MICHAEL JACKSON: ABC.And so the never-ending ways to make a buck on the back of his death continues with this discofied rendition of his early hit.
CHIPMUNK: Oopsy Daisy.One glance at the title and the concerns start, but it ends up being a mix of synth, soul and rap that’s really rather pleasant so the fears were somewhat unfounded. The 18-year-old has just passed A Levels in critical thinking and sociology so expect deeper stuff to come that we’ll all struggle to analyse.
MICHAEL BUBLE: Haven’t Met You Yet. A new song co-written by Buble and has the ring of the kind of song you’d expect on a High School Musical soundtrack but with beefed-up production. A trumpet seems to go mad towards the end.
KILL KELA: Everyday.Bubbly, bouncy synth dance that may just have a darker side bubbling beneath the surface.
MARTIN NEWNHAM: Can’t Turn Around.Lolloping, brassy folk lament from a man who sounds like he’s at the wrong end of a megaphone. Bittersweet as it was penned in the aftermath of a break-up with his girlfriend.
SAVING AIMEE: Fresh Since '88. Certainly shades of the 80s with Van Halen-ish electro-pop synthesisers in full flow as the guitar solos stray slightly into rock. Regard it as a fun romp.
RANDOM HAND: Anger Management.What’s this? A ferocious ska punk mash up from a band hailing from Keighley. Rough and tumble as things take a distinctly nasty metal turn. Not a nerve-calmer.
EDITORS: In This Light And On This Evening. After the harum scarum scurry and hurry of their first two albums the Editors have taken a step backwards, slowed down and brought more than a touch of the experimental and, at times, virtually the surreal to this, their third album. Singer Tom Smith still has the same agitated edge to his vocals but not all the time. Perhaps fatherhood has put life into perspective. Synth looms large and with it a certain organic melodic streak runs through as they dabble with different sounds and musical textures, especially in the brooding sense of drama they capture on the title track. You could even argue they’ve become chilled out on the soaring Like Treasure, closely followed by the entrancing closing long shot, Walk The Fleet Road. But what on earth’s going on in their heads on tracks like Eat Raw Meat = Blood Drool? Perhaps it’s best not to know, but they sing of no God, fractured love, drunken violence and dismay with the world.