What does it sound like?:

Around ’63-‘64 The Beatles were shitting out songs like a labrador on vindaloo and, because my parents were cheapskates and wouldn’t shell out for Sgt Pepper, this 1967 pooper-scoop of the thinly-smeared excrement they trailed behind them was my first introduction to the sound and smell of the Fabs when I found it at the back of the stereogram 10 years later.

Let’s start with the cover. Lennon, McCartney, stars… wallop. That’ll be £50 please. Paul’s whistling in this photo – can we call it The Stars Whistle Lennon and McCartney? No? Suit yourself. The artist has thoughtfully added clip-art frames to John (already transitioning) and Paul (still full moptop) as if to say: Don’t worry! They’re not really adrift in the vacuum of space! It’s just pictures!

And the stars! Pity poor Kenny Lynch, bottom of this default-font bill. The notion of ‘stars’ gets a bit inverted here, as you’d think that this motley collection of Epstein-stablemates and blokes whose sister Paul’s trying to shag would normally not exist in the same universe as their benefactors. But then ‘Lennon and McCartney Get Sung by People Who Will Dine Out on Their Brief Association » Continue Reading.

What does it sound like?:

I have a theory that everyone in the world likes at least one Alice Cooper song – School’s Out, No More Mr Nice Guy, Elected, Hello Hooray, Poison, whatever. I well remember as a teenager buying the School’s Out album, which came with a free pair of paper pants inside, Billion Dollar Babies, with it’s enclosed billion dollar bill, and Muscle Of Love which was presented within a cardboard box.

Well, the good news is ‘The Coop’ is back with this two disc set, his first studio album since 2011’s Welcome 2 My Nightmare.

Produced by long term cohort Bob Ezrin, it features collaborations with luminaries such as Billy Gibbons, Larry Mullen and Roger Glover. It marks a change from the horror concept theme of his last release, going instead for a very acceptable collection of radio friendly, straight ahead commercial rock songs, somewhat in the vein of his Trash album of yesteryear. While it doesn’t quite scale the heights of that album, there are nevertheless plenty of catchy songs here, which I suspect will work well when performed live. Maybe it’s a little overproduced at times, but it’s none the worse for that.

» Continue Reading.

What does it sound like?:

It’s not fair to blame Pino Palladino for all the excesses of the 1980s. He probably wasn’t the first to roll up his jacket sleeves, or wear a matador hat on stage, or think that drums should go ‘ptchoo’ instead of ‘thwack’. But he’s the reason why this bargain-bin classic remains firmly rooted in that cursed decade, along with trimphones, the C5, effective labour representation and colonial expansionism.

Pino’s fretless and flanged bass scribbles through Love of The Common People like a crayon across the face of the Mona Lisa. It wobbles like a weeble on a see-saw. It staggers like a drunk in a bouncy kebab shop. It writhes like an inflatable wraith outside a secondhand car dealer. On the originals of the soul classics that anchor No Parlez, the rhythm sections are nailed down to the groove. They play, they don’t spray. Pino is not so much in the pocket as all over the front of your trousers, like splashback piss from a tin urinal.

Young Paul does his best to find space between the gurgles. He’s also up against the Fabulous Wealthy Tarts, whose constant chatter frustrates his attempts to express » Continue Reading.