[Review] Björk- Biophilia (Published in NOW THEN Issue 44 Nov 2011)

Björk Guðmundsdóttir. The futuristic eskimo. The world’s favourite conceptual elf. She’s the mother of reinvention. She’s Iceland’s third biggest export behind Kerry Katona’s dwindling showbiz career and local delicacy singed sheep heads. One time she dressed up like a swan.

As you may have guessed, Reykjavík’s favourite art house pixie has never been my cup of tea, but with any new release comes an opportunity for change and I recalled there was a lot of buzz about her playing at Bestival. Unfortunately, even though I knew I’d be reviewing this album, I missed her live performance in lieu of an impromptu wrestling match with my flatmate amidst a thousand techno revellers. You can’t win them all.

I set about listening with an open mind but was ultimately disappointed with this LP. Credit where it’s due, lead single ‘Crystalline’ is sharply produced and features 52 seconds of pure joy in the form of an absurd jungle rinse out produced by 16Bit. Penultimate track ‘Mutual Core’ is, for all intents and purposes, absolute filth. It’s Noisia-themed poundings beat the sense out of the melancholy that precedes it and it sounds glorious.

But the remaining efforts and their decidedly over-complicated themes fall very far from the tree. Convoluted recording methods and sporadic time signatures paradoxically make the tracks feel empty. The sparse, sombre tone that litters 90% of the album makes it feel incomplete and leaves you begging for substance as opposed to the conceptualism it offers.

Imagine my bamboozlement to find that the internet is all over it like a cheap suit. Reviewers are throwing 9s at it left, right and starboard, arguing that it’s somehow ‘redefined the relationship between technology and nature’. People are going ape for the way this album has been released. Through a corporate tie-in with Apple it exists as a series of apps. Each track is narrated and annotated and entirely context bound. The CD isn’t the full experience; you have to buy the apps as well. Critics are claiming this will revolutionise the way music is distributed and in turn change the music industry completely.

If change means allowing artists to compromise the integrity of their musical output under the guise of it being a small piece of a larger whole, then yes, it will change the industry completely; it’ll change it into Hollywood. And let me tell you, the day I buy into an Icelandic George Lucas is the day I stop my inappropriate festival wrestling ways. Never.

[Article] Music: A Strange Beast (Published in NOW THEN issue 43 Oct 2011)

Music is a strange beast.

She’ll make you laugh. She’ll make you cry. She can anger you. She can sometimes sneak in at 4 in the morning stinking of sambuca and Hugo Boss. She can claim she’s been ‘out with the girls’ all she wants but the wry smile under her smeared lipstick betrays her. Whether she’s the demure thinking man’s crumpet or the tarted-up pop princess, everyone’s had a go and had a ruddy good time to boot. You’ll always go back for more, whether intentional or instinctive, and once that’s happened she’s got her claws in.

Anyone who’s done something as seemingly nonchalant as wearing a band t-shirt has been privy to her truly manipulative ways. You like a band. You buy a t-shirt to show support. There’s nothing darker at work.

Allow me to be the first to shout “balls!” You’ve been had mate. You’ve bought a t-shirt to let everyone know you like said band. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that mind.

I love my ‘J DILLA CHANGED MY LIFE’ t-shirt but I’m very aware of the attention it garners. I’m ok with that though, because he did and we’re not talking about me anyway.

If you love something you want people to know about it. You can claim you’re humble until the Aberdeen Angus commute home but a couple of gin and tonics will always loosen your tongue. There’s no better way to portray allegiance than a good ol’ fashioned uniform.

If you like hip hop, dress as though you’re between wardrobes following miraculous gastric band surgery. If metal is your bag you could do worse than snagging any item of clothing that’s really, really, really dark blue, dying your hair really, really, really dark blue and growing a ginger beard. Or if your particular brand is punk/pop/emo/shouty music, go ahead and look like you’ve been sexually assaulted by a clown.

People can indeed adore the output a particular genre provides without wearing the accompanying garb though. You can also say that a style of music doesn’t have a uniform, and you’d be right – but a scene does.

Everyone enjoys a sense of belonging and music, that little harpy, provides the grandest of communities. But like any harpy worth her salt, music can draw you in and make you lose yourself. When you find yourself getting vexed at ‘man dem mercing your crepes’ at a gig or covering yourself in tattoos of an artist who has the shelf life of a reduced Muller Rice, you’ve likely lost sight of what got you hooked in the first place. There’s a fine line between defining your musical identity and letting your musical identity define you. If the only reason you listen to music is because it matches the particular philosophy your scene possesses then claiming you love it seems somewhat invalid.

As David Hargreaves et al testify to in their succinctly titled book, What Are Musical Identities And Why Are They Important?:

“Because music is essentially a social activity – it is something we do along with and for others, either as listeners or as cocreators – there is a strong argument that the social functions of music subsume the cognitive and emotional functions in certain respects.”

They also go on to use words like ‘interpreted’ and ‘saxophonist’.

I’ve always felt that the personal appeal of music should outweigh the social aspects. It’s much easier to appreciate a more obscure style of music with the backing of your peers, but if that appreciation is grounded in social terms then it’s less of a personal identity and more of an ideology. As a bloke called Nicholas Cook said:

“In today’s world, deciding what music to listen to is a significant part of deciding and announcing to people not just who you want to be…but who you are.”

So I shall announce to you thus: “Who I am is a man who likes J Dilla, but I don’t want to be the kind of person who has to wear a ‘J DILLA CHANGED MY LIFE’ t-shirt to let you know that.”

But he did though, and we’re not talking about me anyway.

[Review] Machinedrum- 'Room(s)' (Published in Now Then issue 40 Jul 2011)

Are you growing weary of following what everyone else is doing? Have a penchant for condescension? Willing to take back years of hard graft slating your dad’s music collection to reap its potential ironic gold mine? Well buddy, you need a ‘scene’.

“But there are so many to choose from” I hear you yelp under the heavy cotton of that spiffing new checked shirt you’re struggling with. Nonsense. Nobody likes a niche-er. Swedish black metal and Doris Day revivalists are small fry.

What you need is an umbrella scene that covers so much you’ll be dining out on its potential avenues long after all those involved are working back at TK Maxx. I’m talking of course about upfront, forward thinking, future bass music. You can’t go wrong with upfront, forward thinking, future bass music. Upfront, forward thinking, future bass music is everywhere.

I personally love upfront, forward thinking, future bass music, but it is not without its flaws. The problem with something staking claim to upfront-ishness and forward thinking-icity is that it is unable to be static by its very definition, so artists rarely spend time honing their craft in lieu of yet another reinvention.

Room(s) by Machinedrum (one half of Hotflush darlings Sepalcure) is testament to the idea that I often don’t have a clue what I’m talking about. This album refuses to break any new ground. It bears some striking similarities to the current output of many of its peers, but it’s downright blooming marvellous.

Joy O inklings of rumbling drums, meandering chords and syncopated vocal pops announce themselves on opener ‘She Died There’. HudMo has a fitted cap doffed his way through the bashiness of current single ‘Sacred Frequency’. There are even nods to forward thinkers of days gone by in the Metalheadz-inspired glory of ‘U Don’t Survive’. But my personal favourite is ‘GBYE’ and its musings of ‘the plant level from G Darius’, as it ties in rather well with the ‘remixing old Playstation game soundtracks’ project I’ve literally just decided I’m doing.

These similarities are not unwelcome. These artists are some of the reasons the scene has gained so much notoriety and it’s always nice to not be so ‘forward thinking’. Machinedrum attempts and subsequently succeeds in striking a fine balance between progression and quality and thusly butters my upfront, forward thinking, future parsnips.

That sounded a lot better in my head.

[Review] Daedelus- 'Bespoke' (Published at NOW THEN online blog Mar 2011)

Daedelus, Daedelus, Daedelus. Oh where to begin? I’ve harped on about Alfred Darlington’s work for nigh on 6 years now. Much to the dismay of many a friend, acquaintance and very recently, the man himself.

“Harp, harp, harp... Avant garde” I would say in polite company.

“Harp, harp, harp... Sweaty Victorian gentleman” I would scream when seeing him live.

I would continue to harp through all manner of trial and adversity.

There was the time I changed my ex girlfriends alarm tone to the intro for ‘Just Briefly’ and was literally backed into a corner by her barbituated siblings to be informed, with unwarranted aggression, that it was “shit”. Still continued harping. (it’s not shit by the way).

And, the time I was bamboozled into leaving the comfort of one of Nottingham’s finest, hotel grade, 100% goose down duvets under the proviso that Daedelus had wandered into a friends house party from a nearby gig... well you get the picture. He wasn’t there, my friends found it hilarious, I’m still sore about it. Still carried on harping.

Yeah well, who’s harping now? Now that Ninja Tune are releasing Daedelus’ latest album ‘Bespoke’ in April? 

Well, It’s technically still me but come the 11th of said month everyone will be harping to the same tune.

This release marks around 10 years of niche carving for the disco dandy and feels like his most solid body of work to date.

The often chaotic rumblings that many have come to love are still ever present but have been watered down substantially by some of the great melodies and solid beats on display elsewhere on the LP.

For example, ‘In Tatters’ plays like the death rattle of a mid nineties girl band. With tortured vocals a wonderful combination of major and diminished chord swells and a backnote that sounds like the mating call of an NES it conjours that lovely feeling I’ve coined as ‘Happy-cidal’. 

There’s gangster barbershop quartet anthem ‘Penny Loafers’ that sounds like the Andrews Sisters started slinging crack under ‘that’ apple tree. 

Or ‘French Cuffs’ with Low End Theory regular Baths that has its vocal track, melody and drums set at different speeds.. actually that’s probably a bad example.

Perhaps ‘Sew, Darn, Mend’ which sounds somewhat like a folk montage. Like John Boy getting severely tonk in preparation to do whatever it is they’d do on The Little House On The Prairie that would require one to be a particularly hench Mormon.

That right there is the theme of the entire album. 

Whatever pops into Darlington’s mind. 

As has been in the past and most likely will be in the future. This is very much the realm of Daedelus and that’s what makes it so special.

The man has so many influences that when you stumble upon one you and he share, it becomes worthy of a good harping.

Come to think of it ‘Fustigate’ is a much better word than ‘Harp’.

[Article] The Wretched Odyssey Of The Muso (Published in NOW THEN issue 39 Jun 2011)

The young boy gazed in adulate awe at the selection of fine, succulent produce on offer.

He was reminded of his slightly odd obsession with raw radish and duly placed one of the rogue, pointless vegetables into his mush. As he chewed slowly on his pilfered, mustardy snack he gazed wistfully through the outdoor furnishings department of the impressive Sainsbury’s.

He lamented the seasonal changes garden furniture ceaselessly endured and pondered the idea that this particular department acted as its own microcosm, intrinsically linked and yet ultimately detached from the world around it. Or at least he understood the notion of retrospect enough to think: “I don’t understand the relevance of this just now, but perhaps in the near future I’ll be able to use this nugget to make myself look interesting and witty.”

Just cresting the dizzying heights of the formidable Black & Decker strimmer display he could see his raison d’going-with-mum-to- Meadowhall. He ceased his attempts at untying the family pack of radishes in his sweaty grasp and shuffled forward.

The diverse collection of CD s in the übermarket’s music department was impressive and no time was wasted. The hunt was on…and abruptly ceased by Sainsbury’s deft alphabetising skills. The boy’s long-suffering mother fished in her purse and produced two week’s worth of pocket money which was eagerly snatched by radish stained hands.

With the transaction completed and the thrill of buying his first album all but gone, there was nothing left but for the boy to indulge in the fruits of his mother’s labour and take his first tentative steps on the path to musical enlightenment.

I think, at the time, I expected a little more from All Saints’ ingeniously titled debut album All Saints, but everyone has to start somewhere and to be fair it was the logical progression from my first tape purchase, ‘Naked’ by “the white one from Eternal”, Louise.

Foundations are key to building a reputable music taste and go a long way to explaining the ‘house’ analogy I’m about to start waffling on about.

Think of your taste in music, if you will, as a house (N.B. don’t get confused and start thinking about your taste in house music because that is somewhat of an oxymoron). Without good foundations the facade can be a tad wobbly and uncertain. However, if the facade is shiny and new all the time it can lack character and become boring very quickly.

However, openly embracing fads like pebble dashed walls makes the house seem dated and laughable. Trying to update a heavily fad-laden home could cost you dearly. Contractor fees for an evaluation alone can reach upwards of £3,000.

It’s worth pointing out that at this juncture I’ve just started talking about actual houses and this bears no real relevance to my initial point.

Your taste in music is 100% your own and very much a personal thing. But music is by its very nature a shared entity and your taste will always undergo overly aggressive scrutiny.

Finding a balance between what you like and what others would term ‘well gay’ is intrinsic to developing a matured taste. I would quite happily spend my days listening to Glenn Miller and trance if not for the fear of being labelled a floppy wristed mincer.

So what does one do?

Your collection of upfront future bass music is very impressive. You have a Boomkat account and you’re going to Bestival. You’ve done all the hard work and are now a very credible neo muso. It is now that you get to enjoy the metaphorical radishes of your labour.

You could rather comfortably amble along listening to your favourite Fleetwood Mac songs (or Rumours, if you will) and let Stevie Nicks’ dulcet tones be your own personal salvation, but then you’d be missing out on one of life’s most precious moments. Everyone who has belted out the lyrics to ‘The Chain’ in a five-man strong choir of their closest and most inebriated peers would agree that it’s pretty damn precious. And by precious I don’t mean kittens and dogs cuddling each other while they nap.

So I lied. Your music taste is not your own. It’s the property of anyone who cares to listen and it’s only because you took that initial plunge and bought that embarrassing first album that’s it’s now something worth sharing.

It’s finding out that everyone else’s real taste in music is the same as yours that makes the wretched odyssey of the muso worthwhile. The sharing of that palette between like-minded individuals makes you realise that the foundations are incredibly similar but the variation in the facade is wonderfully diverse.

Knowing all the words to ‘Never Ever’ by All Saints is still well gay though.

[Review] 13 & God- 'Own Your Ghost' (Published in NOW THEN issue 38 May 2011)

When I was but 19 years old I spent seven long months working in a local boozer. I disliked it greatly but, to paraphrase my disgraced auntie, “I was young, I needed the money”.

It was there I met a chap named Simon Babic, who shall be referred to as ‘Simon Babic’ for the sake of a disinterest in providing anonymity. One evening Monsieur Babic invited a small handful of his colleagues round to his digs, where he had laid on a lovely spread of Wotsits and cheap cider. We sat in a circle and waxed lyrical about philosophy and I experienced the first and only time I have been patronised while sitting on a bright pink pilates ball.

At the end of this evening, after many an inquiry regarding his choice in music, Signor Babic handed me two full hard drives containing his entire music collection. It was through this act of thoroughly pleasant piracy that I had discovered labels like Anticon and Definitive Jux and artists like RJD2, Atmosphere, Sage Francis, El-P, cLOUDDEAD and Sole. I spent the next two or so years passing this collection off as my own, introducing others to music they’d not heard before and enjoying the fact I was an über hipster by being a hipster before it was cool to be a hipster.

The May release of Own Your Ghost from former Anticon roster holders 13 & God made me start to Babic like a mother lover seeing as though I’d been out of the loop for a while. The collaboration between Oakland’s Themselves and Germany’s Notwist has been maturing since 2008. An inspiring mish mash of melancholy and blissed out guitar work coupled with the strange timbre of rapper Doseone and Germanic accented crooning makes for something pretty special.

From swansong ‘Death Minor’, with its menacingly mellow guitar strums, collapsing synth and wonderfully constructed spoken word set piece, to the aggressive tumbling beats of ‘Sure As Debt’ or the understated crunk of ‘Janu Are’, everything feels as though it’s crafted with both groups’ aesthetics perfectly intact.

Everything except ‘Old Age’, with its happy chords and saccharine lyrics, sounding more like something Cut Copy would fart out and blame on an unsuspecting bystander. Aside from that, the pure energy and excellent production on show here make for a really solid and tight album, which is pretty impressive for a seven-piece ensemble based on two different continents.

If Simon Babic were to buy one album this year, it’d most likely be this. And if you know him he’ll probably give it to you for free.

[Review] Illum Sphere- 'Dreamstealin' (Published in NOW THEN issue 36 Mar 2011)

It’s the year 2047- 2083. Specifics are a thing of the past. Every city and town has been prefixed with the word ‘Neo’. Futuristic biker gangs have risen to rule the streets. Places like Neo-Burton-on-Trent are overrun by crazed clowns on two tires hell bent on twisted justice. Music has transgressed the confines of simply being audio and is literally everywhere. I’m not sure how or why. Life is now perpetually scored dependent on mood... somehow. I really wish I’d thought this part through more. Regardless, the soundtrack to this dystopian nightmare? Illum Sphere.

In reality, I imagine we’ll all be listening to white noise and metronomes in 36 to 72 years’ time. However, Illum Sphere’s latest two track (plus mandatory remix) EP ‘Dreamstealin’/Blood Music’ gives us a realisation of what the 80s thought the future would sound like.

The grated drones and tortured violins of ‘Dreamstealin’ would sound just as at home on Shoji Yamashiro’s soundtrack to awesome late 80s manga AKIRA. With its addition of tweaked out glitches, compulsory 909 claps and baked shakes, the track plays like a current day re-boot to a former day OST. The constant pace provided by tumbling kicks and offbeat synth stabs coupled with a healthy dose of high pass Korg conjure images of riding through a neon-lit cityscape on a really sweet red motorbike, hitting blokes dressed as clowns with metal pipes.

Well, they would if you’d seen AKIRA.

‘Blood Music’ sits as a support track should. Ethereal drones mimic the style of the lead track and create a theme for the EP. Lounge tinged keys, muted sirens, gruff vocal yelps and discordant percussion all play their part in making some incredibly well crafted and decidedly above average filler - filler much like the little inflatable bags you sometimes get in a box holding fragile content, like, I don’t know...an original 1988 Streamline copy of AKIRA on VHS?

As it stands ‘Dreamstealin’/ Blood Music’ isn’t a step ahead or a step behind 2010’s great and well received Titan EP , but when you carve yourself a niche with as much wiggle room as Illum Sphere has it makes it decidedly difficult to become stagnant.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to shout “TETSUO!” from atop a large pile of discarded masonry. No? Oh, come on - the film came out 23 years ago!

[Article] The Rise Of The Layman (Published in NOW THEN issue 36 Mar 2011)

The internet is quite simply a glorious place. 

Where else can you find bootlegged music and films, questionable women, deep seated xenophobia and amusing cats all together in the same place?

Granted, some areas of any town centre may offer you these pleasures but there’s not a 

chance of you getting away with browsing their wares in your pants.

Aside from being a stage for videos of people injuring themselves and filling cups....... the web holds another, more beneficial purpose. 

It’s a veritable treasure trove of information. 

The answers to practically any question the mind can conjure can be found in mere seconds. For example:

• The standard seat height of your average dining room chair is 18-20 inches.

• Karl Marx was definitely NOT gay with Friedrich Engels.

The Large Hadron Collider in Geneva has so far failed to destroy the world.

Having that kind of access to that much knowledge is a fantastic thing. Education is, after all the key to progression of self. 

However, can you educate yourself without the aid of a teacher or specialist?

Without the constraints of context raw information serves as nothing more than a mildly interesting pub fact.

There was a time when people relied on the printed word for data consumption.

1988 saw the publication of a very important book for those wishing to delve a little deeper.

Stephen Hawking’s ‘A Brief History Of Time’ provided an insight into a world that many thought themselves too uneducated to comment upon.

Although definitely not the first of its kind, a book about Black holes, bizarre quantum level sorcery and the very origin of the universe explained by Cambridge University’s professor of Mathematics were enough to peak the interest of practically all and sundry. So much so that conversations about the latest goings on in Albert Square were replaced with ponderings regarding the metaphysical nature intrinsic to preventative observation of quarks and gluons. [citation needed]

The fact that Hawking’s layman gospel has, to date, sold over ten million copies and spent 237 weeks on the bestseller’s list is testament to the idea that people want to learn themselves up on some of those big league smarts.

The reason he was so successful where others may have failed is that he was astutely aware of his audience omitting all equations, bar that famous one that begins with ‘E’, under the proviso that each would halve his readership. 

That didn’t help it from being bloody difficult to understand though.

Layman’s terms equate to pure accessibility.

As of January 2011, there are 282 books in the Oxford University Press,  ‘A Very Short Introduction’ range with subjects as diverse as social and cultural anthropology, animal rights, existentialism and witchcraft.

The Guardian published a slew of ‘Introduction’ books with comic book illustrations either for the inquisitive illiterate or children with a somewhat worrying interest in Nietzsche and 

any scientist worth his salt now has a TV show with a tie in publication.

Physics poster boy Brian Cox represents the next step. A hip young science buff, ex keyboardist for pop group D:Ream with nice hair (Something that’s apparently quite important).

The people who actively sought out their learning have been appeased. The hip young folk with nice hair like Brian’s are an untapped resource. 

His epic show ‘Wonders of the Solar System’ drew in over 2.8 million viewers for its first episode. The companion book sold in equal measure and his latest print, which was slyly promoted on the show, was snapped up in droves.

Does providing ‘dumbed down’ explanations of painfully complicated concepts hold any negative consequences though?

You can take it one of two ways. First is the idea that everyone should have the right to educate themselves further than academia currently allows. No one wants to be a mindless consumer who’s only talent is being able to name every Big Brother winner in chronological order. What these publications, television shows and caches of web information provide is a catalyst. A spark of inspiration for an inquisitive mind to broaden its horizons.

However, these are stepping stones to further reading or learning. The second point is that people can, and do, take these explanations as gospel. The amount of people I’ve met who actually think Erwin Schrödinger put a live cat in a box is rather worrying. Taking this and other ‘lay’ explanations at face value offers you no understanding of what they are truly about.

For the time being the only downside to the layperson rising is a higher calibre of pub conversation and questions like:

 “You haven’t read ‘The Selfish Gene’? Richard Dawkins is a God!” [NB: amusing irony].

So, maybe for the moment it’s the rise of the smartarse.

The rest of us are too distracted by Brian’s shiny hair to do anything else.

[Review] Stateless- Matilda (Published in NOW THEN issue 35 Feb 2011)

In a world run by social networking websites, the ancient adage ‘patience is a virtue that causes no shame’ appears as more of a vice than anything else. When everything happens practically instantaneously, it becomes disposable. Like a metaphorical Rustler's BBQ Rib.

Take music as an example. The almost embarrassing amount of EPs, free downloads and leaked advanced releases on the internet means that everything is ultimately accessible to everyone at a mere mouse click's notice. When was the last time you bought an album, sat cross-legged in front of your speakers and listened from start to epic closure while reading the album’s sample credits and eating a packet of Maltesers?

June, 1998.

The idea that Leeds quartet Stateless are bringing to the fray is one of indulgence. Their latest LP Matilda is a proper album. It begs for high fidelity, expensive headphones and a mere 49 minutes of your time.

The almost frightening scope of the LP is far exceeded by the sheer talent of its performers. Lead vocalist Chris James’ haunting tones, Kidkanevil’s trademark tribal poundings and bleak bleeping, bassist Justin Percival’s unexpectedly deep, soulful serenade and drummer David Levin’s, well...drumming.

The first release from the album, ‘Ariel’ plays like a Romany gypsy neophile’s dream. The novelty of Mediterranean guitar noodlings are appeased by bass notes that ‘womp’ and/or ‘squelch’ and a steady, crispy, half-time beat. The melancholy it exhibits is beautifully crafted into the album's remaining ten offerings, no more so than in the simply gorgeous ‘I’m On Fire’, with one stoic waltz to another, deep and broody crooning and a crescendo that sounds like the trailer for a Christopher Nolan reboot of Edith Piaf’s film biography.

‘Miles to Go’ and its haunted pianos, epic bass swells and ‘this sweater is thicker than I remember’ warmth implore rewind after rewind. Collaboration with the Balanescu String Quartet ‘Song for the Outsider’ is just bloody great.

The sheer fact that each track blends so beautifully from the last don’t half make it hard to extract their individual merits; when everything works so well as a whole, taking away its constituent parts risks damaging its integrity.

If you can be virtuous enough, sit comfortably, break out your Sennheisers and pick your confectionary wisely. I had a Caramac.

[Review] The Death Set- Slap Slap Slap Pound Up Down Snap. (Published in NOW THEN issue 34 Jan 2011)

Remember ‘Agadoo’? Remember the inherent meaning encapsulated within its ethereal beauty and how it spoke of a time more conflicted, of a people more disheartened by the very essence of their culture? Of course you don’t, because it was about harassing a pineapple.

Songs about nothing generally hold about as much gravity as a helium filled effigy of X Factor's Cher Lloyd. It would seem that pure enthusiasm and aggressive conviction dilute novelty rather well. Imagine Black Lace in torn off denim/leather ensembles, screaming of a ‘hula melody’ while spitting on an adoring Wolverhampton crowd, and the whole idea of fruit abuse becomes a little more subversive.

‘Slap Slap Slap Pound Up Down Snap’ by Brooklyn/Baltimore-based punk electronica outfit The Death Set is testament to that ethos. Couple that with outstanding beats from Spank Rock producer XXXChange, and a little ditty about an über cool Brooklyn handshake becomes a two-minute paradoxical tour de force.

Clattering drums, androgynous screaming and more top end than you could shake a rack of compressors at coalesce with XXXChange’s penchant for squelchy basslines and vocal stuttering superbly. Everything advances with such a frantic sense of urgency that the abrupt closure at 1:57 seems so untimely it warrants an immediate re-listen.

The single provides two B-sides in the form of surprisingly uplifting, ‘bliss punk’ offering ‘Been Too Long’, and an aggressive re-working of the already well-received Diplo collaboration, ‘Yo David Chase! You P.O.V Shot Me In The Head’. The latter steps away from Diplo’s droning synth funk to make room for neo punk sounds to come windmilling through like Sid Vicious in a space helmet and hi tops. The departure from the twee, glittery, hardcore-flavoured pop of their first full length release Worldwideisn’t overtly striking, but it lends enough depth to their sound to gain them a deservedly larger fan base.

Combine the fact the single clocks in at a frustratingly short six minutes with the knowledge that the next LP, Michel Poiccard, is set to be released way into the murky future of March 2011, and it’s going to be a distinct struggle to keep The Death Set as current as they should be.

It is, however, going to be more of a struggle to get over having to listen to ‘Agadoo’ to write this. That’s three minutes I'll never get back.