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 (…)


A typical story: one of a bazillion identical indie bands fluke it with their debut, sell well, hire the fancy producer and go for the big radio sheen with album two. And you wonder why old bastards moan about bands all sounding the same these days. Boy Kill Boy were never any good in the first place. You could rub their lamp for a year and a genie wouldn’t pop out. Derivative, flatulent and embarrassing. Boy Kill Boy? I’d do a stretch for the cause.