Looking At The Pictures In The Sky – The British Psychedelic Sounds Of 1968

In 2016, Cherry Red issued a 3-CD clamshell box set with the curiously unwieldy, if ultimately accurate, title of Let’s Go Down and Blow Our Minds – The British Psychedelic Sounds of 1967. In that collection, familiar touchstones from psychedelia’s year in the sun sat comfortably alongside a connoisseur’s selection of demos, alternate versions and bona fide rarities. This year’s sequel moves on to 1968 and follows a similar pattern, both in its cumbersome title and noble agenda.

Clocking in at nearly four hours, Looking At The Pictures In The Sky – The British Psychedelic Sounds Of 1968 is a lovingly picked collection that yields many rewards both for longtime fans and newcomers. While it’s true that a handful of the tracks are either overly familiar or frustratingly over-comped (e.g. Procol Harum’s ‘In the Wee Small Hours of Sixpence’, The Factory’s ‘Path Through the Forest’, Fire’s ‘Father’s Name Was Dad’) there is also surfeit of truly inspired choices, oddball one-offs, and legitimate lost gems. Circle Plantagenet’s ‘I Will Not Be Moved’ is an example of a song with all three of these attributes. Featuring duduk-like keyboard, spidery guitar lines and a powerful chorus, it’s a welcome addition to any psych fan’s collection. I’m truly grateful for finding it here. Thankfully, there is a clutch of mini revelations like it scattered across the set.

One of the delights in a box that collects tracks from the same year comes in detecting the impact of contemporaneous sounds upon a wide assortment of bands. It’s the musical equivalent of watching seeds planted in spring bear fruit in the summer and fall. Of course, the Beatles always figure heavily in discussions like this, as one imagines groups scrambling to emulate everything from George Martin’s elaborate production touches to Ringo’s deceptively hard, always hypnotic drum fills. In a way, it’s almost comical to think how many bands seem to have heard McCartney’s ‘Eleanor Rigby’ and thought, “Right, let’s pen a thoughtful, quaint character study of a doomed English eccentric.” And so in Ms. Rigby’s wake, we are introduced to a cast of titular characters that includes Messrs. Pinnodmy, Lion, Dillbury and Partridge; Felicity Jane; Sycamore Sid (a song by Focal Point that shamelessly appropriates the piano riff from ‘Drive My Car’!); and a chap named Maxwell Ferguson. The Attack’s ‘Mr. Pinnodmy’s Dilemma,’ easily the best of these portraits, is perhaps too well-known for those who have been collecting psych for years, but it’s always a pleasure to hear John DuCann’s truly energizing, innovative guitar work. DuCann – who unfortunately passed away in 2011 without receiving due recognition for his contributions, having played pivotal roles in bands like the Attack, Andromeda, Atomic Rooster and Hard Stuff – holds the distinction of being at once the most ubiquitous and underappreciated guitar player in all British rock music (look for him on another standout track from the set, ‘Sunday Morning’ by Five Day Week Straw People and ‘Magic in the Air’ by the Attack, from the Let’s Go Down and Blow Our Minds collection).

It should be pointed out that this is not a collection aimed at chin-stroking audiophiles. Most of these tracks were not sonic marvels in the first place and were, in some cases, sourced from pop-and-crackle-addled acetates and treasured 45s. Quibbles about sound quality are rendered irrelevant, however, when discovering a track as darkly ethereal as ‘Yesterday Was Such a Lovely Day (Elsie)’ by Sadie’s Expression. Pops and sibilance abound, but it’s stop-you-in-your-tracks discoveries like this that make deep-dives into box sets worth your time and money. ‘She’ by Tuesday’s Children, ‘Nightmare’ by Gass Company and ‘Ice Man’ by Ice are all newfound favourites in this vein.

With sets celebrating 1967 and 1968, Cherry Red has created a formidable and affordable six-disc series. On top of delightful discoveries, the package is well annotated/illustrated, and provides a thorough overview of British psych that’s a must-buy, both for comp-hardened veterans and lysergically-curious neophytes.

Tom Sandford

Get it here.

Kontiki Suite – The Greatest Show On Earth

Review and interview by Tom Sandford

Originally published November 2015, reshared to draw attention to Sugarbush's brand new vinyl reissue, replacing Sunstone's out of print first issue.

The Byrds’ wingspan of influence stretched across three full decades and flew through the sounds made by some of the most important bands in the history of rock, including Big Star, the Jayhawks, R.E.M., Matthew Sweet, Hüsker Dü, Echo and the Bunnymen and countless others. For a time it was de rigueur – if not downright cliché – to see the Byrds name-checked in almost any band’s bio. They were part of the holy trinity of influential B-named bands: Beatles, Beach Boys, and Byrds.

But to everything there is a season, and an apparent decline in the band’s influence on popular music seemed to coincide with the deaths of two of its original members, Gene Clark (in 1991) and Michael Clarke (1993). Notwithstanding this decline, the Byrds have always flown high and commanded serious respect among certain pockets of fans and bands alike – folks in Northern England especially, for some reason. Since 1990, we’ve seen the likes of the La’s, the Stone Roses, the Coral and Shack flying the jangle-pop flag. Since 2007, Kontiki Suite, a talented sextet from England’s Lake District, has continued in this tradition, evidence of which can be readily found on their sophomore release, "The Greatest Show On Earth".

As with their debut release (2013’s "On Sunset Lake"), Kontiki Suite proudly flies its Byrds banner via some obvious stylistic hat-tips to 1968’s "The Notorious Byrd Brothers". This time out, the band boasts a batch of impressive new Rickenbacker-based janglers (mainly from the pen of guitarist Ben Singh) and a tougher sound from the rest of the band (Jonny Singh, lap steel guitar; Marcus Dodds, guitar; Mario Renucci, bass; Chris Brown and Craig Bright on drums and percussion respectively). The result is a cohesive, 50-minute flight high above exquisitely atmospheric psych/country-rock/chamber pop soundscapes.

The opening moments of guitar/rim shots in the rousing, Golden Smog-like opener “Bring Our Empire Down” recall David Crosby’s serene “Dolphin’s Smile,” after which some Neil Young-like crunch is thrown in as the song gathers steam. “My Own Little World” features the kind of textured ‘n’ trippy triple-guitar interplay (including lap steel and 12-string Rickenbacker) that characterizes the overall tone of the album – tone that is often upended by deliciously abrupt shifts in tempo: the lads in Kontiki Suite are more than happy to jolt you out of the hypnotized state in which they deftly placed you. Occasional, judiciously chosen blasts of harmonica tug on the same heartstrings as in Big Star’s “Life is White.”

“Free From Sound” and “Here for You Now” are tremendous pop songs, the kind of tracks that, back in the day, would’ve jumped out of an AM radio and grabbed you by the throat. The former features a keening pedal steel hook that’s hell-bent on becoming your next earworm. The latter blends a “Ticket To Ride” beat with power-poppy rhythm reminiscent of Gene Clark’s evergreen “I’ll Feel A Whole Lot Better.”

Elsewhere, the band flexes its muscle on two lengthy guitar workouts, “Burned” (with its nod to Younger Than Yesterday’s “Renaissance Fair”) and the slow-burning “Under the Rug,” while “All I Can Say” shows the effortlessness with which Singh’s vocals can reconcile an ostensibly bouncy rhythm with a melancholic melody. In places he sounds uncannily like Gary Louris. Fans of "Sound of Lies"-era Jayhawks would feel right at home with this release.

Ultimately, "The Greatest Show On Earth" reveals increased depth, both in Ben Singh’s writing and the band’s collective vision. Kontiki Suite has created much more than a simple paean to the legacy of the Byrds; they have taken vital steps in forging a legacy of their own.

Chatting up the Byrds with Kontiki Suite’s Craig Bright and Benjamin Singh

Tell me about the cover/title concept for the new record?

Craig Bright: During the time period in which we wrote and recorded The Greatest Show On Earth, three of the six band members have been fortunate enough to become parents. One of the lucky fathers, Jonny Singh, wrote the opening song on the album, Bring Our Empire Down, about the juxtaposition of the joy and virgin challenges of parenthood and, one line in particular in the song, refers to "the greatest show on earth"; Jonny's way of describing the wonder of witnessing the miracle of your own child being born. Moreover, when we identified the title of the album, it served to conjure a vision of an old school creepy freak-show in our minds.

So, looking at the front cover of the album, you will see a couple of key elements: One, a crowd observing the show; and two, the decidedly freaky dream sequence of a child at peace, asleep. Our brief was realised by the fantastic Luke Insect, a U.K. based designer.

Tell me about the Byrds’ influence on the band.

C.B.: The Byrds, and their various related bands and solo projects, are very important to Kontiki Suite. As children of the nineties, we were able to discover and appreciate The Byrds vicariously through a love of the bands they themselves inspired and influenced, in which I would include The Stone Roses, Ride and Rain Parade, among many others.

It never fails to blow my mind when I consider the volume and diversity of the music The Byrds produced, particularly between 1965 and 1969. I guess we would cite The Notorious Byrd Brothers as the zenith of their output, as it is a beautifully perfect culmination of all of the best elements of their albums (folk, pop, psychedelia and country). Undeniably, [it is] the template for our sound.

Of course, the consistency of The Byrds' output weakened thereafter, but the void was more than filled by the solo albums of McGuinn, Crosby, Gram Parsons and most importantly to us, Gene Clark. For me to attempt to tell you how vital Gene's post-Byrds music is would be complete folly. Personally, my favourite Clark song is “The True One” (from 1974’s No Other). Pretty much musical perfection in its simplest form as far as I'm concerned.

So, yes, The Byrds are a significant, direct influence on us, musically, aesthetically and culturally.

Take me through the steps in which a Kontiki Suite song typically comes together.

Ben Singh: A Kontiki Suite song will almost always start life as an acoustic piece – a folk song, I guess. If it sounds good with just the vocal and an acoustic it gives the song a good chance of sounding good embellished. The song is usually complete in terms of structure and groove before being presented to the rest of the band and if it's a song I've wrote and I've a strong idea of how it should sound I will sometimes record a demo in my home studio.

Down at the rehearsal room I'd play a handful of tunes to the band, either the recorded demos or just with the acoustic and we'd just jam through them. It's always nice if we hit the groove instantly. If it feels good we'll run with it and then we'll start to work on the guitars in more detail.

With the song beginning as an acoustic song I'll play the rhythm guitar while singing the melody. Jonny Singh plays a lap steel adding a kind of 'movement' to the sound, swooning in and out. We usually add a quite a bit of reverb and delay to give it more texture. Marcus Dodds plays a Telecaster for the majority of this album, usually either a clean tone with a touch of reverb or a classic fuzz. He tends to play the fills in between the vocal lines and more often than not he takes the solos.

Guitar textures are an intrinsic part of your sound, especially in terms of the interplay between them. Is this something you spend a lot of time consciously working on? Or is it just a natural by-product of how the band writes?

B.S.: The interchange between the slide and the lead occur quite naturally and aren't overly worked on; I guess that has came with the experience of playing together for the length of time we have. All the guitar lines are based around the vocal lines and melody and we try not to have too much going on at the same time. On the recordings I'll put down an acoustic track, this adds a percussive dynamic and then a picking 12-string Rickenbacker. I tend play this through a compressor with reverb. On a lot of the songs this is the main guitar of the track and other guitars play off it. The sound is very deliberate and we do consciously work on it but it does come very naturally to us. I think the reason why the three electric guitar parts work together so well is due to contrasting styles we play.

CD and digital available here. New vinyl issue from Sugarbush Records available here. Includes free postage worldwide.

Kontiki Suite – The Greatest Show On Earth

Review and interview by Tom Sandford

The Byrds’ wingspan of influence stretched across three full decades and flew through the sounds made by some of the most important bands in the history of rock, including Big Star, the Jayhawks, R.E.M., Matthew Sweet, Hüsker Dü, Echo and the Bunnymen and countless others. For a time it was de rigueur – if not downright cliché – to see the Byrds name-checked in almost any band’s bio. They were part of the holy trinity of influential B-named bands: Beatles, Beach Boys, and Byrds.

But to everything there is a season, and an apparent decline in the band’s influence on popular music seemed to coincide with the deaths of two of its original members, Gene Clark (in 1991) and Michael Clarke (1993). Notwithstanding this decline, the Byrds have always flown high and commanded serious respect among certain pockets of fans and bands alike – folks in Northern England especially, for some reason. Since 1990, we’ve seen the likes of the La’s, the Stone Roses, the Coral and Shack flying the jangle-pop flag. Since 2007, Kontiki Suite, a talented sextet from England’s Lake District, has continued in this tradition, evidence of which can be readily found on their sophomore release, "The Greatest Show On Earth".

As with their debut release (2013’s "On Sunset Lake"), Kontiki Suite proudly flies its Byrds banner via some obvious stylistic hat-tips to 1968’s "The Notorious Byrd Brothers". This time out, the band boasts a batch of impressive new Rickenbacker-based janglers (mainly from the pen of guitarist Ben Singh) and a tougher sound from the rest of the band (Jonny Singh, lap steel guitar; Marcus Dodds, guitar; Mario Renucci, bass; Chris Brown and Craig Bright on drums and percussion respectively). The result is a cohesive, 50-minute flight high above exquisitely atmospheric psych/country-rock/chamber pop soundscapes.

The opening moments of guitar/rim shots in the rousing, Golden Smog-like opener “Bring Our Empire Down” recall David Crosby’s serene “Dolphin’s Smile,” after which some Neil Young-like crunch is thrown in as the song gathers steam. “My Own Little World” features the kind of textured ‘n’ trippy triple-guitar interplay (including lap steel and 12-string Rickenbacker) that characterizes the overall tone of the album – tone that is often upended by deliciously abrupt shifts in tempo: the lads in Kontiki Suite are more than happy to jolt you out of the hypnotized state in which they deftly placed you. Occasional, judiciously chosen blasts of harmonica tug on the same heartstrings as in Big Star’s “Life is White.”

“Free From Sound” and “Here for You Now” are tremendous pop songs, the kind of tracks that, back in the day, would’ve jumped out of an AM radio and grabbed you by the throat. The former features a keening pedal steel hook that’s hell-bent on becoming your next earworm. The latter blends a “Ticket To Ride” beat with power-poppy rhythm reminiscent of Gene Clark’s evergreen “I’ll Feel A Whole Lot Better.”

Elsewhere, the band flexes its muscle on two lengthy guitar workouts, “Burned” (with its nod to Younger Than Yesterday’s “Renaissance Fair”) and the slow-burning “Under the Rug,” while “All I Can Say” shows the effortlessness with which Singh’s vocals can reconcile an ostensibly bouncy rhythm with a melancholic melody. In places he sounds uncannily like Gary Louris. Fans of "Sound of Lies"-era Jayhawks would feel right at home with this release.

Ultimately, "The Greatest Show On Earth" reveals increased depth, both in Ben Singh’s writing and the band’s collective vision. Kontiki Suite has created much more than a simple paean to the legacy of the Byrds; they have taken vital steps in forging a legacy of their own.

Chatting up the Byrds with Kontiki Suite’s Craig Bright and Benjamin Singh

Tell me about the cover/title concept for the new record?

Craig Bright: During the time period in which we wrote and recorded The Greatest Show On Earth, three of the six band members have been fortunate enough to become parents. One of the lucky fathers, Jonny Singh, wrote the opening song on the album, Bring Our Empire Down, about the juxtaposition of the joy and virgin challenges of parenthood and, one line in particular in the song, refers to "the greatest show on earth"; Jonny's way of describing the wonder of witnessing the miracle of your own child being born. Moreover, when we identified the title of the album, it served to conjure a vision of an old school creepy freak-show in our minds.

So, looking at the front cover of the album, you will see a couple of key elements: One, a crowd observing the show; and two, the decidedly freaky dream sequence of a child at peace, asleep. Our brief was realised by the fantastic Luke Insect, a U.K. based designer.

Tell me about the Byrds’ influence on the band.

C.B.: The Byrds, and their various related bands and solo projects, are very important to Kontiki Suite. As children of the nineties, we were able to discover and appreciate The Byrds vicariously through a love of the bands they themselves inspired and influenced, in which I would include The Stone Roses, Ride and Rain Parade, among many others.

It never fails to blow my mind when I consider the volume and diversity of the music The Byrds produced, particularly between 1965 and 1969. I guess we would cite The Notorious Byrd Brothers as the zenith of their output, as it is a beautifully perfect culmination of all of the best elements of their albums (folk, pop, psychedelia and country). Undeniably, [it is] the template for our sound.

Of course, the consistency of The Byrds' output weakened thereafter, but the void was more than filled by the solo albums of McGuinn, Crosby, Gram Parsons and most importantly to us, Gene Clark. For me to attempt to tell you how vital Gene's post-Byrds music is would be complete folly. Personally, my favourite Clark song is “The True One” (from 1974’s No Other). Pretty much musical perfection in its simplest form as far as I'm concerned.

So, yes, The Byrds are a significant, direct influence on us, musically, aesthetically and culturally.

Take me through the steps in which a Kontiki Suite song typically comes together.

Ben Singh: A Kontiki Suite song will almost always start life as an acoustic piece – a folk song, I guess. If it sounds good with just the vocal and an acoustic it gives the song a good chance of sounding good embellished. The song is usually complete in terms of structure and groove before being presented to the rest of the band and if it's a song I've wrote and I've a strong idea of how it should sound I will sometimes record a demo in my home studio.

Down at the rehearsal room I'd play a handful of tunes to the band, either the recorded demos or just with the acoustic and we'd just jam through them. It's always nice if we hit the groove instantly. If it feels good we'll run with it and then we'll start to work on the guitars in more detail.

With the song beginning as an acoustic song I'll play the rhythm guitar while singing the melody. Jonny Singh plays a lap steel adding a kind of 'movement' to the sound, swooning in and out. We usually add a quite a bit of reverb and delay to give it more texture. Marcus Dodds plays a Telecaster for the majority of this album, usually either a clean tone with a touch of reverb or a classic fuzz. He tends to play the fills in between the vocal lines and more often than not he takes the solos.

Guitar textures are an intrinsic part of your sound, especially in terms of the interplay between them. Is this something you spend a lot of time consciously working on? Or is it just a natural by-product of how the band writes?

B.S.: The interchange between the slide and the lead occur quite naturally and aren't overly worked on; I guess that has came with the experience of playing together for the length of time we have. All the guitar lines are based around the vocal lines and melody and we try not to have too much going on at the same time. On the recordings I'll put down an acoustic track, this adds a percussive dynamic and then a picking 12-string Rickenbacker. I tend play this through a compressor with reverb. On a lot of the songs this is the main guitar of the track and other guitars play off it. The sound is very deliberate and we do consciously work on it but it does come very naturally to us. I think the reason why the three electric guitar parts work together so well is due to contrasting styles we play.

Vinyl, CD and digital all available here:

The Clientele - Alone and Unreal: The Best of the Clientele

Reviewed by Tom Sandford

Wistful, breezy and literate, the Clientele created a near-perfect run of albums and EPs between 2000 and 2010, before effectively disbanding in July 2011. Fuelled by the whispered visions and reverb-drenched guitar textures of their poet-in-residence, Alasdair MacLean, the band created an instantly recognizable sound that became as synonymous with autumnal reflection as anything in Van Morrison’s canon. How many bands in the modern rock era could claim to have defined their own unique sound, let alone boast a consistently progressive and distinguished body of work?

If you missed the Clientele during their heyday and aren’t really sure whether you want to become a regular – er, client – then Merge Records’ 11-song collection is surely the way to go. Arranged chronologically, and featuring at least one selection from each of the band’s five albums (plus one gorgeous bonus track, “On a Summer Trail”), Alone & Unreal stands as a gentle reminder of – and sublime testament to – the simple joy to be found in a succinct, well-picked career overview. Indeed, in an era when the lavishly packaged, super-duper deluxe box set posits an excess of pointless trinkets as an attempt to capture the essence of a band’s legacy – in the form of musical barrel-scrapings, accompanied by towels, coffee table books, scarves, buttons, tea cozies, etc. – this collection hearkens back to a time when entire eras could be defined by a concise collection.

Elton John’s Greatest Hits (released in 1974) took the listener on a wild, glittery ride through an impeccably chosen selection of power ballads, sensitive singer-songwriter musings, stadium-ready rockers, jaunty ‘50s throwbacks and vivid character studies – and miraculously, still managed to create a coherent, bullet-proof, standalone career summary. Its significant impact has, of course, been dulled by an endless series “definitive” compilations and box sets in the years since, some of which contain sub-par material used as enticements for completists – B-sides and the like – but it will always remain one of the best collections of the rock era. It flowed together so well that it took on its own personality: it became its own 10-song statement, not an advert for the five motherships from which it was culled.

Similarly, Alone and Unreal reminds us that we don’t need to overwhelm with content to impress. Sometimes less is definitely more. And so we begin quietly, with “Reflections After Jane,” a breathy, windswept version of the Velvet Underground’s “Sweet Jane.” “We Could Walk Together” and “Missing” feature the kind of hypnotic guitar arpeggios that would become a staple of the band’s sound; while “Since K Got Over Me” represents a slight toughening of approach (this mysterious person known only by one letter is referenced in another song from 2005’s Strange Geometry, “K”). From the same album, “(I Can’t Seem) to Make You Mine” (not a cover of the Seeds’ classic) shows a new depth and maturity. This is eloquent and beautiful chamber pop at its very best. Swirling guitar lines echo through the lush strings like a leaf blowing in the chilly October air, while MacLean’s vocals in the chorus evince startling vulnerability. If this track doesn’t reel you in, nothing will.

All of the tracks are winners, but special mention must be made of “Never Anyone But You,” from the band’s final full-length LP, Bonfires on the Heath. In what is perhaps their single greatest achievement, MacLean delivers plaintive eulogy that speaks to the palpable effect and influence the dead wield over the living. It is drop-to-your-knees moving, and one of the finest songs of the last 20 years.

Look, you don’t need a 4-CD box set filled with tedious breakdowns, false starts, studio chatter and inferior alt takes to get to the essence of a band. Sometimes it can be done over the course of a simple sampling. Elton proved it in 1974, and the much-missed, never forgotten, Clientele prove it in 2015. Brevity is belief. Tea cozies not included.

Available here (UK/EU), or here (US).

Note: On October 23, 2015, the Clientele will be reforming for a one-off show at Islington Assembly Hall, London, UK, to celebrate the release of Alone & Unreal: The Best of the Clientele. Details at www.theclientele.co.uk.

The Pretty Things "The Sweet Pretty Things (Are In Bed Now, Of Course...)"

Reviewed by Tom Sandford

Last fall, Ugly Things Magazine posted an online plea for letters of encouragement for Pretty Things visionary main-man, Phil May. The post was direct, cut-to-the-chase honest – and exceedingly ominous. It said that May had been suffering from Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease (COPD) and “need[s] to give up drinking and especially smoking urgently and immediately.” I remember being shocked by the look of the words “urgently” and “immediately”, and immediately penned what was I’m sure a heartfelt, gushingly awkward fan letter; one that Ugly Things promised to forward to Phil. “Those closest to him,” the UT plea went on, “believe the best chance he has of doing this is to turn his lifestyle around, and immerse himself again in art, music and writing.”

It is impossible to overstate the importance of the Pretty Things’ music. Always rock’s cleverest chameleons, they reinvented themselves time and again – with the uncanny ability to land on their creative feet. Over the next 50 years, what began as a gritty R&B combo had embraced everything from Baroque pop ("Emotions") to psychedelic rock opera ("S.F. Sorrow") and 70s glam ("Freeway Madness") – even a convincing flirtation with New Wave with 1980’s "Cross Talk" – with equal aplomb. Through all of these changes – in membership and musical landscape – Phil May has remained the one constant. He is the poet, artist, storyteller and, quite literally, the voice of the Pretty Things.

I did not hear any further news about May’s condition, and hoped that no news was good news. And with the February 2015 release of a career-spanning box set "Bouquets From a Cloudy Sky" speaking rather eloquently vis-à-vis the legacy of the band, one could have forgiven May for laying low this year, both to recover from his illness and soak up the well-deserved accolades. So it came as a bit of a pleasant shock to learn that the newest edition of the Pretties (only May and guitarist Dick Taylor remain from the original incarnation) had released a new album.

It would have been so much simpler to release the box set and call it a career, with everything from the band’s inception through 2007’s "Balboa Island" tied up in one nice Pretties package, reputation intact, un-futzed-with. Except there’s never been anything nice, neat and clean about the Pretty Things, and from the opening guitar assault in “The Same Sun” to the final track (fittingly entitled “Dirty Song”), you know it’s going to be a thrilling experience.

The disease from which May suffers, COPD, robs its sufferer of breath, so it comes as a great relief to hear him singing above the beautiful din with such vigour. Indeed, he and Taylor sound rejuvenated and fully committed to the material. This isn’t some opportunistic, cynical reunion of past members with could-be-anybody filler musicians aiming to capitalize on the success of "Bouquets From a Cloudy Sky". No, what this is, is the historically pivotal pair from the Pretty Things – Phil May and Dick Taylor – ably augmented by well-chosen latter-day members (Frank Holland, keys; George Woosey, bass; and explosive new drummer Jack Greenwood) – sounding as tough, vital and uncompromising as they ever did.

At a crisp 37 minutes, the album hits you and is suddenly gone. In its wake it leaves memorable melodies (“Dark Days”), some piercing guitar work from Taylor (“And I Do”, “Greenwood Tree”) and a dignified take on one of the Byrds’ best (“Renaissance Fair”). They even manage to dash off a quick postcard from the Middle East (“In the Soukh”).

In light of May’s illness, it was a tremendously moving experience to hear this bracing new record for the first time. I did not receive a response from Phil to my letter of encouragement, but it seems to me that "The Sweet Pretty Things (Are In Bed Now, Of Course)" constitutes fierce, unequivocal assurance that Phil May is, once again, immersing himself in art, music and writing.

Available here (UK/EU), or here (US).

Serpent Power "Serpent Power"

Reviewed by Tom Sandford

After the release of his mainly DIY, neo-psychedelic tour de force "Cut From a Star" – and first album unanchored from The Coral – Ian Skelly seemed poised for a major solo breakthrough. The 2012 project – lovingly crafted over a 10-year period and featuring Skelly’s vivid, image-driven songs and distinctive cover artwork – was released through the band’s Skeleton Key label to uniformly rave reviews. When Skeleton Key found themselves quickly relieved of vinyl/CD hard copies during the early stages of the album’s initial run, they took the rather bold step of releasing a 2-CD deluxe version of the album in 2013.

Featuring live acoustic versions of six "Cut From a Star" songs and credited to Ian Skelly and the Serpent Power, the second disc seems to have been, in retrospect, designed both as reinforcement of the solo record and introduction of a new backing band. Somewhere along the line, however, Skelly decided to set aside his promising solo career to join forces with Paul Molloy, formerly of the Zutons, to form a formidable Scouse-psych supergroup of sorts, Serpent Power.

Serpent Power is not "Cut From a Star" mk 2.0, although it maintains many of its most endearing hallmarks: Skelly’s penchant for eerie, dark psychedelia and wild imagery is well represented here, both in the music and cover artwork. The cover itself is an intrinsic part of the package. Our heroes are drawn amidst an assortment of grotesque, amusingly macabre comic-book ghouls, such as an eight-eyed bass drum (its mouth agape); a smiling, pointy-eared vampire; and a giant-footed zombie flashing a peace sign. It’s the kind of cover at which you can repeatedly stare and discover something new each time. It’s also a perfect introduction/complement to the music. So prepare yourself: you’re going deep inside the imaginations of Messrs. Skelly and Molloy.

The trio of songs that forms the opening salvo (“Dr. Lovecrafts’s Asylum”/“The Man Who Shrunk the World”/“Lucifer’s Dreambox”) should, from the titles alone, give some indication of what you can expect. Once inside this Serpent Powered world, one is transported into a house of benign aural horrors: there’s an onslaught of creepy organ passages, backwards loops, hypnotic drumming, phased instrumentation and liberal doses of Theremin. The extended coda appended to “Lucifer’s Dreambox” is a particularly sinister-sounding non sequitur.

The fourth song, “Candyman”, hints at a stylistic shift to a jauntier tone. Imagine if John Lennon had demanded to sing “Your Mother Should Know” and you’ll get the picture. The result is both fanciful and unsettling. Similarly, “Life is a Ball” is a pulsing, McCartneyesque music hall stomper whose whimsy is undercut by some chilling Old West-saloon style piano.

The mood of "Cut From a Star" is recalled with “The Siren” in which Baroque-pop elements of "Village Green" era Kinks are mixed with typically Coral-esque chord changes. Speaking of the Coral, brother James Skelly contributes the pleasant “Just a Broken Heart”, which is, for lack of a better term, the most conventional-sounding track of the lot. Other highlights include “Vampire For Your Love”, which sounds like the mawkish love theme from a goofy horror flick, and “Last Ape in Space”, a song propelled by thudding drum rolls and loping harmonies. “The Vision” ends the album on a suitably ominous, unsettling note. It’s gently insistent beat conveys an air of parting amid a somber soundscape – one that goes to fade far too soon.

Whether this is a one-off, stopgap release for Skelly and Molloy, or the beginning of a beautiful new musical partnership over the long haul, the debut album from Serpent Power bodes well for both.

Available on CD here (UK/EU/US), and vinyl here (UK/EU), or here (US).

Sundowners "Sundowners"

Reviewed by Tom Sandford

In what is starting to resemble a Liverpudlian musical dynasty of sorts, the more apropos name for the label that has just released this Wirral quintet’s eponymous debut might be Skelly-ton Key Records. That surname figures prominently in the membership of every band in Skeleton Key’s burgeoning stable of artists, most notably those perennially #undertheradarbutremarkablyconsistentandmuch-missed Wirral wonders, The Coral. Currently on extended hiatus from that band (whose most recent release of new music was "The Butterfly House" in 2010) brothers James and Ian Skelly took time out from their successful solo careers to produce the Sundowners, whose membership includes siblings Alfie and Fiona, guitarist and co-lead singer respectively.

It was a great relief to see “Hummingbird”, the Sundowners’ ebullient first single – released over two years ago now – included on the long-overdue debut. Sounding something akin to the Mamas and Papas fronting the Byrds, the song is a fully adrenalized, de-twee-ified and completely refreshing take on 60’s Sunshine Pop. Lead vocalists Fiona Skelly and Niamh Rowe send the song hurtling on a sugar-sweet breeze, while the rhythm section (consisting of Tim Cunningham on bass/ backing vocals and Jim Sharrock on drums) ensures things remain firmly grounded in solid psych-rock. It is that blend of sweetness and power, distributed in equal measures, that epitomizes the Sundowners’ appeal at its best.

The album itself begins with “Wild As The Season”, which is, in truth, more of a lesson in dynamics than it is a proper song. At only 2:13 in length, fully half of which is taken up by an intense instrumental buildup before the first lines are even sung, one presumes the piece was specifically designed to be the band’s opening salvo in concert. It sounds huge here; it probably sounds even bigger in a live setting. “Back To You” is a hot, psych-tinged power-popper peppered with cooing “Oooh”s, while “Into the Light” sounds like a lost Coral track that’s had James Skelly’s vocals wiped and replaced by Fiona and Niamh.

Just when you think you’ve got their sound pegged however, the Sundowners switch things up. “Who We Are” begins like a hypnotic, post-punk thumper, then improbably incorporates psych-guitar passages and haunting harmonies to tremendous effect – plus there’s more sultry “Oooh”s. This band knows an earworm when they sing it. “If Wishes Were Horses” begins with an ominous bass riff, all dark and sinister, but transforms into a relentless rocker, thanks in part to spirited lead vocals from Rowe and Skelly, some audacious fuzz-guitar breaks, and Cunningham’s pulsing bass runs. Elsewhere, “End of the Game” contains a laid back, late-70’s West Coast/Stevie Nicks-era Fleetwood Mac vibe that sounds both familiar and fresh. “I Dreamed” begins like a Coral ballad but, once again, subverts expectations by suddenly transforming into a guitar fest. In a time when drums are produced to sound as fake as possible, Sharrock’s Keith Moon-like cymbal washes are a godsend. “Soul Responding” and “Desert Rose” are perfectly serviceable, highly energetic numbers, but easily the most conventional-sounding of the lot.

Just as “Wild As the Season” feels like the natural choice to open both concert and album, “Medicine”, even if not specifically designed as such, feels like the epic, grand finale: it’s dynamic and edgy, with punishing buildups punctuated by soaring harmonies, Skelly’s various guitar explosions and Sharrock’s snare-crash accents.

Wake up, everyone, it’s sunrise on the Sundowners.

Available on vinyl, and CD.

Album Review: Foxygen "...And Star Power"

Reviewed By Tom Sandford

There has always been a certain mystique surrounding the double album. "Blonde On Blonde"; "The White Album"; "Quadrophenia"; "Here, My Dear"; "Songs in the Key of Life"; "Physical Graffiti"; "Exile On Main Street"; "Zen Arcade" – these are respected pillars of 20th Century popular music; towering achievements, triumphant Grand Artistic Statements, lauded for visionary panache and creative brilliance. To become lost in the four sides of a cursorily impenetrable double album was – and still is, for that matter – an intensely personal experience…shared by all (one of the great paradoxes in rock music). These beloved, epic albums constitute musical epochs in rock mythology, and righteous rites of passage in one’s personal history.

And so we are presented with Foxygen’s latest "…And Star Power", an obvious homage to these ageless epics. The real question here, however, is whether it’s a grand tip of the hat to them, or just one big fuck-you. Ultimately, "…And Star Power" might be better characterized as an anti-epic: while maintaining a façade of grandiosity and ambition consistent with the aforementioned Grand Artistic Statements, those elements are deliberately undermined, or openly mocked.

A quick scan of the song titles reveals at least the possibility of grand ambition, thematic cohesion and requisite pomposity: "Star Power Airlines", "Star Power I: Overture"; "Star Power II: Star Power Nite"; "Star Power III: What Are We Good For" and "Star Power IV: Ooh Ooh". Sounds impressive, huh? In reality, however, "Star Power Airlines" is a throwaway three-chord wank – the kind of mindless, goes- nowhere power-chording riffage your first band would play at jams when everybody was hammered enough to think they were The Who. It’s hilarious enough, I guess. Once or twice. The four-part "Star Power" is really just a disjointed mess. There’s no discernible thread to the songs, and the band couldn’t be bothered to even come up with the kind of smoothly edited transitions and crafty sequencing that made the trip through "The White Album" so compelling. No, here it’s all just a big smashup at the corner of Irony Street and Whateverism Avenue.

Elsewhere, Foxygen’s truly puzzling habit of nicking riffs and melodies of familiar songs (something that also marred their previous album, "We Are the 21st Century Ambassadors of Peace and Magic", to a degree) is on full display here. I suppose someone thought it the epitome of cleverness to rip off the melody from Little River Band’s "Lonesome Loser" ("How Can You Really") but I simply don’t get the gag. Other pillaged acts include Skip Spence, The Beatles, Bob Dylan – you get the idea. Worse yet is the truly lackadaisical nature of the playing. An ostensibly nice bit of Rundgren-inspired pop writing, "How Can You Really" is completely undermined by in-your-face sloppiness. Look, I get the lo-fi ethic. I do not get desultory execution that reeks of self-sabotage.

Oh, and about the presentation of this as a double album? A completely gratuitous gesture, I’m sorry to say. Clocking in a just over 81 minutes, the entirety of this album could have easily fit onto one CD if they had cut even a few seconds from a pointless noise like "Freedom II". But nope, they just had to push it past 80 minutes to make it a double CD. All in all it’s just another brick in Foxygen’s phony wall.

Available on CD and vinyl.

Beck "Morning Phase"

Reviewed by Tom Sandford

The promotional narrative that led up to the release of Morning Phase planted the idea that the album was designed as a sequel to Beck’s 2002 masterpiece of moribund misery, Sea Change. Promulgation of the sequel angle was a canny PR move, insofar as it created the desired reactions of fevered anticipation (from Beck’s fans) and snorting cynicism (from his detractors) that lit up Internet forums even before a lick had been heard. But such a narrative also put Beck in the unenviable position of having to prove he had once again come up with the goods. And so the questions that seemed foremost in the minds of both critics and fans were whether Beck had, in fact, created a worthy sequel along the lines of, say, The Godfather Part II, or would Morning Phase turn out to be stained with the stamp of stale regurgitation (i.e. Sea Change II: Still Changin’).

That said, it’s not entirely a fool’s errand to get drawn into the whole Sea Change/Morning Phase narrative, because the albums do indeed share some rather obvious similarities, including use of the same musicians and the same moody acoustic flavour (truth be told, at times these similarities are undeniable and, one would hope, a deliberate attempt at establishing a link: compare ‘Morning’ with ‘The Golden Age’ from Sea Change). Once again the album is given stirring orchestral arrangements by Beck’s father, David Campbell, who displays astonishing empathy with the material. Check out the ethereal beauty of ‘Wave’ and tell me you’re unmoved.

Sea Change was a soul-baring tour de force of romantic despair; one that seemed even more devastating because we had all come to view Beck as the ever-aloof master of ironic detachment. It was Beck’s dark night of the soul. Morning Phase, on the other hand – and here is where the idea of its being a sequel actually feels truly apropos and poetic – creates an atmosphere of deliverance into a morning of spiritual renewal, a la Van Morrison’s ‘Brand New Day.’

In this hazy morning-after phase there is still loneliness and sadness, but on the whole Morning Phase feels brighter, more optimistic than Sea Change. Listen to the soaring, positively exhilarating chorus in ‘Morning’ that takes off like the morning’s first jolt of caffeine, or the pulsing, chipper clip of ‘Heart is a Drum’. There is weariness in the words, but defiance in the music. If there was any intention of establishing a continuum between the two albums, then perhaps that is the intended takeaway. But make no mistake: taken on its own merit, set apart from the intimidating shadow cast by Sea Change during its 14-year climb to modern classic status, Morning Phase has already distinguished itself in this manner, in only a fraction of the time.

Available on vinyl, CD, and digitally.

Strange Milk "The Odd One Out" Review

Reviewed by Tom Sandford (Clarkophile)

‘You and High’, Strange Milk’s contribution to The Active Listener Sampler #15, stands as a reminder of the power of nuance and understatement. Its slow, deliberate pace, gentle-but-unbowed rhythm and hypnotic organ passages – like a drowsy grandchild of VU’s ‘What Goes On’ – demand one’s full attention simply because it strains credulity to think anyone would have the audacity to release it in 2013.
Comparisons with the Kingsbury Manx are inevitable, insofar as both bands often play at a deceptively relaxed tempo, with vocals that can come across as somnambulistic. But Strange Milk is more overtly psychedelic than the Manx – a good thing – and their new EP, "The Odd One Out", certainly contains the sort of woozy atmospherics that made ‘You and High’ such a treat.
The appropriately titled ‘Continuum’ is a logical extension of that approach, while ‘Leitmotiv’, the EP’s explosive 6 ½ -minute centerpiece, is a sprawling psych workout. Elsewhere, ‘Fountains’ shows the band experimenting with a jauntier tempo and an arrangement that would not sound out of place on Gene Clark’s White Light. ‘Saturnine Blues’ is probably the least satisfying track on the EP – the odd one out, if you will – if only because the main riff feels overly familiar, like sluggish ‘70’s boogie. It fails to surprise or hypnotize, in spite of a spidery solo and a ghostly backing vocal. ‘You Can Be My Lover’ is a charming, innocent little song – exactly the sort of thing you wouldn’t think Strange Milk would be able to pull off. The concluding track ‘Zebra’ cuts through the romantic haze of the previous track with a compelling, ominous riff, but at 1:39 it ends rather abruptly, well before its ideas have been fleshed out. As a result, it feels half-finished, an afterthought.
Strange Milk has the uncanny knack of sounding gentle and intense at the same time. If they can continue to reconcile that apparent paradox, as they’ve done here, then bring on the album.

Available directly from the band at wearenotstrangemilk@gmail.com

"Book a Trip 2 - More Psych Pop Sounds of Capitol Records" Review

Reviewed by Tom Sandford (The Clarkophile)

Well over 40 years removed from its demise (circa 1970) it seems less and less relevant whether the blending of 60’s pop with trippy psychedelic additives – better known as Psych-Pop or Popsike – was motivated by genuine artistic expression or some record industry accountant’s calculated exploitation of a musical fad. In truth it was probably a combination of both. But in the period of 1965-1970, psych-influenced pop was the now sound to pursue, having been legitimized by, among others, the Triumvirate of B’s (Beatles | Byrds | Beach Boys).
It’s doubtless more than coincidence that, with both the Beatles and the Beach Boys signed to Capitol Records US during this period, there would be a slew of knockoffs, also-rans and assorted psychsploitationists who sought to take an acid-lite trip to the top of the charts. However, it’s also true that bona fide, first-class talents made their tentative pre-fame steps as students of the genre.
And so with "Book a Trip 2" we have another handpicked, gorgeously packaged, lovingly compiled selection of tracks from Capitol’s lesser-known artists. Yes, there are some tracks that sound a little too close to those by whom they were obviously influenced (The Surf Symphony’s ‘That Bluebird of Summer’ is a Rutlesque-league copy of Brian Wilson’s Wrecking Crew/Pet Sounds-era production style in general, and ‘God Only Knows’ in particular) but this is by and large a faultless collection.
Fans of the West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band will be excited to note the appearance of two tracks by WCPAEB side project The Laughing Wind, featuring brothers Shaun and Danny Harris and multitalented wunderkind Michael Lloyd (another Lloyd project, Raw Edge, is represented by ‘October Country’). Elsewhere, pre-Not the Freeze Penny Arkade principals Chris Ducey and Craig Smith offer ‘I Can’t Go On,’ recorded in 1966 but unreleased until now. It’s as good as, if not better than, the material recorded a year later by the Penny Arkade, a Michael Nesmith-produced album which was itself given a belated release on Sundazed in 2004.
There are far too many highlights to name, but the real delight of the set is Ellie Janov’s chamber-pop gem, ‘Portobello Road’ (an early Cat Stevens cover, not to be confused with Billy Nicholls’ song of the same name). Janov was the daughter of author Arthur Janov, whose Primal Scream therapy informed much of John Lennon’s harrowing Plastic Ono Band album. Only 14 years old when she recorded this bittersweet, ‘Penny Lane’-influenced 45, Janov nonetheless sings with great poise and just the right amount of pathos.
Other highlights include: These Vizitors’ punchy ‘For Mary’s Sake’; James Fleming’s Wilsonesque weeper ‘Alone, Alone’; and the Unforscene’s ‘Little Toy,’ which is powered by a chiming guitar riff that sounds like a composite of every lick in the Byrds’ canon.
As psych hunters know, many compilations of 60’s-era obscurities are often sourced from vinyl, with crackles and clicks a common intrusion. It’s the price we pay for loving music of which the master tapes are long gone. That’s what makes this CD such a sonic revelation. Sourced from the original tapes, these recordings are nothing short of pristine. "Book a Trip 2" is another impeccable offering from Steve Stanley and the folks at Now Sounds.

"Book A Trip 2 - More Psych Pop Sounds Of Capitol Records" is available on CD here.

Active Listener Writers Share Their Favourite Albums of 2013

I published my favorite 50 albums of the year list here a few weeks back, and a few of my other writers have chimed in with their lists below. Lots of great stuff to be discovered here:

Grey Malkin:

1. The Raven That Refused To Sing (And Other Stories) – Steven Wilson

2. Messe I.X –V.I.X- Ulver

3. Malá Morská Víla Soundtrack - Zdenek Liska

4. Warrior At The Edge Of Time Remastered – Hawkwind

5. Morgiana/The Cremator Soundtrack - Zdenek Liska/ Luboš Fišer

6. Omega Original Soundtrack- Michael Begg/Human Greed

7. Spoicke – United Bible Studies

8. Witchfinder General Soundtrack - Paul Ferris

9. The Book of the Lost - The Rowan Amber Mill and Emily Jones

10. Aonaran –Richard Moult

Tom Sandford:

1. Ian Skelly – Cut From A Star 

2. Grant Hart – The Argument 

3. The Kingsbury Manx – Bronze Age 

4. Moby – Innocents 

5. Neils Children – Dimly Lit 

6. Pissed Jeans – Honeys 

7. Wire – Change Becomes Us 

8. My Bloody Valentine – mbv 

9. Queens of the Stone Age – Like Clockwork 

10. Paper Kites – States

Chris Sherman:

1. Svenska Kaputt - Svenska Kaputt

2. Wolf People - Fain

3. Me and My Kites - Like A Dream Back Then

4. Jacco Gardner - Cabinet of Curiosities

5. Kiki Pau - Pines

6. Mazzy Star - Seasons of Your Day

7. Elephant Stone - Elephant Stone

Jason Simpson:

1. Teeth of the Sea - Master

2. Factory Floor - Factory Floor

3. V.A. - The Outer Church compilation

4. Low - The Invisible Way

5. The Stranger - Watching Dead Empires In Decay

6. Emptyset - Recur

7. The Haxan Cloak - Excavations

8. I Am The Lake Of Fire - I Am The Lake Of Fire

9. The Soulless Party - Tales From The Black Meadow

10. Hacker Farm - UHF

Amanda Votta:

1. Mark Lanegan and Duke Garwood – Black Pudding 

2. Mazzy Star – Seasons of Your Day 

3. Stone Breath – Spear of Flame, Horse of Air 

4. Mick Harvey – Four (Acts of Love) 

5. Broadcast - Berberian Sound Studio 

6. Albatwitch – Only Dead Birds Sing Over the Graves of Forgotten Kings 

7. Mark Kozelek & Desertshore – Mark Kozelek & Desertshore 

8. Crime & The City Solution – American Twilight 

9. The Dirtbombs – Ooey Gooey Chewy Ka-Blooey! 

10. Beastmilk – Climax

Neils Children "The Highs & Lows" / "You" 7" Review

Reviewed by Tom Sandford

"At a Gentle Place", from this year’s superb "Dimly Lit", turned me into an avowed child of Neils Children. It’s the sort of tune that grabs you by the lapels, slaps you upside the head and demands your attention – but in the most delicate, darkly fanciful way. Eerie keyboard passages and ominous, insistent bass (somebody’s been listening to a lot of Carol Kaye!) subvert the melody’s almost childlike charms – an impression that is accentuated by flourishes of primal, post-punk drumming. The perfect blend of dark and bright. The rest of "Dimly Lit" follows a similar pattern: clicking, plectrum-heavy bass riffs (straight outta the "SMiLE" playbook) establish a mood that is subsequently embellished by ghostly keys, all of which is reshaped and redefined – in some cases undercut – by choppy, no-nonsense drumming. It is a fascinating formula, one that led Dimly Lit’s place in not only my top 10 of 2013, but our esteemed Active Listener's as well.
Formed in 1999, Neils Children eventually disbanded in 2010, only to announce their reformation late 2012. With "Dimly Lit", the first fruits of this rebirth, NC have pulled off the most improbable of feats in rock: they created a reunion album that not only justifies reformation – it demands an encore. And so to cap off a triumphant year comes a single that decisively puts the lie to the idea that soufflés can’t be reheated.
"The Highs and Lows", the longer and more strident of the two, juxtaposes heavy and soft sounds against a rock-solid rhythm and a chorus that pulses with despair ("The world looks bad to me…"). Gloom never sounded this haunting and hypnotic…or this catchy. Clocking in at a whopping five and a half minutes, however, the track feels a little on the long side, but that’s a structural criticism that shouldn’t matter to anyone who likes the track in the first place.
Although both tracks impress, it is the B-side that is the real gem here. Beguiling and mysterious, "You" features wistful vocals over a lilting, summery backing that advances and recedes like waves on a dreamy, lysergic beach. Add to this peaceful seaside scene an unexpected – and truly welcome – blast of fuzz guitar that buzzes above it all like a bird circling its unwitting prey, and you have a bright summer on the dark side. And therein lies the essence of Neils Children’s brilliance.

Available as a limited edition 7" or download here:

Any Version Of Me "We Are You" Review

Reviewed by Tom Sandford

It could be the premise for a wacky French sitcom: Guillaume Lepine, thirty-something Parisian, works as physical education teacher by day, but moonlights as a musician that sounds like Lennon and writes like McCartney. And yet improbably, through a series of unheralded, self-recorded, self-produced, impeccably crafted albums stretching back to 2008, Lepine (aka Any Version of Me) has been doing exactly that.
Any Version of Me’s early recordings were adept Beatles/Beach Boys pastiches that featured Lepine’s adenoidal, Lennon-like vocals over jaunty, Macca-liciously pulsing piano/guitar-driven singalongs (I remain convinced that ‘Mrs. Alpert!’ from his first album was inexplicably left off Revolver; please don’t try to tell me otherwise). What sets Lepine apart from any other Beatles-influenced performer, however, is an uncanny ability to compose benevolent, wholly original earworms that echo the spirit of his influences without ever copying them. Starting with 2008’s Backward Forever, through Home Alone (2009), Wasted Sun (2010) and A Matter of Time (2012), Lepine quietly – and with no press whatsoever – released a remarkably consistent body of work that followed this charming Beatles/Beach Boys chamber-pop pattern.
That’s why We Are You, AVoM’s 2013 offering, feels so different from its predecessors. Oh, there’s still the odd, unspeakably catchy singalong here and there, but at its core, it is the darkest, most ominous-sounding album of Lepine’s career.
That is no accident.
“I was going to record my fourth album (2012’s A Matter of Time) in a real studio with a band,” says Lepine, who has recorded every one of his albums “home alone” in his Parisian loft. “We had rehearsed for almost a year. We had the producers. The studio was booked. It should have worked. But my mother fell badly ill at the same time and I had to be with her. After [she died], it was too late.”
A sense of loss, frustration, grief and disappointment suffuses all of the material on We Are You. But the music – usually relentlessly upBeat(le) – has taken a decidedly dark turn. The peppy opener ‘Can’t You See’ feels like a typically bubbly AVoM effort, but the second track, ‘Six and Three,’ dispels that notion and marks a shift in tone that pervades the rest of the album. A moody and pounding ‘80’s-styled number, it begins like a Jake Bugg knockoff, but ends up sounding like Human League in their darkest hour.
‘We Are You’ and ‘The Things That Matter’ are further evidence of this initially unsettling shift. The atmosphere in both is funereal and reflective, yet – and this is the real wonder of Lepine’s gift – the melodies are still uncommonly top-notch. How can anything this sad be this effortlessly catchy? Seriously, the guy has more hooks than a pirates’ convention. But the shock of his mother’s death and the daunting setbacks in his career would appear to have been channeled into his music. Make no mistake: it’s not just about the hooks. This music packs a considerable emotional wallop too.
‘Goodbye’ and ‘Get Me Out of This Place’ are pounding rockers that would have been more convincing had they been powered by the full band that Lepine alluded to. But even as solo products of Lepine’s home studio, they are strong, propulsive songs that provide temporary respite from the haunting, melodic gloom.
For an album that’s already been an emotional tour de force, it is the extraordinary final song, ‘Omaha,’ that provides the most moving moments, and quite possibly the finest song of Lepine’s career thus far. I dare anyone to listen to him sing “It’s getting hard to watch your dreams go by” – and the subsequent mellotron passage that rips the air from one’s lungs – and not find oneself profoundly moved.
One of Lepine’s earliest efforts, an uncanny, note-for-note recreation of The Beatles’ ‘Nowhere Man’, used to be posted on his Bandcamp site. It is no longer there. Presumably this is because Lepine feels – and quite rightly so – that he has emerged from the shadows of his heroes.
The first time I heard Any Version of Me, it was a song from his 2008 album Backward Forever, called ‘More.’ Back then I was certain I’d discovered not only my new favourite songwriter, but also a undiscovered musical talent of the highest order. We Are You is further evidence I was right.

CD or Name Your Price Download Available Here: