Apps-f'in-lutely

So chaps, long time no blog!

But now we've joined the 21st Century- with an iPhone, yes - there is no excuse for poor communications, is there?

The iPhone has instantly become my obsession and I can entirely appreciate now why their owners (much like hunting dogs) sit incapacitated with their noses to the screen: "What might happen if I look away?"

The obvious would seem that some scally, within that frighteningly small pause you grant your eyes, might might just seek to thieve it. But more than likely there will be nothing of much worth to report. Your friend Brian might've sent you a Facebook wall post, calling you a wanker for looking at your iPhone while you're both in the pub... The irony being that the douchebag we've called Brian is in fact using his inferior handset to slowly access Facebook to let you know his thoughts over the same said pints. I would ask anyone on my Facebook to politely let me know should my iPhone gazing prove just as deadly to the spirit of conversation; only I've declined the push notifications because I could give a toss if Rosie has genital scarring from Imacq or if Tim bought Grant a cow on Farmville. I aspire to use my boost in world spanning technology to broaden my mind, not insulate it further.

Having said all this I'm in the first throes of my iPhone affair and am consequently chuffed to bits to be able to sit in bed and tap-a-tap all this nonsense through to the web. But there are some more worthwhile items to tell you about; oh yes, the apps!

Like any work-shy, news hungry journalist the first apps I desired were, well, newsy. The Independent was free so hooray we eagerly gobbled that, then came the obligatory Guardian app - where even the icon is a design wonder. MusicWeek was a must for me, getting actual, authoritative news on music for FREE! big joy.

Best of all though, and forgive any potential bias, is the Spinner app for iPhone. You can download their tracks of the day for free and the list stems a good few finger wafts. The images are great and the info bitesized. They are also (chest inflatingly) much further advanced in the tech department to be meeting the needs of their audience, where the NME can only boast a 59p portal for its all-too-infrequently good radio station.

Further investigation will no doubt ensue into these 'apps', but in the meantime I'm going to challenge my phone to make me a cocktail out of left over rum, vodka, milk and lucozade...



Emily Kendrick

Location:Home

Hermes Handing Down the Prize: The Mercury Music Prize 2009

Well it's been quite the time since we've visited Aural Pleasure and we're feeling somewhat like we've taken our fingers off the pulse of popular culture (eeek!)

So in an effort to appear topical, and as it's tonight and we wanna get our two penneth in, here's a run down of how we envisage tonight's Mercury Music Prize going...

It cannot have escaped anyone's notice that in the times we're being told that sexism is alive and well in the work place the music industry is fully embracing the femmes fatales in the list of nominees for this year's prize: Florence and her lungs were a sure-thing; La Roux's hair does enough to justify her presence; Lisa Hannigan had a tough time with Damien Rice (surprised?); Speech Debelle is mixing the sweet with the gritty; and Natasha Khan is making her second appearance in as many years to fight it out.

But really, so far so average in terms of the actual output. Yes these albums (and hairdos) have made an imprint in the 08-09 season - but it's really an issue of consistency that may prove the undoing of all these ladies. Similarly so are the inclusions of Glasvegas eponymous debut, Kasabian's 'psychedelic' reinvention and The Invisible's attempts to incorporate every genre under the sun. If you're into 40+ minutes of gloomy Glaswegians, then you may well have already toasted your winners... but by far it seems a two horse race to my mind.

Step forward Friendly Fires and The Horrors, if you will boys.

The Horrors have created a stunning album of aural complexity and satisfaction, that really does much to mend their 'oh so fashionable' entrance into the world of music. Strange House was by far one of the most misdirected efforts of recent times, but it's perhaps the unexpected quality of Primary Colours that makes it seem worthy of the prize. The credibility of it's influences is also, undoubtedly, one of the major factors in its acceptance. Had they of produced Lungs, it seems fair to say they would be nowhere near Mercury... Pluto maybe.

There's also the F*cked up factor to play its part in the debacle. Do the Mercury's want to face another Klaxons classic interview? Not one to point unnecessary fingers, but The Horrors might not be the best behaved of examples to have a camera thrust in their faces.

And so, to Friendly Fires - outsiders certainly if the number 37 chart position is anything to go by - ones that may just sneak up on the far lane to clinch it. Their album is consistently good, nay great. From the infectious party starting of 'Jump In The Pool' to the closing strains of "you're all I need", there is never a jarring moment. There are some loyalties, one could argue, that have lead me to this conclusion. But loyalties aside there really has been no better star in the ascent in the last 12 months.

'Album of the year'... such a dubious accolade, no straying to define what characteristics are actually being interrogated with that statement. But perhaps definition is what is intended - the music defining the year of its arrival. A year of recession has coloured the UK's 2008-2009 and within that time it could be said we've all been in need of escapism.

They made thousands dance, they've turned festival sets into conga lines and the new single 'Kiss Of Life' demonstrates that not even the sky is the limit anymore in the soaring stakes.

I'm half hoping that this doesn't happen. We all like to have something to grumble about. But needless to say, whoever might win tonight, let's hope they can start a bloody good party to take us out of the gloomy depression and into the brighter sights of 2010.

Emily Kendrick

Learning to walk, London stylee

Camden Crawl Day 2, Various Venues, Saturday 25^th April 2009

The annual razzle dazzle is in town, cue queues, Red Stripes a-plenty, some armpit gazing and a host of bands you may/may not want to see again...

 

If whispers on the high street speak of unholy queues in the wake of Miss O and co, day one (one girl tells me 4 hours!), then Saturday’s crawlers heed… if you want to see Kasabian, it requires a steak out.

But with the Roundhouse droves’ gain, it’s also their loss. It’s a crawl after all, not a stagnation! Fortunately with plenty more on the bill it’s a brisk, tinny-accompanied trundle down to Koko for The King Blues to charm the pants of the Jamie T fans first. A rude-boy version of The Pogues, they perfectly accompany the summertime cider ‘owzat’ swagger of this Borough, albeit a little lightweight. Not entirely sure we're all on board with this 'fucking pigs' business as the front man tosses off about G20 killings and how people should love one another. He's about 75% right.

From here on in, it’s all about compromise: after all, does anyone really think they can trek The Black Cap (The XX), spin by Dingwalls (Everything Everything) and still make it up for the last of Banjo or Freakout set at The Enterprise? Our valiant 3 were just about up to the task as we witnessed The XX coo a rather docile start, somewhat like Evanescence (yes, yuk indeed) and midday beers make for tired eyes. In this way it takes until the second song for the dour female sexiness to really resonate into a Lykke Li single, heart-beating drum machine that rouses a little more.

Everything Everything prove their popular ‘Suffragette Suffragette’ is rather ear-piercing live with it’s weird momentum, a fancier demonstration of their skill than the remaining melodrama. It forces us onwards, into the comfy hazy guitar-shaped arms of Banjo or Freakout – the miniscule dimensions of The Enterprise feeling even more doghouse-sized with their spin-dry acoustic showers. Sneaking a peek at Alessis Ark, the neon flashing ‘one to watch’ is almost visible as she stuns in more ways than one.

For his umpteenth year at the Crawl, Billy Bragg is holed up in the Dublin Castle and has punters hushing one another mere millimetres away. ‘The Milkman of Human Kindness’, as real as ever, sounds magical - we’re not sure if it’s the beer (it isn't) – with this, Camden Crawl has surpassed itself. Sadly there’s not enough time to fall in love with the old Essex boy, as keeping an ear out for Golden Silvers we race towards Die! Die! Die!

An insane jumble of sweat, characters and dancing, the trio truly cut their knashers with Andrew going ‘walkies’ in a set crammed of guitar and Mikey’s irrefutable drumming on ‘Blinding’. Call me a snob, but if I’d have listened to Kyle Falconer whinging about being unwashed I would feel obliged to spring out an acoustic and regale all and sundry with my student misdemeanours.

Lucky for the buskers of Camden I wasn’t sharp enough in the footwork department to catch The View, but the hot ticket for sure this evening is Kasabian. Shoes are lost, beer is lost, brothers are lost, but the Roundhouse is baying for more. Four newbies make the setlist and their psychedelic turn is mesmerising – only aided one would assume by Tom’s adventures in Wizzadora’s closet – beefy guitar lines are swapped for spindling reverb and a less ‘danceable’ beat… well until ‘Club Foot’ kicks out and everyone is finally allowed to lose their minds.

With enough of a noggin left, Eugene McGuiness rattles out The Ramones ‘Judy Is A Punk’ at 1:30am and makes for a surprise highlight of the weekend. See also new single 'Wendy Wonders' for a dose of the heir to the Brian Wilson throne. 

As irrational as it may seem to spend 48 hours trawling a tourist trap with a can at every stop and a queue a mile long, it’s those rare moments of surprise that make this all so much fun. Next year we just need to bring a few clones to soak it all up.

 

Emily Kendrick

Covered in Glory: A Tribute to Tributes

So you've accepted the painful truth. You want to form a band but haven't got the talent or drive to write your own material. It's ok, I respect your honesty. But what next? The answer, quite simply is...form a tribute act.

That's right, covers bands are the last remaining hope of the wannabe rock star and a tried and tested route to the stage and shining lights of...um...a back room of a pub. So, to help you on your journey towards mimicking your idols in a not-at-all fetishistic kind of way, here is some expert* advice: 

The Band

You've accepted the inevitable, now you need a new goal. The first step is to pick the band you want to tributalise. But this is not as easy as it sounds. Choosing a popular band, like The Beatles say, may bring in scores of punters, but on the flip side, may also leave you open to the most extreme prejudice, abuse and possibly violence seen outside the penal system. Pick an obscure personal favourite and, well, who knows what could happen. The safest option is to decide based on your probability of success. If you want to be Led Zeppelin, but can't master the first chord sequence in 'Wonderwall', then think again. If you want to be the Ramones but have the voice of Katherine Jenkins, again, try something else. If, however, you can play a few Smiths tunes and have a yodeling mate with a quiff...you get the idea.

The Name
Key to any tribute band's success is the name. If walk into a venue and a tribute band with a hilarious name is playing, you will go to see them, it's practically the law. It is also your primary marketing tool. Somehow, if the name is good people automatically assume that the band will also, by extrapolation, be good. "What creative and insightflul minds they must have!" they say in awe. So, think hard. Past favourites have been AC/DShe, Bjorn Again, Fred Zeppelin, The Clone Roses, etc etc. But you can do better than that. My personal fave is the MeatLoaf tribute called MaltLoaf. Get this right, and you're half way to success.

Maltloaf: Not just a rather good play on words,

also a fairly accurate description of the music of the man

The Look
Once you have a name, you need the look. This can go one of two ways. Surprisingly well, or really, really shit. On past form, expect the latter, but for best results aim for the former. Have they got an idiosyncratic hat? Are they famous for a certain outfit? Do they have characteristic movements or a unique bodily feature? Whatever it is, copy it as best you can. And this goes for all band members (if you 

have any). Although any Def Leppard tribute acts, may draw a line at amputating their drummer.

The Sound
This is probably the least important aspect of being a tribute act, but still you've come this far, why not give it a go. Step one is the singer. Without this you are merely a live karaoke machine without lyrical prompts. I suggest singing in the shower every day (and night for you clean types), because then you can blame the awful monotone warbling on the distortion caused by the water and steamy air. 

Once the vocals are cracked, get your band together and practise. The key word in that sentence is 'together'. It's no use learning all your parts separately and rocking up to the gig to play. You will undoubtedly sound like discordant avant-garde jazz, despite trying to emulate The Beach Boys. 

So there you have it, you're a tribute band. Now you can sit back, relax and think about why on earth you thought it was a good idea in the first place. Enjoy your meagre earnings, disinterested audiences and sweaty dives, you are well and truly a rock star.

Ian Ravenscroft

*A lie

Suffering for your (he)art

Attendance at gigs does not come without its dangers. Laura Kenwright had a little recce through her brain and came up with the top ten awkward moments. She may have experienced all/ some/ none of these... we couldn’t possibly divulge that sort of information

1) Thebumpingintoanexlover
An awkward moment no matter where. At a gig this intensifies, there are worries about being under surveillance from said other party. It has the potential to stir up old emotions that were cemented to the old soundtrack you and the ex created together.

2) The-folkies-versus-the-drinkers
See melodious, harmonising bands who sing their pretty hearts out and abstain from the beer in favour of Evian so they can reach those testicle-defying notes. A difficult gig to attend. Is it better to stay silent and lose yourself in the hazy lemony wash of dream-like melody, or is it better to vocalise your thoughts to the band and crowd; ‘YEAH!’ and risk being scowled at and ‘shushed’ at by many a potential librarian gig goers? The choice is yours.

3) Thebadcrowd-syndrome
You’re so bloody excited about going to see said artist, you turn up and the crowd are dire. They either don’t get it like you do, or they’re uninterested and there to look cool or because they’ve been dragged along. Or really, because they are dickheads. Ah well. Not sure of an antidote to this. Possibly win a competition to see said band in your living room.

4) Thewaitingaround
Having to wait an extortionate amount of time for a band to grace us with their presence with no explanation is just bloody rude. If a bloke in a tweed blazer sporting leather elbow patches grabs the mic and alerts the twitching, paying audience: "so and so will not leave their dressing room until the drums have started thumping on Eastenders", or "so and so’s pre-gig ritual of bathing in donkey’s milk, reciting all lyrics of Led Zep’s IV in Welsh against a backdrop of Handel’s Messiah is taking a lot longer than usual I’m afraid." Then brilliant, I’m happy, I’ve been placated. We go to gigs to escape the mundanity and the waiting around in our ‘real lives’. We certainly don’t need some jumped up artist doing their best impression of the Virgin Pendolino Glasgow Central to London Euston service, thanks very much.

5) Thebadvenue
Arguably a fine musician should be able to light up any old hole. But when you’ve paid £22, you’ve travelled for an hour and a half, and you get there and you can’t see cos the venue is the width of a school ruler, then you have a right to be pissed off. Not even a surprise Stones Roses reunion accompanied on stage with the ghosts of Elvis and Buddy Holly would ease the pain of the bad venue. Ways to combat this include ID’ing said awful places for the future and not returning, or demolition.

6) Overpriced-drinks-and-cloakrooms
£2 per item for a cloakroom, even in Central London, takes the piss. People have to make money from music, yes, but when it’s not the musicians pocketing those fine silver and gold coins I raise an objecting eyebrow. Especially these days, paying £3.50 for a tin of cider you can buy for 90p in the shop (but can’t take in with you) is a joke, and not a good business idea. If you lower the prices, people will drink more. Not that I’m advocating alcoholism at all, but what I am advocating is the chance to imbibe a few tinnies at a gig on my shoestring budget.

7) Thebadperformance
It depends on the musicians, of course. If you’re going to see Black Lace, you are paying money for a bad performance. If you’re spending your child’s inheritance on going to see a band whose music you’ve been lusting after for months/ years and they spend the whole evening uncharismatically staring at their uncharismatic shoes, then bubbling anger shall ensue. There is a difference between natural nonchalance that’s part of the enthralling live act and nonchalance because the band don’t give a fuck about their performance. It’s always refreshing to see a band really put their backs into it. And terribly depressing when they think they are far too scene to bother interacting with the crowd. FFS.

8) notlettingsmokersoutside
I wholeheartedly agree with the smoking ban. However, I am a smoker and I go to gigs and I like to smoke. There are probably a high proportion of smokers at gigs. So, when some venues are too lazy to co-ordinate some kind of outdoor smoking policy, this makes me angry. You pay money to go and have a good night, see and hear some good music and relax whilst doing so. If I want to escape for a couple of rollies during the evening, I really should be allowed. And will interrogate the security if I’m not. The smoking ban is difficult for bands/artists as it is – imagine you’ve got an early support slot. The majority of smokers will not want to head into a venue that doesn’t allow re-entry until the very last minute, therefore rendering support slots even more difficult and sparsely attended than usual.

9) Notenoughor/toomanypeople
A gig with very few numbers is embarrassing for all involved. The room and everyone in it will be touched with a sense of unjustness. An overcrowded gig – which capacity numbers technically override – is horrendous. These usually happen at festivals or open-air gigs, where a trip to the toilet that is 20 yards away takes an hour. Sometimes, you’ve just got to be tactical – leave the gig early or head towards a door before the encore so you can escape the crowds. Overcrowding is horrendously dangerous, as I tried to point out, post-fainting, at a venue that quite obviously flouted its health and safety laws on a particular night.

10) The-not-so-interested-in-the-new-material,but-I-really-wanna-hear-the-old-classics
A difficult one. Especially if the new material is rubbish. As a music lover it’s important to crave and support the creative future of our idols. However, we are placed in a sticky situation if the culmination of these ‘creative futures’ are hideous. If you feel you couldn’t possibly miss out on going to see X/Y/Z live because they helped shape who you are, despite their hideous new album, then do some research beforehand and find the likelihood/ percentage of classics that will be performed. Or take many conveniently-planned toilet breaks.

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