show tonight. 

FRIENDS - MANIFEST!

Stream the album here courtesy of The Guardian

Well this is quite simply the album I’ve been waiting for. Samantha Urbani’s uber-cool Friends finally release their debut album this Jubilee bank holiday Monday- well done Lucky Number, we knew your Britishness would be good for something- to the full spangliness of stars in the Sunday media supplements and lengthy blogger comment (see….what you’re reading). For some reason it seems like aeons since second single ‘I’m His Girl’ was first released (although it’s actually only eight months ago), but perhaps that’s because a lot has changed for that band who, on playing their first UK concertback in October 2011, had played only a handful of gigs in local Brooklyn venues and had barely formed long enough for their story about the band’s name to be more than a recent recollection. But, since then, ‘I’m His Girl’, freely sold on 7”at that gig days before release, flew off the shelves, and return gigs at The Lexington and XOYO this February sold out. The latter gig was filmed for Youtube, and despite being a little bit over-played for the cameras, it helped confirm the band’s joyous live reputation. Somehow, it feels as though the Brooklynites couldn’t get this album out soon enough. Urbani’s evident enthusiasm charmed many and irritated a few, but a bigger, 1000 strong throng headed to the seriously big venue, London’s Scala on 9 May, her band beating their headline capacity best by selling it out. Today (literally-ish), they eat swordfish with The Independent. Things just got serious.

So now that Manifest! aptly manifests on the horizon, the album delivers a topical title brimming with potential. We start at the chronological germination, first release ‘Friend Crush’, which is reassuringly at the top of the bill. Its breezy, stomping off-kilter pop was one of the best singles of last year in my view (we featured it hereski). Its younger boobier ‘I’m His Girl’ cousin is here too, but unfortunately not its lesser-boobier but even funkier sister, Ghost Town DJs cover ‘My Boo’. Are these the highlights of the now filled out repertoire? The Guardian seems tothink so, yes.

But that is not to say that it’s so. ‘Sorry’s percussive rhythm rivals ‘Feelin Dank’. Tropical touches and over-done chants make this a little song you can listen to over and over again, that belies its carefree triviality. But perhaps the biggest argument for Friends with this material is ‘A Thing Like This’. When Urbani thrashed this out at the Hoxton Square Bar & Kitchen in October, where literally no one in the audience would have heard this song, my friend and I only looked at each other in knowing excitement: we knew we had just found a fucking awesome band. It’s one of those rare moments. The crowd injected with a sort of groovilicious liquid, girls started dancing, boys watched them dancing as they started dancing themselves, and secretly hoped Urbani would give them a cheeky sensual pout. This sort of carefree stuff doesn’t usually happen at gigs for cool people in London. So, with its translation to record, it should, if I was Lucky Number, have been Friends’ first single on/around the album’s release by virtue of it being radio-friendly (and representative) best foot forward. Sweet as a button, tough as a nut, it slips and slides with a synth-heavy, bass-heavy arrangement that epitomises their sound. Urbani sighs sensually, swoons delicately and confidently. She’s sexy again. And you can hear it. And the band is sexy too.  

‘A Light’ is another funky number. One of the more serious groovers, crumply lo-fi production gives Urbani a dampened touch, giving way to eminently danceable ‘Ideas on Ghosts’. That is three seriously danceable tracks in a row by the way, in case I should have made that clear. If that level of result makes Friends more self-conscious trying-too-hard than disconnected whatever dance-groove effortless tropical-pop, then so be it. The fact that this album isn’t rougher around the edges shouldn’t be held against it. ‘Ruins’ is clearly the attempt at off the beaten track, rocky rebelliousness, and really it doesn’t quite work. But fortunately, the band have stuck to what they know best: much like their American sitcom namesake, using every living moment to dance (ok, maybe not that bit) and have fun. Live favourite and closer, Swedish sung ‘Va Fan Gor Du’ retains its immediacy and swings around with the half-drunk stupor you just wanted from it. Finally ‘Mind Control’ wades in to pull down the curtain.

There are small signs that Friends’ luminous ascent from formation to fringe-of-the-mainstream may be gently stabilising. The band play 500-capacity Dingwalls in a couple of days, not a venue comparable to with the Scala, and Matthew Molnar, on bass and keyboards- although I don’t want to say it- has looked more than a little tired or bored (well....both) at recent gigs, perhaps due to the amount of touring. But, to judge longevity on these things would be ridiculous. I’m going to see Friends play Rough Trade East on Monday 4 June when this album is released. Because for all Manifest’s sophisticated fun, they retain the looseness on record to keep me intrigued; the hooks to keep me horribly hooked. And will the band continue to jostle for their ‘tropical pop’ DIY ethic to be seen and heard? As long as they’re having fun, you can be sure they will.

RIPPLE - I DON'T KNOW WHAT IT IS, BUT IT SURE IS FUNKY

Trying to pick a compilation to buy on vinyl is a bit of a minefield because there are so damn many. There are old ones, new ones, re-issued ones, Readers’ Digest ones- that I bought once for 10p and never will again- and obscure ones.

I will usually flick through a few, before making a value judgment based on the tracks, the cover (sorry, you rational bastards) and the blurb on the sleeve (again). With compilations of stuff I don’t know, the last point in particular can be very persuasive. If the blurb says something really imaginative such as, for instance, suggesting the album will put me on the streets of 1970s Harlem or Chicago, or in a dizzying disco club, or bring back memories of the days of old (none of which I actually experienced) I’m usually there.

So it was with great enthusiasm that I purchased Living in The Streets, a compilation with the tagline ‘wah wah jazz, funky soul, and other dirty grooves’ in Sister Ray in London last week, and more or less whacked it on minutes after coming back home. The blurb on the back had waxed lyrical – very successfully might I add – about what one might be imagining listening to this compilation….

“ ‘Living in The Streets’ taps into that era [when jazz clubs were on every corner], and lets you know what it felt like musically to walk from street corner to bar with the hot air billowing up from the subway grills…”

Nice.

“The radios in the cars adjacent to you are blaring out the urban station WE-KOOL and the heavy sensual voice of Isaac Hayes forcefully pleading his woman to ‘Use Me’ has all the right shivers running down your spine.”

Ah, sweet.

“Entering the bar you rapidly order a beer, greedily gulping down the first few mouthfuls of the frothy potion as you head to the jukebox, add some money and make your choices- they flow out one by one- the sweet soul of Tammi Lynn and uplifting funk of Spanky Wilson- leaving you feeling elated and along with the beer refreshed and ready once more to face the day.”  

    

‘I Don’t Know What It Is But It Sure Is Funky’ epitomises this album, and as you can imagine it sure is funky: Wall-to-wall stomping beats, the most bad-ass, awesome feel-good call and response chant I’ve ever heard and this lovely funky vibe that only a bright sunny day can throw up. And there’s very few of them in England. The description for this section read as follows:

“Heading out of Jimmy’s, it’s across the street to a basement that hasn’t even got a name, but where you know that the DJ will be laying down some seriously good tunes – Ripple, Preston Epps or Idris Mohammad – guys that know where to find the groove.”

Strutting into Music and Video Exchange in Notting Hill yesterday, mojo in full flow and The Fatback Band soundtracking my head, I asked the perhaps 40 year old attendant: “Hey boy, you got that new Ripple seven, 'That sure is Funky’?” After throwing me off by wrongly correcting the song title (he didn’t know what it was but it sure was funky, he could have said), he looked at me, faintly disgusted (maybe because I’m white and so was he….and he’s about 40, and I’m 23…and this is not the 1970s, unfortunately) by whipping off my pimp hat and telling me I wouldn’t find it and that Ripple come in sometimes, but only on compilations. 

I could “catch a cab across town to see your girl” at this point, but instead I just skulked off.  

HOLY OTHER - TOUCH

Nestling in the middle of the EP, ‘Touch’ is arguably the entry point for those uninitiated with Holy Other. The EP as a whole (With U) is terminally austere and disconnected, but the tension is just marginally slackened on ‘Touch’, which turns a turgid sludge into fantastical, inverted onanism with careful manipulations. The fine line between hideousness and beauty, excitement and fear, ecstacy and depression, is briefly explored and traversed here.  

 ‘Touch’s main tension comes from its reticence. It refuses to give itself away, and only concedes short breaths and rhythmic interludes. But when they hit...well.....The track layers effects over a repeated vocal phrase. Initially, only two notes of inconspicuous synth will slip in, followed shortly by a tinny drum effect you might find on a really shitty 80s keyboard.  The pithy hiccup juxtaposes with deep bass. As the vocal samples build and the clicks’ marauding mischief reach a gentle and muffled climax, the track peaks, gently slowing, like a roller-coaster reaching the pinnacle, holding, balancing, quietly tipping and then hitting a point of no return, where it viscerally disappears into mayhem. It plunges for seconds, dispersing bass and waves and waves of sound.