When bands release self-titled albums, it can signify numerous things, most of them negative, such as lack of inspiration or effort (…)
When bands release self-titled albums, it can signify numerous things, most of them negative, such as lack of inspiration or effort (…)
Four years ago, Welsh-Greek warbler Marina Diamandis couldn’t play the piano. Now she’s managed to put together a whole album (…)
Filthy humour, a doo-wop sensibility and garage rock production are bound to make for a novel, if not sloppy cocktail. The third album from (…)
After Ghana achieved independence from Britain in 1957 it gradually moved into a period of relative affluence. (…)
Back in your boxes you merchants of stern and deep bass-heads, because here’s a man with a deft touch (…)
Far more than Two Dancers at London show
Gift Of The Gab: No bad mouthing as the Gossip let their music speak volumes
Wavves washed up as Women go with the tide
Glasgow’s Phantom Band put on quite a Spectrecal in London
R.E.M. mercifully not automatic for the people in Berlin
What in the blue blazes is this, I wondered? I was all set for a quiet Sunday night watching assorted friends go through their usual improvised performances (nods of acknowledgement here to Bad Orb, Little Creature and Vitamin B12), alongside, let’s be frank, a sparse hardcore of the more chin-stroking breed of music fan: us few who were neither still raving nor cripplingly hungover after Brighton’s legendarily hedonistic gay pride weekend. True, there were some mutterings about a Japanese band headlining, but I had no reason to suspect that the night would turn up anything as arse-shakingly tremendous as Nissennenmondai.
Re-branded Edinburgh festival fails to cut to the mustard
When a young sprite that helps us put The Stool Pigeon together asked if I was going to any festivals this year, I said, “Yes, I’m going to a rocking little weekender on the Suffolk coast.”
Read more on The Wildest Cats In Town / Pontin’s Holiday Village, Kessingland…