music | Music Boats

The wonderful adventure: why Slipping Through My Fingers is ABBA’s tragic masterpiece
16
Dec

A devastating account of a mother’s loss doubles as a universal meditation on the human compulsion to cling on to the past in a pop single that mixes ecstasy and agony in a way no other song has before or since.

Slipping Through My Fingers is twice as old as me, and yet, unlike any song released before my birth – or really any song released before 2015, for that matter – it stirs something deep within my soul. It’s had a modest renaissance other the last year after Declan McKenna, an indie rock figurehead of my own generation, released a tasteful if unspectacular cover of the track, which somehow remains his second most popular song on Spotify. It’s obvious in McKenna’s tender, wavering vocals that this song means as much to him as it does to me, and yet on paper our adoration of it makes no sense. We should be reaching for remix-ripe disco hits like Gimme Gimme Gimme or TikTok-able snippets like Angeleyes’s chorus or Chiquitita’s outro, not a ballad told unambiguously from the perspective of a Swedish mother in her thirties. Presumably like McKenna, I cannot directly relate to experiencing your child leaving home – on to school, university, or marriage – for the first time, although I have played the “absent-minded schoolgirl” in my own departure to university, and have watched my parents process some of Agnetha Fältskog’s pain in real life.

But the daughter (now 51-year-old Lena Ulvaeus) is far from the only thing slipping away in this pop masterpiece. Add a comma (“Slipping through my fingers, all the time”) and suddenly time, not the daughter, is the song’s principal subject. “It’s okay, we have time,” Donna reassures Sophie moments before STMF begins in Mamma Mia!, but really she’s fooling herself – STMF primarily deals with the disturbing mystery of time’s “funny tricks”. How can a lifelong bond between mother and daughter suddenly be a thing of the past without warning? Even when it feels like there are some things, love perhaps, that can make time stand still, why do memories inevitably fade, and joy revert to a sort of distanced numbness? Why is time so slippery? “Sometimes I wish that I could freeze the picture,” the narrator admits in the song’s only dud lyric (pictures are, by definition, already frozen), a line that only makes proper sense when heard over that spine-tingling melody and Anni-Frid Lyngstad’s shrill vocal harmonies.

What’s most poignant about STMF, however, is how the mother mourns the idea that she might one day know her daughter entirely. “Each time I think I’m close to knowing, she keeps on growing,” she reflects beautifully. It’s a line imbued with equal parts melancholy and hope – ‘knowing’ her daughter may be forever just out of reach for the narrator, but what a gift it is to have a daughter so nebulous, so unfathomably special that she just “keeps on growing”. In the song’s moving rendition in Mamma Mia!, for a while Donna sings to Sophie’s back, the latter blissfully unaware of her mother’s agony as she preens herself in the mirror. “Do I really see what’s in her mind?” Donna mirrors back. To love is to know one another on the deepest possible level, but STMF comes to terms with the fact that we can never really “know” each other. The daughter will always have surprises for her mother, and indeed the mother hardly even knows herself, ending a verse with “And why? I just don’t know”. Such mysteries are the beauty of living.

That aching emotion you can hear in the music alone – the pull from major immediately to minor in the first two chords, the way a rising, major-chord bridge somehow sounds utterly desolate – perfectly complements the core of STMF’s exquisite tragedy: the mother mourns her daughter, but she must let her go. Crucially, the daughter is not simply leaving – the mother is actively letting her go, having come to the painful conclusion that her sorrow is the unavoidable cost of her daughter’s freedom. “Will you give me away?” Sophie asks, referring to her wedding, still just about young enough to act on her mother’s advice. Donna swallows a yes and nods. She lets her daughter go out of love, and yet weeps as a result of that same, heart-wrenching love.

On top of all that tragedy is a certain world-weariness in ABBA’s swooping melodies and plodding drum groove. This is, after all, a “well-known sadness” and an “old, melancholy feeling”. Has the narrator felt pain this before? Perhaps this agonising dilemma – whether to hold on to the past in vain, or to let go and mourn – is an integral part of human condition? We all have a compulsion to cling on to what we know, and yet the universe transpires to forever keep changing against our will in ways both subtle and profound.

Remarkably, despite the specificity of the lyrics, STMF succeeds (like all the best pop songs) in being readily malleable into whatever meaning the listener sees fit. Whilst traveling this summer, I found myself overlooking the tragedy and reading into the song’s ample euphoria. I took it as a reminder that this moment, in all it’s thrillingly novel glory – navigating towards a sparkling Eiffel Tower at night, summitting a rugged peak alone in the Bosnian mountains, watching the sunset from a boat on the Bosphorus – is of course only transient. In fact, it’s precisely that transience that makes those moments so special. After I arrived home, I found STMF morphed into a rallying cry for a return to that trip’s whole-hearted spirit of adventure and personal development. “What happened to the wonderful adventures?” Fältskog muses, and I hear a call to snap out of all my obsessing over tricky coursework or a patch of unhappiness and remind myself that this too is an adventure and, like the daughter, I will “keep on growing”.

Tellingly, STMF ends completely unresolved. Fältskog returns to the first verse having apparently learnt little from her revelations about love and loss, and the daughter finally waves goodbye, leaving only the sounds of a clock quietly ticking in the background. The mother doesn’t know what comes next for her daughter, and in fact she can’t know; this is not her story to tell any more. The daughter will continue to grow. Perhaps she will become a mother herself, or maybe she’ll find cause to run back to her mother for a spell, temporarily reigniting those wonderful adventures. But without any doubt, at some point along the way, the daughter will feel the full weight of her mother’s thoroughly human dilemma: to hold on, or to let go. In ways big and small, this is a question we all must tackle over and over in our lives. Long may Slipping Through My Fingers keep me asking it.

Ezra Collective: Dance, No One’s Watching review – jazz champions play to their strengths
7
Oct

The jazz group that set the Mercury Prize alight last year return with an album that goes all in on infectious dance grooves. Their knack for melody seems to have been forgotten in the party, but this bloated record does conclude with the most moving track of this band’s career.

The level of study I devote to albums reviewed on this blog varies, but sometimes, like with this latest Ezra Collective album, I take my journalistic duties to give the entire record a fair hearing seriously: I sit down in a darkened room save for a dim desk lamp, scribbling details of every track in a notepad and staring blankly at Spotify as the highlighted song title gradually works its way down the track list. It took about 20 minutes of listening to Dance, No One’s Watching before I properly read the album title writ large across the top of the screen. Alone on a rainy night in my bedroom, it felt like an instruction addressed directly to me. In fact, cowering over a desk is the exact opposite effect of Ezra Collective’s third album which is, unsurprisingly, a heartfelt ode to the power of dancing.

Ezra are labelled a jazz act – and are the most commercially successful act in the nebulous genre of UK jazz by some margin – but anyone who’s seen the five Londoners take to a stage since their emergence five years ago will know compulsive dance grooves have always been an essential part of this band’s appeal. Their performance at last year’s Mercury Prize (fittingly of a song called Victory Dance) had the attendees in the cabaret seating setting aside their glasses of champagne to clap and frug along to the infectious Latin groove like the band members themselves. It was a joyful musical fireworks show that seemed to render the competition a forgone conclusion. Ezra Collective were destined to be the Mercury Prize’s first jazz champions, and they showed up ready to claim the trophy.

Unfortunately their follow-up album, Dance, No One’s Watching lacks a track quite as thrilling as Victory Dance, but there’s no shortage of peppy Afrobeat grooves to move your hips to. The standout is Ajala, named after a legendary Nigerian journalist who was so busy with his travels his name became Yoruba slang for someone who can’t sit still. It is a fittingly up-tempo, restless number, with Ife Ogunjobi and James Mollison’s skipping melodies played in blunt unison – Ezra Collective are a band far more concerned with delivering a straightforward good time than trying any fiddly counterpoint or melodic harmonies. Ajala has groove in buckets, but what it’s lacking is everything else that makes for a good jazz composition, namely an interesting B section (here the melody simply drops out for 16 bars) and a wild solo.

Ajala is far from the only track where Ezra Collective’s tunnel vision on producing a danceable groove leaves the melodies feeling underwritten. N29 is essentially just one (admittedly very funky) bass riff lacking in hardly any musical development at all, let alone a melody to hold on to. Opener The Herald starts promisingly enough, but again it’s as if they’ve forgotten to write half of the chorus, and Ogunjobi’s trumpet solo is given no room to grow. The devotion to a rock solid groove is admirable – and brothers Femi and TJ Koleoso are without a doubt one of the tightest drum and bass duos in the business – but it should be possible for a funky, repetitive groove and interesting harmonic shifts to exist in the same song.

Intriguingly, Yazmin Lacey and Olivia Dean’s featured tracks – two of the very finest voices on the UK jazz scene – offer a relatively restrained take on the dance-focused thesis. Lacey’s smoky tones are a fine match for the tender horn lines on God Gave Me Feet For Dancing, but with no-nonsense lyrics like “Give me bass line / Give me dollar wine” it’s odd the band don’t rise above a muted throb all song. Dean’s track, No One’s Watching Me is slinkier and sexier and features Ogunjobi’s best solo on the record – each note placed with unusual restraint and care – although Dean’s chorus is scant.

Further down a bloated track list, Shaking Body and Expensive offer a purple patch. The former is pure Ezra Collective joy and a natural successor to Victory Dance, with a Latin hook bubbly enough to justify its many repeats. Mastermind of the keyboard Joe Armon-Jones offers luscious jazz voicings typical of his brand of frantic genius, and Femi Koleoso’s hammering of the ride cymbal in the chorus is a joy to behold. Expensive improves on the light-footed Afrobeat of the record’s first half with intelligent, patient sax and trumpet solos that prove Ogunjobi and Mollison have done their jazz homework, moving beyond the crowd-pleasing screeches found on their most raucous party starters.

The penultimate track appears at first to be some surplus jazz musings from Armon-Jones on piano, but the song is called Have Patience for a reason – Everybody immediately follows, a magnificent album closer and one of the most beautiful tunes the band have ever penned. In an album lacking in strong melodies, here is a beauty: an elegant, sighing rise and fall, shimmering within Armon-Jones’ textured piano chords before emerging in a solemn trumpet line and, rousingly, a distant choir. Before long, Obunjobi and Mollison are up to what they do best – rapturous, euphoric improvisations that come together and fall apart again like two birds in flight. It’s a piece ripe for crowd participation and a poignant marker of how far they’ve come: a band with collective in the name, experts at uniting audiences from summer festivals to glamorous awards shows through dance and crowd participation. Dance, No One’s Watching may not go down as their finest record, but that precious Ezra Collective spirit remains alive and well.

Cobra Spell: 666 review – kick-ass hair metal runs wild
16
Aug

An outrageously eye-catching album artwork marks the debut the of the brand new, all female lineup of Sonia Anubis’ Cobra Spell. Alex Walden checks out to their latest album to see if they could produce that rare magic: genuinely fresh-feeling music inspired by the 80s.

If turning 20 taught me one thing, it’s that all the stuff that you gave up as a teenager to “fit in” suddenly becomes really cool again. For me, it all hit after three months spent in New York to which I returned with the urge to swap my skateboard for a guitar. It was while browsing for a new axe that I came across an advertisement from Jackson Guitars which showed Cobra Spell founder and lead guitarist Sonia Anubis absolutely shredding her custom made “Warrior from Hell” to Cobra Spell’s leading single, The Devil Inside of Me.

Now I was impressed, but it was the next day when the magic hit as I found myself still thinking about that video over and over again. I couldn’t remember how the solo went, hell I couldn’t even remember Sonia Anubis’ name, but something about the brief build up to the solo before it all came crashing down in such a spectacular fashion was stuck in my head. After a few hours of not being able to shake it, I decided to bite the bullet and download Cobra Spell’s 666 to see if I could shake the brainworm from within my head. Yet as I delved deeper, I found myself feeling this sense of joy and excitement that I haven’t felt in a long time.

The 80’s are back! (sort of)

Ok so let’s start by addressing the elephant in the room. This album reeks of 80’s glam metal. Anytime I write about anything to do with classic or hard rock, I find myself always saying the same thing about how rock is well past it’s best by date and unfortunately the glory days of the genre are well and truly behind us. That being said, you can imagine the feeling of dread as I read “Heavy rock band stuck in the 80s” in Cobra Spell’s Instagram bio as any rock fan knows that if a band describes themselves as being “stuck in the 80s” then it’s highly likely that they’re extremely mediocre. But man did I eat my words… and man was I happy about it.

Cobra Spell have managed to capture that epic, badass, bedroom poster, no fucks given aspect of 80s glam metal that we all secretly love, even if we don’t acknowledge it yet. With brash song titles like S.E.X, Satan is a Woman and The Devil Inside of Me, you can’t help but feel the rawness behind the album purely from the titles alone. Yeah we all know someone who is going to question us for listening to songs with such vulgar titles, but that’s what makes it so good; It’s excitingly rebellious while also shamelessly fun.

It’s fast, it’s fun, but most importantly, it’s freeing

Despite it’s heavy metal lyrical roots, this project is not all about Devil worshipping and Satan, for it’s when you look into the lyrics of the album that you realise how the devilish themes are merely a front for the messages of female empowerment, as quoted by Sonia Anubis herself in an interview for Metal Remains.

“The album is about rebellion, it’s about women in power… it’s some kind of liberation of expression for women, liberation of sexuality and also a celebration as an all-female formation.”

And it’s that exact feeling that passes on through the music. Just from looking at lyrics such as “I am your drug, you’re addicted” ,“Don’t want to give you expectation, don’t be a fool to my sensations” from S.E.X. and “Why do you try on her, if you know, you know that she’s too much for you” from Bad Girl Crew we get this sense of empowerment for women. These songs aren’t about sex and Satan so it can annoy your grandparents, these are songs about women finally feeling liek the sexy queens that they are. In a music space where the stereotype is men touring the world bagging any groupie they want, Cobra Spell are flipping that narrative in a positive way.

An audial Pack-a-Punch

While it’s obvious from the first listen that 666 sounds fresh out of the 80s, I must admit that the quality of this album is far from anything to come out of that era. Even I am partial to dusting off the old Ratt, Metallica and Van Halen records from time to time but what bugs me most about them is how I’m instantly reminded that the remastered versions on my phone sound so much better; It makes you wonder why people obsess so much over original pressings of records in the first place.

While yes it’s obvious that due to 40 years of technological advancements it will obviously sound better, you can’t deny how rich this album sounds. From the soft synth backing, to the iconic chug from a down picked guitar string to the fierce nature of Kris Vega’s vocals – with 666, the crisp audio quality goes hand in hand with the clear talent of each member. Normally I love when an album sounds like they’ve just turned everything up to the max so it can wallop your eardrums, but this album sounds as if every specific instrument has been precisely refined so that it compliments everything else. Between the thud of the drums, the rumble of the bass, the squeals of the guitar and the ferocity of the vocals, your brain is left almost scrambled as you’re thrown around between such talented members.

We’ve reached a point in rock music where the kids inspired by the golden era of rock have collided with the technological prowess of the 21st century music industry, and it sounds thick and beautiful.

While I do love the fast-paced tracks within the album, it’s not all kick-ass and take names for the quintet. Songs like Love = Love and one of my personal favourites Fly Away pose as emotional ballads for when you’re not in the mood for rocking the house but still want to listen to something impactful. While the bread-and-butter elements of a rock ballad, such as a prominent singing voice and a slow but moving guitar solo, reign high on these songs. Their prominence is challenged by various hard-hitting backers such as synthesisers, vocal harmonies and even a saxophone solo. I mean come on, when was the last time you heard someone kill a sax solo on a rock ballad?

Cobra Spell has gone through a few lineup changes before, but it really feels like with this one Sonia’s got it right. This album is hot fresh glam metal and there’s no messing with it. It sounds as if this album was born to perform, to blow kids’ and adults’ minds all over the world. With an album this good, it’s a shame that they weren’t around in the 80s as I’m sure that they would’ve done huge numbers. What is certain though is that I know for a fact next time Cobra Spell play in England, I will be there.

SOFT PLAY: HEAVY JELLY review – redemptive riot delivers on all fronts
9
Aug

The Kent punk duo SOFT PLAY hold nothing back on their deafening fifth album. There are ample pulse-quickening riffs to whip up the mosh pit, but also plenty of nuance and introspection to reward repeat listens, not least a tender surprise at its climax.

It’s an unfair cliché that punk music—and loud rock music in general—is all about anger and hatred. Enter a mosh pit at some loud and sweaty bunker-like venue, as I did a few weeks ago in Leeds’ grungy Key Club, and the first thing you’ll notice is apparent violence: limbs flying, bodies separating and then converging at high speed, the occasional boot to the head from a crowd surfer. But the second thing will be the compassion lying just under the surface: the way the chaos stopped for a few seconds when my mosh-loving companion Ewan picked up a reveller who had dangerously ended up on the floor, the way the performers speak of gratitude and love, albeit so passionately they sound enraged. Ultimately, that’s what punk is about: not anger, but straightforward, extreme passion. Indeed, there’s often more camaraderie and mutual respect to be found at a heavy metal gig than at a pretentious jazz concert or your average pop gig where drunken fans bay for the hits. It’s in the lyrics too. IDLES, perhaps the biggest punk group in the country at the moment, recently released an album featuring choruses with savage lyrics like “I really, really love my brother,” and “the gratitude runs through my veins.” Listen too closely, and suddenly punk sounds like a rather schmaltzy love fest.

And yet, sometimes there are songs like the third track on SOFT PLAY’s superb new album, a song tellingly titled Act Violently. It’s a bruising three minutes squarely about vocalist Isaac Holman’s hatred towards reckless e-scooter riders, and he doesn’t hold back. “If I wasn’t such a loving bloke I’d kick your fucking head into the road, cunt,” he rages in the first verse over a tumult of scratchy guitars and swaggering drums. Perhaps Act Violently could be spun as a harmless outlet for rage, a way of safely transposing actual violence into song, but really this is a track all about unadulterated hatred. It’s also a fantastic piece of music. Laurie Vincent’s booming drums splash around the perfectly synced vocals and guitars in the verses, and Holman’s chant of “you make me wanna act violently” makes for one of the catchiest choruses of the year. It helps that Holman isn’t entirely serious in his message, allowing for some humor when a bandmate offers him a cup of tea mid-rant, before eventually getting his sweet revenge and sending that e-scooter rider flying over an uncovered drain hole in the middle eight. It’s a track indicative of HEAVY JELLY as a whole: propulsive and compelling on first listen, but not without its clever nuances and shrewd self-awareness.

The album’s flagship track is undoubtedly Punk’s Dead, a sure-footed lead single about the backlash the band received when they changed their name from Slaves to the ostensibly tame SOFT PLAY in 2022. It was a public response colored by today’s ‘culture wars’, the band being accused of over-the-top political correctness enforced by an apparent army of “liberal lefties.” Rather than simply defending their choice, Holman opts to simply present his opponents’ arguments back at them. “Are there any real men in Britain?” he bellows ironically, before a chorus that reads “I don’t like change / Why can’t you just stay the same?” Those might sound like unexciting lyrics, but a chorus about wanting to stay the same is sacrilege in the world of punk, a genre built on the relentless demand for social and political change. Rather than make his own argument, Holman lets his opponents join up the dots. If the spirit of punk is dead, as they claim, then could they be the ones that killed it? It works as a genius, comprehensive takedown of those who attacked the band for their name change, and what’s more, it’s the biggest hit of their career. For SOFT PLAY, surely Punk’s Dead feels like a perfect victory over their haters.

Holman employs a similar lyrical trick on Mirror Muscles, this time presenting the dangerous body-obsessed world of ‘gym lads’ with little direct criticism, although this time it’s harder to tell whether the band is commenting on the risks of tying your self-worth to your muscle mass, or whether, as they said in a recent interview with Rock Sound, they just really like to work out. Either way, the riffs are nothing short of titanic, and the oppressive world of the sweaty gym with its testosterone-pumped hulks is effectively conveyed.

It’s not the only moment on the album that seems to touch on masculinity in the modern world. Isaac Is Typing… is about Holman’s OCD but, as all male mental health struggles must be these days, the vulnerability is hidden under many layers of self-defense. The guitars almost drown out Holman’s confessions, and his screamed vocals make it easy to overlook the vulnerability that comes with admitting to going to therapy, or lines like “my brain is a battlefield, I’m struggling to hold.” It’s an honest, telling indication of how it feels to struggle with the supposedly fluffy, emasculating problem of ‘mental health’ as a man today. Give us some boyish heavy rock music and a heavy layer of vocal distortion and maybe, just maybe, we might be able to admit our vulnerabilities amidst the blanket of noise.

If it’s starting to sound like HEAVY JELLY is a cerebral commentary on modern society, it’s not. Isaac Is Typing… is swiftly followed by the up-tempo party starter Bin Juice Disaster, which is simply about the habit of pushing down rubbish into the bin instead of taking it out, albeit with its own connotations of self-destruction and neglect. There’s more obvious fun in John Wick (chorus: “I’m John Wick, bitch”) and the rapid, post-therapy rant The Mushroom and the Swan, which sports a relentless drum groove destined to ignite dozens of mosh pits when the duo goes on tour in October.

By far the boldest risk of the album comes with the closing track, Everything and Nothing, which starts, jarringly, with a mandolin, and later features a violin solo. Here, at last, Holman’s lyrics are given space to become their most heartfelt. “I see your smile in other people’s faces / Memories and traces / I wish you could’ve stayed,” Holman sings heartbreakingly. It’s not the catchiest song on the album, but it’s easily the most lyrically devastating, and a shockingly brave closer after such a loud and rowdy album. Aggression is easy, comfortable even, and SOFT PLAY are very good at writing aggressive music, but to close their album with a song about raw grief, with no gritty riffs or self-deprecating jokes to hide behind, takes real guts. “Setting sun and a starling murmuration / Amongst the devastation / I feel love,” Holman concludes beautifully at the end of this supposedly angry punk album. It makes you wonder: perhaps it really was about love all along.

Shannon & the Clams: The Moon Is In The Wrong Place review – wildly entertaining dive into the abyss
21
Jun

Raucous 60s rockabilly might sound like an unlikely match for an album unequivocally about grief, but Shannon & the Clams pull it off miraculously in this deeply personal record, which shifts from joy to despair – and often a complex mix of the two – with astonishing ease.

To the casual listener, the seventh album from Californian indie stalwarts Shannon and the Clams is a riot. The Moon Is In The Wrong Place is an endearingly fuzzy trip back to the wilder side of 60s pop: there’s sashaying doo-wop grooves, gloriously melodramatic vocals, a dollop of rockabilly barnstormers. Take the opening track, for instance, which ends theatrically with a flamenco-style coda over a long held note in the vocals, landing with an almighty stomp that’s only lacking a few castanets to bring the point home. It’s a sign of the up-tempo joys to come: The Moon Is In The Wrong Place is an album plenty interesting enough to entertain even before the lyrics can be fully understood.

It’s only by the closing song, Life Is Unfair, that the tight subject matter of The Moon becomes impossible to ignore. “How do you expect me to understand that the love of my life was taken away from me?” Shannon Shaw asks, an opening lyric so stark that even the chugging drums and cheery strummed guitar can’t hide its pain. It turns out The Moon Is In The Wrong Place is an album squarely about grief. The whole project is a result of Shaw’s personal tragedy, namely when Shaw’s fiancé died in a car accident just weeks before their wedding.

It doesn’t take much digging to find the emotional devastation left behind by that fateful day throughout this record. The Vow shuffles its way through an image of the wedding that never was, Shaw begging for the vows she’ll never hear. “First time in my life things fall into place,” she laments. It should sound dour and heavy, but the miracle of this album is Shaw’s knack of finding the light in the darkest of times. “It seems like it’s over, but forever you’re mine,” she concludes optimistically in that same song, letting all sorrow be forgotten with that raucous flamenco finale. It’s not just a satisfying surprise, but surely an act of Herculean bravery from Shaw, who seems willing to tease out whatever drops of hope she can find in such serious and personal subject matter.

Indeed, The Vow is just a taste of the twin themes of delight and misery weaving through Wrong Place. Big Wheel, for instance, is an electrifying piece of garage rock that I’m certain would have achieved world domination – probably alongside a wheel-themed dance move – had it been released sixty years ago. The chorus in particular, with its hulking bass riff and belted vocals, is an impulsive finger-snapper. Bean Fields provides the album’s sunniest moment, graced with almost irritatingly merry plonked piano and lyrics about a wild romance in the fields “where the bugs sing” – the fact that one of the lovers in question is no longer living is only the subtlest of dark undertones, easily lost in the uninhibited slide guitar solo and atmospheric hum of cicadas.

That’s not to say Wrong Place attempts to ignore the darker sides of grief. Oh So Close, Yet So Far is a deeply poignant doo-wop number that sets out Shaw’s conciliatory vision of her finance not being completely lost, but instead poetically subsumed into nature. “No I can’t touch you / Cause you are every star at night,” she rasps, reaching for a part of her lover – his soul, or perhaps literally his atoms – that will exist for eternity. She’s less certain on Real of Magic, a deceptively simple ballad about hallucination, complete with haunting call-and-response backing vocals that seems to mirror the conflicting voices in Shaw’s head.

The album’s title track and central triumph follows, a grippingly distorted descent into genuine terror. Guitars mimic an ‘SOS’ morse code call as Shaw jabs out a closely harmonised one-note melody to the words “The sun burned down when you left this world / Now there is some imposter in the sky”, surely about as epic as opening lyrics get. A furious pair of congas propel the ensuing torrent, evoking the deep-seated sense of cosmic ‘wrongness’ that comes with suddenly losing someone you had assumed would be around for your whole life. It’s the most exciting, darkly compelling piece of indie rock you’re likely to hear all year.

Perhaps inevitably, the less attention-grabbing corners of the album feel superfluous by comparison. The sharply focussed subject matter is briefly lost in the portion of the record where Cody Blanchard takes over vocals, and UFO’s psychedelic account of alien abduction feels slightly clichéd and melodically takes perhaps a little bit too much inspiration from House of the Rising Sun. Blanchard’s best contribution comes with In the Grass, a gentle acoustic guitar number which finds a pretty melody to match his country rasp.

Wrong Place is, undoubtedly, Shannon Shaw’s record, and it’s she who neatly wraps up proceedings with Life Is Unfair. It’s a short track that epitomises the album’s remarkable strength – the delicate balancing act between sorrow and optimism. The final words come in the form of a typically bouncy singalong hook in the major key which masks deep layers of a sadness that only feels partly quashed. “Life is unfair yet beautiful,” Shaw concludes, “only because you were here.”

Home Counties: Exactly As It Seems review – a masterpiece in diverse post-punk
4
Jun

After the addition of a new member, upgrading Home Counties from a 5-piece to a 6-piece, the band has truly found their sound and developed it perfectly to cover and tackle many problems in a war against the mundane. Matthew Rowe explains all.

Formerly Buckinghamshire-based band Home Counties have been on the scene for a while, but have unfortunately stayed under my radar until recently. Whilst I was shuffling on Spotify, I was lucky enough to hear one of their earlier songs, Back to the 70s, which instantly struck me. In their earlier days, they adopted a much more post-punk central sound while attempting to maintain upbeat instrumental tracks to accompany them. This was a nice change to the genre’s status quo, especially as it appeases my love for funk and post-punk, forming the new genre of post-funk.

Before making their debut album, Home Counties picked up pianist and
second vocalist Lois Kelly, who I believe was the key to fully fleshing out their songs. The combination of Kelly, as well as already established
vocalist Will Harrison, is executed to perfection, with both voices able
to deliver loud, cutting lines as well as much more melodic background vocals
that work in harmony with one another. The introduction of Kelly also changed
the band’s sound, tackling their funky, disco-inspired instrumentals head-on.
This leads to a set of much stronger-sounding tracks and keeps a consistent
theme that varies just enough to avoid too many repetitive singles.

Picking up a second vocalist was the best thing Home Counties could have done

Home Counties have managed to stay completely balanced on a scale from having either the instrumentals or the vocals drowning out the other, both in their mixing but also in the musical intricacy and the importance of the lyrics. One great example of this is Cradle, Coffin, which boasts a very punchy 4/4 beat, but the band alongside both Harrison’s and Kelly’s lyrics work perfectly, allowing enough focus to lay off the beat while they get their point across to us. This balance allows for a particularly enjoyable listening experience. I have found that it’s great background music if you are working, but also a great album to sit down and listen to in its entirety.

A lot of hard-hitting and relatable themes are explored in this project.
This was inspired by the band moving to the big city of London from their
previously calm, out-of-city lives, which is a big change for anyone. The first
single from this album to be released was Bethnal Green, a song tackling the topic of gentrification and how it can lead to the feeling of not belonging to where you came from. “Just say you don’t contest me, just say you won’t forget me” is a particularly poignant example of the two. Another song, You Break It, You Bought It directly attacks the general public’s, and specifically my least favourite kind of collector, landlords (M3 Lettings and Fit Property; if you are reading this, I do not like you). This track nails it when it comes to the state of renting as well as providing a brilliant, funky instrumental including my favourite bassline on the project from Bill Griffin. The vocals provide both an insight as to how predatory these companies are as well as their rather personal thoughts, “Lynching landlords in my dreams” being rather extreme, but getting the point across.

In some of their songs, they have also adapted a newer, more electronic style of music, my favourite example being the title track, Exactly As It Seems. This kicks off with an instrumental that is akin to the intro music to ITV’s The Job Lot. This results in an 8-bit-sounding backing track, which you wouldn’t think would work, yet it does almost seamlessly with the dynamic duo of vocalists I have grown to love over this album. This is also apparent in Funk U Up, which boasts a very impressive electronic keyboard track straight out of a futuristic soundscape to accompany a song about constantly falling behind and messing up.

One thing Home Counties does to a very high standard is build songs up to a huge crescendo, often releasing the anger built up throughout the song in a blaze of funk glory. This is done best in Wild Guess, which is the single that made me most excited for the album. This starts nice and slowly but builds up from stripped-back instrumentals, setting a calm tone for most of the song while solemnly putting across a message about the cost of living crisis before hitting the final chorus, which elevates the instrumental into a catchy, ride cymbal driven melody composed of all the previous parts.

As well as developing their general sound, they have done an incredible job of developing their structuring and variety

Their final track in this album puts together all of these factors of individual greatness in previous tracks into one brilliant finale, Posthumous Spreadsheets. It starts off with a very Beatles-esque Come Together inspired drum track and much like Wild Guess, continues on relatively calmly at the beginning, demonstrating their ability to deliver strong monologues above an electronic beat, before kicking in halfway through. This song wraps up the themes covered elegantly, with the final song being about how awful the pressures and stress of a modern office is through a combination of satire and much more serious lyrics about how difficult it is to enjoy yourself whilst working at the bottom.

To summarise this project, I was blown away both during the release of the singles and the grand release of the album. They have blended two of my favourite genres perfectly and have given me a new view of what post-punk truly means. Home Counties are a very underrated band, and I hope they gain more traction soon, so if you’re reading this, please go and listen to them.

Maggie Rogers: Don’t Forget Me review – assured third album brims with singalong choruses
24
Apr

The ballads are few and far between on Maggie Rogers’ brilliantly written third record, which delivers one singalong belter after another. Don’t Forget Me doesn’t reinvent the singer-songwriter wheel, but what a fabulous wheel this particular album is.

The origin story of Maryland singer-songwriter Maggie Rogers’ career is the stuff of pop legend these days. Rogers was 22 when she took a music production masterclass at the New York University Tisch School of the Arts, which involved the no doubt intimidating task of playing an original song to one of the most famous producers in the world, Pharrell Williams. The song, Alaska, floored Williams, who’s first response was “I have zero, zero notes for that.” The resulting clip went viral (a remarkable watch still available on YouTube), and the rest is history.

History, because Williams really had discovered a US megastar in that small New York recording studio. Just four years later, Rogers would be at the Grammys. This year, that shy music student has a 30-date US stadium tour in her diary, followed by a tour of Europe in support of a little-known British band by the name of Coldplay. Whilst Alaska remains one of her biggest hits, Rogers’ music these days sounds much removed from the crowd pleasing yet safe pop confections of her 2019 debut, Heard It In a Past Life. Don’t Forget Me feels like the completion of the gradual artistic progression that Rogers launched on that fateful day back in 2016, developing from cautious experimentalism to self-assured pop and country hits. That’s not to say Don’t Forget Me tries anything especially distinctive or unusual, but the bulletproof vocal performances and a string of anthemic choruses don’t put a foot wrong.

Spacey, mature opener It Was Coming All Along is an effective tone-setter, but it’s the moody follow up where the instant classics begin: Drunk is a thrilling ride with bluesy rock guitars and a relentless chorus that recalls Fleetwood Mac at their most dynamic. Best of all is the extraordinary vocal performance, which rattles along with so much pent-up rage there are moments when Rogers’ sounds on the verge of losing control completely. And yet, like a cowboy clinging onto to a raging bull’s leash, she just about lands every adventurous adlib, and the result is one of the most compelling pop-rock recordings of the year so far.

Drunk is just the beginning of Don’t Forget Me’s delights. Deeply lovely So Sick of Dreaming is graced with sparkling layered guitars and a stunningly harmonised chorus that paints Rogers’ lovesickness with a beautiful elongated sigh of a melody. The spoken recount of a failed first date during the bridge may strike some as corny, but the payoff is perfectly executed final chorus that epitomises Rogers’ general fatigue whilst hinting at an underlying hope. The Kill maintains that appealing concoction of pain with a dash of optimism, the latter provided by an winning mellotron hook and galloping groove. It’s a straightforward and arguably unambitious track – a smattering of horns could have been a more daring creative decision to take The Kill even further from bland country music charts fodder – but it’s hard to knock the sheer quality of Rogers’ songcraft.

There are only two ballads in the ten tracks – I Still Do and All the Same – both of which are competently written and necessary moments of quiet reflection, but it’s the stadium-ready up-tempo numbers that will have fans returning to Don’t Forget Me over and over again. Earwormy On & On & On, for instance, pairs a wobbling synth bass with snappy funk drums, a hark back to noughties which might have outdated had Rogers’ hooks not been so punchy. Most of Don’t Forget Me’s choruses seem tailormade for road trip singalongs, particularly the anthemic Never Going Home, as well as the poignant lead single and title track, which closes the album with a pained demand to be remembered. If she’s in any way trying to send a message to listeners at the end of her album, Rogers need not worry – no listener is forgetting this excellent record in a hurry.

Jade Bird: Burn the Hard Drive EP review – restrained breakup songs lack punch
12
Apr

Jade Bird’s knack for an anthemic chorus and soaring vocals go largely unused on this mixed EP, which opts for introspective healing over the roof-raising Americana of Bird’s first two albums.

Jade Bird was born in Croydon, but she has an American soul. Her folky songs and penetrating vocals have long had the biggest popularity in the country music-obsessed southern states of the US, and her career was forged on the awesome country rock choruses of her self-titled debut, a record which included, amongst other barnstormers, Love Has All Been Done Before, a song which saw Bird rightly indulge in two bridges and four choruses – each more explosive than the last. A move to Austin, Texas in 2021 was the inevitable next step, along with sophomore record Different Kinds of Light, which put a loved-up sheen on Bird’s earthy Americana and offered more signs of songwriting maturity and nuance, not least in the glorious, sun-kissed melodies of Now is the Time, one of the very best songs of that year.

The years since has seen another significant change in Bird’s circumstances with the end of the long-term relationship behind many of Different Kinds of Light’s sweetest moments. The result is a long-teased EP which sees Bird mellower, more pensive and less inclined to throw in a straightforwardly anthemic chorus just for the hell of it. The unlikely production credit of Guernsey electronic music artist Mura Masa signifies the shift away from gunslinging country bangers, although (thankfully) his influence is most felt on the EP’s tasteful, muted bass riffs, rather than any drum machines and synths.

The trouble with Burn the Hard Drive is that heartbreak has not stoked the fire of Bird’s already fiery compositions, but rather extinguished it. The opening title track is pleasant and competently produced but sounds colourless compared to the unadorned passion of Bird’s early songs. There’s an interesting bass line and thoughtful one-note chorus, but for a voice of Bird’s calibre it’s like taking a Ferrari to work. C.O.M.P.L.E.X possesses the EP’s best earworm, but Bird’s admonishments of her ex’s “God complex” sound out of place amongst gentle guitars and weeping violins. There’s more intelligent composition and another alluring bass line in You’ve Fallen in Love Again, but it’s all washed in a spaced-out reverb that blunts the sharper edges in Bird’s melodies and vocals and renders the song as forgettable as a dream.

C’est La Vie is the first glimpse of Bird’s rasping vocals in their full glory and features a textbook Bird chorus that demands to be sung at full volume whilst driving towards the sunset on a long road trip. Again, Bird stops short of the full country rock treatment of wailing guitars and pounding drums, but a stripped-back, acoustic guitar driven rendition offers a round-the-campfire authenticity that spotlights Bird’s winning chorus. The song sets up Breaking the Grey, an optimistic finish with a somewhat obvious gospel-tinged piano progression. “You can’t wish the feelings away,” Bird admits, in a small but pleasing narrative arc after the desperation she felt to erase the past in the opening track. “I finally feel like I’m breaking the grey,” she assures us in the end. It seems Burn the Hard Drive has been a necessary, healing songwriting exercise for Bird – let’s hope for album three she’s ready to return to the full-blooded rock and roll she delivers best.

Courting live at the Cluny review – indie’s next big thing has room for improvement
28
Mar

The Liverpudlian post punkers’ live offering is rough around the edges and their fixation with heavy-handed autotune grates – but they do possess the sort of roof-demolishing closing number most bands can only dream of.

“Everyone sing the chorus!” Sean Murphy-O’Neill ventures spontaneously in the closing stages of his band’s visit to Newcastle, eyes glinting with a boyish cockiness that rather overestimates the passion for Courting in this small crowd of mostly inebriated university students who will jump up and down to anything resembling a drum beat. Most seem to be here for the more daring shout-along choruses of the band’s debut album Guitar Music, a record filled with ample angry rap-singing and meaty bass riffs perfectly tailored to the tastes of a mostly young male demographic up and down the country. Courting aren’t quite leaders of the post punk pack (that would be Leeds’ red hot Yard Act, followed by Do Nothing and Squid) and their latest album aims for a broader indie rock appeal, but there’s still plenty of bangers to be written in this thriving subgenre. That said, Courting has some way to go to reach the mainstream, a fact that Murphy-O’Neill is reminded when no one sings said chorus. Ego visibly bruised, he hastens back to the mic to blurt out the next lyric. He needn’t fear, though – it takes a few more repeats of the refrain for the eager crowd to get the hang of the hook and soon enough Murphy-O’Neill is grinning and pointing his microphone at Fosters-wielding fans like Freddie Mercury.

You can only get such intimate crowd interactions at somewhere like the Cluny, hands down Newcastle’s finest small venue and an ideal underground cocoon to witness fresh bands like Courting navigate the early stages of their development. Discuss indie music with anyone in Newcastle and the Cluny will come up – this is where bands build their core followings before promotion to O2’s midsized venues across the country, which is why the continued loss of such venues to the cost of living crisis is such a tragedy. Luckily the Cluny, like Leeds’ Brudenell Social Club, seems to have enough word-of-mouth hype to keep it sustained for the time being, and the small dancefloor and seating area is packed by the time the five members of Courting are picking their way through the crowd and onto the stage (a wonderfully unceremonious entry you just don’t get at your local O2 Academy).

The ensuing 80 minutes is an odd mix of Courting’s contentious early punk and more recent, pop-facing indie rock tracks. Opener The Wedding is very much the latter, and despite a few earwormy lyrics (“oh, I’ve been a good boy on this track!”) never quite elevates beyond competent yet flavourless rock. The former, epitomised in a stroppy rendition of Tennis, was much better received, although had issues of its own – when there’s no melody for distraction, spoken lyrics like “You’re a night in the Holiday Inn / I’m a breakfast bar with an unusual toasting conveyor belt” just won’t cut it. What’s more, Murphy-O’Neill doesn’t even serve up a juicy Scouse accent. Instead we get the posh southern boy voice popularised by pre-2023 Black Country, New Road and, lacking that band’s immense musicality or lyrical genius, Courting end up sounding like a pale imitation of their Cambridge contemporaries.

Underpinning it all is an irritating penchant for incongruous autotune that is hard to ignore during a listen of Courting’s otherwise rewarding recent album, New Last Name. This is far from the first time Murphy-O’Neill has received this critique – earlier this tour he wrote on X that all complaints just prompt him to boost the autotune even further – but what Courting gain from the manipulated vocals besides some point of distinction from their contemporaries is unclear. They stand to lose plenty; most of the time it just sounds distractingly silly and only occasionally – like on the rousing The Hills – did the emotion in Murphy-O’Neill’s voice survive all that pitch-correction. Sure, robot-ified vocals can sound great on an electronic track, but accompanied by earthy electric guitars and a real drum kit it just sounds wrong.

Crowd work between songs was hit and miss. They introduced sparkly pop number We Look Good Together (Big Words) by asking the crowd to imagine a drunken night out in Tup Tup (after a quick poll established that Tup Tup was indeed to worst club in Newcastle) and managed to get couples to waltz during PDA (“More romantic! More romantic!”), which was just as well because the track was a clear dud that had been getting an unusually cold reception from the Cluny patrons. Less wise was a needless and unfunny attempt at improvising a story (each band member contributing one word at a time), plus the awkward silence when Murphy-O’Neill announced “we’ve only got one more song…”, the frontman not getting the consternation he’d clearly expected.

Other times, that touch of youthful insouciance injected some much needed fun to proceedings. There were brief renditions of Coldplay’s universally loved Yellow and Fun’s We Are Young (a little obvious given the demographic in the room yes, but I still wanted more), plus by far the best surprise of the night in a full cover of Olivia Rodrigo‘s riff-heavy rager Bad Idea, Right?. This rendition stripped away what little melody there was in the original and added nothing in its place, but the raucous crowd couldn’t care less – it was the track I had been waiting for to compel me into the mosh.

Bizarrely, a cover of a girly American popstar’s song would have been the highlight of the night had it not been for Flex, the undisputed jewel of Courting’s discography, which was rightly saved for the end. Murphy-O’Neill had rehearsed parting the crowd Moses-style before the song, presumably so he could get stuck into the mosh pit, but in the end he stayed onstage, perhaps surprised at just how dense and wild the crowd became. That was because Flex is a song perfectly designed for singalong hedonism, overflowing with simple, bulletproof melodies as well us some shrewdly placed quiet passages to let us catch our breaths. In its composition it deserves comparison to the ultimate indie anthem Mr. Brightside – like that Killers song, every note Murphy-O’Neill sings feels inevitable and timeless, even when the core refrain repeats rarely. Tonight’s rendition lacked the endearingly ragged trumpet solo of the studio recording, but the spine-tingling finale about partying the night away nonetheless summoned pandemonium. In the eye of the storm, I turned around to find myself surrounded by smiling faces of people celebrating their joy, their glorious freedom and, most of all, a shared love of really good indie rock song.

Flex left fans leaving on an enormous high not quite representative of the flawed songs and scrappy performances that made up most of the gig. They may still have plenty of room to grow, but there’s no denying that this band’s star is rising. Another of Murphy-O’Neill’s audience polls found that most of those in attendance hadn’t witnessed the band’s last visit to the Cluny a little over a year ago. A few more solid choruses in the vein of New Last Name and a little more (justified) confidence in their frontman and Courting will be all set to graduate the small venue stages. Let’s just hope that by the time they’re headlining O2 City Hall they’ve seen sense on the autotune front.

“They’ll definitely blow your mind”: five of the best female rock bands on the rise
26
Mar

To celebrate International Women’s Day, Alex Walden takes a deep dive into the world of alternate rock music to showcase some new female groups on the rise who are definitely worth keeping an eye on.

It’s safe to say that the genre of rock is way out of its golden era. Long gone are the days of kids wanting to be rockstars after being completely in awe at the appeal of sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll. However, if you think that means that rock has simply vanished, you’d be dead wrong. While the days of mass media constantly gazing upon the culture of rock gods have passed, it can be argued that the uniqueness diversity and overall creativity of rock music as a whole is on a completely different level to that of the 80s as these female acts prove. So, strap yourselves in because while artists such as Joan Jett, Stevie Nicks and Pat Benatar are iconic women who paved the way for female rock, they’ve got nothing on these girls.

Honourable mention: Christina Michelle of Gouge Away

Ok, I know what you’re thinking, and yes I know that Gouge Away are not an all-female band. However, I felt that they just had to be mentioned. It was on a complete whim that I discovered gouge away. Usually, I have a story of how I discover artists but, as weird as it is to say, I just sort of found them one day, and I’ve been hooked ever since.

Gouge Away have a sound that’s a blend of shoegaze and hardcore punk which works really well. It gives you that classic punch of that hardcore sound mixed with the sombre tones of shoegaze, giving their songs a slightly unsettling nature.

I remember showing Gouge Away to a friend of mine who said to me something along the lines of “you can tell that they really attack those instruments”. Considering this, it makes an undoubtably difficult task for vocalist Christina Michelle to essentially match the chaotic energy of her bandmates and essentially fight for her vocals to be heard over the thrashing of her bandmates and boy can you tell she goes for it.

Her vocals are so powerful and intense that it just brings something out of you

I think a commenter on a video one of Gouge Away’s live performances described it best with the quote, “this singer’s voice is mesmerizing. So unique and she doesn’t give in.” It can be difficult to bring the ferocity required to make a good hardcore track but rest assured that whatever it takes, Michelle’s got it.

If the aggression of that hardcore sound isn’t really your style, or you’re just discovering the genre and want something a bit more on the side of shoegaze, then Gouge Away have got you covered too. I recommend the songs Dallas and Stray/Burnt Sugar for the easy-going fans and the songs Fed Up, Can’t Relate and Ghost for those who want that bit of extra oomph in their ears.

5.Dream Nails

Up next we travel back to England as we look at the punk band Dream Nails. Originating from mutual friends as well as run-ins at drag shows, Dream Nails are slowly attracting their target audience with their feminist anthems. I first discovered Dream Nails after I heard through word of mouth that they were performing near me. Being down for anything music related I decided to check them out and upon reading the title of their most streamed song, Vagina Police, I immediately thought to myself “ok, these girls clearly have a message they want to send… I’m in.” After conducting some more research, I became hooked to their songs such as Good Guy, Joke Choke and DIY which are these incredibly fast-paced thrash punk tracks containing messages about completely destroying patriarchal values and throwing classic social societal values completely out the window and to that I say power to them.

4.Dream Wife

Staying in the UK, next up we have Dream Wife the London based punk trio who combine punk, pop and indie all in one. Considering the similarity to the name of the previous act, you’d be surprised to know that I discovered Dream Wife the same way I discovered Dream Nails. After hearing they’d be performing nearby I decided to check them out through their KEXP live performance and I’ve got to say, after just two songs (Social Lubrication and Love You More) I was hooked on the high-pitched screeches of the guitar that clash against those smooth bass lines and vocals. I could clearly see their indie and pop influence on just their first two songs. However, after discovering their song Let’s Make Out I was completely dumbfounded. Alice Go had transformed her role on guitar by switching to these filling chords that practically swallow the whole song if it wasn’t for the lead vocalist Rakel Mjöll fighting back with her amazing screams for the chorus.

Whether it’s a nice relaxing indie sound, some feedback heavy punk or just a cool image to follow, this band have something for you.

3.L.A. Witch

For my next entry we head to California for rock trio L.A. Witch. If I had to bet on any of the bands mentioned in this article obtaining a substantial amount of popularity in the near future, I can comfortably say I’d put my money on LA. Witch.

Originally founded in 2011 by guitarist and lead vocalist Sade Sanchez and bassist Irita Pai due to an ex-boyfriend forbidding Sanchez from playing in bands with other men, L.A. Witch has taken its feminine identity and kept it at the forefront of their band’s image.

The word ‘witch’ to us is like a cool way for us to hint that it was our feminine-type energy

Sade Sanchez
L.A. Witch have a very woozy-sounding garage/punk rock sound witch I think has great potential. While I think that punk is an awesome genre, having every single song go at over 200 bpm with blaring loud instrumentals and intense screaming can get not only repetitive, but also tiring on the ears. Not everyone wants to thrash all the time. Sometimes people want to listen to punk in a relaxed manner. Producing songs sounds with sound while also staying within the punk genre is a difficult task, however, L.A. Witch in my opinion are one of the few bands who have properly mastered it. They still have overdriven guitars that give off feedback and fast drums, but it still has a slightly relaxing feel to it, especially within their latest album Play With Fire. Ever since I discovered it, I’ve not been able to stop listening to it. Due to its well roundedness as a rock project, it’s become one of my essential albums for every occasion.

As with most bands, L.A. Witch’s sound has improved incredibly, and you can hear it throughout their discography. Granted it’s probably through years of practice finally paying off, but it feels like you can hear them becoming more confident in their sound and playing ability as you work your way from beginning to end. All I can say is that I’m super excited for what they’ve got planed for the future.

2.Otoboke Beaver

Next up we take a trip even further across the pond to the Japan for punk rock group Otoboke Beaver. You know that classic cartoon troupe where they give a kid coffee, or some other highly caffeinated drink and they just go absolutely wild? Yeah, Otoboke Beaver is the musical personification of that exact scene.

Best described by rock legend Dave Grohl who said “it’ll blow your mind, dude. It’s the most fucking intense shit you’ve ever seen,” Otoboke Beaver are quickly on the rise due to their ability to blend fury and finesse to construct a fast paced, high intensity punk rock that sounds the musical version of a perfectly executed boot to the face. I first discovered the band after hearing S’il vous plaît and I was instantly hooked to it’s extremity of the sound, yet it had such a high degree of delicacy to it, it almost felt cute somehow; it was a well-made song but it also had that degree of aggression and rebellion that that came with punk and it kept me interested. I decided to look further into their discography to which at this point I discovered the video for Don’t light my fire, which completely blew my mind.

It’s been about a year since I first watched that video and I still think that I haven’t seen a music video with as much authenticity and raw energy as that. The almost hostile levels of power in their songs can be heard to the point where if they don’t blow your speakers, they’ll definitely blow your mind.

The almost hostile levels of power in their songs can be heard to the point where if they don’t blow your speakers, they’ll definitely blow your mind.

At the time of this article being published, Otoboke Beaver are embarking on a US tour on which I’m sure they’re making a name for themselves, however I can’t wait for their next project. After nearly 15 years of music, I think that the band have finally mastered that perfection combination of fun and absolute carnage (especially within their last album Super Champon) and I can’t wait to see where they go from here.

1.Nova Twins

As far as being patriotic goes, I can’t say I’m really your guy at all. However, when it comes to this next group, I can honestly say that I’m proud to say that England’s own Nova Twins holds the number one spot for my top female groups to look out for. These girls are absolutely crushing everything they do with their heavy instrumentals which are channeled through a complete arsenal of pedals to make sounds that I thought previously to be impossible. It all goes hand in hand with guitarist and lead vocalist Amy Love’s hip-hop/punk vocals.

It may sound like an exaggeration when I say that discovering Nova Twins could be compared to that of a life changing experience however I’m willing to go there for this band. After scrolling through the list of endorsers for Marshall amps, I stumbled upon a picture of two girls dressed like guitar hero characters absolutely rocking out on stage. I was intrigued however it wasn’t until the next day that I decided to look them up. It was by chance that I was wearing headphones the day that I discovered their song Antagonist for the first time. I mention this due to the fact that it made the high-pitched wails of Amy Love’s guitar in the opining riff that much more impacting, however nothing prepared me for the absolutely thunderous bass tone that erupted from Georgia South’s bass into my headphones. It felt as If my headphones were erupting, I had never experienced anything like it. For the whole day it was pretty much the only song I listened to. That’s the joy of Antagonist: you can’t just listen to it once. It requires at least two or three listens to get over the sheer cataclysmic event for your ears that is listening to that song.

It requires at least two or three listens to get over the sheer cataclysmic event for your ears that is listening to Antagonist.

Not only are Nova Twins absolutely rattling your ear drums, they’re also making history through their activism. Whether it’s through their “Voices For the Unheard” playlist highlighting alternative P.O.C. artists or their related limited edition record which all proceeds of record sales went directly to The Black Curriculum, Nova Twins are always using the attention they have for the right reasons. However, neither of these acts compare to their open letter to the MOBO awards calling for them to introduce a new Rock/Alternative category to their award shows. Clearly MOBO had listened as the next year we were given the first ever MOBO Best Alternative Music Act category.

Whether its making absolutely monstrous music or paving the way for future artists. It’s clear that these girls are ready to carry the torch for the alternative music scene and pave the way for artists in years to come and that’s why I think these artists deserve the number one spot.

So there you have it. Whether you like the violent and bashful sound of hardcore band Gouge Away, or the soft garage rock sound of L.A. Witch or even the skull-crushing tone of Nova Twins, there’s something for you in this list to prove that, as the old saying goes, the future is clearly female. With these acts taking the reins, we’re here for it.

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