Blog On The Motorway

Cross Blogination is a project I’m doing with twitterthon hero Diary Of A Ledger, the idea being every week one of us will recommend to the other one of our all time favourite albums, which we will then both write a review for. Then every third week we review a suggestion from you lovely people. Or at least, that was how it was working, until I took on far too much stuff and we went over two months without doing it. But thank the fictional man in the sky of your choice, because we are back, and because it’s my choice, and it’s a belter.

Josh Homme. You probably know him as the guy from Queens of the Stone Age. Or maybe you know him as that fella who is not as famous as the other two guys from Them Crooked Vultures. But to me, he will always be that Ginger Elvis guitar player from the greatest Stoner band to ever have lived, Kyuss.

I got this album on the recommendation of Kerrang! Magazine, back in the day when you actually used to do things like recommend old albums that are awesome, rather than touting the new emo boyband. I was on holiday and bored, so I went to HMV and purchased this, then went home to sit in the back garden with a book, and stuck my headphones in.

What was to assault my ears was to change my music tastes forever. Right from the start, when the riff from ‘Gardenia’ kicks in, nothing I had ever heard before could have prepared me for ‘that’ guitar sound, which was roughly akin to having treacle poured into my ears. Rich, warm, heavy as a motherfucker, I don’t think I’ve reacted so primally to album before or since. And that was even before the dulcet tones of John ‘The Voice’ Garcia swept over, with his stream of consciousness meandering lyrics.

But if the first song on this album is staggering in its excellence, it is nothing compared to the next two tracks. ‘Asteroid’ is a crushingly heavy instrumental that sees Josh Homme showing exactly why Kyuss fans will never be entirely satisfied with his subsequent output. Marrying Mogwai like subtlety to the biggest riff ever written, it’s like being battered around the head by a balloon filled with custard in a sensory deprivation tank. And track three, the excellently titled ‘Supa Scoopa And The Mighty Scoop’ brings back Garcia to what can only be described as the perfect distillation of Black Sabbath and the Doors, with false endings stretching out the joy to the point where you can’t help but giggle.

The album itself is structured as three separate acts, with these three tracks serving as the first. I could wax lyrical all day about the other seven tracks on offer here, but then I will be here all day. Safe to say that the quality never lets up here, from the punk fuzz of 100%, to the seven minute epic sprawl of ‘Space Cadet’ (seriously Josh, when was the last time you wrote something that good? Please do so again) where Josh and bassist Scott Reeder jam out something as close to perfection as makes no odds, to ‘Demon Cleaner’ which is a gloriously laid back fuzzed out pop song. Or the crushing weight of ‘Odyssey’s riff, or, well, pretty much the whole album.

If you’ve never heard Kyuss, but you like Queens of the Stone Age, or really any rock music, I beseech you to search this out, as well as the other Kyuss albums (well, maybe except Wretch, which is a bit shit in truth) and enter the collosally heavy world of Californian Stoner rock.  You wont regret it, and don’t worry, you need take no substances to enjoy it properly (although if you are of that persuasion, this album gets ten times better still when you are high.)

Now, don’t forget to go and see what Gray thinks of this!

Cross Blogination is a project I’m doing with twitterthon hero Diary Of A Ledger, the idea being every week one of us will recommend to the other one of our all time favourite albums, which we will then both write a review for. Then every third week we review a suggestion from you lovely people. This weeks installment comes courtesy of Joe Lee, who is himself a recent addition to the blogosphere, so go check him out.

Once again Cross Blogination rolls around and provides me with another album that initially makes my heart sink.  The name of the band, ‘Death Cab For Cutie’ is unassailably emo, right? And aren’t they one of those bands who continually show up on the soundtrack to The OC and Dawson’s and The Hills?

Well thankfully I slip Narrow Stairs into my headphones and find instead a tremendous album, one that melds together the very best parts of American and British indie sensibilities to create a timeless, off kilter album. Opener ‘Bixby Canyon Bridge’ starts things off with a bright breezy feel, like early Fountains of Wayne mixed with the off kilter rhythms of Deus, with the song referencing the works of Jack Kerouac.

Second track (and brave lead single) ‘I will possess your heart’ opens with a jam reminiscent of Kid A-era Radiohead (also check out the front cover for more Radiohead influence), before sneaking up to a sizable chorus that packs heft that one wouldn’t expect from such fey indie types.

Vocalist and songwriter Ben Gibbard holds together all the dissonant parts of the album with his excellent vocals, clean and bright and emotive without ever straying into the hackneyed bleating of his peers.

‘No Sunlight’ is a lovely piece of American pop, again recalling the sensibilities of Fountains of Wayne, with a hint of Ben Folds songwriting. ‘Cath’ is wistful and melancholy without being downbeat, ‘Talking Bird’ is a lovely Elliot Smith by way of Jeff Buckley number, while ‘You Can Do Better Than Me’ recalls the stomp of the Beatles.

‘Grapevine Fires’ is a real highlight of the album, a soaring and epic song, again melancholy without being depressing. ‘Your New Twin Sized Bed’ retains this feel, like a less brittle Elliot Smith, with Remy Zero experimentation (without sucking tremendous balls like Remy do.)  Despite all these reference points, however, the sound is one entirely of their own, beautiful and epic.

If there is a weak point on this album it comes in the form of ninth track ‘Long Division’, which comes across as a very bland radio-friendly hit, and it sits uncomfortably alongside the rest of the album.  This dip in quality is only temporary though, as track ten, ‘Pity And Fear’ is a barnstorming high octane track that calls to mind Weezer and Quicksand, and is for me one of the best tracks on offer here.  Starting off with a throbbing drum track and slowly building guitars, it erupts towards the end before ending suddenly, a result of a snapped tape during recording, which apparently they liked.

After this sudden end, ‘The Ice is Getting Thinner’ rounds things off with a slow and hunting vibe, quite out of keeping with the rest of the album, the guitars sounding much warmer than the sharp sound of the rest of the album. As with the rest of the album the lyrics are excellent and very eloquently sung, the vocals never straying into cliche.

One of the main reasons for doing this blogging experiment was to expose myself to albums that I wouldn’t ordinarily have chosen to listen to, and in Narrow Stairs I have found an album that is sure to survive not just the reviewing process, but which I imagine will become a vital part of my music collection.  In turns odd, accessible, surprising and moving, this is a great introduction to band I would imagine I will be becoming more familiar with over the coming months.

4/5

Now head over to Gray’s place, and see what he made of it.  This being more his cup of tea at first glance, I imagine he likes it.

Cross Blogination is a project I’m doing with twitterthon hero Diary Of A Ledger, the idea being every week one of us will recommend to the other one of our all time favourite albums, which we will then both write a review for. This week it’s Gray’s turn, and he seems to be punishing me for some perceived slight I must have made against him or his Ledger brethren.

The first thing that happened when Gray told me this week’s album for review was that the song ‘Always Take The Weather With You’ popped into my head in the same way that a mad uncle may leap out at you at a wedding, nose all red, his eyes never taking their eyes off your girlfriend’s cleavage.

When it came time to get the album, the first thing I did was to scan through the track listing to make sure that ‘Weather’ wasn’t there.  Thankfully it wasn’t so I decided to call off the fatwa.  So I start to listen. And it’s not bad. As in, it doesn’t make me want to permanently perforate my eardrums, which was to be honest the response I was expecting.

Scanning through the album it’s quite easy to see the influence it has had, one of those albums where you think, ooh, Pearl Jam nicked that bit, or U2 based an entire album around that one guitar lick.  The brothers Finn took their excellent songwriting skills and let them flourish with a sound that is quite organic, almost half jammed.  It’s nice, in a way which is not bothersome.

But that for me is the whole problem with this album. With the exception of ‘Locked Out’ which I knew from the soundtrack to Reality Bites, I cannot hum the melody to any of the songs on this album, despite the fact that I have listened to it three times today alone, and have been listening to it for three days previous.  It’s a thoroughly pleasant but utterly unmemorable album.

If I had to equate this album to any sensation, it’s like taking a bogus valium. For the first thirty minutes you think to yourself that you are getting calmer and calmer, relaxing your troubles away. But then after 40 minutes or so it’s gone, and you realise that you feel exactly the same as before, and that your troubles are still there waiting for you.

I’m sorry Gray, I know this is an important album to you otherwise you wouldn’t have recommend it, but I just fail to see the appeal. It’s not that it’s boring, it zips by perfectly nicely while you are listening to it, but I just cannot find anything that draws me back. No hook to keep my interest.  Nothing at all.

2/5

Now go over to Gray’s place and let him tell you why I am wrong. Send my apologies while you are there!

Cross Blogination is a project I’m doing with twitterthon hero Diary Of A Ledger, the idea being every week one of us will recommend to the other one of our all time favourite albums, which we will then both write a review for.  This week it’s my turn again, and my response to Gray’s last suggestion, which he referred to as his ‘break-up’ album.

The bastard offspring of the original grit of NuMetal and the burgeoning post-hardcore scene (that one you now know as Emo) Glassjaw’s debut album had a huge and profound effect on me when it hit just before the turn of the century. 

I had just come out of  a relationship, and while it hadn’t ended particularly badly, it had left a bitter taste in the mouth.  I needed something to cleanse the palette, and in this album I found just the thing, an album of pure undiluted bile and teenage angst.

Musically, this album is not so much reintenting the wheel as giving it a new tyre, refining the work laid out by the likes of Far, Quicksand and the Deftones. Quiet/loud dynamics, beefy riffs moulded to big epic choruses. Very well done but nonetheless not exactly groundbreaking.

What makes this album stand out though, is the lyrical content and vocal delivery of Daryl Palumbo.  The album’s producer, Ross Robinson, always had a reputation for getting great angsty performances from his vocalists, but in Daryl he found someone whose pain shone through as being so authentic and believable, yet so melodious, that it works as a sucker-punch to the gut.

Lyrically, there’s not a lot to separate Daryl’s lyrics from the bad poetry of a thousand teenage boys in subject matter. These are dark and sometimes verging on the misogynistic rants against the woman who stole his heart (and by the sounds of it put it through a paper shredder before feeding it to her cat) but Daryl balances the sheer rage with flashes of a dark humour which balances out the sheer venom.

But the delivery, in which Daryl goes from sweet and epic to gutteral howls of pain in the time it takes most vocalists to take a deep intake of breath. At times you can hear him trying to fight back tears, most notably on the album’s shining moment, the title track, where Daryl pours out his heart about his struggles with Crohn’s disease and times in and out of hospital as a child.

In case the listener is left with any doubt as to the point of the album, the closing track ‘Hotel Of the White Locust’ is the most venemous yet, as Daryl takes final aim at the woman who I imagine found this rather a difficult album to listen to. “Wipe off your mouth. Get up off your knees and make me your god.” And then, the storm is over.

Or seems to be, as the calming repetition of Daryl saying “Pack your shit and leave, and take my memories of her with you.” gives way to a simple and understated piano line.  Daryl’s voice comes back, clearly close to tears, and, sounding more like Elliott Smith than anything else.  The lyrics that follow are simple and haunting, but convey a very sweet sense of remorse at having been so brutal.

“And now you leave me in defeat
Leave me a battered, broken man.
The amount of love you wish to give is more than I can stand.

Now I have you where I want you
I know that you are listening
This is my chance to tell you everything

My chance to tell you I love you
But I’ve waited too long
Now the record’s over
Now the record’s over”

Brutal and elegant, this album takes me to a raw and emotional place. What more can you ask for?

4/5

Now go see what Gray thought of it!

Cross Blogination is a project I’m doing with twitterthon hero Diary Of A Ledger, the idea being every week one of us will recommend to the other one of our all time favourite albums, which we will then both write a review for. Then every three weeks we take a suggestion from someone else. This weeks suggestion comes from the lovely Jennie, who is more obsessed with Eels than is strictly healthy.

When Jennie suggested this album to me, she explained that it was her favourite Eels album because while it is the hardest of their albums to get into, it’s also the most rewarding to those who manage to do so.  I think that’s about a concise and accurate a review of this album as you can get, but I will try to elaborate.

Given that the album was largely a response from E to the suicide of his sister and the lung cancer of his mother, it’s hardly surprising that the lyrics of this album are dark, but what makes this album so special is the way that E conveys these emotions not through his vocal delivery, which is as laconic as ever, but through the tone of the music, and how the story unfolds throughout the album to show how one can come through these kinds of experiences.

There is something ever so slightly unsettling about the music on this album, especially in the first half, where childlike piano sounds wrestle for your attention with lazy guitars, discordant noise and thick treacly bass sounds.  It reminds me in places of a circus, albeit staffed by the clowns of Stephen King’s imagination.

Opener ‘Elizabeth on the Bathroom Floor’ sees lyrics taken directly from his sister’s journal, and the gentle strumming is overtaken by haunting strings, and is moving to the extreme, the density of the sounds becoming claustrophobic. ‘Going to Your Funeral Part I’ sees a dirty bass riff giving way to a childlike piano sound and gentle ‘Shadows’ style guitar. It’s brilliant, and manages to evoke emotion better than a thousand Nick Cave songs.

Then comes the noise clash opening of ‘Cancer For The Cure’, which gives way to a darkly pop sensibility and lyrics that play with the notions of death raised in the earlier songs.  As the album moves on, however, the tone moves slowly away from the oppressive start and becomes lighter in tone, both lyrically and musically. ‘My Descent Into Madness’ is the first indication that this could be the same band who recorded ‘Novocaine for the Soul.’  ‘3 Speed’ is almost Buddy Holly-esque, with a Brian Wilson influenced string section that is still slightly unsettling.

‘Hospital Food’ sees the album take an odd turn into Jazz horns and discordant rhythms wrapped around darkly comic lyrics and falsetto vocals.  The title track then wanders into Tricky style musical invention, as a simple piano sample underpins the drawling lyric. ‘Efil’s God’ then takes this further, the bass rumbling under simple hip-hop style drums and swirling backwards strings. ‘Going to Your Funeral Part II’ follows, a soft and lush instrumental which splits the album in two.

‘Last Stop: This Town’ returns to the anthemic sounds of the first album, although the lyrics are as sarcastically dark as before. ‘Baby Genius’ then crashes in, removing any semblance of ‘easy’ listening as the soft lullaby is interrupted by bursts or radio noise and crashing plates.  It’s a surreal tribute to his troubled genius father.

But it is the wonderful ‘Climbing To The Moon’ and ‘Dead of Winter’ that are the emotional and musical highlights of the album. Dealing in turn with his Sister’s and Mother’s deaths they drop the earlier sonic experimentation and are thundering in their emotional weight.  You get a real sense that by this stage of the album he is able to look at these two deaths logically, with the noise in his head clearing enough for him to start dealing with the loss, rather than the anger. The lyrics are breathtaking, and the music is simple and haunting.

The last two tracks, ‘The Medication Is Wearing Off’ and ‘P.S. You Rock My World’ start to show a more positive view, the former especially seeming like a breath of morning air.  The journey is complete as E sings on the final song that “maybe it’s time to live.”

Normally I wouldn’t go into such depths in reviewing an album, but every song here is a chapter in a story, each more integral than the last. It’s a brilliant, haunting and ultimately uplifting album that really shows what a great and talented artist E is.  I initially brushed this album off as one of my least favourite albums by them, but Jennie was right, the more you give this album the more it gives you back.

Don’t forget to go visit Gray and see what he thought.

5/5

Cross Blogination is a project I’m doing with twitterthon hero Diary Of A Ledger, the idea being every week one of us will recommend to the other one of our all time favourite albums, which we will then both write a review for.  This week it’s Gray’s turn again.

I approached this week’s challenge with a certain amount of trepidation. I’ve never been familiar with the work of Dashboard Confessional, except to know one thing: They are properly emo.  And not in an old-school Far/Quicksand kind of way. No, these guys are the sort of band that leads tweenie girls in bad mascara to leave videos of themselves crying on YouTube, the sort of band whose boyishly good-looking lead singer will instantly break the hearts and melt the panties of any girl who sees their photo.

In other words, I hated them on sight and never looked any further.  So I cringed a little when Gray suggested this, and immediately started plotting a revenge scenario which would involve strapping him into a chair and blasting him with non stop Pig Destroyer and Agoraphobic Nosebleed to the point where he’d be begging for another 48 hours on twitter.  But the point of this is to remain objective, and so I gritted my teeth and added it to my collection of proper music.

I started listening to this on the bus on the way to work a few days back.  It was morning and I hadn’t woken up yet, so I expected to be knocked about by a lot of bleating lyrics and discordant guitars.  But opener ‘Brilliant Dance’ starts with a perfectly pleasant acoustic little ditty. The vocals are a little overwrought and nasal, but nowhere near as bad as I had feared. Pressing play I had had images of me wresting the steering wheel away from the bus driver and forcing the bus into a building just to avoid listening any more.

Come the next track and the tirrade of screeching emo still fails to appear, as the acoustic vibe continues, ‘Good Fight’ being another emo pop acoustic ballad, replete with a nice backing from quiet drums and underlying piano.  The album continues in this way, and when I look it up later it seems that Dashboard started off as a side project for singer Chris Carrabba.

It’s this acoustic approach that saves this album from becoming yet another emo-pop stereotype.  The songs are all well crafted, the lyrics a little hackneyed but nowehere near as bad as the likes of Gerard Way.  The simple production allows the songwriting to shine, and Carrabba clearly has a way with a chorus.  His voice does grate after a few tracks, but that’s as much to do with the over-exposure of his vocal style by bands that followed as it is to do with his performance.

‘Screaming Infidelities’ with its rather hideous line ‘But as for me, I wish that I was anywhere with anyone making out.’ is a bit awful, but ‘Again I Go Unnoticed’ is a cracking little tune. And so the pattern goes for the rest of the album. Some songs are excellent little pop songs (the title track, ‘Saints and Sailors’),  some are bland and boring (‘This Ruined Puzzle’).

Despite how much I was fearing listening to this though, it’s nowhere near as bad as all that. It’s a perfectly pleasant little album that leaves you feeling a little bit like a character in the OC.  Sun washed and well crafted, the best thing I can say about it is that it is utterly unlikely to drive you to a murderous rage and force your carriage of transport to become a flaming box of death. Which is more than I can say for Fall Out Boy.

3/5

Now, if you are offended by this review, head over to Gray’s place and hear him talk about it in a more positive light.  Unless you are Gray, in which case, sorry mate!

Cross Blogination is a project I’m doing with Diary Of A Ledger, the idea being every week one of us will recommend to the other one of our all time favourite albums, which we will then both write a review for.  This week it’s my turn again, so it’s time for my favourite album of all time.

This is to me the greatest example of what a band or artist can do within the confines of the ‘album.’  It is the album I recommend more than any other to random people when I meet them, or even to indie loving people I meet on the internet. It is the album that taught me the possibilities of what ‘heavy’ music could do. Hell, it even got me into the late great Bill Hicks. Trying to sum up how I feel about this album will be pretty difficult, and even harder in a short space. So apologies.

I had heard of Tool but not heard any of their stuff when my friend who worked in HMV in Sunderland recommended this album to me with such gusto that I felt I couldn’t refuse. I took it home and by the end of the first track, ‘Stinkfist’, I was absolutely blown away.  Sounding unlike any other band I had heard before they melded the thick riffs of Adam Jones with a deftness and subtlety I hadn’t heard before in ‘Heavy Rock’.  The drums alternate between jazzy tribal rhythms and thunderous attacks, with the bass and guitar layered over the top to create a clinical and yet warm sound.  Technically Tool are amazing, but never ’showey.’ And then there was the voice of one Maynard James Keenan.

All great bands need a great front-man, but Tool have one of the most unique talents in Maynard. With a range that would put every contestant on every X Factor to shame (check out the note he hits on ‘Pushit’) coupled with a wonderfully comic playfulness and a deadpan delivery, there are several times when his voice makes all of the hairs stand up over my whole body.  And then you work out what he’s singing about and you can’t help but smile.

For instance, take opener ‘Stinkfist’, which has to be the world’s most beautiful peon to anal fisting, with the immortal lines ‘Elbow deep inside the borderline. Show me that you love me and that we belong together. Shoulder deep within the borderline. Relax. Turn around and take my hand.’ These are delivered with a straight deadpan voice over clattering great riffs.

Next up is Eulogy, which starts with a bewildering and tender instrumental lead in, which is soon shackled to a dirty great riff.  As it twists and turns it builds slowly around Maynard’s lyric, which initially seems to be about his late friend Bill Hicks, but then morphs into a quasi-religious allegory about how the people we worship will let us down.

Bill Hicks was a huge influence on this album.  Maynard and Bill had become close friends in the period leading up to Bill’s death, and this album was recorded in the period just afterward. The artwork has a bizarre paining of Bill, and his act is the basis of many different strands of songs, most notably the title track, which is based around Bill’s sketch about LA falling into the ocean and leaving only Arizona Bay, and the last track Third Eye, a fifteen minute sprawling epic about the joys of hallucinogens.

The band are at their most mischievous during the several interludes which tie the album together.  ‘Message To Harry Manback’ is a surreal piano line over which the band overlay a real message left on their answerphone by a crazed Italian fan, while the sound of birds plays softly in the background.  ‘Die Eier Von Satan’ is downright creepy though, as pre-Rammstein industrial music is overlaid with an austere German voice.  Slowly it builds and builds, with crowd noise greeting more and more enthusiastically the words spoken. When the line ‘Bei zweihundert Grad für fünfzehn Minuten backen und KEINE EIER!’ is barked to a massive cheer, I must admit I found myself wondering exactly what the intentions of this band were.  That was until I went online and found the lyrics translated to a recipe for vegan hash brownies.

By far my favourite moment of the album is the centrepiece of the album, ‘Hooker With A Penis’ the heaviest song on display, and the best comeback to an insult ever committed to record. Having been told by a fan that they had ’sold out’ Maynard spits out a diatribe as to the idiocy of this argument.  (After all, they remained signed to an independent label, made no advance copies available for radio and plastered the cover with a sticker saying ‘No number 1 f**king hit singles’.) I could print the whole lyrics, but I’ll try to limit myself to these choice lines;

“All you know about me is what I’ve sold you, dumb fuck.
I sold out long before you ever heard my name. I sold my soul to make a record, dip shit, and you bought one.

All you read and wear or see and hear on TV is a product
Begging for your fatass dirty dollar so…

Shut up and buy my new record send more money
Fuck you, buddy.”

There is a wonderful flow to this album, where little interludes build into huge slabs of guitars, and the mood fluctuates constantly between the surreal and the divine.  Take the way ‘Intermission’ leads into ‘Jimmy’ by taking the main riff of the latter and turns it into a carnival theme.

There are no bad songs here, and while it is indulgent throughout the course of its whole run, it never comes across as pious or boring.  Throughout, Maynard’s voice swirls and dazzles, its fragile beauty elevating the music underneath it to a wider scale.

If there is ever an argument for the prefect album I will state the case for this album even if I have to kill every Beatles and Beach Boys fan on the planet to do so.  That’s how much this album means to me.  Uncompromising and uncompromised, this is a truly unique moment in music, and one that even the band themselves have never been able to match.

5+/5

So I guess you could say that I like it.  Now go over to Gray’s blog and see what he makes of it. If he didn’t like it, I’m going to subject him to some of the heaviest brutal metal I can find next time.

Tool – Ænema [uncut version]

Cross Blogination is a project I’m doing with Diary Of A Ledger, the idea being every week one of us will recommend to the other one of our all time favourite albums, which we will then both write a review for. We have since amended this to allow recommendations every third week from one or our readers.  This is the third review in the series, suggested by @butterflygrrrl on twitter.

Our first suggestion from someone else, and we couldn’t have been handed anything more outside of my comfort zone.  I dabbled a little in Jazz back in University, but it never really took. My main problem is that it is hard to shake the stereotype, and sure enough, within about 30 seconds of opener ‘So What’ the image that pops into my mind is of the Fast Show jazz sketch, old men with black jumpers sitting on stools saying ‘nice.’

For the first half of this song all I can think is that I’d rather be listening to just about anything else, when all of a sudden, without me even noticing, that feeling leaves and is replaced by a kind of serenity as the trumpets and the wandering double bass click together. Suddenly I’m not in the Jazz club any more, but instead I am in a Chandler novel.  And then it strikes you, this is a brilliant album.

It’s not hard to see why this album is held in such acclaim. ‘So What’ and ‘Freddie Freeloader’ are sublime and interesting pieces of mood music, but it’s really when the centrepiece to the album ‘Blue In Green’ rolls around that this becomes truly spectacular.  From the first blow of Davis’ trumpet the evocation of emotion that shines through is heartbreaking, Bill Evans’ piano underpinning everything with such a wistful melancholy that it’s almost impossible to do anything else than listen.

‘All Blues’ takes the tempo back up slightly (but not a huge amount, the stately pace of the album is maintained throughout) but injects a strange menace to proceedings, the piano again setting the mood, before ‘Flamenco Sketch’ rounds things off with the sort of vibe that seems to call to mind a lonely old drunk marking the passage of time with a bottle of bourbon. But, you know, in a romantic way.

I don’t know what I was expecting from this album, having heard so much about it, and especially given its iconic status as ‘one of the greatest albums ever made’ but it certainly doesn’t disappoint. If I’m brutally honest, I doubt I’ve found an album that I’ll listen to every day, but certainly it’s a keeper, something to be saved for special moments and certain moods.

4/5

I must admit, I’m really curious to see what Gray makes of this as well, so don’t forget to head over to Diary Of A Ledger and see. Next week it’s my turn, and to my mind one of the most perfect rock albums ever made!

This week has been pretty busy, hence the lack of posts. Apologies. Firstly, we had a visit from my parents on Monday for a few days, which was nice. On Monday I played host properly for the first time ever for them, doing the cooking thing and everything.  I made lemon and honey chicken with a wild mushroom risotto, which went splendidly well, given that it was my first risotto.  Add this to the lovely dinner I made last night I think I can safely say that I am getting pretty good at this cooking malarkey.

Cross blogination seems to be going very well so far, and thanks to everyone who has said nice things either here or on Twitter. Next week we’re going to do something a bit different and take a suggestion from someone else. If that goes well we might start doing that every third week, so if anyone has any suggestions on albums neither me or Gray will have heard do let us know.  Next week’s album is definitely out of our comfort zones, so should be interesting.

On the subject of Gray, he is doing a charity tweetathon to raise money for Basics in Hampshire, who provide additional medical care for major accidents. It’s a very worthy cause, and Gray will be doing a 48 hour tweetathon, so it should be very amusing to watch when he gets so sleep deprived that he starts imagining pink elephants. I will be chipping in with specially designed tweets that will increase his burgeoning paranoia as the two days go on.  So if you’re interested in donating, go here and do your bit.

Other than that it’s all been a bit work-related recently, as I’ve been having some issues at work and have started to seriously think about my options. It’s looking more and more likely that we will be moving back down south in the next few years, since if I ever want to be serious about writing it’s clear there aren’t any options in York.  I finished my last assignment of my first OU module, and so far that seems to be going well at least, although I wish my degree wasn’t going to take five years.

Anyway, I promise next week will be chock full of interesting and exciting posts from me, so be sure to keep in contact, wont you?

Cross Blogination is a project I’m doing with Diary Of A Ledger, whereby every fortnight one of us will recommend to the other one of our all time favourite albums, which we will then both write a review for, one from a fanboy perspective, the other from a neutral standpoint. This is the second review in the series, suggested by Gray.

It was inevitable that over the course of this project, one of us would suggest an album that the other is already familiar with, and so it is with great pleasure that I discard my neutral standpoint and once again review one of my favourite albums.

Emo is a dirty dirty word. Over the course of this decade it’s become more and more alienated from the ‘emotional hardcore’ it started as and worked its way into the mainstream, ending up with the likes of MCR and Fall Out Boy playing to stadiums of screaming teenage girls.

Emo has run the same course as any other big scene, but for once it was not the founders of  the scene who made it big, save for the likes of Jimmy Eat World. But here Rival Schools provided the blueprint for a scene still in its infancy, and to me it’s never been bettered.

Frontman Walter Schreifels is no stranger to this phenomenon. He was in one of the great early hardcore bands, Gorilla Biscuits, then moved on to perfecting Post-Hardcore with Quicksand. But with Rival Schools he allowed melody to overcome the riffs and created a pop-punk masterpiece that swaggers with emotion without ever feeling overly angst ridden or cliched.

From the epic chorus of ‘Travel By Telephone,’ the Weezer on steroids pomp of ‘Everything Has Its Point’ and the post hardcore sheen of ‘High Acetate’ the start of the album is peerless.  But it’s when the pace slows for ‘Undercovers On’ and Walter’s cracked voice shimmers with emotion that you really understand what a perfect piece of work this album is.

After the four opening songs come the two singles, ‘Good Things’ and Used For Glue’ both of which have the punchy swagger of Walter’s previous band, married to epic choruses that most bands would kill for.

If there are any complaints to be had about this album, it would be that the second half of the album doesn’t quite live up to the promise of the first half.  While still good songs, ‘Holding Sand’ and ‘Favourite Star’ never quite pack the same punch, although ‘The Switch,’ with it’s beefy downtuned riff, is excellent.

But any album that holds seven or eight instant classics over the course of thriteen songs cannot really be called a disappointment, and it’s telling that since then Walter has struggled to find a band that he feels lives up to his standards, going back occasionally to his previous outfits rather than starting new ones. Indeed Rival Schools are currently reformed and touring, so one can only hope that the promise held by this debut can one day be realised with a sophomore effort.

As always, please now go and go HERE to find out what Gray thought of it all.