FANFARLO: Drowning Men/Sand And Ice David Bowie likes this lot by saying, “They have that particular knack of being able to create uplifting music that’s blessed with a delicious melancholia at the same time.” Not too sure about the uplifting bit, but its intellectual stuff that draws in folky elements with instruments on their album, Reservoir, as diverse as violins, mandolins, ukuleles and, er, saws.
EBONY BONES: The Muzik.This big and beaty multi-coloured disco scuttle descending into percussion tumble would have been right at home at the dawn of the 80s, She’s been described as X-Ray Spex meeting Girls Aloud, but, like that, it’ll never happen.
SKY LARKIN: Antibodies.A band that never stops, hence the frantic-paced indie pop hustle going on here. Lyrics are rather heavy as frontwoman Katie says: “It’s a devotional song about distance written while I was obsessed with American earthworks artists like Robert Smithson.” Sure he’d be touched by this sweet homage from so far away.
MADNESS: The Liberty Of Norton Folgate.An intriguing title from a band that could no wrong in the early 80s with songs to stand the test of time and Suggs has gone on to make himself a household name. In those days they were fun – mad, even. Now this sounds so much more serious. It’s an album with London at its heart, but, like the city to a northern outsider, it’s short on smiles. A lot of deadpan ska with their natural spark in short supply and you feel it only lightens up in flashes. Mostly it’s virtual vaudeville. Baggy trousers, it ain’t. The title, by the way, refers to their successful campaign to save east London’s Folgate Street from being developed into a 50-storey skyscraper.
MANIC STREET PREACHERS: Journal For Plague Lovers.This lot must have a crystal ball coming up with a title like this long before anyone had heard of the over-hyped and not much over here swine flu. It’s their ninth album and it sure is a raw one – red raw in fact. Nothing quick and easy here – it’s one to learn to like over time. Try Jackie Collins Existential Question Time for size that really gets into a melodic pop stride before powering up. But that’s a rare thing. An album for thinkers and experimentalists in for a rollercoaster lyrical ride from Marlon Brando through to Giant Haystacks, stopping off on the way to tackle the thorny issue of consumerism. They talk, sing and play in terms many won’t, can’t or don’t have the patience to understand. Difficult to like. Impossible to love.
