A little guide for anyone out who is a fan of music, but also happend to be scared. Scared of the idea of buying music that isn’t good! It’s a worry we all face. Some of us daily. But to save you from letting your fingers rest wantonly over the latest balls up from Hadouken or whatever, here’s a list of 100 classics you really just cannot go wrong with. Starting with 10 of them. In alphabetical order and everything. Magic!
Arcade Fire – Funeral (2004)
The most epic, enthralling, exhilrating audio experience of the decade. The spectacular use of a whole variety of instruments rarely seen in modern pop music, this caught people’s imaginations and showed them music should only be limited by imagination, not design. Shame Neon Bible was balls though. Choice cut -
Rebellion (Lies).
Same as albums, but with singles. And 20 of them. Insert a humourous introduction in the space provided:
Hilarious. I knew you had it in you. Go!
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And so, contrary to the beliefs of Don McLean, and subsequently Madonna (though less emphatically it must be said), music has survived another year. Heck, even Amy Winehouse and Pete Doherty have made it through 2007 alive and kicking. And snorting and shouting and general nuisancing. But, as with many previous years, people desire the knowledge of what was the best music had to offer per this particular annum. Luckily, I have some answers at hand. You may not agree with them, but then again, you’d be wrong. Observe the words that follow, then listen to what they suggest. For that is the true path to happiness. That, and the road to the chippy.
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My day didn’t start well, narrowly avoiding a concussion at the hands of my shampoo bottle. My shower incident left me hoping that my Wednesday could only get better…
And it was about to! As I settled into a not-so-comfortable chair I got ready to interview Zac Hanson, drummer of Hanson. (more…)
MUSIC! NEWS?
Music is still fun to listen to.
MUSIC! PREVIEWS?
I imagine music will still be fun to listen to in the near future. Unless you go deaf. *
MUSIC! FEATURES?
Music is comprised of notes. A note is also something you can write to remind yourself of an event or anniversary of sort. Maybe Mussolini’s death. Or the first chip pan fire in Wales (it killed 75, and gave a delicious crunch to 103).
MUSIC? REVIEWS?
Yes, I can indeed do a review, as I went to my first proper live gig in a good ages donkey while. Who was it? Can you guess? I’ll give you a clue. She’s a member of a popular gothic punk duo. She plays the piano, very well. She likes stripey tights. She has very flexible legs. She also likes ukeleles (ukelele, Ikelele, we all kelele). And she is my future wife. No it wasn’t Barry George. It was the beautiful, wonderful, glorious, blissful, oh so talented Amanda Palmer, one half of vaudevillian eccentrics, Dresden Dolls. (more…)
Though probably still the most respected of music awards in the UK, it seems the Mercurys get more ridiculous year by year. There have been some eyebrows raised in the past, mainly at the lack of nominations for Up the Bracket, The Lost Riots, The Bends and Ladies and Gentlemen…, and its odd decision to have included Athlete, The Thrills, M People, Spice Girls and Take That over the years, but this year’s awards look like being the weakest, most commercial yet.
The Mercurys used to pride itself on being an alternative to the other big awards out there, recognising less well known, but just as talented acts, and awarding the prize purely on musical merit rather than any fad going around or image that was cultivated. But just look at the nominees this year.
It’s sickening. It really, really is. Where’s the innovation? Where’s the originality? For God’s sake, where the fuck is the best British album of the last year? Well, it’s in your record stores, probably in the rock/pop section under ‘T’ for Twilight Sad and entitled Fourteen Autumns and Fifteen Winters. The judges disregard for this album, along with a whole host of others (Cherry Ghost, Jarvis Cocker, Little Man Tate, The Hours, Candie Payne etc) is just shameful, and even more so when you see who’s below. (more…)
Indian Summer
With T in the Park now suffering the way of its big brother, Glastonbury, with ticket prices like gold dust in terms of price and scarcity, and a line-up that reeked just that bit too much of NME five minute wonders, this promising young festival appealed enough to me to make it my musical extravaganza of the summer. But was it worth it? Well, read on if you want to find out. This is a review you know. (more…)
I imagine that this will not come as a shock to most who read this, but as a white, middle class, fairly liberal minded arts student, my newspaper of choice is The Guardian. Free from the horrid sensationalism of the News of the World et al, the insipid human/local interest obsession of the Record, Mirror etc and the dodgy, hypocritical politics of the Mail and the Express, it has come to be somewhat of a bastion of objective, fair reporting that deals with matters that actually matter and news that is actually new. Of course, this is impossible and this idea of The Guardian being somehow superior to all other newspapers of its ilk is just an illusion, with its history of Zionistic bias and altogether smug approach certainly letting it down on numerous occasions. However, I still read it, as it does tend to employ reporters who can write and throws up the odd feature that finds itself to be spirited and imaginative enough as to warrant a thorough reading. (more…)
Kooks got you kooky? The Automatic making you feel tragic? Futureheads making music you dread? Boy Kill Boy making you want to kill boys? (it’s hard coming up with these things you know). Well you are clearly suffering from a case of ’schmindieitis’.
All that indie mediocrity mascarading in flash suits, ties, trilbies, ‘angular’ riffs and painfully forced issue infested lyrical content, all sung with the amount of charm and passion usually only found in a Jeffrey Archer novel, yet so lovingly adored by over excitable NME types desperately seeking a true, inspirational hero in amongst the dull stereotypes that clog up Radio One’s airwaves, has become as tiresome as bashing your head against a wall repeatedly and painfully as the cracks in your head gradually get wider and the blood flows faster and soon all you’ve got left is some vapid wasteland where your enjoyment of music should be. (more…)
