"Did you miss me?" Murs asks on the opening track of the same name. Well, not particularly Olly. He's undoubtedly one of the most successful X Factor contestants with a string of hits, but his music has mostly been forgettable despite his cheeky persona.
The title of this fourth album doesn't lie though. This is his strongest and most consistent album to date, taking us on a tour of current trends. Funky opener Did You Miss Me? sets the tone with its bubbling bass and horn fanfares; it's followed by current single Wrapped Up that cements Murs as the British answer to Bruno Mars. It's on these feelgood, upbeat numbers that he's most comfortable, horns and piano covering up his limited vocal range - the title track and the sexually-charged Can't Say No in particular. He also explores dance music: Why Do I Love You and We Still Love both feature catchy trip-hop beats, whilst Stick With Me is Avicii meets Clean Bandit, all country guitars, strings and heavy beats.
That's not the only country-inspired track; Up, the love duet with Demi Lovato, is clearly aimed towards a US market, lacking the sense of British cool that's stamped across the rest of the album. Yet after the success of the last album's Dear Darlin', Murs has learnt to deliver a ballad with sincerity. Nothing Without You and Hope You Got What You Came For both start simply enough, but soon develop into soaring ballads that reveal a truth and honesty beneath that cheeky chappy exterior.
Then there's the 1975-esque soft rock of Beautiful To Me on which Murs stretches his vocal range on anthemic melodies, whilst Seasons blends funk guitars and beats with sparse, edgy production. Murs may have recently admitted in a BBC interview that he doesn't wish to innovate in his music, but 'Never Been Better' proves that when he pushes the boundaries beyond his usual Bruno Mars/Robbie Williams soul-inflected pop sound, the results can be successful.
Some may be surprised that Murs has made it this far to a fourth album, least of all himself. Musically, this isn't the most original album around and it lacks a real standout single to mark Murs as a superstar, but with fun and enjoyable songs to match his personality, he's certainly heading in the right direction.
3/5
Gizzle's Choice:
* Did You Miss Me?
* Stick With Me
* Can't Say No
There, I’ve said it.
Bah humbug. Rehashing the same fairytale
stories each year with a heavy dose of silly childish humour is not really my
idea of fun.
Throw in some sexual innuendo, however, and you’re more on my
wavelength. Add some filthy jokes,
hilarious cultural references and a fair amount of swearing, and you’ve got
yourself an adult panto. But if that
tickles your fancy, then make sure you see Sleeping
Booty at the Leicester Square Theatre.
It’s not for the faint-hearted.
Writer and director Stuart Saint retains all the usual panto
tropes, but cranks up the xxx rating.
Our fairy narrator is the sexualised Fairy Muff; the slop scene involves
some embarrassing audience participation (not to mention some earlier twerking);
there’s a variety dance routine with bells on; and the traditional sing-along has
some…updated lyrics. It’s rude, crude
and camp as Christmas.
The less you know about the show the better, but the (loose)
plot involves the gangsta rapping princess Booty and her quest for the biggest
prick in the land (and I don’t mean a spinning wheel). She’s aided by Fairy Muff, Prince Willie
Wontie (himself on a mission to regain the affections of his love Punani) and
You Look Familiar (multiple roles), but of course they’re thwarted by The Evil
Mangelina and her arse-isstant Tit-Bit.
The narrative barely follows the original and is totally lost, but who
cares when the silly fun and biting contemporary references are so damn
hilarious?
The performances contain plenty of ad-libbing, with
consistently funny jokes and excellent comic timing. The bootyful Alice Marshall is utterly
engaging as Booty, spitting out rapid-fire rhymes and slut-dropping with gay
abandon (even if her booty could use a touch of Kardashian padding). Paula Masterton’s Fairy Muff does most of the
legwork when it comes to the singing and whilst her vocals are strong, the song
choices are a little outdated. So too is
drag queen Miss Dusty O’s schtick. She
certainly serves up some Disney villain realness as Mangelina, but her entrance
to Lady Gaga’s Bad Romance is very 2000-and-late
and her jokes feel overly scripted, often missing the mark. She’s totally upstaged by the sassy Tit-Bit in
amusing dinosaur onesie – with her facial expressions and comical dancing, Rachael
Born is a hoot to watch. Leon Scott
improvises well as the Prince, and Alexander Beck balances multiple characters
with ease.
If there’s one major positive about panto, it gives actors a
chance to let their hair down and have some fun in the face of yet another piece
of ‘serious’ theatre. When the cast are
enjoying it, the audience will too and it’s clear that the cast of Sleeping Booty are having an absolute
whale of a time. The result? I laughed my titbits off.
4/5
Watch: Sleeping Booty runs
at the Leicester Square Theatre until 17th January.
‘Theatre Uncut’ is a remarkable project. It’s an annual event that invites young
playwrights to write a new short play as a response to a specific theme based
on current affairs. Not only are these
performed together in one evening, but the scripts are posted online for people
to read and perform internationally, creating something of a global theatrical
dialogue.
This year’s theme is “Knowledge is Power. Knowledge is
Change”. Clearly this can be interpreted
in a number of ways, leading to five very distinct plays. Some are all encompassing, others more focused. Together, they reflect our current society as
an often absurd dystopia. Performed by a
superb four-strong cast, with a cleverly designed set and pulsing electronic musical
theme between each play, it’s as if watching a TV show of short scenes – like a
stage version of Charlie Brooker’s Black
Mirror.
With only 10-15 minutes to fill, these plays take on an
abstract, poetic feel in order to get their point across. This leads to some especially creative
thinking in terms of form and tone, allowing each playwright to experiment in
microcosm. Some are more successful than
others, but all five plays are gripping and well-constructed.
A couple are perhaps a little heavy-handed. Ira
Provitt and The Man from Hayley Squires, for example, provides a tough and
serious end to the performance. Focusing
on the theme of education, it involves an older education minister being
questioned by his own conscious, taking the form of a young man. The argument between them is intense and
explores differing views on the future of education, but it lacks the subtle
finesse of the earlier pieces. Vivienne
Franzmann’s The Most Horrific, looks
at the role of the media, its sensationalism and voyeurism. Particularly effective are the attempts at humour
by a fledgling stand-up comedian, though her jokes reel off a whole list of
horrific global and personal issues.
That said, it does feel at times like an exhortation, and the
juxtaposition with a couple at home watching the news isn’t always clear.
What links the first three plays is a great sense of black
humour. Anders Lustgarten’s The Finger of God uses the National
Lottery to mock class divides and the benefits system. The privileged organisers of the lottery sip
wine over a posh meal – numbers of lottery players are down so they decide to
impose punishments on those who take part to, paradoxically, encourage more people
to play. The lower classes, however,
play along despite the danger: desperate, addicted and used as sport as bizarre
as the Hunger Games. Inua Ellams
ridicules bedroom tax in Reset Everything. Thrown together into a single room, the various
characters represent the differing views of social issues (the spiritual
problem, the personal problem, the political problem), whilst the bomb in the
centre reflects a desire to rid ourselves of such over-complication and start
afresh. Then there’s Clara Brennan’s PACHAMAMA that balls together all the
world’s problems into a cosmic, cataclysmic disaster – imposing, inescapable and thrilling.
Not only do these plays highlight major world issues, the
use of humour adds a layer of subtlety, enjoyment and tangibility. Rather than preaching about problems, we can
therefore take a step back and see how absurd they are in the first place. None of the five plays offers a solution, but
they provide a thought-provoking starting point for further discussion.
4/5
Watch: ‘Theatre Uncut’ runs in London at the Soho Theatre
until 30th November, before continuing its UK tour into December.
‘The Inevitable End’ is the Norwegian duo’s fifth and final
album, but it’s less a fond farewell and more a dying breath. As the title suggests, it’s an album drenched
in overwhelming melancholy, an album that sonically embraces death.
It’s miles away from the playful joie de vivre of previous
releases like ‘Melody AM’ and ‘Junior’. Tracks
like Sordid Affair, Save Me and I Had This Thing certainly have a sense
of dance floor euphoria, but they’re the exception. The titles alone indicate the dejection at
the core of the album, only emphasised by lyrics like “this sordid affair is
ending in tears” and “I brought this house down on myself”. And they’re not the worst. It all begins with opener Skulls that instils a sense of ominous
death with its menacing, bubbling synths; later there’s the defeatist You Know I Have To Go that features a
flat auto-tuned vocal and sombre wisps of melody for seven and a half minutes; the
piano-led Running To The Sea sounds
like an ode to suicide; and the penultimate track is named Coup De Grace which you wish would come a little sooner. There’s even a track called Rong that simply repeats the line “what
the f*ck is wrong with you” over and over, as if the duo are banging their
heads against a brick wall.
What did go wrong? Why
is this album so oppressively sad? As
you’d expect from Röyksopp, the production is impeccable: impossibly elastic
basslines; synths pinging like droplets in space; everything polished and
crafted with immense precision. This isn’t
cold and robotic electronic music; there’s a warmth and humanity that oozes
from every beat, making the album all the more heart-shattering. Yet rarely has this genre sounded so downbeat
and bleak. Whilst some of their previous
material has a darker energy that maintains a sense of urgency, ‘The Inevitable
End’ is joyless. As an exploration of
musical depression it’s definitely a success, but if saying goodbye is so
difficult, why say goodbye at all?
The second track is a remix of Monument, a track that featured on their collaborative EP with
Robyn ‘Do It Again’ earlier this year. Yet
where, in its original incarnation, the track is a pensive opener that
contrasts with the glorious title track, it’s clear now the duo won’t be doing
it again anytime soon. “This will be my
monument, this will be a beacon when I’m gone” she sings, though if Röyksopp
leave behind any legacy, it won’t be this album. They are a duo who will be remembered for
giving life to the likes of Eple, The Girl And The Robot and Only This Moment, not for
self-destructing in their final hour.
French DJ/Producer/Destroyer of music David Guetta has
stated that his latest (sixth) album ‘Listen’ is his most personal to date,
constructed from actual acoustic songs rather than just beats. As the title suggests, he’s demanding we
actually listen this time – not with our feet, but with our ears.
Not that you could tell much of that by listening. Mostly, this is the same old polished EDM that
you’ve either come to love or loathe. What I did for Love and Listen both start as piano-led ballads
but Guetta soon slaps his trademark donk across them. And some songs even contain, shock horror, A
GUITAR. Yet each and every song
disintegrates into ravey synths with a beat that’s permanently stuck four to
the floor. It’s simply laughable how
many songwriters it’s taken per song to come up with this.
BEAT BEAT BEAT BEAT.
As you’d expect, there are countless collaborators and
featured vocalists: from the obvious (Sia, Ryan Tedder), to the plain dull
(Emeli Sandé, The Script), to the bizarre (Ladysmith Black Mambazo). There’s certainly a broad global flavour to ‘Listen’
– Lift me up pairs the aforementioned
African group with Norwegian duo Nico & Vinz; No Money no Love brings together hip hop artists from Sweden and
the UK (Elliphant and Ms. Dynamite – the former a rising star, the latter resuscitating
her dying career); and other songs bring together artists from the US, the UK and
across Europe.
Yet none of these collaborators are able to push Guetta out
of his comfort zone. It’s telling that
he wrote most of the album himself first before inviting singers to ‘listen’;
they arrived too late to make their own mark and deviate from Guetta’s
formula. That his formula is so
repetitively formulaic is almost impressive, but it leads to a monotonous album
of, you guessed it…
BEAT BEAT BEAT BEAT.
Only Nicki Minaj is able to break the mould on Hey Mama, with its hard-hitting beat
that deviates from the usual pattern and rapped verses. Finally a collaboration that feels equal,
even if it’s far from the best work from either artist.
The odd track is certainly palatable (this is no Calvin Harris album). At the very least
Guetta knows how to write a hook.
Previous single Lovers on the Sun
has a welcome country vibe (courtesy of Avicii); current single Dangerous has a dangerously funky
bassline; the African air of Lift me up
adds a lightness of touch to Guetta’s typical euphoria; and both John Legend
and Sia provide excellent vocals on Listen
and Bang my Head respectively.
Dancing is expected, then, but in Sia’s words actually
listening to ‘Listen’ may well cause you to bang your head against a wall.
If there’s one musical theatre composer who’s able to
subvert expectations, it’s Sondheim – the man who can tell a story backwards, explore
relationships with brutal honesty, reveal the darker side of childhood
fairytales and find humour in a pair of serial killers.
Assassins, then,
is no different. Who else could eke out
sympathy from America’s most notorious killers?
The likes of John Wilkes Booth, Charles Guiteau, John Hinckley and Lee
Harvey Oswald are brought together like some grim murderous family, the show
detailing the hits and misses of various assassination attempts on US Presidents. It’s a satire of the
American Dream that gives voice to the unheard, to those whom America has
failed and de-humanised. In Sondheim’s words, “everybody’s
got the right”. Through its mockery of traditional
American band music (and one of Sondheim’s most tuneful scores), we find truth,
honesty and injustice in a series of psychotic, maniacal characters. Watching Harry Morrison’s madly devoted Hinckley
(obsessed with actress Jodie Foster) and Carly Bawden’s Lynette Fromme (lover
to Charles Manson) singing the beautiful “Unworthy Of Your Love” to their
respective loves prior to committing murder is as unhinged as Sweeney singing
to his razors.
There are more time travel anomalies than a Christopher
Nolan film, but the various disparate parts are held together by a circus theme
(“you wanna shoot a President?”) as well as the fictional Proprietor (a muscly Simon
Lipkin with clown paint dripping down his face and a target on his back), a
banjo playing hill-billy Balladeer (Jamie Parker), and a small ensemble of
bystanders representing the general public.
It’s madness, but it works. Soutra
Gilmour’s set for this production continues the deranged and grimy circus theme:
monologues are delivered from a dodgem car; the cast crawl over a huge clown
head forlornly left on its side; and overbearing hit and miss signs light up
after each gunshot. The use of blood red
confetti also provides some powerful imagery.
It’s true that, whilst the performances are all wonderfully
twisted, some characters are given more stage time than others. John Wilkes Booth is meant to be the leader
of the group, but the pretty-voiced Aaron Tveit doesn’t quite have the stage
presence – particularly by comparison to Lipkin’s burly Proprietor who is the
real controller of the drama. Andy Nyman
is a playful yet uncontrollable Guiteau (who looks more than a little like
Sondheim himself); David Roberts plays a touching, quietly mournful Czolgosz
with a resonant bass voice; Stewart Clarke’s Giuseppe Zangara is suitably
psychotic in his early number (but is overall underused); and the pairing of comedian
Catherine Tate and Bawden as Sarah Jane Moore and Lynette Fromme is full of
laugh-out loud black comedy. Mike
McShane also brings humour into his lengthy monologues as the Santa imitating Samuel
Byck, in which Sondheim pokes fun at his old collaborator Leonard Bernstein. The ensemble, however, are largely
unnecessary – there simply isn’t enough for them to do, detracting from what is
otherwise a taut character drama. Their penultimate
number “Something Just Broke” saps all the tension out of a glorious climax.
If Byck’s story of hijacking a plane tells us anything,
though, it’s how much Sondheim’s musical still resonates with a modern audience
(its premiere was in 1990). There’s plenty
of humour in this dark satire, yet for all its psychotic performances and
cleverly fantastical directorial touches from Jamie Lloyd, there is a frightening realism
bristling beneath the surface.
5/5
Watch: Assassins runs
at the Menier Chocolate Factory until 7th March.
The goal of many alcoholics is the blackout – the point at
which drinking leads to memory loss. But
what leads someone to that state? Why
would they choose to self-harm?
This piece of verbatim theatre follows the same structure as
the recovery process, beginning with frenzied chaos. The five performers dizzyingly cross the
stage speaking their fractured lines over one another. It’s confusing, but it reflects the giddy rush
of excitement of getting drunk, of not knowing where you’ll wake up after the
blackout. It’s also very amusing –
listening to the various anecdotes, it makes you wonder what’s so bad about
alcohol after all?
That soon comes. The
next act brings a change of character: violence, abuse, rape. Here we witness five people struggling to
take control, wrestling with denial and deluding themselves until the point of
rock-bottom. Recovery does come, but it
doesn’t come easily. When reality hits,
it’s all too easy to switch to another vice.
Sobriety is tough when dealing with life’s tragedies leading to a lack
of self-confidence. Recovery is
ultimately positioned as a spiritual awakening: whether having faith in God,
some other higher power, or simply finding positivity in humanity.
In fact, positivity is the overall message of Blackout. This is a play fuelled by hope, presenting an
honest, powerful and truthful vision of life as an alcoholic.
However, what it gains in verisimilitude, it lacks in drama. With the piece scripted entirely from
interviews with recovering alcoholics (including lead writer Mark Jeary
himself, who also performs), it sometimes feels more like watching an AA
meeting than an actual play. Lighting
and choreographed movement do add a sense of theatricality, but mostly dramatic
issues lie in the presentation of character, despite some excellent physical
and emotional performances. With
overlaying stories, individual characters become difficult to discern and are
underveloped – some are far stronger than others. More so, the characters may touch on tragedy
in their speeches, but the overall positive message gives them an air of
invincibility. One character doesn't survive, but he’s quickly forgotten.
Ironically enough for a verbatim piece, the characters feel more like a collection
of quotes than human.
On an educational level, though, Blackout certainly works as a thought-provoking piece. It may be performed in a pub, but I steered
well clear of any alcoholic drinks.
3/5
Watch: Blackout runs
at the Hope Theatre until 6th December.
Let's face it, the third book in the series is the worst. Stripping the story of the titular games, the narrative dawdles in the newly discovered District 13 whilst author Suzanne Collins makes some questionable choices. Losing what makes the story unique, it just becomes another teen dystopian novel.
Yet again, though, film director Francis Lawrence has improved upon the novel in subtle ways. Mostly, that's down to the performance of Jennifer Lawrence. She embodies Katniss Everdeen perfectly: conflicted, struggling to deal with a traumatic past, and unable to cope with the pressures of leadership, whilst remaining strong-willed throughout. The director has the confidence to simply let the camera linger, her face doing the storytelling.
The decision to split the film in two, though, is perhaps unnecessary. It certainly allows for a remarkable level of faithful detail, but it does drag with a lack of action. This is a film of preparation. Waking up in District 13 led by President Coin (Julianne Moore), Katniss finds herself on the side of the rebels who are determined to use her Mockingjay image as a symbol for their uprising. Aided by the piercing blue eyes of childhood friend Gale (Liam Hemsworth) and various newcomers (including Game of Thrones actress Natalie Dormer as Cressida), she records videos out in the warring districts to inspire the rebellion.
Peeta, meanwhile, has been captured by President Snow in the Capitol and is being manipulated as a weapon against Katniss; interviews with host Caesar Flickerman (Stanley Tucci) are broadcast across the country to counter the rebels. This, then, is a war of words - sombre and pensive, with only Elizabeth Banks' eccentric Effie Trinkett providing the slightest dash of comedy. Where the first films were a morbid satire on celebrity culture, Mockingjay explores the power of media, image and propaganda with a melancholic score to match. The outcome of that is almost entirely saved for Part 2, so it's impossible to critique this as a standalone film.
This dark, dystopian tale has captured the minds of a generation. Whilst the plot and characters alone are intriguing, this third film lends a level of visual realism that transcends the fantasy of the novels. The series may have started as Twilight fan fiction, but this is a far more pertinent narrative than the love lives of vampires. As Katniss visits the destroyed District 12 or the war-torn District 8, the images have a disturbing sense of verisimilitude. This could be Iraq, or Syria, or any other modern war zone. It might be set in the future, but Collins' story is utterly relevant to a society all too used to seeing war imagery across the media. That's something that Lawrence's film only heightens.
Lastly, a quick word about the soundtrack: buy it.
No really. You'd be hard-pressed to actually hear any of the songs used in the film but it's more than just a marketing tool, it's also one of the best albums of the year. Curated by Lorde (and featuring a handful of new, original songs from her including lead track Yellow Flicker Beat), the album is essentially a list of the coolest people in contemporary pop: Chvrches, Tinashé, Ariana Grande, Tove Lo, Raury, Bat for Lashes, Miguel, Major Lazer and more. There's even a track from Grace Jones. And these aren't just throwaway singles; the mostly downbeat and gloomy sounds are equally suited to the film and today's charts. It's a soundtrack as relevant as the film itself.
4/5
Watch: Mockingjay (Part 1) is out now.
Listen: The soundtrack is also out now.
The long hair. The
black outfits. The sullen attitude.
In the world of 1D, growing up means acting like rock
stars. And the five-piece boyband have
done a lot of growing up over their four album career: from the cheesy escapades
of What Makes You Beautiful, to the
80s soft rock of current single Steal My
Girl that fittingly wouldn’t sound out of place on the soundtrack to coming-of-age
film The Breakfast Club.
‘Four’ sees the boys dropping the 60s inspired pop of their
past albums for an 80s guitar sound. That’s
a change that we’ve all seen coming gradually, for better or worse. Diana was one of the highlights of the last album and the best of 'Four' follows suit. Yet those who bemoaned the Mumford-esque balladry
of ‘Midnight Memories’ won’t find much to enjoy on insipid love songs like Ready to Run, Fools Gold, Night Changes and the Ed Sheeran bore-fest 18.
Too often, the album coasts along on mediocre tracks on which the boys
take themselves far too seriously. You
can’t begrudge them for at least writing their own material, but equally you
wish they’d lighten up a bit.
And lighten up they do, on occasion. They might be aiming towards rock stardom,
but the music remains grounded in their pop roots and it’s here where the
album succeeds. Steal My Girl is as catchy a lead single as they’ve ever released,
whilst Where Do Broken Hearts Go features
a pop-rock shout-along chorus, Fireproof takes
a more laidback approach with its West Coast harmonies, and Spaces is a typical boyband ballad
flavoured with guitars that perfectly represents where the band are currently
at. Best of all is Stockholm Syndrome with its infectious syncopation and driving
guitars – as with Taylor Swift’s latest album, it successfully updates 80s pop with
a contemporary edge. That this song (as
well as Where Do Broken Hearts Go)
was co-written solely by Harry Styles (Liam Payne and Louis Tomlinson co-wrote most
of the album alongside other pop songwriters) just proves which member has the
most personality. Maybe they should
listen to Styles more often?
As the unimaginative album title suggests, ‘Four’ is hardly
an original album. The 80s style alone
is nothing new, the opening of Ready to
Run is pure Avicii, the guitar lines in Change
Your Tickets are practically identical to Girls from The 1975, and Act
My Age weirdly combines a hoedown with dub-step. Other songs often sound like rehashed
versions of old singles, but if anything it adds up to the most cohesive and
complete 1D album to date. Yet where
Beyoncé’s album of the same name was full of singles, here many of the tracks
fail to stand out.
With all the reports of separate transportation, fights and
illness, many are predicting the imminent demise of 1D. They’re undoubtedly best known for their
overall brand and their ability to induce hysteria and pant-wetting in young
girls rather than their music, but it’s clear the boys wish to change
that. 1D may be a tired boyband, but
musically they’re just hitting their stride.
For a show all about American sports and the American Dream,
this absence is a strange choice. It
lends the show an air of polite Britishness that is at odds with the brash
nature of America the cast are trying to replicate. It’s one of many oversights that nags from
start to finish.
In Hokes Bluff performance
company Action Heroattempt to
explore the conventions of American teen sports dramas, but seem to have left
out the drama bit. Instead of presenting
a traditional narrative, they instead meditate on the troubles and pressures of
an underdog sportsman. This mostly takes the form of lengthy monologues,
the action controlled by an onstage referee.
The monologues themselves consist of endless lists of words that sound
convincing, but somewhat labour the point.
As motivational speeches, they lack that over the top nature that comes
from America’s almost religious devotion to sport. Instead, we’re lulled into the hypnotic, downbeat mindset of a generic sportsman that fails to excite: from the lack of visual
interest, to the monotone delivery of lines.
The use of music is excellent in stirring atmosphere,
whether accompanying a (supposedly) erotic changing scene with Major Lazer’s Get Free, blasting out a bit of Rihanna
at full volume, or simply providing mood.
Yet Action Hero rely on the music to create emotion; the performances
alone are flat and vacuous. Not even
dressing up as a tiger mascot can inject some urgency by comparison to the
opening synths of We Found Love.
What’s more, what relevance does this have to a British
audience? Much of our understanding of
these sports and American culture comes from cinema, but whilst Hokes Bluff strives to be cinematic, it fails to comment on the clichés these
films employ.
There’s certainly some comedy in the piece. Those endless lists are full of amusing place
names and American stereotypes; the referee’s increasingly frenzied motions are
particularly comical; and there’s some audience participation that finally adds
some fun in a show that takes itself far too seriously. Yet by full time, Hokes Bluff just doesn’t say very much. How un-American.
2/5
Watch: Hokes Bluff runs
at Shoreditch Town Hall until 29th November as part of a UK tour.
Two years after breakout hit 212, some disappointing EPs, a tonne of controversy, countless
Twitter feuds, homophobic abuse, failing to turn up to major gigs, and pulling
releases at the last minute (seriously, her Wikipedia page reads like a soap
opera), Azealia Banks has finally self-released her debut album ‘Broke With
Expensive Taste’. From someone who once
topped NME’s Cool List in 2011, there’s only one question to be answered: was
the album worth the wait?
Yes…mostly.
There’s no doubt you get tracks for your dollar here –
sixteen in total. Yet what many of the
tracks actually consist of is pretty sparse – for the first half of the album at
least. As with 212, her overall style fuses hip-hop with house, but as she raps
over beats you realise that that’s…it.
Take opener Idle Delilah: it’s
not until the three minute mark that we get the tiniest of hooks, but by that
point it’s too little too late. Too
often she leans too heavily in one direction.
JFK, for instance, is a
lengthy and repetitive house track with a forgettable rap; whilst the trap
influenced Heavy Metal and Reflective is
a hard-hitting hip-hop track that lacks that house brilliance – BBD similarly follows suit. Banks sure does spit a lot of words out (often
in impressively rapid quickfire), but does she really have anything of note to
say? That the best track here remains 212 is perhaps telling. Who else could make a c-bomb sound so cool?
When she gets it right, though, the results are
electric. And those results are most
evident in the album’s second half, once all the varying influences finally
click into place. Ice Princess begins with a trap beat, but soon crescendos into a
rave-like chorus that (shock horror) includes an actual melody amongst all the
sparkling synths. Soda similarly fizzes, with its bubbling clipped hook that
contrasts with its lyrics of loneliness (“I’m trying to hide behind tired eyes,
I sigh”). Chasing Time, meanwhile, is a major highlight – a diss track aimed
squarely at her former label, Banks slyly sings “am I chasing time? ‘Cause I
wasted all mine on you” over infectious beats and euphoric synths. It’s by a mile her best track since 212, with crossover appeal between
hip-hop circles, clubs and mainstream radio.
Luxury follows, all funky
basslines and sexy production.
Occasionally, Banks drops a beat so stonking that you can’t
help but take notice: the garage swagger of Desperado,
the stomping and aggressive Yung Rapunxel,
or the rapid, urgent dance beats of the album’s closing pairing of Miss Amor and Miss Camaraderie. Then there’s
Gimme a Chance that provides an early
highlight, its first half pairing record scratching with horn interjections,
before erupting with fiery salsa rhythms and a rap in Spanish. It smacks of an album that lacks overall
cohesion, but somehow still works. If
anything this is less an album and more just a collection of her work over the
past few years. It’s been so long, she
had to release something, right?
If there’s one song that stands out, though it’s Nude Beach A-Go-Go. It’s Banks pairing the Beach Boys with the
opening credits sequence to an 80s sitcom style remake of Baywatch. It contains such genius lyrics as “Ram-a-lam-a-ding-dong, surfer Billy,
bing-bong” and questions “do you jingle when you dingle-dangle?”. It’s a psychedelic head rush. I have no idea what Banks was thinking (or
taking) when she wrote this, but at last we can finally hear her having some
fun. For a woman who seems so angry and
aggressive, constantly courting controversy, she’s definitely at her best when
she lightens up a bit.
4/5
Gizzle’s Choice:
* 212
* Soda
* Chasing Time
Listen: ‘Broke With
Expensive Taste’ is available now.
If you’re wondering why Swedish
electro music is so good, then look no further than the latest release from
iamamiwhoami, the musical brainchild of Jonna Lee.
Few albums are as evocative as
this. Waves of icy synths shatter
against crystalline melodies and glacial beats.
Lee’s vocal shivers above it all, ghostly and sensual. These sounds could only come from Scandinavia:
expansive and polished like a frosty snowscape, the production flutters like a
snowflake amongst deep-seated melancholic darkness.
This may seem exaggerated, but
opening track Fountain is immediately
immersive as its arpeggios ripple and crash like waves over your ears. Hunting
for Pearls is glorious, its almost sinister verses building to a widescreen
chorus of sparkling melodies. Much of
the album gleams with a glossy sheen (the catchy electro-pop of Vista and the soaring Chasing Kites especially), but there are
moments of pleasing roughness. Tap Your Glass, for instance, features a
buoyant, almost tribal, beat; Thin shatters
like abstract glass; Ripple has a
carnal, rave-like texture; and closer Shadowshow
is imbued with mystery and sinuous melodies. As a whole, ‘Blue’ delivers a consistent tone
and mood across its ten tracks that haunts as much as it dazzles.
Lee’s voice is perhaps a little contentious. This is no criticism of her accent (I can just
about count to ten in Swedish), but much of the lyrical content is somewhat
unintelligible. This may act as a
barrier to the music’s emotion, leaving some cold, but if anything it only
highlights the ethereal nature of Lee’s style.
The music alone is enough to stir an emotional response.
It comes as no surprise, then,
that (just as with her previous two releases), ‘Blue’ is a complete audiovisual
project with accompanying videos. There’s
no denying these are beautifully and artfully shot, brimming with the icy,
Scandinavian imagery that’s so intrinsic to the music. Yet it’s arguable whether they really add
value or depth to the whole experience.
For the most part, these videos simply visualise the abstract nature of sound
alone, undermining its evocative power.
It’s unnecessary: the music more than speaks for itself.
Henry Naylor, the writer and co-director of this piece, is
best known for his comedy work, having written for Spitting Image as well as prolific comedians like Alistair McGowan,
Lenny Henry, Rory Bremner and more. The Collector is his first straight play,
set in 2003 occupied Iraq.
A background in comedy may seem counterintuitive for such a serious
subject matter, but here it works in Naylor’s favour. The hour long show begins with a poetic
introduction that outlines various Middle Eastern stereotypes with comic
intent. From there, the onstage
characters aren’t afraid to laugh or crack a smile, ensuring that above all
they remain touchingly human and compassionate.
The characters may be fictional, but their situations are very
real. As the narrative becomes graver,
the closing poem is all the more poignant.
Nassir, the play’s protagonist, is a pro-Western translator
working in Mazrat Gaol, one of Saddam’s most notorious torture houses now under
American occupancy. Except life isn’t
the American dream he thought it might be – instead the war brings only
corruption, torture and a gross breach of human rights. Caught between his home culture and his
desire for freedom, he is left with nobody and is forced into misplaced loyalty
in order to save his family, a decision that can only end in tragedy. Through this narrative Naylor mocks interrogation
techniques and the disgustingly sadistic treatment of prisoners.
However, Nassir is not present onstage. Instead, his story is told through the
monologues of three characters – his wife (Rotu Arya) and two American soldiers
(Wililam Reay and Lesley Harcourt).
Gradually we piece together his story through the domino effect from one
narrator to the next. One character
describes good translation as understanding the soul, yet Nassir’s plight is
literally mistranslated in front of us by others. His lack of literal voice only highlights the
appalling nature of this harrowing tale, like a ghost that haunts the stage.
The play crams a hell of a lot into its one hour running
time, but most prominent of all are the convincing performances from the three
actors that convey such deeply moving individual stories. Harcourt’s Foster, the interrogator, is a
woman caught in a male-dominant world, her psychological methods seen as weak
in the face of masculine brutality; Reay’s Captain Kasprowicz clearly has a
heart, but the conflict clouds his judgement and turns him into a monster. As Nassir’s wife Zoya, Arya’s emotive delivery
is heartbreaking: from a bubbly young woman to a broken shadow of her former
self, stripped of her identity.
As such, The Collector
is a play of horrific human tragedy, beyond the politics of war. Fringe theatre isn’t just about performing on
a budget, it gives an opportunity to present new, concise and thought-provoking
works. Few are as stirring as this.
5/5
Watch: The Collector runs
at the Arcola Theatre until 22nd November.
Nolan has somewhat shot himself in the foot. We're all expecting a mind-bending, dream-within-a-dream of a narrative in each of his films, but how much further can he go?
The answer is space. Interstellar is his most ambitious film to date. And for Nolan that's saying something.
It starts off simply (and slowly) enough. Matthew McConaughey plays Cooper, an adventurous and free-spirited father and former NASA pilot, living on a farm with his two children and father. On this near future Earth, humanity is on the brink of extinction, forced into space exploration to find a new home. Cooper soon gets sent across the universe on such a mission, incorporating worm holes, singularities, time dilation and more. It's science-fiction to the core - where Inception was a unique concept, Interstellar is based on scientific theory with theoretical physicist Kip Thorne employed to ensure realism. It's arguably a more intelligent film, its internal logic transcending the film into actual scientific study, though it's equally less entertaining - a cerebral experience rather than an action thriller.
The comparisons to Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey are palpable, not least for the grand scale, but for the inclusion of an A.I character, ground-breaking special effects, often beautiful design, and Hans Zimmer's shudderingly epic orchestral score that quite literally shakes the room with its imposing church organ. This is a film that demands to be seen in the cinema. Through its mesmerising symphonic structure and expansive narrative that tackles some demanding scientific and philosophical questions, this is less a space odyssey and more a space opera.
At times, Nolan stumbles over his own ambitions. He's a director who seems to delight in confusing his audience, the film perhaps purposefully and unnecessarily obtuse. A post-film Wikipedia search provides a lucid narrative based on sound concepts, but in practice some key points are not always well explained or presented on screen. The film's climax in particular feels far-fetched, demanding we suspend our disbelief one step too far though it's certainly a clever idea. The film's major error, though, is in the sound department: through McConaughey's sibilant, mumbling voice and a high proportion of lines muffled by space helmets and/or the score, too many plot points are lost, leaving the audience inexcusably baffled.
Beyond the science, the core story demonstrates the gravitational pull of human relationships across the boundaries of time and space - for all the film's scientific bombast, there remains a huge emotional payoff. The success of the film, then, is equally down to the performances. McConaughey plays a convincing hero and Anne Hathaway's fellow scientist Brand is an appropriate foil, plus the likes of Michael Caine and Matt Damon give excellent performances. It's the superb and underrated Jessica Chastain as Cooper's adult daughter Murph who provides the emotional crux of the film; following in her father's footsteps as the real heroine, her story ensures the film delivers on an emotional level.
Interstellar is ultimately a flawed film: it's not as grand as 2001, not as satisfying as Inception and not as visually powerful as last year's Gravity. It remains, however, one of the cinematic events of the year. It's powerful, it's intriguing and will have you googling scientific theory before the credits are over.
Remember when Little Mix covered Cannonball as their X Factor winners song and everyone despaired? How dare they!
Now admittedly, the song’s melancholy wasn’t really the
right fit for a fun girl band who couldn’t get to grips with the lyrical
honesty. But what this cover does prove
is that Damien Rice’s material has always crossed the boundary between acoustic
folk and pop. For all the raw emotion of
his music and its folk aesthetic, his grasp of melody and guitar fingerpicking ensured
his music was equally palatable for mainstream tastes.
That’s no longer the case.
Eight years on from second album ‘9’ (itself essentially a carbon copy
of ‘O’) and Rice has moved on somewhat from his old style. Where his previous material was intimate,
concise and immediately relatable, ‘My Favourite Faded Fantasy’ is a more
difficult listen. Each of the eight
tracks operates within its own structure often far removed from simple verse
and chorus. There are multiple movements
within a song, with contrasting moods and instrumentation. It adds a sense of grandeur to his music that
belies the intimacy of his past work, often feeling self-indulgent with endlessly
repeated refrains.
The instrumentation also detracts from the emotion of the
songs. Where before Rice could sustain a
full song with just his voice, guitar and perhaps the odd splash of cello or
percussion, here we have full string sections, brass and other orchestral
colours. It may make for a more varied
sound, but the delicate torch songs of the past are missing overall. You won’t find many memorable melodies to
guide you through the murk to the core feeling of the lyrics, unlike the
immediacy of his best work.
That’s not to say there aren’t some highly emotional and
beautiful moments on this album, it’s just you have to hunt for them a little
more. As a more complex work, the honest
emotion isn’t as easily accessible as before.
The Greatest Bastard is the
closest track to Rice’s old style, performed predominantly on guitar his
quivering voice and storytelling take the fore – the “please don’t let up”
section in the middle is heartbreaking. The
title track, meanwhile, is a great introduction into this new sound: inspired
by the likes of Jeff Buckley, the touching opening lyrics slowly crescendo
towards a tumultuous climax. It Takes A Lot To Know A Man revolves
around a simple piano chord sequence that gradually develops in typical Rice
fashion, but at well over nine minutes long it would’ve served better in a more
concise form. Towards the end of the
album, the tracks somewhat outstay their welcome – they simply don’t have the
emotional punch of Cannonball, Volcano,
The Blowers Daughter or Rootless Tree. The impassioned vocals of Colour Me In are the exception.
There’s no doubt that ‘My Favourite Faded Fantasy’ is a
beautiful album in places, but the simplicity of Rice’s old material is
preferable to this new development. You
won’t be hearing any pop covers from this album any time soon – maybe that was
all part of the plan?
3/5
Gizzle’s Choice:
* My Favourite Faded Fantasy
* The Greatest Bastard
* Colour Me In
Listen: ‘My Favourite Faded Fantasy’ is available now.
Have you ever wondered what it would
be like to be trapped inside a video game?
Japanese show Siro–A gives a pretty good impression,
what with its mix of techno chiptune music, futuristic presentation and
Japanese references. There’s even
appearances from Mario and Pikachu.
The name translates
as “impossible to define” which is apt – this is more an experience than a
show. It’s like a modernised version of
traditional Kabuki theatre, the four lead performers in white make-up and
jumpsuits combining mime, dance and magic with 21st century
technology and electronic beats. Lights, lasers and
projections dazzle the audience in a dizzying display of imagery that ranges
from psychedelic futurism, to traditional swordfights out of a wuxia film and kaleidoscopic
kawaii characters. It's beautiful, fascinating and mesmerising all at once.
‘Box’ for instance
sees the group catching projected images on handheld slabs and boxes, all
intricately choreographed and precisely delivered. ‘Ball’, meanwhile, is performed in
silhouette, combining mime and a projected bouncing ball with hilarious
effect. And that’s just the start. Dance moves are recorded as projections on a
screen and gradually layered in bright, artful colours; western films are
replicated through projected words and mime (Frozen was particularly amusing); and the four performers are
joined by digital clones as they pop in and out of screens across the
stage. There is even some (somewhat
embarrassing) audience participation.
Best of all, though,
is a new sequence called ‘Phantomime’, involving video recording, projection
and dance in a complex sequence that sees a man enter a haunted house where he
is manipulated by a masked spirit. It’s
not only incredibly cool to watch, but reminiscent of fighting some sort of
video game boss. All that was missing
was a controller.
The four performers
are better gymnasts than they are dancers, though their physicality remains
impressive. And whilst they take their
work seriously, there are tonnes of physical comedy moments and hilarious facial
expressions. The real stars, though, are
DJ Kentaro Homma and video artist Daichi Norikane – without their incredible
talents, the show would lose its unique selling point.
That said, there is
nothing else like Siro-A around,
however you choose to define it. It’s an
experience full of unique charm that could only come from a group of whacky
Japanese performers.
4/5
Watch: Siro-A runs at the Leicester Square Theatre until 11th January.
'3 Words' had pop banger Fight For This Love.
'Messy Little Raindrops' had crazy banger Promise This.
'A Million Lights' had club banger Call My Name.
And 'Only Human' has the "dickmatised" Crazy Stupid Love. The signs were there really.
Where her previous three albums at least had a strong lead single, 'Only Human' is her most consistent album to date - only in that it's consistently crap.
The overly long, fifteen track album takes its musical cues from the dance influenced electro pop that's already been done better by countless other artists. There's even a track here called Beats N Bass if you were unsure, by the very end, exactly what the album consists of. The production is frothy to the extreme, distinctly lacking in hooks, novelty or excitement.
The only other musical element is the vocal: bland, emotionless and with a limited range. Live Life Now features a distinct lack of melody as Cheryl essentially talks (I'm reluctant to call it rap) over the aforementioned beats "n" bass. Thematically and literally it's followed by It's About Time, a song about moving on written by fellow girl aloud Nicola Roberts. It's a fairly average funk track, but why Roberts' songwriting ability is idolised these days I'll never know. "I need a big explosion", she sings. No thanks Cheryl, you've already shat out this turd of an album.
It starts with an Intro consisting of a speech from philosopher Alan Watts, which fails to add any depth to an album that is beyond hope. He asks "what would you like to do if money were no object?". Cheryl continues with Live Life Now as if to answer his question (easy for her to say), a sentiment that continues throughout the album. Clearly she wants to move on from her past mistakes, but there's nothing anthemic or emotive about her words. Instead she simply screams "I don't care" on the fizzing track of the same name, which she later repeats on Throwback with the line "I've got zero f*cks to give". That track's preceded by Stars, which sounds like the theme tune to some shoddy piece of Saturday night 'entertainment' with its chorus lyric "we can all be stars", as if justifying her own rise to fame.
Cheryl Cole was a troubled soul. Fighting for love and record sales, she actually put a modicum of effort into her career and, with a very public love life, had something emotive to sing about. At the very least she released three memorable pop singles with a spark and an edge about them - enough to elevate her career.
Now we're stuck with Cheryl Fernandez-Versini: a dull woman who's in crazy stupid love, patronisingly tells us that "if money were no object" then "we can all be stars", and undermines herself by crying out "I don't care". Maybe if she cared a bit more she'd have an album worth listening to.
1/5
Gizzle's Choice:
* It's About Time
* I Don't Care
* Only Human
‘Indian Summer’ was originally released back in May and,
like the title suggests, would’ve made the perfect icy soundtrack to a hot
summer. Instead, I’ll be listening over
the frosty weeks to come.
Each of the five tracks reflects differing styles that have
all been popular over the past year. The
title track is perhaps the weakest, though it remains a solid Swedish pop track
with a catchy “aay aah” hook that Katy Perry would be proud of. Bon Voyage
is catchier still, its subdued, womping synths making way for an earworm of
a chorus with instant appeal. I Do This For You is a more sombre
track, all throbbing, moody synths and clattering drums that build into an
almighty chorus that brings to mind plenty of other songs – but in a really
good way (this and this in particular). With
Stay Awake, Marlene heads down more of
an R&B path with its sparse beats, but its glorious piano melodies and syncopated sunny synth chords remain uplifting. Finally, it ends on a laidback note with Lavender Fields, all shimmering piano
arpeggios and evocative dance production.
However, the EP remains the work of one artist above all –
not least for Marlene’s prominent vocals, but for the thick layer of cool
Scandi polish. There may be plenty of similar
electro-leaning female artists coming out of Sweden these days, but Marlene
really does stand ahead of the pack, even six months late…
4/5
Listen: ‘Indian Summer’ is available now
Kleerup – As If We Never Won
Where Marlene takes on disparate styles, with his latest EP
Swedish producer Kleerup has established a strong core sound that’s a step on
from his own solo material and his most famous work with Robyn.
‘As If We Never Won’ is indebted to the 80s. That’s clear immediately from the pounding
beat and pulsing synths of Sad Boys,
its syncopated hook slowly layering up with strings and guitars. As the title suggests, it’s a dance track
with a melancholic streak and a widescreen sound that only widens with
following track Let Me In. Beginning with a sliding guitar, its regular
marching beat has a distinct reminiscence of Frankie Goes To Hollywood,
coloured with kaleidoscopic synths and a dreamy vocal from Susanne Sundfør. It’s the high point of the album, followed by
the similar Nothing Left To Die For with
Jenny Wilson that slows the pace a touch but with a familiar throb.
The mood changes
from here on with Rock U featuring
Niki & The Dove. The sound remains
firmly in the 80s, but the focus changes to heavily reverbed guitars for a
sound closer to modern 80s throwbacks like Twin Shadow and M83 (as well as Niki
& The Dove themselves). As If We Never Won features vocals from
Maja Ivarsson and takes on a sombre air with a whirring electro solo that wouldn’t sound out of place on the Drive soundtrack – but with an added
quality of Swedish cool. Ending with the
acoustic track Thank God For Sending
Demons feels a little out of place by comparison, though it’s a pleasant
enough listen.
Mining the 80s
once more for inspiration may seem tired, but Kleerup’s EP is just so slickly
produced that you can’t help but fall in love with the sounds all over
again. Bring Robyn back on board and
that’s just magic waiting to happen.
Remember the summer holidays? Yeah, for some of us it was quite some time
ago. We may long for those days now, but
for the teenagers in this play from Scottish playwright D.C. Jackson, it’s a
time of utter boredom. Using Regina
Spektor’s Summer in the City as a
soundtrack immediately sets up the play’s mood.
Set in a run-down area of Stewarton in Scotland covered in
graffiti and urine, four teenagers use the titular wall as a place to meet and
a place to escape to. There’s Barry (Sam
Watson) who spends his days with his nose in a book; he awkwardly chats up
Michelle (Emma King) but always ends up saying the wrong thing. Michelle is quite the flirt, her world turned
on its head when her family move away from the area. Barry’s younger sister Norma (Roslyn
Paterson) is always getting her words mixed up.
She’s also stolen some of their dad’s weed and is worried her brother
will get the blame. And then there’s the
jokey, always horny Rab (Corran Royle), somewhat reminiscent of Jay from The Inbetweeners, chasing after a girl
in the local corner shop.
Without the structure of school, the four teenagers are lost;
reprobates in their closely knit community.
How can they escape the ghetto and their lonely lives? Over the course of the one-act play Jackson
explores sexuality, discovering alcohol and the strength of family – all relatable
themes from our own childhood. What does
family mean? Can they really be trusted? Set in the late 90s, it relies on nostalgia both
from its audience and its adult cast – without the gadgets of today, the wall
is the social hub of this claustrophobic town.
If The Wall isn’t
always convincing in creating strong dramatic purpose and pacing, it certainly
succeeds in creating a believable set of characters. Jackson’s script is frequently laugh out loud
funny, full of bad language, Scottish slang and amusing punchlines. Yet there’s a truth to the characters
too. For all their youth, there’s an
eloquent sense of poetry to their words.
Their thoughts and anecdotes somehow make sense.
That’s also testament to the cast. There’s sibling affection between Watson and
Paterson as Barry and Norma, King’s Michelle is a striking beauty, and Royle
amuses as the oddball Rab. Together they
offer enjoyable performances in a play that’s something of a Trainspotting for teenagers.
It's been a while since the last Roundup, but get ready for a bumper catch up. Some old songs, some new songs and some very good songs.
Strap in. Naomi Pilgrim – It’s All Good
Swedish pop isn’t all icy synths you know. Pilgrim brings some deep soulful vocals to
her sound, accompanied by dark disco production reminiscent of VV Brown’s 2013
album but with a stronger pop bent. As
if the sensual vocals weren’t enough, the second verse provides a hefty bass boost,
before the synths fizz into a whirring tumult in the middle eight. The title says it all: it’s all good.
4/5
Listen: It’s All Good is
available now.
Elliphant – One More (feat. MØ)
This was released a couple of months ago, but remains
amongst the best work these two Scandi artists have released. Combining the aggressive hip-hop style of Sweden’s
Elliphant with the punky attitude of Denmark’s MØ, their voices blend over clipped
beats and hazy synths that really take off in the song’s second half. Together they’re like a Scandi (and superior)
version of Lorde.
4/5
Listen: One More is
available now.
Gwen Stefani – Baby Don’t Lie
The queen has returned and she hasn’t aged a day. Anyone expecting the quirky sound of What You Waiting For may be
disappointed, but the initial Hollaback
Girl-esque “uh huh” gives way to an incredibly polished and catchy pop
track that fits neatly into today’s sound.
There’s even a psychedelic video to match that’s almost guaranteed to induce
a headache. That it’s not released in
the UK for another couple of months is simply a crime against music.
4/5
Listen: Baby Don’t Lie
is released in the UK on 11th January.
Nick Jonas – Teacher
So far, since the demise of the Jonas Brothers, Nick Jonas
seems to be making a career of taking his top off and impersonating Justin
Timberlake. But when he does such a good
job of it, can you blame him?
4/5
Listen: Full album ‘Nick Jonas’ will be released on 11th
November.
The Veronicas – Line of Fire
That’s right, the Aussie twin sisters are making a comeback
- not just a one hit wonder after all (Untouchedif
you’ve forgotten). You Ruin Meis the official first single, but a piano ballad is not
the way to make an impact. Line of Fire is the banger we need:
blazing synths, soaring vocals and dramatic strings. Welcome back.
4/5
Listen: Their full self-titled album will be released on 21st
November.
Take That - These Days
Jason Orange may have left the band, but we all know Take That is just a platform for Gary Barlow's best work (let's just forget about his solo career shall we?). These Days hardly rivals Greatest Day for day songs, but it's a fun little pop track all the same. Still, they seem to be making up for the lack of Orange by employing as many dancers as possible in the video. They just look weird as a three-piece.
3/5
Listen: These Days is released on 23rd November.
Kendrick Lamar - i
The video for i continues Lamar's cinematic streak, but this is a clear move away from the M.A.A.D City towards mainstream tastes. His groove and flow, though, is undeniable and the production is infectious - make sure you stick around for the bass solo towards the end. Rap doesn't get much funkier than this.
The video begins like a cheap perfume advert, but soon progresses into hysterical camp: pouty lips, sniffing armpits, plenty of squatting, a Gwen Stefani reference, and lads mag posing. It's like a preview for the next series of Drag Race, just less classy. The song itself lacks a proper chorus but the 90s house inspired production is catchy. I like this far more than I should and I'm not happy about it.
3/5
Listen: Living Without You is released on 7th December.
Willow Smith - Female Energy
If she's confused about her name these days, Willow/Wilough/Willy has long surpassed her dad and brother as the coolest Smith of the bunch. She's just released a new EP entitled '3' which is far removed from her hair-whipping days. Female Energy isn't on the EP, but it's indicative of her new style. It's more a long rambling than a proper track, but the 90s R&B vibes prove the girl's got class and talent.
3/5
Listen: '3' is available for free for a limited time on Google Play.
Little Boots - Taste It
Her 2013 album 'Nocturnes' is hugely underrated, but with her next work Little Boots is changing direction. Her disco days are long gone; now it's all percussive beats and stark production. Influenced by late Nineties Everything But The Girl and early 00's R&B, this is far more offbeat than we're used to. She may have creative freedom working on her own record label, but this might be an experimental step too far.
3/5
Listen: Taste It is taken from forthcoming EP 'Business Pleasure', due on 1st December.
Flyte - Light Me Up
Who said guitar music was dying? Is that still a thing? Regardless, the jaunty, 80s post-punk strumming and sunny melodies in Flyte's Light Me Up are nothing short of joyous. The band's quirky indie music has instant appeal and, following support slots for the likes of Bombay Bicycle Club, you're likely to be hearing a lot more of it in the near future.
4/5
Listen: Light Me Up is released on 17th November.
Dawn Richard - Blow
Not to be confused with Glow from her brilliant 2012 album 'Goldenheart', Blow is Richard's return after girl group Danity Kane split up...again. There's allogations of bullying and full on fists flying, but there's no denying that Richard is the most talented of the bunch. Blow is a fierce piece of aggressive, minimalist R&B and tribal beats - the perfect accompaniment for some questionable booty shaking.
4/5
Listen: Blow will feature on 'Blackheart', the follow up to 'Goldenheart', released on 15th January.
.png)
