C I R C U L A T I O N

ÓlafurArnalds

+ Viet CONG / cosmo sheldrake / PUblic service broadcastingAnd More

Volum

e 5 / Issue 1 / february 2015 / free

CIRCULATION

team Contents editors’ note

editors-in-chiefSophie Brear and Harry Rosehill

managing directorelliott ball

secretarycaitlin sherrard

features editorkasimiira kontio

Live editorScott clarke

Albums editoralice miller

comment editorholly hunt

arts editorjack turner

pr + publicitycharlotte morrin

events managersmaddy crammondvictoria watkins

web editorjames rudge

contributorsoisin twomey brenner

immie dentonanoosh djavaheridouglas fraser

kit lockeyoliver manghameleanor masonthomas rosser

eleanor sutherlandchristine tan

ayshe zaifoglu

live4. drenge

alt-j5. alvvays

features6 . Ólafur arnalds

8. viet cong14. public service broadcasting

16. cosmo sheldrake18. menace beach

fawn spots19. darlia

albums10. lapsleyteen daze

11. dengue feverpurity ring

12. bjorklupe fiasco

13. belle and sebastianpetite noir

comment21. ‘regeneration’

‘you’re not serious’22. ‘is radio dead?’

23. ‘but first let me take a selfie’

Welcome to another rebirth of circulation. we have a new com-mittee with lots of fresh ideas ready to wow you. The combination of the new team and springtime made us think why not loose-ly tie the issue together with the vague term “regeneration.”

Featuring some blossoming new artists such as local york heroes fawn spots and wacky cult-he-ro cosmo sheldrake. we also fo-cused on another type of regen-erating artist for this issue: those who have resurfaced on the music scene in an altered form. distinctly separating themselves from their past musical ventures: canadian post punk auteurs viet cong are fragments of the disbanded women, and menace beach a ‘supergroup’ of many small, influential uk indie bands. public service broadcast-ing enagage a whole new dimen-sion with our ‘regeneration’ theme. bringing the space exploration age back to life with their latest lp.

in the albums sphere of things, bjork went through a cruci-ble-like regeneration of her own with her new album vulnicura. we also take a look at the re-vival of grime, whether radio is a dead medium for enjoying and discovering music and how the birth of selfie culture is trans-forming , albeit negatively, the way we interact with live music.

we hope you enjoy the issue as much as we suffered putting it together. we strongly believe if and when we go to hell, we will be forever stuck in our tiny cir-culation office with the same four walls eternally staring us down.

harry and sophie

circulation-mag.com / circulationmagazine@yusu.org / facebook.com/circulationmag / @circulationmag

But alt-J never really broke the shackles com-pletely. Those concerned about the state of rock and roll in the modern music industry would find that it was lacking something. Gene Sim-mons’ controversial lament last year that rock and roll is dead—“Where’s the next Bob Dylan? Where’s the next Beatles?”—somewhat reso-nated on Sunday. ‘Left Hand Free’ was more like listening to the 70s through your laptop, while ‘Leon’ could have been performed at a higher intensity. alt-J had their heads nodding in agreement with the beat and the crowd clapping along, but it could have been more.

Of course rock and roll isn’t what alt-J are about, but it was a shame that they didn’t take the opportunity to give it more energy. Parts of ‘Fitzpleasure’ certainly had that win-dow too, but judging by alt-J’s presence on stage you wouldn’t have known if the band were dropping into the song’s segments of

alt-j

Drenge The Brudenell social clubleedsmonday 19 january

Drenge kicked off the year with a boister-ous night of riffing, cheering and sweat-ing at the Brudenell Social Club. Since the release of their self-titled debut al-bum in 2013, the sounds of northern heavy rock have experienced a slight lull.But Eoin and Rory Loveless opened up what is set to be a busy year for them with a loud crack of crisp, juvenile lyr-ics and overdriven guitar, breathing life into the definitive gig venue in Leeds. Transforming the brother duo into rock three-some, bassist Rob Graham joins the show to

fill out the gut wrenching sound – cementing a volatile sonic gap that was just asking to be filled. The group jumped on stage and blasted out ‘Running Wild’ to an enormous surge of action in the crowd. Three songs later and they still hadn’t stopped. A ren-dition of ‘Bloodsports’ encouraged more moshing and crowd surfing, yet still Drenge put on an uncomfortably calm perfor-mance, as if performing behind a brick wall. Their sound, which reaches into the depths of rock culture seeming-ly making constant reference to other groups, yet never feels like a pastiche.Warming up for a second album release and large-scale tour later in the year, Drenge dropped new song ‘We Can Do What We Want’ to the somewhat confused response from the crowd. The same heavy crunch of sound, only this time it ’s unknown, yet somehow familiar; you can definitely hear the sounds of The Clash hiding somewhere. Once the

crowd gets the hang of the riff, they ’re off again. Speaking to Eoin before the show, he notes his care in not giving the fans too much, too soon. Instead, easing in a new song here and there is their game plan. There’s one thing that Drenge nail every time. They don’t take themselves too seriously; the nonchalant reality of ‘Fuckabout’ reminds you that they ’re just here to have a good time. When questioned about their appearance on David Letterman this month, Loveless modestly echoes their approach to gigging. They don’t expect an audience. They play for themselves. It ’s difficult to describe in words what Drenge sound like; they sort of exist as their own thing. Perhaps they are best described as a feeling. A feeling of modern rock and roll. Needless to say, Drenge are definitely back.

review and photo: thomas rosser

L I V E

Not the first thing to be consumed by a com-mercialising world, British music’s rock and roll identity has in many ways reached the peak of its crisis. Sampling Miley Cyrus, Mercury Award-winning indie rock band alt-J, opened to a hungry 20,000 at the O2 arena with their recent single ‘Hunger of the Pine’. While not the best they’ve brought to the table, its reflective ambience served well to fill the O2 with the promise of something good. Deserting the rock and roll ethos of unseating a large crowd with a big opener was a statement which encapsulates the introspective melan-choly that defines the band. They drifted into the contemplation of their more Hamlet-self-re-flective ‘Taro’, then into ‘Matilda’, glutting the heartstrings. ‘Left Hand Free’ shook up the calm ambience with a more extroverted rock and roll confidence: “Ain’t shady baby/I’m hot like the prodigal son” opening the audience to the more dialectic re-envisioning of the 70s.

Afropop-tinged dubstep or its moments of in-tricate electronica. While this is not to suggest alt-J were poor—indeed, they stayed true to themselves despite the pressure of a sold-out O2—their performance could have had more dynamic. Rock and roll pessimists would have been frustrated by the lack of it. alt-J are lead-ing the indie scene that reigns over popular music culture in Britain, just as Britpop once did; our last flirtation with rock and roll. The Arctic Monkeys, and more recently the Fat White Family, have stood alone in their efforts to re-generate it for many years; the United States is arguably far more successful on that front… For me, Sunday was a sign that British music in general is in serious need of an injection of that rock and rock sentimentality, but that doesn’t seem to be the hunger of the times.

Scott clarke

the o2londonmonday 26 january

L I V E

alvvaysThe Brudenell social clubleedsthursday 22 january

What makes for a good live band? And how exactly does a polished studio sound translate to the acoustics of a small club? These were questions I pondered in between songs at the recent gig for Alvvays, the tragically cute indie-pop quintet from Toronto. Fortunately, any concerns about a poor transition were dashed early on, with the band proving to be a surpris-ingly formidable presence in their short but sweet performance at the Brudenell Social Club.

Opening the night was Alvvays’ fellow Canadi-an export Moon-King, a perfectly serviceable dream-pop ensemble. They delivered a rela-tively solid set, but ultimately failed to leave any memorable impression. Perhaps it’s just me, but I feel as if the window of opportunity for shoegaze bands and other MBV acolytes is slowly narrowing. When you’ve heard the ump-teenth shimmering guitar melody, accompanied by wispy vocals, the artists start to blend into one. Sweeping statements aside, Moon-King nonetheless served their purpose, produc-ing an agreeable ambience as the crowd milled in and tentatively sipped their first drinks.

From the second they plugged in their equip-ment, Alvvays played like consummate musicians, belying their scruffy teenage appearance. Each song was meticulously crafted, to the ex-tent that their performance seemed more like a carefully choreographed dance than anything else. But this formalistic precision was achieved while still retaining a sense, or at least illusion, of improvisation needed to make any gig feel authentic. Although every band member proved their worth, it was the spindly interplay between the bassist Brian Murphy and lead guitarist Alec O’Hanley that really impressed.But it was the fragile vocals of lead singer Molly

Rankin that gave Alvvays the warmth needed to counterbalance their methodical play-ing style. For every time her voice cracked in falsetto, like on moving ballad ‘Party Police’, I felt like I was watching something akin to ther-apy. Given the live space to perform, her lyr-ics revealed greater depth and wisdom than I had ever noticed on their record. For exam-ple, when Rankin wistfully sang that she’s “An outcast of modern society / Suffering from a case of sobriety” on ‘The Agency’, the lines be-came something more than cute, surface-level wordplay. Her guileless stage presence also served her well when she interacted with the audience, at one point asking everyone if it was “kosher in Leeds” to wear a Morrissey t-shirt.

Having only released one album, the band was able to run through their entire repertoire, closing their encore with a preview of their new material, playing ‘Haircut’ from the up-coming sophomore release. Relying on more web-like melodies and heavier percussion, it indicated a promising evolution in their sound.

All in all, it was a highly satisfying experience. Alvvays’ particular brand of pure pop, blasted through a lo-fi filter, made for an electrifying per-formance. When Rankin openly mused “We were here only a year ago, opening for Real Estate…”, a sense of disbelief lingered in her voice. But for anyone in that audience, their sudden as-cension in the ranks didn’t seem surprising at all.

review and photo: oliver mangham

PHOTOGRAPHERSWANTED!

Illustration: Immie Denton

When living in an audio and image saturat-ed culture that bombards us with mind-numb-ing tracks and kitsch commercial imagery, it is hard to find something that is naturally beautiful and pure to its core. Whilst the mu-sic industry continues to become increasingly corporate and music itself has become more of a commodity of than an art form, there are very few musicians that are rebelling against this. One such artist is Icelandic Ólafur Arnalds.

Arnalds is a lot like his music. Humble and hon-est, there is a fascinating intricacy echoed amongst his fellow Icelanders such as Jónsi and Johan Johansson. He is a man of few words, but what these sparse vocals do possess is a depth and ethereality that is truly tranquilising to hear. Yet still there is a brutal beauty in his music, cold and refreshing like the climate of his homeland that permeates his work. At the age of 28, Arnalds has already achieved more than most of us do in our lifetime. In spite of his relative youth, he has won a BAFTA for his work on popular ITV series Broadchurch, released three studio albums and explored his electron-ic talents with German instrumentalist Nils Frahm as well as with Janus Rasmussen in a collab-orative experimental techno project, Kiasmos.

Ó L A F U RA R N A L D S

But in the middle of all this hype, what is ac-tually going on inside Ólafur Arnalds’ head? “I’m trying to think about what I want to do for my next album. I’ve been to so many musical places within the past couple of years that I’m finding it hard to pick one for the next al-bum. Thankfully I’m not in any rush!”, he explains

and adds that in spite of being a person with clear goals, he, surprisingly, doesn’t think that far ahead when it comes to his career.

In spite of just releasing his debut album as Kiasmos and finishing the challenging quest of composing a soundtrack for the second season of Broadchurch, Arnalds has had no time to sit back and relax. In March 2015, Ar-nalds is releasing a collaborative album The Chopin Project which he has been working on with German-Japanese classical pianist Alice Sara Ott. “After that, I plan to start pondering about my next solo album”, Arnalds reveals.

His latest solo album, For Now I Am Winter, gar-nered massive success and was praised by critics internationally. Released in 2013, the en-igmatic and harmonious feel of this album was hailed for its uniqueness, causing the listener to get lost inside beautiful tracks like ‘Old Skin’ or ‘A Stutter ’. This album, like many of Arnalds’ projects, was also made in collaboration with many other incredibly talented musicians.

Working with Arnor Dan and combining Dan’s emotional vocals with Arnalds’ gorgeous pi-ano and strings, For Now I Am Winter turned

“My only trick is just to try to remove myself from the outside world”

out to be one of the most beautiful albums re-leased in 2013. According to Arnalds, it is the other people who are the driving force when it comes to his creative process. “Each album and each project I have tried to collaborate with a different person. That’s how you learn the most, by seeing how other people can in-fluence your music. For example, I did all the string and piano arrangements on the Kiasmos album, I don’t think any of them would have been the way they are if Janus wasn’t there next to me the whole time. It is these lessons that I take back into my own solo work.”, he explains.

But how does he start his composition process? Within past ten years or so, Arnalds has rapidly progressed from a drummer of a metal band into an award winning prestigious compos-er. Arnalds reveals the composition process to be a somewhat lonely job in spite of his interest towards collaborative work with other musicians: “There are moments when I feel like

I could write a whole album in one night and that usually happens when I am feeling highly sensitive. It ’s hard to reach that mindset and it doesn’t happen often. My only trick is just to try to remove myself from the outside world. Be completely alone with my thoughts. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t, I guess that’s the nature of it”, he admits, yet continues to insist that he isn’t really a romantic even though his music might suggest otherwise: “I can’t really remember having big dreams when I was a kid, I was a bit of an introvert. Just thinking a lot and wondering about nerdy stuff like how the keys on the piano relate to each other or some-thing. Not much of a talker”, he adds jokingly.

When Arnalds got commissioned to compose the soundtrack for the first season of Broad-church, he was only 26 years old. There are very few soundtracks that have become one of the main characteristics of their TV show yet Arnalds’ gloomy and painfully beautiful scores possess a fascinating vitality that create new dimensions to the storyline of the show. Did Ar-nalds ever anticipate this kind of reaction to his work? Maybe not. But was it deserved? Defi-nitely. “Funnily enough lots of my initial ideas for Broadchurch were taken from songs that I had been making for a totally different film project which didn’t go through in the end. I didn’t watch any other TV shows to look for ‘lessons’ or inspira-tion but went into this completely blindfolded”.

He admits that there are a lot of complexities included in entwining these two very different

“there is a brutal beauty in his music”

art forms together. Combining visual narrative with suitable musical structure is a time con-suming process due to the different needs embedded within the two very different medi-ums of film and music. “The biggest challenge is probably finding a structure to a song that works musically but still hits all the right marks on the screen. But there is always a way, and my view is that if you can’t find a way then the piece of music is wrong so I start over.”

Arnalds is keen to point out that he doesn’t always practice minimalism consciously but believes that “it is a bigger achievement to make something big with few tools than with many.” There is certain humbleness in Ar-nalds’ minimalism and it is this kind of simplici-ty that empowers his work. He isn’t the kind of artist who draws boundaries between clas-sical and popular music nor does he be-lieve in the hierarchy of the genres. By mixing electronic elements with classical piano and strings, Arnalds creates something unique that speaks volumes of his individualistic talent.

Ólafur is currently on his Broadchurch tour around Europe and his collaborative release, The Chopin Project, is due to come out in March. Ólafur is playing at the Howard As-sembly Room in Leeds on the 27th February.

kasimiira kontio

Photo: Colin Way

We engage guitarist Scott ‘Mon-ty ’ Munro in some deep existen-tialist debates about bananas…

When Monty picks up the phone he’s slightly worse for wear, in a groggy state of jetlag and the effects of last night ’s partying after touch-down in London. This seems to be a general theme for life in Viet Cong though, as he reg-ularly mentions a previous show and then how wild it got. “Those New York shows were pret-ty messy.. I don’t really remember what hap-pened but it was probably good... y ’know?”

We started with the controversy over their band name, which was inspired by watch-ing war movies when younger where “the Viet Cong guys were always the badass-es.” Now Monty admits he regrets this com-ment, as the band receive a considerable amount of hatemail. One girl told them “my family was in a Viet Cong prisoner of war camp for 10 years”, though they have man-aged to avoid an actual physical confron-tation. He attributed the choice of name to the differing perceptions of the Vietnam war in Canada and America, and the way it is presented in education. He always saw the Viet Cong as the good guys, but notes the “terrible atrocities on all sides”, compared to the more glorified perception of it in America. Monty might regret the comment he made but he stood by the name of the band with a resolute “no” to whether he regretted the

name of the band, and compared their divi-sive name to post-punk legends Joy Division.

The album has been described by many as “the perfect winter album”, so we wonder whether it was shaped by the chilly climate of their hometown of Calgary. When Monty was asked for his opinion on this statement he gave us a typically pragmatic response: “The music that gets made in colder climes is generally just different from warmer cli-mates.” But he says it ’s not so much that it inspires the music, but rather that more time is spent inside the studio making music rather than outside drinking beers in the backyard.

Two members of Viet Cong are formerly of the disbanded Women, so we asked whether the press’ constant referral to Women gets a little annoying for him (Monty not personally being a past member). He doesn’t seem to mind too much, as without Women’s break-up, Viet Cong would have never come into being. He notes the lineage between

v i e t c o n gWomen’s material and their self- released EP, which was made up of Matt ’s leftover riffs from Women, but adds that their Janu-ary-released eponymous debut was much more of an individual conception. “If people wanna compare us to Women I don’t mind, I thought they were an awesome band.”

Despite the infamous onstage fight between Matt and his brother, which resulted in Wom-en’s break-up, Viet Cong have been get-ting on great, even surviving a 7 week tour in a Toyota Echo. There seems to be an element of luck about this however, as the

whole band weren’t close before the tour, but fortunately they ’ve gelled well. Monty is incredibly excited for their guitarist Danny on their upcoming European tour: “its fun and fresh again because Danny ’s never been to any of these places, so he’s always super stoked about it.” Monty personally is more eager for their tours in the U.S. later in the

“if you can’t laugh at a situation you’re probably not having a great life”

made a claim which our researchers have been thus far unable to verify: “French royalty in the 1600s couldn’t buy a banana, now I can just go down the street and buy one, that’s insane, it ’s the height of luxury! You can just get whatever you want whenever you want it. There’s obviously some serious prob-lems still in the world right now but many peo-ple right now are living better than anyone ever has. I feel there’s not much to complain about.” He seemed to have steered off the banana topic, but you can’t keep a passion-ate man away from his potassium. “They ’re so cheap, you can basically get one for free!” he digresses. Then confusion and doubt crept into his love of bananas: “how does the banana get here?” he asks “where did it grow and how did it get to my frozen city? THAT’S the ridiculousness of being.”

It has been announced that Viet Cong are playing both Field Day and Green Man festivals this summer. Their debut album Viet Cong is out now on Jagjaguwar / Flemish Eye.

Sophie Brear and Harry Rosehill

year, just because he wants to go somewhere warm, but also highlights Portugal and Italy as European countries that he’s enthused to visit, to further highlight this climate point. He did show a fair bit of love for England, Yorkshire in particular, through his views on one particular Leeds venue. “I think its possi-ble that the Brudenell Social Club might be the best venue in the whole world.” Monty was basing this statement off what he knew of the bar and the games room connected to the venue, but when we informed him they also serve pizza he immediately proclaimed it: “absolutely the best venue in the world!”

The members of the band come from a wide variety of musical backgrounds. The Viet Cong sound came “organically from us jamming together.” On tour with Chad, the two decided to work on recordings without serious vision. Danny and Mike joined in the midst of their first EP Cassette. Mike got back from tour with Porcelain Raft when he joined the band, pretty much straight away. Monty says it wasn’t until the four of them began jamming together that the sound began to develop. The first track they wrote, ironically, was ‘Death’, and with subsequent touring the sound really started to come together. How-

ever, ‘Death’ naturally had to come at the end of the short, brutal life of Viet Cong’s de-but album, as what could possibly come after that urgent, frantic finale? Monty seemed re-sistant to identify with the post punk tag that critics have given them, being such a wide genre and vague term, instead choosing to define Viet Cong as a straight-up rock re-cord (an even wider genre and vaguer term).

They keep in mind “the ridiculousness of being” that defined their Cassette EP, and the album runs with a similar existentialist approach. He said it ’s always important to bear in mind “just how stupid everything is. If you can’t laugh at a situation you’re prob-ably not having a great life.” He elaborat-ed: “people living in the western world have it better than they ’ve ever had it.” He then

“how does the banana get here?”

Photo: Jam

es Rudge

Silhouettes: Viet cong live at the brudenell social cub aka the best venue in the world

Lapsleyunderstudy ep

There is a fine balance to be struck in elec-tronic music: it requires enough edginess to be interesting, yet excessive experimentation can have the potential to make it inacces-sible. Låpsley’s (Holly Lapsley Fletcher) silky, minimalistic sound may not be the most stun-ningly unique, but her beautiful, light vocals and intelligent manipulation of space certainly draw the listener in. At just 18 years old, she has signed a deal with XL Recordings and earned a place on the BBC Sound of the Year 2015 long list. Understudy, her second EP, proves that this is just the start of her success, and that this gifted newcomer is one to watch.

Featuring four equally excellent tracks, Un-derstudy makes a strong statement of Låps-ley’s ability to craft elegant melodic contours against understated beats and lush synths, be-lying her classical training, pop sensibilities, and love for electronic artists like James Blake. The atmospheric spaciousness is rather reminiscent of The xx and is suffused with the warmth of her delicate voice. The lead single ‘Falling Short’ both comforts and haunts at once with its repe-tition of smooth piano chords and fragmentary lyrics. ‘Brownlow’ is the brightest of the four, its peppy synths and sparkling chorus offset by the low pitch-shifted “This is how I’m seeing us go”, adding a quirky, poignant touch. There is something curiously, viscerally affecting about the swelling and fluttering layers in ‘8896’, as if mirroring the patterned movement of the lungs and heart. This song is a perfect example of her skilful use of silence and space to stretch then satisfy the listener ’s musical anticipation, be it in the little pauses between lyrics or the

one-second gaps between sections. Despite its title, ‘Dancing’ is not quite one to groove to but might suitably accompany post-party blues. Its outcry of “I’ve always been an under-study/I know you would never love me” leads to a dark, sweeping crescendo which snaps back to the quietness of the verse just before its intensity overwhelms— a rather ingenious classical device evoking mental disturbance.

This is an album for the late nights and the bad nights, the kind that makes forgotten feelings re-surface. It is quite incredible how much sophisti-cation and emotion Låpsley manages to com-press into 15 minutes - the album seems over almost before it has even started, though it eas-ily withstands being played on loop for an hour or so of chilled out, comforting, pre-sleep vibes.

christine tan

RECENTLYRELEASED

teen dazea world away

From modest, Tumblr-based beginnings, young Canadian ambient-electronica musi-cian Teen Daze established a considerable fan base through his role as a remix artist for groups such as Tycho and Yeasayer, as well as individual productions. The uplifting mel-ancholy of previous albums Glaciers and All of Us Together are reminiscent of the adolescent nostalgia of Youth Lagoon or haunting aura of Sigur Ros, while The House on the Mountain melds in twangy guitar and ukulele riffs in a sound a lot like Emancipa-tor. Yet with his latest release A World Away, it isn’t exactly clear what he was trying to do.

‘Sun Burst’, the opening track, seems a misno-mer. Where previous releases such as ‘Alaska’ would lead us to expect an eruption of en-ergetic, bass driven progressions, ‘Sun Burst’ instead simply finishes. This disappointing anti-climax is dumbfoundingly followed up with minimalist house in ‘Another Night’. This abrupt discontinuity seems to go against one

of the fundamental requirements of an ambi-ent album - to set a mood and maintain this for listeners. Yet for what ‘Another Night’ is, the punchy beats and deep funky bass tick all the boxes for a decent trancy EDM track.

Swinging back into a calmer vibe, ‘Reykjavik, January 2015’ is evocative of Teen Daze’s ear-lier work. Holding more of an edgy sense of pro-gression than either of the opening tracks. The cold, refreshing essence of the Icelandic capital is captured by haunting, fussy synths with stylistic influence clearly taken from Boards of Canada.

And then we have ‘Than’, the track that killed it all for me. The calm mood previously created is shattered intrusively by what initially appears to be the sound of madness and dysphoria. It is the sort of soundtrack you would expect to accompany you through a spout of some horrendous flu. Even beyond this first reaction, listening to this as a stand-alone piece there is very little substance for its relentless 9 min-ute duration, making it quite frankly, dull. ‘Desert’ does little to salvage the mood, with layers that simply don’t mesh together, being both offbeat and taking a disconcertingly wild variation in tempo. Thankfully, ‘I Feel God in the Water ’ moves back to a more pure form of ambience, making it a fitting outro. Appropriately named, the organ beat is suggestive of a soothing lull-aby, as if conjuring the feeling of warmth and protection associated with churches, accom-panied by the gentle foaming hiss of water.

As a whole, the main flaw of A World Away lies in its overly minimalistic and cold composition, making it perfect ammunition for the “anti-elec-tronic community”, who could justifiably claim a lack of substance. This major shortfall limits the album to simply being mediocre background music rather than having the warmth and up-lifting power of his earlier works. The album’s disjointed nature may have been down to Teen Daze taking a multifaceted approach to the component tracks, but it ends up feeling overly experimental, more like a compilation or anthology of various unrelated pieces. Some of the six tracks arguably have their individ-ual merits, but their arrangement throws out any hope of cohesive enjoyment. There has been considerable eclecticism between his previous albums, each achieving success, yet this felt like somewhat of a “swing and a miss.”

I feel as if I’ve trampled all over Teen Daze’s work, so putting all criticisms aside, he is a skill-ful artist; sentimental, evocative, able to sur-face raw melancholy emotion. But A World Away is just that - irreconcilably distant from Teen Daze’s usual musical craftsmanship.

Douglas Fraser

purity ringanother eternity

dengue feverthe deepest lake

Canadian electro-pop duo Purity Ring have re-turned with their new album Another Eternity. One may wonder what they’ve been doing in the two years since the release of their triumphant 2012 debut Shrines, and by the sounds of it they probably haven’t been doing all that much.

Another Eternity seems pretty much an up-dated, overdone version of Shrines; with more trap-beats and spooky vocals than there are braids in FKA Twigs’ hair (an obvi-ous influence, though Purity Ring show far less artistic initiative). Their second album is more an attempt at chart than charming. Their last album topped the iTunes electronic chart, so again and again the shuddering hi-hats and synths throughout Another Eternity play out too much like what the artists are perhaps attempting to push their new album into the heart of: chart-selling EDM. This is a musical sequel in its worst form, erring dangerously towards a disingenuous attempt at renewal.

It wouldn’t be hard for any marketing intern to sell Dengue Fever. They’re an L.A. garage band with a Cambodian lead singer – this shtick basically writes itself. Their novelty is painfully clear. Nevertheless, after more than ten years in the business, one could not fault the idiosyncratic group for struggling to stay a part of the conversation. Their niche, an initial selling point, could easily have become a stale routine, or a prism through which all of their music is observed. Luckily, their latest release, The Deepest Lake, experiments with their sound just enough to breathe life into their distinct formula.

After listening to The Deepest Lake, their first album in four years, a few things become clear. Chhom Nimol, the impressively feisty lead singer, still has one of the most beguiling voices in psychedelic music. Her ‘ghost voice’, or what might otherwise be described as a Cambodian yodel, is many things at once – assertive but demure, strange yet familiar. Meanwhile, her backing band is still capa-ble of delivering their inimitable brand of psychedelic rock fused with ‘60s Oriental pop. Zak Holtzman’s spindly guitar riffs blend seamlessly into the confidently outlandish sound created by David Ralicke’s jazzy saxophone and Paul Dreux Smith’s heavy percussion. Tracks like ‘Tokay’ and the six-minute psychedelicjam ‘Cardboard Castles’ see the band firing on all cylinders, with each member receiving their own solo before synching up to perfection.

This record has also provided Dengue Fever with the opportunity to broaden their sound,showcasing a variety of new influences. While the heavy beat on ‘Taxi Driver ’ resem-bles something from hip-hop, the horns on ‘Ghost Voice’ are ripped straight out of Ethi-opian Jazz. It is this globetrotting approach to music that allows the band to finally earn their status as World Music, a label perhaps lazily foisted upon them early in their career.

Nevertheless, The Deepest Lake does begin to lose steam as it reaches the second-half. With the exception of ‘Rom Say Sok’ – a stomping tune that sounds like the theme for a Cambodi-an variety show in the pre-Khmer era – nothing reaches the dizzying heights of their breakout song, ‘One Thousand Tears of a Tarantula’. The band has expanded their musical palette, but there is still an inescapable formula that doesn’t sustain itself for an entire hour. Alas, there are still victories to be had. If nothing else, The Deep-est Lake proves that the band is more than just a novelty conversation piece for hipsters.

Only Dengue Fever sound like Dengue Fe-ver - for that reason alone, each new al-bum of theirs should be considered a blessing.

Oliver mangham

It ’s sad but I can name five artists who exhibit a better, more genuine attempt at what Purity Ring have done with their new album (previously mentioned FKA Twigs, Grimes, SZA, Tove Lo, XX-ANAXX). Female-fronted dance-pop acts are a dime a dozen and Purity Ring’s return hasn’t set them apart from the crowd. Their first album was received with wide acclaim for its quirky intri-cacy and crystalline production. Another Eter-nity, however, lacks the understated eloquence or uniqueness that its predecessor was praised for. Cosmic pop has become common lot and unfortunately for artists like Purity Ring unless some actual progression or improvement takes place between albums, they can probably ex-pect to descend back into YouTube obscurity, known as the band that were once relevant but now just sound like a walk around Topshop.

There are, however, a few moments where it is possible to be absorbed into the music without squinting. Most of the tracks would no doubt be cast into the ‘dream-pop’ catego-ry (in this case more like Pokémon-EDM but who’s judging?). Songs like ‘Repetition’ or ‘Be-gin Again’ do a pretty good job at creepy, low-fi musical seduction. No doubt Purity Ring’s more dulled, chilled songs are where their tal-ent shines through. With deep drum-beats and softer more natural vocals, songs like ‘Stranger Than Earth’ do hold a tension that makes their playing out certainly interesting. It is this tension, when the duo build up their songs rather than just loudly laying it all out to their au-dience like a buffet at a ten year olds birthday party, that makes for good listening. Unfortunate-ly even their most promising tracks, in the case of ‘Stranger Than Earth’, can’t resist culminating in some sort of pseudo-epic electro denouement involving a brash out of tune synth-orchestra. An-other Eternity is certainly an efficient album, with no song more than 4 minutes long, it ’s compara-ble to a very short lucid dream, albeit one that has been auto-tuned and repeated to death. There are times when listening that you may question whether you are actually in a pokéball. The failure of the album really lies in its contra-dictory attempt at blinding sunniness with some sort of a seductive galactic edge. Its lyrics prove that just because you wear pink doesn’t mean you can’t be “emo”, with songs like ‘Still-ness In Woe’ doing exactly what they say on the tin. Maybe back in 2012 cosmic pop with an ethereal female voice and a typical trap beat underneath was what we all want-ed, so in that case the album certainly does make you feel young again – yet unfortunately almost regressively so. This is for sure a disap-pointing return for once-relevant Purity Ring.

Charlotte morrin

Bjorkvulnicura

RECENTLYRELEASED

A lot of press has been given to the way in which this album has been released. Rushed out to the public after an illegal leak, many people are too busy comparing this incident to the leak of Madonna’s album rather than talking about the actual music. To truly get a grasp of this fascinating work we must release it from this context, seeing it instead more time-lessly - far from our 21st century obsession with the lack of privacy and control artists seem to hold over their own work. This is a good old-fashioned break up album, pure and simple.

The literal translation of Vulnicura is “cure for wounds”, this album shows us Björk attempting to work through and cure her own wounds from the end of her relationship with long-time part-ner Matthew Barney. It is probably fitting that, using this as a source of inspiration, Björk has produced her best album in years, just as her last undeniably great album Vespertine was inspired by the start of that same relation-ship. Instead of that album’s startlingly simple centrepiece ‘Pagan Poetry ’ with its spell-like invocation of the repeated cry “I love him”, we are faced by a very different beast here.

At the heart of this album is the ten minute song ‘Black Lake’ and, whilst the whole al-bum is about Barney, this specifically is the post-mortem of their relationship which she wrote two months after its end. This song in many respects seems to be a challenging of ‘Pagan Poetry ’. As Björk questions here “Did I love you too much?” we see how hurt this ex-perience has left her - “I am one wound / My

pulsating body / Suffering being.” On the song ‘Family ’ Björk claims she is looking for a place where she can mourn: “The death of my fami-ly”. With this album, Björk creates for herself that space of mourning. This is her healing process, no matter how painful and bleak it may seem.

But, of course, you don’t have to be familiar with the discography of Björk to enjoy this al-bum. The fact that this is a break-up album, a form so many of us are already familiar with, makes it the perfect starting point for someone new to Björk. Even if you don’t want to, or can-not, connect with it on this level the album is still worth listening to, Björk’s voice has always been a malleable instrument many other vo-calists can only dream of having. It blends perfectly into the equally beautiful and bru-tal landscape that producers of the moment Arca and The Haxan Cloak have created for her, and you can easily listen to this album without even noticing the words she is saying.

In recent years Björk has been trying to change the way we listen and understand music with her fancy apps that were apparently necessary for Biophilia and she had been planning to con-tinue on in that same vein until personal events created Vulnicura. Whilst it may seem perverse to take joy in someone else’s suffering, I for one am delighted we have this musical treas-ure back, with one of her greatest albums yet.

harry rosehill

lupe fiascotetsuo and youth

I’d never really paid much attention to Lupe Fi-asco, familiar with the name and the mainstream singles like ‘Superstar ’ and ‘Kick Push’. This 5th studio album is a stand out set-list, debuting at no.14 on the Billboard 200, it is easily identified as his most successful record yet. Having worked with names like Chris Brown, Rick Ross and Ed Sheeran in anticipation for the release of this

album, Lupe did not feature these works on the album, insisting his vision of this album was clear.

We start with ‘Summer ’ and as we move through we visit ‘Fall’, ‘Winter ’ and ‘Spring’ instrumental interludes, acting as a refresh-ing transitions into the upcoming parts of the record, creating a complete circle of a true modern art piece, cover-n-all.

‘Mural’, a crucial track, nearly hitting over 9 minutes is a mind-blowing performance. A cho-rus-less track with its hard hip-hop beat hears Lupe rap about pretty much everything in self-reflection. The range of song type is vast, banjo and oriental sound inspired track, ‘Dots & Lines’ is at the complete other end of the spectrum of rap music, minimalistic and exper-imental. Fitting in completely with what could be called the neo-postmodernism within the urban world, where hip-hop artists are showing a wider appreciation of different styles and art forms. This is also established through the cover art, a piece painted by Fiasco himself.

Lupe provides a critique of the American jus-tice system, approaching from different per-spectives in the track ‘Prisoner 1 & 2’. Concise doesn’t seem to be a word within Lupe Fias-co’s vocabulary, some songs stretch over the 8 minute mark on this album, but also in regards to features, ‘Chopper ’ has a total of 6 under-ground hip-hop artists on the track. Track 13, named ‘Madonna’ isn’t a tribute to the queen of pop but a juxtaposition of Virgin Mary and the upbringing of children from ghetto neigh-bourhoods; Lupe visits tales a range of stories of meaning, like this, through words, like a true poet. Although I am not a fan of overly long albums, the length shouldn’t put you off as time is cleverly split up, approaching the genre in a variety of ways providing an escape for many moods. I believe it is a body of work that needs to be sat and properly listened to and not used as background noise, appreciating Lupe’s lyrical ability and his way of approach-ing a record as a concept rather than a collec-tion of money making, chart topping hits, which is something I believe should happen more.

Not previously being a fan, this al-bum has definitely changed my opinion and awareness of Lupe Fiasco, the artist.

AYSHE ZAIFOGLU

BELLE ANDSEBASTIANGIRLS INPEACETIME WANT TO DANCE

I remember when I was 12 and heard my very first Belle and Sebastian song. It was a warm early Summer day and I was play-ing hooky to avoid the kids at school. I sat at home watching the dust settle on a strip of light and was overwhelmed by a sense of belonging and love as Stuart Murdoch sang his way into my naïve, adolescent heart through the lyrics of the golden oldie ‘Piazza, New York Catcher ’. This was ten years ago.

Belle & Sebastian are a band made one third each of daydreams, of childish hopes and of everyday poetry which together make up that one special ingredient for those hazy indie dreams. Girls in Peacetime Want to Dance is, in some ways, a beautiful addition to Belle & Se-bastian’s admirable discography yet it leaves you cold with its attempt to guide the band to-wards something new that really does not work.

This album is a mix of bizarre elements – the opener ‘Nobody’s Empire’ is a classic Belle & Sebastian song with its personal touch and beautiful lyrics about the solitude and loneli-ness that lead singer Stuart Murdoch was go-ing through during his time at the University of Glasgow. “It ’s the quiet before the madness /There was a girl that sang like the chime of a bell / She put out her arm and she touched me when I was in hell.” Every single verse of this track gives you shivers with its painful beauty hidden behind the upbeat melodies. Sadly, this is the only one to stand out from this album.

‘Enter Sylvia Plath’ is a poor attempt of a dance-y song with its synth sounding like that one bad

1980s song that you really don’t like but they still keep playing on the radio. ‘The Party Line’ falls into the same category and you are left with the question: should I go on or just stick with listening to ‘Nobody’s Empire’? One of the very last songs on the album, ‘The Everlasting Muse’ is a bit of a bland mix of classic Belle and Se-bastian with bossanova-esque and somewhat Slavic elements that seem a bit out of place.

‘Nobody’s Empire’ definitely is the highlight of this album. Unfortunately, as an open-er, it also get your hopes high and the rest of the album doesn’t have what it takes to de-throne it as the best track of the album.

Heartbreaking as it is to say, this album is a poor attempt to navigate Belle & Sebastian in a new direction, in spite of its good try. It is a fun album – there is no denying that – yet it lacks the depth and unique quirkiness of albums like The Life Pursuit and Dear Catastrophe Waitress. But maybe some albums are not meant to change your life, maybe this one is just about fun and a reminder that we are alive and we should dance a bit more. And maybe we should. Even if it was to a song with cheesy 1980s synth sprinkled with references to a writer who man-aged to romanticize depression in the eyes of naïve teenage girls through her beautiful writing.

KASIMIIRA KONTIO

PETITE NOIRtHE KING OF ANXIETY ep

“I’m not a regular” sang Petite Noir on his first single ‘Til We Ghosts’ back in 2012 and on his debut EP he certainly proves it. Mix-ing African guitars, synths, frantic drums and his own soulful voice, Petite Noir, or Yan-nick Ilunga, sees himself at the forefront of a new genre: noirwave, in his own words, “[80s] new wave with an African aesthetic”.

The EP’s first track ‘Come Inside’, an invitation into Ilunga’s world, immediately establishes the South African multi-instrumentalist’s abil-ity to blend these musical genres, layering synths over a rhythmic African guitar melody and a choral call and response. Its refrain is almost hypnotic and, as the beats and choir are slowly drowned out by electronic noise, it is clear that the album will be far from “regu-lar”. Certainly the influence of both cultures can be felt on this track yet Ilunga seems not only to be merging musical styles but at-tempting to create something wholly new.

‘Chess’, the second track, released late last year, with lyrics taken directly from an IM conversation Ilunga had on the day of recording, sees him play both partners in a troubled relationship. Beginning in a beautiful Antony Hegarty-style falsetto and seamlessly switching into a smooth baritone, the track challenges the listener ’s ex-pectations, transitioning with Ilunga’s voice from contemplative game-music beats into an up-beat, LCD Soundsystem-style dance melody.

This is an artist who doesn’t want to be defined even by the genre he created as, after the first track, even the “African aesthetic”, which char-acterised earlier singles such as 2013’s ‘Noirse’, seems difficult to trace. Each track instead has its own distinctive sound, as seen in the surprising blend of RnB and indie-pop in Shadows to the irresistibly ambient 80s ballad ‘The Fall’, brought together by Ilunga’s talented vocal work.

The EP also sees the release of a more polished version of 2012’s ‘Til We Ghosts’, which got crit-ics’ attention three years ago and is still as en-trancing and cool as it was then. The opening line “Oh my God / it ’s been a while” now takes on a self-reflective and somewhat ironic tone. Ilunga recently posted the track on his Sound-Cloud as a collaboration with Yasiin Bey a.k.a. Mos Def and, while this is not the version that appears on the EP, it is well worth a listen.

While The King of Anxiety is ambitious in its in-terweaving of musical influences, it manages not to get lost in the process and showcases Petite Noir ’s incredible skill and versatility where each track seems both experimental and well-crafted. This record is certainly an excit-ing listen and is a promising debut that hints of a bright future for Petite Noir and noirwave.

Oisin twomey brenner

photo: dan kendall

Public service BroadcastingWe speak to the mysterious, bespectacled, suited character that is J. Willgoose, Esq, the mastermind behind Public Service Broadcast-ing. Backed by his drummer Wrigglesworth, Will-goose blends elements of past with present, like a mad scientist concocting musical compounds. He overlays historic public service broadcasts, dug out from the BFI archives, onto a sound-scape almost as expansive as space itself.

Two weeks from the launch of PSB’s second album, The Race For Space, the follow up to 2013’s critically acclaimed Inform- Edu-cate- Entertain, Willgoose tells us, after com-pleting the record in November last year, he “cannot wait until it finally comes out.” No wonder, we’re pretty psyched for it too (though we’ve already been treated to a sneaky listen). On the 23rd February you’ll be able to put the record on and watch it spin and until you’re spiralling through time and space, in Willgoose’s sonic time machine. At our time of speaking with him, PSB were cur-rently on tour supporting the Kaiser Chiefs. In the past, the band’s own live shows have been as much about the filmic material as the music. Will-goose is purposefully enigmatic when we ask him if he has any plans for explosive, space-en-compassing visual effects to accompany the record’s cinematic sound: “We have some-thing in the works” is as much as he will let on.

Similarly, when we probe at his choice of the space theme in particular, he simply replies: “because it’s there.” And what better answer do we need to explore something? “It ’s just fascinating, and you can’t 100% explain why you want to write about something, you just

get the feeling that that’s what to do next.” He’s particularly interested in the topic as a challenge to our human self-awareness, as the space exploration age really revealed to us “how tiny and insignificant we are” in the face of the newly traversed universe. Pushing their ever-expanding sound into unknown territories, Willgoose adds that “it also matched our de-sire to make the song-writing more ambitious.”

We ask him for any further musings on the self which may have been the fruit of contemplat-ing his place in space, and he admits feeling overwhelmed by the whole idea: “I don’t like to think about it too much because it does make my head go funny” he laughs. “The one thing people say who’ve been to space, and es-pecially those who have walked on the moon, is how small and fragile Earth looks from space, and how that gives them a different perspec-tive on things.” He says he’s never claimed to have got that perspective from watching some films and writing a few songs about space, but

he can certainly appreciate how for them, their perspective of everything on Earth must have totally changed from that point. “There’s a great documentary called In the Shadow of the Moon, I think it was Edgar D (Mitchell) who said “you can never complain about the weather” and he likes to spend time in shop-ping malls because he loves to be where there are people, as he thinks it ’s just a miracle.” He adds “having that perspective would be an amazing thing, it ’s a shame we can’t all have it.”

Perhaps one day, however, space travel will be all the more economical and jetting off to the moon will be the new Malaga. Well, maybe the moon will never be a hot party destination. Though, of course, according to

“i would like to think it takes you on a bit of a journey”

Bowie that man up there definitely proclaims it so: “Let the children lose it / Let the children use it / Let all the children boogie.” Anyway we digress, while space holidays certain-ly won’t be a thing of the foreseeable future, as The Race For Space articulates, at one time, the possibility of man in space seemed like a fanciful reverie too. Willgoose wouldn’t necessarily grab at the opportunity for space travel, surprisingly: “I think I would be too ter-rified to do it, sadly. I don’t even like flying.”

The album being so dynamic, each song very much its own individual episode in the history of space travel, Willgoose explains that some songs were crafted to reflect the emotions sur-rounding the individual event, whereas for oth-ers, he tried a less obvious approach. He did, however, want to steer clear of space stereo-types, using ‘Gagarin’ as an example, he says it would be easy to create something “60s sci-fi” style, filled with “space noises”, “like a kind of Dr Who theme.” Funnily, Willgoose is often re-ferred to as a Matt Smith figure, donning tweed and bow ties, this image compounded by his sonic space-time travel. “I had this little riff lying around for years, and suddenly it struck me that it would be a nice, obtuse way of doing it” and so ‘Gagarin’ became the funk-infused groove that we now hear on the album, which acts as a “euphoric celebration” of the first man in space. Alternatively, some songs took a more literal ap-proach, Willgoose describing ‘E.V.A’ as “twisty,

turny and disorientating in melody.” It ’s meant “to be quite hard to work out what’s going on with it in some ways, which is supposed to re-flect one’s own experience of being in space.”

Similarly, with ‘Go’, which explores the first moon landing, he wanted to avoid anything too cli-chéd, such as the infamous “One small step for man…” quote. With its call-and-response style ‘Go’ “in a way becomes our own weirdly ab-stract take on ‘Should I Stay or Should I Go?’” he muses. ‘The Other Side’ documents Apollo 8 travelling around the dark side of the moon; here Willgoose talks a little about the process of incorporating the sampled broadcasts. Though this process differs between songs; sometimes the broadcasts are selected first to form the story which the music must encompass, whereas for others, such as on ‘The Other Side’ the musical vision will precede. Willgoose ex-plains that to tell its story, he knew the song had “to build up, it ’s got to be really tense, then its got to vanish to next to nothing and the moment (Apollo 8) comes back around the moon, that’s the moment you really go for it.”

The public service broadcast being a me-dium dominated by male voices, ‘Valentina’ offers a beautiful and important excursion for the band, the inclusion of the female voice for the first time. “It ’s a sort of annoyance re-ally, because we focus on this period of his-tory, there weren’t any female voices full-stop. It was frustrating to find that even the female stories, such as of the first woman in space, are talked all over by male voices in translation, and [Valentina] is always stood on podiums surrounded by men. It just didn’t feel right really, to be more men pretending to be her voice.” So dream-pop duo Smoke Fairies lent PSB their gentle, ethereal voices to the track, singing the story of woman’s first adventure in space.

The title track opens with the celestial into-nations of a choir, recorded by Willgoose at Abbey Road Studios, in a mere three hours. He laughs about the surreality of the experi-ence: “just seeing the tourists outside as I was crossing the threshold and wondering if I was about to be taken out by a sniper on the roof. It ’s the ultimate imposter syndrome really.”

“it’s a sort of annoyance because we focus on this period of history, there weren’t any female voices” “It ’s the old “radio has the best pictures” ap-proach” says Willgoose when we discuss the cinematic, imagination-firing nature of his music. “It leaves plenty of room for interpretation and can be taken on a number of levels. I would like to think it takes you on a bit of a journey.” He then goes back to the idea of space being explored “because it’s there.” The mission of The Race For Space is exploration, not expla-nation: “you can’t always explain these things, and it’s not always even your job to explain it.”

Describing himself as often racked by self doubt, he light-heartedly admits “I still don’t feel like a real musician, more like someone who’s tried to pull the wool over people’s eyes.” But Willgoose should rest assured that he is an in-genius, highly imaginative musician and vision-ary, and The Race for Space can only affirm this.

On tour with the Kaiser Chiefs at the time of press, Public Service Broadcasting’s own tour is to take them into the Southern Hemisphere for the first time, hence exploring territories unchar-tered by a PSB tour before. Catch them in famil-iar realms, at Manchester ’s The Ritz on the 29th February or Sheffield’s The Foundry on the 28th. The Race for Space will be released on the 23rd February on Test Card Recordings. Check out their lead single, ‘Gagarin’, out now. Their album launch show is at the National Space Centre in Leicester on 26th February.

sophie brear and james rudge

“I have acommitmentto melody”

COSMOSHELDRAKECosmo Sheldrake. Multi-instrumentalist, com-poser, sampler, beatboxer, teacher, choir boy, genius. So, where did it all begin? The child of a pianist and a teacher of Mongo-lian overtone chanting, having been sent to toddlers clapping classes and then taught piano from the age of five, it ’s fair to say Cosmo was brought up immersed in music.

Interestingly, he says his own style simply came out of the process of making music. Adamant to steer clear of synthesizers, Cosmo began recording natural sounds and manipulating them.“When I recorded sounds and chucked them in samplers from things in the world rath-er than a ‘normal instrument’, so to speak, they had amazing qualities of sound that came with them, all sorts of textures and things. To me it seemed like an instantaneous way to generate sounds with oomph and presence” he reveals.

Having studied Anthropology at University, he learned to produce music “through trial and error”. He describes his sampling process as almost entirely unplanned, and pretty much consisting of recording “a lot of stuff ”. For ex-ample, Cosmo explains the sound of tumbling rocks he used for a snare drum in his track ‘Solar ’. At the time he didn’t realize what he would use the recording for, but after listening back to it, “they had this perfect percussive sort of rattley, snarey sound.” His approach to recording is quite cavalier with his attitude of “take whatever comes across.” But with Cosmo, it works and he quickly adds that he doesn’t have a slight idea of what could be a handy kick drum sound with a good bass as-pect or what might have a nice melodic tone.

Cosmo is also a great collector of instru-ments but admits that he is as fascinated with them as objects as much as anything else. He does, however, try and learn as many as he can, and reasons that seeing them in terms of families makes learning easy: “if you learn the guitar for example it’s not too much of a leap to the banjo... and likewise if you learn the mandolin it ’s not too much of a leap to the violin because it’s tuned the same way”. He doesn’t actually know how many instruments he plays, but jokes that every time someone interviews him the number seems to be getting bigger. Apparently, we are in hundreds now…

Cosmo’s work is often described as ‘a bit quirky ’ and does not generally catch com-mercial interest. Though he avoids making music specifically for a targeted audience and “can certainly say that that a lot of the music I make, especially a lot of the stuff that hasn’t been released is not commercial in any sense of the term.” He quickly adds how-ever, that it isn’t necessarily a conscious ef-fort to produce the music he makes. “I just make the music that comes out”, he explains.

Having supported major acts like Johnny Flynn and Bombay Bicycle Club, Cosmo is certainly on the fringes of mainstream attention. In spite of being heavily influenced by ideas of ex-perimental musicians and composers, Cosmo admits that he has an attachment to melody and aesthetics within his music: “I’d like to find a way to incorporate the theory and processes

of a lot of these musicologists in a way that doesn’t have to be instantly challenging to the ear. I have a commitment to melody, and to making things sound nice, whether that’s just for me or for others as well I’m not sure.”

Although often labeled as a folk artist, strong elements of hip hop music often come out in Cosmo’s performances. He learned beatbox-ing, which he now teaches, from a good friend and hip hop musician, Roots, and then for years, worked as a rapper in a group Gentle Mystics: “I think when I first started producing and mak-ing beats it was actually coming from a hip hop mentality, a lot of my early production and mu-sical recordings were in a sort of hip hop style”.

As well as producing music and playing live, one of the most interesting things about Cos-mo as a musician and as an artist is his video content, which he explains to have started with a conversation with his friends Ruben Woodin Dechamps and Orban Wallace from Gallivant

Films: “I was keen to make some sort of vid-eo thing, and Ruben at the time was really interested in showcasing the mundane goings on in some sort of urban space, so we end-ed up choosing a laundrette”, where the first video for Cosmo’s track ‘Prefusify ’ was shot.

After filming that, the group quickly start-ed coming up with new ideas. “My friend was working on this bio-dynamic farm, so my idea was to shoot the next video in this sterile cheese-making environment with huge machines turning the milk, but then the cows didn’t produce enough milk so we showed up to the farm and had to reconsider the project quite rapidly.” Fortunately, a litter of piglets had just been born and which led to the making of the video for ‘Rich’.

The video featured Cosmo stomping loop pedals in manure while the piglets lazily

modern culture might be why his music is so appealing. He has abstained from buying an iPhone and was raised without television. Cosmo remembers reading Jerry Mander ’s

“Cosmo is an exceptionallyperceptive human being”

looked on. All of these videos are, accord-ing to him, “quite hairy for the gear” and he even ended up electrocuting himself dur-ing the making of the video for ‘The Fly ’,

filmed on a fishing boat. Cosmo also re-veals that they might have started planning the next video, possibly shot in Budapest.Above everything else, Cosmo is an excep-tionally perceptive human being, drawing inspiration deeply from his surroundings. This drastic contrast between his music and the self-absorbed, social media image-hooked

book Four Arguments for the Elimination of Television which explains “how screens are completely killing off any capacity to really thoroughly and richly experience the world.”Furthermore, he eventually found himself distinct-ly interested in sound as an “underrepresented sense.” “I read this book called Soundscape: The Tuning of the World by Murray Schafer, a

Canadian musician and composer and writer. He basically re-imagines and re- awakens this whole sense of sound. It is a hugely influential book about how to re-engage with the sound world and how much it has to show for itself.”Finally, Cosmo declares: “I am definitely a ro-mantic in that sense and would like people to be more thoroughly engaged with the natu-ral world than the two dimensional, so if that was any consequence of the music I per-form then that would be a wonderful thing.”

Here’s hoping, Cosmo.

Listen to Cosmo’s new track ‘Tardi-grade Song’ on The Hype Machine and keep an eye out for his planned E.P. re-lease in April on Transgressive Records.

KIT LOCKEY

photo: jenna foxton

Both articles: Sophie brearboth illustrations: Eleanor MasonFawn Spots

Menace BeachRyan Needham of Menace Beach, Leeds’ fine creators of sweet, scuzzy noise, talks 90’s Nin-tendo games, Nando’s and life in the Ratworld.

Menace Beach are making waves as a ‘hot new band’, but their members are far from newbies on the UK indie-rock scene, having surfaced previously under several guises. As a result, they’ve found themselves repeatedly referred to as a “supergroup.” Frontman Ryan Needham of Komakino is joined by Liza Violet, Matt “MJ” Johnson of Hookworms, Nestor Matthews of

Sky Larkin and Matt Spalding of You Animals.

Musically, Menace Beach are gleefully messy, saccharinely rambunctious and grungy, in a celestial sort of way. They’re an energetic fu-sion of 90’s indie, My Bloody Valentine-esque psychedelia and Britpop, amongst many other possible descriptions. On January 19th they re-leased their fizzy, fuzzy debut album Ratworld on Memphis Industries. I wondered if the band was born from a coalescence of the musical influences brought by each of its experienced members, or a shared vision, and Ryan tells me they had “no preconceived idea of being in a band.” Menace Beach just happened, through pizza, beer, and the web-like connec-tions which had formed between the members as they crossed paths when playing in other bands. They haven’t always seen eye to eye over music, however, as MJ apparently was not a fan of Ryan’s old bands and he laughs as he tells me how they aired their sharply clash-ing tastes on a local music forum in their teens.

Hailed after a 90’s Nintendo game, the name Menace Beach was one which Ryan had of-ten proposed, to the rejection of his band-mates: “So when I got my own band I used it” he says with an audible smile. This coupled with their video for ‘Fortune Teller ’, which features a fortune telling fish and languidly spinning Martian head against a bright psychedel-

ic backdrop seems to reveal a fascination with the tacky, defunct detritus of childhood. Ryan tells me that Liza’s apartment is full of this stuff, and it inspires the band’s imagery.

Very cohesive in their musical and visual pro-jections; both burst with colour and quirkiness, a kind of grotesque psychedelic pop art. I admire the band for their DIY style, as Ryan and Liza create all the album art work themselves, patch-ing together collages of Liza’s own illustrations. He tells me that they desire to have an active role in the visual side of their art, finding it odd when bands detachedly employ an artist to create an independent visual accompaniment.

The initial idea for Ratworld originated from the visit of an old friend, who complained that the band were “living like rats.” Ryan is disarming in his completely unpretentious approach to being in a band, laughing about being broke and working part-time in a Nando’s in Leeds and saying while life in Menace’s Beach’s Ratworld sure isn’t glam-orous, he “wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

You can catch Menace Beach support-ing The Cribs’ comeback shows this month. However, don’t expect that they will be do-ing “anything normally associated with be-ing a band” on the tour: you’ll be most like-ly to catch them cycling or sipping tea in a tea house “like loads of little old ladies.”

Menace Beach will support The Cribs at Man-chester Ritz on the 25th February. Their debut al-bum ‘Ratworld’ is out now via Memphis Industries.

Fawn Spots make raw, guttural post-punk, imbued with the melancholy of Joy Division and poetics of T.S Eliot.

Their debut LP, From Safer Place, has been 18 months in the making and is set to be released on March 9th on Critical Heights. Recorded in the walled gardens of an isolated Geor-gian Manor on the outskirts of York, vocalist and guitarist Jonathan Meager describes the end results as “very raw for sure, but we felt that was appropriate for these songs.” On the experience of recording here, he says: “Being in there has removed the restrictions of using a conventional practise and recording space for us, and allowed us to work on our own things at our own pace.” Fawn Spots’ line up is completed by fellow vocalist-guitarist Ollie Grabowski and drummer Paddy Carley.

From Safer Place explores the anxiety of mov-ing away from a place of security into the un-

known depths of our future lives, as “something that’s been experienced and is also anticipat-ed.” An influence upon the thinking behind the album was that of nihilistic philosopher Sartre and his “anxiety of unlimited choice.” Particular-ly inspiring Jonathan’s urgent, yet contemplative lyrics is the poetry of T.S Eliot, especially in “the way he talks about the everyday in such musical and poetic language” which makes “even the smallest thing seem interesting and important.”

On this record, Fawn Spots tried to push their sound closer towards some of their key influ-ences, citing Dischord Records as an example. “Recording it ourselves, with our limited knowl-edge, gives it a certain fidelity, but it also meant that we could capture a rawness common to a lot of records from the past that we love.”

Currently on tour with Naomi Punk, Fawn Spots try to spread their wings, playing gigs around the UK as much as possible. Though they note that living in such a quiet city has its advantag-

es: “being somewhere like York allows you to just focus on your own thing. It ’s a pretty relaxed place, really, which is good to come home to.”

Fawn Spots are launching From Safer Place with a show at York Rowing Club on the 14th March. “We were looking for a space that didn’t hold regular shows so it would be ‘neutral’ for us to do something in.” They were tipped off about the venue’s potential by their friend Bri-an, who runs the Bangarang ‘sounds of vintage Jamaica’ night at the Spread Eagle. Live, Fawn Spots are bruising, exhilaratingly passionate performers; the show would be a mistake to miss.

Photo: steve gullick

After a hectic year, the dynamic Blackpool trio Darlia have emerged from the studio, dripping in angst and ready to take their new mini album Petals on tour. I caught up with frontman Nathan Day to talk songwriting, first airplane rides and aspirations for the future.

Funnily enough up until a couple of years ago, Nathan and bassist Dave Williams were work-ing as janitors in their old school. He says that if you caught him at the age of 18, he would have been on his hands and knees scrubbing “every shade of brown you could possibly im-agine”. No one believed in them as a band, and Nathan was refusing to do any small-time shows to gain an audience because he was adamant that he “wanted to be taken se-riously as a musician”. Then, as Nathan aptly puts it,“like a “Cillit Bang! And the dirt is gone!” everything was just how they wanted it to be. The boys signed a record deal, moved to Manchester, and have spent their time since playing huge festivals and producing music.

However, while trying to write a full-length al-bum, Nathan says that it got too overwhelming with the amount of content they had, so they decided to break it up into two mini releases: “It gives us more time to release a full length and gives us, if anything, more time to grow as a band”. He admits that songwriting can actu-ally be quite tiresome due to everything that is going on inside his head at once, and goes as far as describing it the process as “kind of horrible”. He explains how he struggles to turn his mind off; “I’m on a bus, I’m on the tube, walk-ing down the street… this thing just pops into my head and it’s a song and I need to record it.” He admits that this sometimes actually goes

as far as him pretending to make a phone call while in company and mimicking the appear-ance of being on the phone while humming into Voice Memo. Apparently, “it happens all the time.” Although depicting as a burden, he’s aware that he’s very lucky to find satisfaction in writing songs, and jokes that if he didn’t have that as an outlet he’d “probably be in jail!”

Nathan suffers from a condition called ‘Synes-thesia’, a neurological phenomenon in which the triggering of one sense results in an involun-tary triggering of a second sense. The result is that ‘Synesthetes’, a situation where he he can visually perceive sound. According to Nathan, this happens quite often. Until around the age of 17 or 18, he had thought everyone expe-rienced it and it wasn’t until he started talking about the visuals which accompany the music when he became of aware of his condition.

In Nathan’s case, “suffer” might not be the right term for describing his situation. It seems to be far from a handicap for him and he reveals that having the ability to see the music he creates actually plays a huge part in his song writing process.

Since breaking into the public eye with songs like ‘Candyman’ and ‘Napalm’, written when Nathan was only 13 years old, Darlia immedi-ately gained this grungy, Nirvana-esque public image. Nathan is known for publicly disagree-ing with this perception, but admits that at the time of writing those songs he “probably would have cried at the thought, in a good way, of being labeled as this grunge band” and ad-mits that he really liked the idea at the time. This label has also given them room to play

and Nathan adds that he is very pleased with the position they are in thanks to this labeling.At the young age of 21, Nathan Day seems wise beyond his years, and ends the conver-sation with some fantastic advice. The analogy goes like this: “Imagine you’re on the top floor of a large commercial building at closing time. It ’s home time and everyone is desperate to leave as quickly as possible, and you of all people want to be the first out the door. So, you can go with them and follow the crowd down all the corridors and stairs and hope you can get there first, OR, you could just run through the fire exits.” Nathan divulges: “Some-times the easiest and simplest way is the way that no one is going, because not that many people are actually trying. I think it would have been harder for us if I’d wanted to start a pub band, because everyone’s doing that - you just get lost in the crowd. Whereas, if you just stand up and say ‘I want to be the biggest fucking band on the planet’ believe it or not, not that many people are actually thinking that.”

Just something to keep in mind if you find yourself as yet another clone being fed into the job-machine. If we could all be half as driven and passionate as this energetic lad from Blackpool, I’m pretty certain we’d be making a much stronger mark on the world.

Darlia’s mini-album Petals along with new sin-gle ‘I’ve Never Been To Ohio’ will be released on 23rd February on B-Unique Records. They

play The Wardrobe, Leeds on 24th February.

KIT LOCKEY

D A R L I A

Y o u ’ r e n o t s e r i o u s“GRIME, GRIIIIIIIME” – The words shouted by Lethal Bizzle over the intro of Pow 2011. But between that release and 2014, it seemed like not many were shouting about the UK underground genre with as much excitement as the ‘Dench’ pioneer. But with 2014 came Meridian Dan’s chart-hit ‘German Whip’, Skepta’s collaboration with A$AP, ‘It Ain’t Safe’ and the phenomenal all-star remix of ‘That’s Not Me’, ushering in what has since been dubbed as the “resurgence of grime.”

But a genre that has its roots in clashes be-tween artists involving the sort of violent atti-tudes frowned upon in JME’s ‘Serious’ seems to have shed some of its tough skin. The old seri-ous battles have instead been replaced by the likes of football’s Yanick Bolasie and Brad-ley Wright-Phillips clashing for Lord of the Mics VI. Along with this, any geographical barriers in Grime seem to have fallen, with artists from out-side of London being thanked for their contribu-tions whilst those in the capital had “lost hope” in the genre’s success, as said by Big Narstie.

That isn’t to say that serious clashes are com-pletely extinct. They can even be healthy for

the scene, as displayed by the current bad blood between Chipmunk and Tinie Tem-pah. Following Tinie’s “Fire in the Booth” ses-sion from January 2014, just over a year lat-er Chip went in to the same studio to pick a bone with Tinie over his words. And the tibia seemed to stem from Chip’s belief that Tinie hasn’t been doing anything to help out the Grime scene, and instead being antagonistic towards those who haven’t been successful.

But overall, the past year has been filled with a great sense of togetherness within the Grime community. With midlands MCs joining the London-based BBK on tracks, the likes of JME and Noisey’s documentary on Police vs. Grime, and the constant support for other artists on releases, it ’s clear to see why Grime looks like it might be sticking around this time. The artists are getting together to ensure that Grime gets its spotlight in UK Media. The likes of JME and Big Narstie have been a big help to this, with their determination to ensure the Just Jam event could eventually be hosted at London’s Barbican despite the police’s ardent attempts at preventing them. Maybe that’s the key to a long-term success for Grime, to cut out the beef (like JME’s vegan diet) and stick together. Hopefully this spirit can remain and grow in Grime throughout 2015 and be-yond. If so, maybe keeping its popularity up will be, as D Double E himself would say, easy.

Elliott Ball

Illustration: Anoosh Djavaheri

R e g e n e r a t i o nYep, we admit it, springtime comes around and connotations of newness, revitalisation and freshness pepper our every outlook to match nature’s own (far less self indulgent) renewal; flower instagrams and clichés all round. But why not extend the notion of spring cleaning metaphors and turning over a new leaf to your musical attitude? Winter can be a time of mu-sical stagnation for our own personal interests, we become far more interested in hibernating and the basic need for human survival in the cold North to focus on what possibilities of new music discovery and older music redis-

covery lay out there for us. So we encourage you to have a shake up of your musical out-look, be it changing your opinion on an artist you were convinced you thoroughly disliked or had nothing new to offer you. Embrace micro trends within music that may at first seem off putting, such as Rihanna’s apparent country revival in ‘FourFiveSeconds’- who knows, this may lead you on to a Dolly Parton journey of discovery that you could only have dreamt of.

This is the perfect time to find something new to become your seasonal soundtrack, rath-

er than reaching for those overkilled spotify playlists whose randomised shuffle doesn’t even hold any surprises for you. Here we challenge the perception of radio’s appeal, stimulating our winter brains into consider-ing what 2015 holds for music and the way it is played, and shared via selfie culture. We also invite you to enjoy a grime retrospective - the perfect example of a fresh genre reviv-al to ignite your own musical regeneration.

Holly Hunt

C o m m e n t

I s R a d i o d e a d ?As February grips the country tighter in its cold, wet hands, one’s thoughts might turn to the ques-tion of entertainment on these dark winter nights. Certainly, at this time of year everyone wants to feel warm and snug, to feel that satisfying sense of cosiness and homeliness that sheltering from a winter evening might engender. And what with the abundance of media and the inter-net that makes us feel at home, amongst the copious quantities of TV shows, social media, online digital resources of music and film that exist, what feeling could be easier to procure?

To my ears, there is something oddly hollow about the smooth whisper of a Spotify play-list or the bright, inviting realms of Youtube. When the night draws in, finding solace in the empty, ethereal space of the internet seems almost fake. When combatting something as raw and bitter as a cold unpleasant day, why do we so often gravitate towards a screen? The unkind white light of a laptop or the click of a mouse seems weirdly alien to our innate

search for comfort during the winter season.

It seems a shame that the physicality of music has become so antiquated. Aside from the surge of vinyl-playing, indie-kid comebacks, who really experiences music as an actual thing anymore? The modern art of online listen-ing has killed decades-old traditions of play-ing music. Part of the comfort of music to me is similar to that of cooking a hot meal – the preparation, the routine of it, the knowledge that the end result will be something I really en-joy. So it is with a lovingly acquired record, a CD collection, tuning in to a favoured radio station. We have so much choice at the click of a button, yet at the same time we’ve lost so much. So different was the experience of clustering around the radio, 50s style, to to-day’s generation of young listeners who each sit in their own sterile world, sharing music only through links to soundcloud or Youtube URLS.

Of course, there are many people who still

treasure records, who buy CDs, who enjoy the patter of the radio. But in a world where entire discographies are just a torrent away, I feel like these people are becoming numbered, either pigeonholed as impractical hipsters or dis-missed as old-fashioned and obsolete. Even in the car, the infallible nest of radio culture, it is increasingly common to see iPod docks and Bluetooth speakers. It seems to me that the customs of shared listening are gradual-ly dying a death as an increasing hunger for an instantly-gratified, consumer-driven society grows. When you can listen to anything simply by clicking a finger, why would you settle for less? Physical forms of music, CDs and records that can be lent, borrowed, passed around and used, are becoming estranged from the individualistic attitude to music that has per-vaded the modern world. The problem isn’t with the music. The problem is we want it all.

MADDY CRAMMONDillustration: Eleanor sutherland

Yes, the title of this article DOES refer to the mind-numbingly banal and irritating track from the past summer by god-knows-who. But don’t worry, this is not going to be a vigor-ous analysis about the “depth” included in these lyrics which encourage us to pull out our iPhones and pull our best duck face.

What I want to talk about is selfies and the culture formed around them. Most of us take them, partially due to boredom and partially because looking good on social media has become who we are. Our identity is shaped through our experiences, shared on websites like Facebook or Instagram. Usually prac-ticed by the American Apparel-clothed guys and girls, selfies and Snapchat have become

a part of gigs. You don’t pull out your cam-era phone at the opera or in a theatre but watching a carefully constructed musical act at a gig through your screen is completely acceptable. But what is all this for? It under-mines the work of the band you are seeing and it ignores the whole notion of LIVE music.

It is hard to escape from the world ruled by excessive imagery and sound. To some of us, going to see your favourite band is es-capist. For a an hour and a half you are in a sanctuary shared by other refugees from the real world but this peacefulness can only last for a certain while until someone pulls out their iPhone to record a memory of an

event that they are not actually experiencing.

There is irony in the existence of smartphones. While they provide us with services that are developed for capturing data and forming memories, we are eventually left on our own with artificial memories stored in these devices, instead of in our actual minds. If music had the power to make millions of girls faint from Beatle-mania, it surely has enough power to create a vivid memory of a gig in 2015, too. So next time when you are reaching for your phone during a gig-stop, take a look around and embrace the atmosphere. Notice all the people around you and experience the live show the way it should be experienced: with open hands in the air, drinking it all in with your real eyes, ears and mind.

Kasimiira Kontio

but first let me take a selfie

C o m m e n t

illustration: Eleanor sutherland