The Collective @ Kind.

I know I tend to go on about it a lot, but The Collective really is continuing to go from strength to strength, and is undoubtedly the beating heart of Lincolnshire’s local music scene.

For those who don’t know by now, The Collective is held at Kind bar in Lincoln every Tuesday evening, and features local, like-minded musicians performing to an audience of like-minded fans.

Unfortunately, I missed opening act Mute, and arrived part-way through singer Stefanie-Kate Bennett.

Bennett got behind the keys early on in the night, showcasing her impressive vocal range alongside some delicate arrangements, altogether delivering a tenderly impassioned performance which prompted a gentleman from the audience to give her a tenner for some reason.

Acoustic-folk outfit His FLying Machine were up next, led by principal songwriter Rich Whiston. On record, His Flying Machine have a fullness which doesn’t quite translate as well to the stage. However, the delicacy of the arrangements still shone through, wearing their apparent influences from Americana bands such as Calexico and The Decemberists on their sleeves.

Every week, we seem to get a surprisingly impressive set from an artist blatantly inspired by former Million Dead singer Frank Turner – this week, that accolade went to acoustic guitarist Adam Jewitt, who played a mix of original material and ironically structured covers. There’s something familiar about Jewitt’s vocals and arrangements respectively, but, much to his credit, it’s hard to place. Instead, the audience were welcomed in to Jewitt’s world with an affirming and refreshing comfort.

Headlining The Collective on this occasion was local classical-guitar wonder-kid Elliott Morris.

Shut your eyes, and you’ll mistakenly believe you’re listening to a full, four-piece band. Morris has that Newton Falkner gimmick going on... you know, when you use the whole guitar to create sound slapping different parts of the neck to introduce rhythm. Morris has crafted a selection of enjoyable pop songs, even if they do seem slightly rehearsed and adolescent at times. Unfortunately, towards the end of his set he invited a backing singer to the stage, and all of a sudden things became a little too juvenile, and childish on-stage antics ruined an otherwise sterling performance.

The 22-20s return.

Amidst the stranglehold of the New Rock Revolution, overcast in ripped leather and black denim, Sleaford-born quartet the 22-20s achieved the impossible by breaking out of rural Lincolnshire and taking their burdened brand of blues to the undeserving masses.

In 2004, the band released their eponymous debut, which raged with an unbridled intensity, deeply-rooted in a world governed by love, loyalty, attraction and betrayal. However, two years later and dissolution was imminent, with the band claiming they no longer felt comfortable in the skin they had crafted.

The 22-20s are, quite probably, the greatest band to come out of Lincolnshire and it is with both eager anticipation and baited breath that four years since their split, they announce their absolution, ushering in the new decade with resolve and a second album.

As teenagers, guitarist and singer Martin Trimble, and bass player Glen Bartup, both from Sleaford, would play blues covers at venues across the width and breadth of Lincolnshire.

They recorded a four-track demo, featuring songs such as Devil In Me and Such A Fool, which would prove to be the blueprint for their eponymous, critically-acclaimed debut album.

It would be easy to regurgitate a number of rock-review cliches when reminiscing about the 22-20s, which is surely to the credit of their classic and timeless sound.

Faceless music hacks could probably fill glossy supplement pages with something along the lines of a blue-rock explosion, channelling the spirit of Robert Johnson, possessed by the devil at the crossroads to whom he sold his soul, turned on its head and distilled through Jack White’s MXR Mico-Amplifier with the distortion thrown into overdrive.

But that would be too easy.

The 22-20s managed to create a comfortable sound, built around the juxtaposition of natural-sounding riffs and an impulsive rhythm section, augmented by the increasingly impressive vocal range of Trimble.

The blues are dangerous, promiscuous, ambiguous and amongst everything else, hopeless. But now, thanks to the 22-20s, the blues are back.

In light of the return, the band have posted two new tracks: a live recording of Ocean, and a new track, under the title Latest Heartbreak.

To have a listen, visit their MySpace page at www.myspace.com/2220s

The Collective @ Kind.

This week’s installment of The Collective was a prime example of what musicians and artists in Lincoln have to offer.

The night kicked off with a set from singer-songwriter James Jezusek name spelled correctly. After a shaky start, presumably affected by nerves, Jezusek managed to find his comfort zone, delivering a short yet welcoming set of acoustic numbers, emulating shades of former Million Dead frontman Frank Turner.
Jezusek aptly retold coming-of-age observations of adolescence, with seamless transitions between extrovert aggression and contemplative compassion.

Whoever said too many cooks spoil the broth has never seen Dancing Lotus, who followed Jezusek with a surprise set made up of new and old material.

Dancing Lotus are a truly unique troupe of musicians, mixing hip-hop rap stanzas with delicate violin strings, incendiary Neil Young-infused lead guitar, a rhythmic acoustic backbone, and the surprisingly soulful voice of lead singer Jack Shaw. Their songs are well-structured and well-packaged, tackling the usual topics of love, loss, and waking up with a hangover. The band’s passion is matched only by the passion of their fans, who attend in abundance to show their support. Dancing Lotus are surely the best band Lincoln have got on the scene at the moment, and set a high standard for others to follow.

Next up was local musician and business entrepreneur Ben Atkins, debuting his currently unnamed electronica-project. Atkins delivered three-minute bursts of electro-pop perfection, with his only downfall coming from an ill-advised karaoke cover of The Cure. Atkins made it look almost too easy, supporting the old adage that the greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn’t exist.

The night was brought a close by eccentric Mancunian Gideon Conn, who soon won over the crowd with his quirky brand of folk, coming across as a twee-parody of comedy-rockers Tenacious D. After a set including a Jew’s harp solo, an accidental fall over a leather couch, and audience participated choreography, Conn wrapped things up with a flawless rendition of Outkast’s Ms Jackson.

The Collective takes place every Tuesday at 7.30pm at Kind atop Lincoln’s High Street. Next week features a rescheduled headline performance from piano pop pompadour Luke Leighfield.

Recruit: Recruit

They say every cloud has a silver lining.

This week’s column was scheduled to feature a performance review of piano-pop-pompadour Luke Leighfield, following an appearance at Kind bar’s acoustic night, The Collective.

However, when adverse weather conditions forced organisers to postpone the event until further notice, I turned to the growing pile of CDs from local musicians and stumbled across the eponymous release from Lincolnshire band Recruit.

To begin with, I need to address something about the band’s name. Their EP suggests I should spell their name with a capital letter at the end and a lower case at the start. However, good grammar has got the better of me on this one, and I’m sorry Recruit, but I refuse.

Opening track Where’s It Gonna Get Ya sets the tone right from the start with a somewhat arrogant bile. The echoed guitar effects, backing rhythm and simplistic, repetitive refrain could be likened to the brand of indie-dance pioneered by bands like The Music and The Sunshine Underground amidst the New Rock Revolution.

It should be noted that when I use words like “arrogant” and “simplistic”, these are not necessarily to be taken in the negative. Throughout 2009, music was dominated by ostentatious flamboyance bereft of any believable humanity. It’s refreshing to listen to a band so sure of their output – especially one homegrown.

Billy Tabasco is a muddle of metaphors, much like those originally made endearing by The Coral some five or six years ago. Meanwhile, Look For You is backed by a prominent keyboard bringing forward shades of Kasabian and latter-day The Verve.

What You Keep is driven by a baseline which can only be described as dirty. There’s a sinister growl from deep in the heart of this one, capturing the black denim and ripped leather spirit of Black Rebel Motorcycle Club or The Cooper Temple Clause.

It’s safe to say Recruit’s self-titled release is a melting-point of many of their major lad-rock influences, but take to it with an open mind, and possibly in the wake of some other musical disappointment, and you could find yourself pleasantly surprised.

For more information on Recruit, visit www.myspace.com/recruitband

Unmissable Gigs: Of 2010.

It's that time of year when journalists make wild and outrageous predictions about who’s going to make it in the next 12 months.

If the unprecedented Christmas number one success of Rage Against The Machine tells us anything, it should be that nothing in music is predictable anymore. All that being said, let’s take a look at the gigs to keep an eye on in 2010.

Editors, Lincoln Engine Shed.

What do you do when you model your career on Joy Division, but you’ve exhausted all their material on your first two albums? This is the question which plagued Editors prior to the release of their third album, In This Light And On This Evening. Luckily, they realised that the logical step, asides from an untimely suicide, was to follow down into New Order territory.

Their synthesiser-infused third album has so far spawned singles including Papillon and You Don’t Know Love and brings the best of the Mancunian pop giants, without the unbearable arrogance of Hooky.

Editors will bring their Hacienda-influenced, Tony Wilson-approved tour to Lincoln’s Engine Shed on Saturday, March 6. Contact the venue for ticket details.

NME Awards Tour, Nottingham Rock City.

Unfortunately, following three successful sell-out years, Lincoln has been overlooked for the NME Awards Tour in 2010.

All eyes will be on opening act The Drums this year, to see if they can “pull a Florence” and make their unique brand of sun-kissed harmonic pop the unavoidable sound of the year.

Another band to watch on this tour will be unabashed indie tykes Bombay Bicycle Club, injecting their own structured, melodically layered, guitar-driven pop into the evening.

Finally, perhaps the most underrated band in British pop music, The Maccabees, headline the night’s proceedings, hopefully making their well-deserved big break. Tracks such as Love You Better, Toothpaste Kisses and Precious Time have already become intelligible indie anthems for those who have loved and lost, over and over again.

The NME Awards Tour takes place in Nottingham on Tuesday, February 9. For ticket details, contact the venue.

Dizzee Rascal, Lincoln Engine Shed.

Everyone’s favourite household-name rapper Dizzee Rascal returns to Lincoln for a rescheduled date, following the cancellation of a gig earlier this year, due to illness.

With the mainstream acceptance of number one singles Bonkers, Holiday and Dance Wiv Me, Dizzee is walking a dangerously thin line between credible hip-hop artist and middle-of-the-road pop star. Hopefully, in his set this February, Dizzee will prove to the doubters, including myself, why he’s still relevant.

Dizzee plays in Lincoln on Thursday, February 25. Tickets have been sold out for this one for a long time, so it will be nothing short of a miracle if you expect to get.

We're All Ears: The Year That Was.

So, 2009 is over already. If you blinked, you probably missed it. Maybe I’m just getting older, but it seems as each year goes by, they get shorter and shorter.

As is customary for this time of year, I’ve been asked to take a look back at Lincolnshire’s musical offerings over the last 12 months.

First of all, let me say, the majority of the year’s highlights took place at the Lincoln Engine Shed. But, rest assured, this is not from any kind of bias. From singer-songwriters in Ruskington, to Christian rock in Grantham, to the highly-anticipated S Club 3 reunion – if it’s been in Lincolnshire this year, I’ll probably have been there.

The relentless domination of the Engine Shed, if anything, tells us that Lincoln is crying out for a competing venue for contemporary music.

Nevertheless, let’s proceed. Here’s my list of the best live performances in Lincolnshire this year ...

White Lies, Lincoln Engine Shed.

February saw the return of the annual NME Awards Tour, viewed by many to be a benchmark of what’s going to be big in the year to come.

Despite sharing a bill with Florence And The Machine, Friendly Fires and Glasvegas, the night undoubtedly belonged to White Lies, who brought their brand of Joy Division-infused indie-rock gloom to Lincoln.

Highlights of the night included incendiary renditions of Death and Farewell To The Fairground, as well as an impassioned duet with Florence Welch on the heartbreaking anthem Unfinished Business.

Bloc Party, Lincoln Engine Shed.

In October, following a summer of high-profile festival slots, which were perceived by many to be under whelming at best, Bloc Party embarked on a massive nationwide tour, with rumours rife that this would be their last before a hiatus.

If this truly was the band’s final curtain call, at least they went out on a high. Bloc Party were confident, playing a set spanning their entire career. Songs like Positive Tension and Banquet sparked riotous scenes, with girls losing their shoes and bodies flying everywhere.

The Cribs, Lincoln Engine Shed.

Backed by ex-Smiths guitarist Johnny Marr, The Cribs returned to Lincoln, shredding through their staple rock and roll riot of a set, mixing the archetypical 1970s punk-grunge fuzz of their earlier tracks, such as Direction and Mirror Kissers, with their more rhythmic and textured material from their “matured” fourth album, including tracks such as We Were Aborted and Cheat On Me.

The Cribs’ set at the Engine Shed in the Autumn of this year further cemented their imminent dominance, demonstrating how they’ve flawlessly engineered themselves from lo-fi obscurity into the indie mainstream.
Unpredictable, inflammable, ferocious and unquestionably the stand-out live gig of the year.

The Flash Cars: The Invisible Circus.

The Flash Cars are a band of three Lincoln lads born in the wrong city at the wrong time. It’s surprising and refreshing to hear a little band from a rural town produce such a confident 1970s American-tinged sound.

Their latest EP, The Invisible Circus, blends together fuzzy, distorted lead guitar, gritty vocals and potentially funk-influenced bass to create a cacophony of distinctly American-sounding rock and roll.

Opening track Hope And Glory is a punchy three-minute rock-pop number driven by a somewhat George Harrison-inspired lead guitar riff, with a repeated refrain of the track’s title. Lover’s legs and misplaced bottles of wine are the focus of the song, giving it a somewhat adolescent feel, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. It’s not the best The Flash Cars have to offer, but it’s a solid introduction to their sound and still better than the majority of bands that filter through from across the Atlantic.

Second track Careless is another Americana-tinged track. Things have been slowed down somewhat, narrowly treading into lighter-in-the-air “ballad” territory. Nevertheless, you wouldn’t be amiss in thinking this was a Third Eye Blind or Smashing Pumpkins album track.

Come On picks things back up where Hope And Glory left off, with an abrasive distortion screeching out for attention. Come On is a well-structured rock song, somewhat reminiscent of the likes of Black Rebel Motorcycle Club or the Von Bondies. Remember them? They were a four-piece rock band from Detroit, who came across as a part of the rock and roll revolution at the start of the decade. Look them up.

All The Rage follows seamlessly, serving up much of the same. The inclusion of a delicate, continuous refrain, albeit a touch sloppy, gives a Demolition-era Ryan Adams feel to the song. It’s not the best from The Flash Cars, but it’s perhaps the strongest showing of lead singer Chris Barnard’s vocal range.

Finally, the EP is brought to a close with Why Won’t You Leave It Alone? The vocal effects placed on Barnard’s voice seem unnecessary, but create an echoed sentiment throughout. It’s a strong close to the EP and another subtle nod to the obvious Ryan Adams influences.

For more on The Flash Cars, visit www.myspace.com/theflashcars.

Doves @ Lincoln Engine Shed

It's amazing how much can change in a couple of months. When Delphic last played Lincoln’s Engine Shed, they did so as part of the line-up for one of the MODA club nights.

To many, they were considered to be filler, unworthy of note or mention.

Now, making their second appearance at the venue, providing support for fellow Mancunians Doves there’s an air of anticipation largely motivated by that elitist industry buzz which comes as standard for this time of year.

Given their dance influences, it would be easy to start talking about the spirit of Tony Wilson or the shadow of the Hacienda, but Delphic are more than just your standard band of lads from the north west who picked up a Happy Mondays album and a synthesizer. There’s a degree of intelligence and thoughtfulness about their composition, which makes them much more akin to the likes of M83 or Sigur Rós.

Delphic were recently shortlisted for the 2010 Critic’s Choice Brit Award, the same award won this year by Florence And The Machine. Needless to say, if they carry through to the new year with the same momentum they ended this one with, Delphic will certainly be one to keep a close eye on.

Backed by some well-placed festival sets and a Mercury Music Prize, indie rock favourites Elbow started to gain notoriety over these past 12 months, leaving Doves to step up and take their place as most underrated band in Britain.

Ever since the release of Lost Souls in 2000, Doves have perpetually remained on the cusp of mainstream recognition. Every now and again, they’ll release a single that manages to leak into the collective public subconscious, but aside from that, they rely on the loyal fan-base they’ve managed to build over the past nine years.

Their Engine Shed set is made up of songs spanning their entire career, mixing favourites like Pounding and Caught By The River with material from their newest album Kingdom Of Rust. However, there’s something slightly unimpassioned about the newer material. Jimi Goodwin’s usually booming Mancunian drawl is lost among bass and keyboard that have had the atmospheric level turned up to 11.

The highlight of the nights comes when Doves end their set with a triumphant and affirmative rendition of There Goes The Fear. Complete with a carnival refrain seemingly taken from a New Orleans Mardi Gras, Doves bring an unseasoned close to Lincoln’s year of live music.

Florence and the Machine @ Lincoln Engine Shed

Florence and the Machine made a triumphant, highly-anticipated return to Lincoln’s Engine Shed, proving why 2009 is well and truly theirs.

But first of all, the Temper Trap, who opened proceedings with their distinctive brand of unashamed indie-pop.

The Australian four-piece showed themselves to be a well-oiled, well-rehearsed pop machine, playing a well-received set, including forthcoming single Fader, and hit summer anthem Sweet Disposition, which, with the help of its use in some well-placed advertising campaigns, gets one of the loudest, most positive, reactions of the night.

The crowd might be unfamiliar with Temper Trap at the moment, but they have the songs, and clearly the drive, to make them one of the most talked-about bands of 2010.

It should be noted that the Engine Shed was packed to the rafters. Unfortunately, when an act is accepted so readily into the mainstream as Florence and the Machine have been, there are consequences. Glancing around the room, there was a strange mix of fans, mainly made up of teenage girls unsure of how to dress or act for such an occasion.

Nevertheless, Florence Welch, with her red hair ablaze, led her “machine” through an incendiary set made up of album tracks, B-sides, and her staple cover of Candi Staton’s You’ve Got The Love.

There’s one thing that’s undeniable, to a point where it becomes cliché to say: Welch has one of the most impressive vocal ranges to be heard in pop music for a long time. If it wasn’t for tediously subversive music snobbery, she’d be mentioned in the same breath as Kate Bush or Björk.

One of Welch’s biggest assets is her ability to interchange seamlessly from vigorously combustible tracks, such as Howl and Drumming Song, to more delicate and soulful numbers, such as Blinding and Cosmic Love. As each note flows through her, her body tells a tale of heartbreak, regret and lament.

The “machine”, her backing band, are a tight group of musicians, and serve as a solid base to Welch’s almost cult-like following, but unfortunately, the spotlight doesn’t stray much further than that hair.

It’s been an emphatic year for Florence and the Machine, but as they triumphantly sauntered off stage, it’s clear no one has come close to approaching them.

Dancing Lotus: Million Stars

Ever since an Irish singer-songwriter decided to turn to political activism and raise money for dying Africans by writing a song with some failing 80s pop stars, charity singles (at best) have been a mixed blessing.

Sure they’re written and released in the name of a worthy cause, but more often that not, this intentionally masks the absence of any musical credibility. What’s the point of putting effort into writing a piece of music with actual artistic merit when the public are going to buy it to appease their own peace of mind anyway? Take the two appalling Band Aid efforts, for example, or the Children In Need monstrosities that are released every year.

Like I said though, they are a mixed blessing. While the majority are regurgitated covers fronted by the latest pop phenomenon of the time, selfishly designed to further their own exposure on the mainstream airwaves, every now and again, you’ll come across something which actually has some consideration and intelligence behind it.

Cue Lincoln’s own Dancing Lotus, who have teamed up with the University of Lincoln’s Afro-Carribbean Society on a single, Million Stars, to help raise awareness for the AIDS pandemic and surrounding charities.

The bare bones of the track are exposed early on, being driven principally by a funk-enthused acoustic guitar, layered underneath a ghostly electric guitar, gently weeping out a lead riff over the top. Following a strong and prominent lead vocal from singer Jack Shaw, things begin to evolve showing a breadth of imagination Geldof could never quite capture.

The additional vocals have a distinctly authentic African flavour, coming partly from a choir of singers made up of the Afro-Carribbean Society members, repeating the haunting million stars refrain. Meanwhile, MCs exchange urban couplets in their native tongues, while strings begin to rise from below, adding an air of delicacy to the proceedings.

There’s a lot of different styles enthused here, but Dancing Lotus skillfully pull it off without it being a case of too many cooks. Refreshingly, they’ve managed to create something considered charity, whilst avoiding any self-indulgence, and for that alone, they deserve applause.

To listen to the track and others from the Dancing Lotus group, visit www.myspace.com/dancinglotusmusic

Lostprophets @ Lincoln Engine Shed

Lostprophets are a band steeped in contradiction. On one hand, they want to prove themselves to be the Welsh nu-rock heavyweights of festival main stages, with the riffs, choruses and haircuts to boot. On the other, they appear almost desperate to prove that they’re still a down-to-earth, loveable group of misfits from the valley, rough-housing it from town-to-town and living out of the back of a beaten-up tour van.

While trying to decide which of these two personalities to adopt, the band ends up being pulled in polar-opposite directions, resulting in a set frustratingly inconsistent and noticeably lacking in identity.

All this is accentuated by singer Ian Watkins’ irritatingly futile effort of trying to hide the thick, Welsh tones of his accent by singing with a sickeningly sun-kissed American accent. Lostprophets have been tailor-made to appear like an alternative band making their assault on the main stream, yet in actuality, they’ve had aspirations of red carpets, Radio 1 and rubbing shoulders with GaGa from the very start.

Opening with new track It’s Not The End Of The World, But I Can See It From Here and playing songs from upcoming album The Betrayed, their set lacks the initial, immediate impact one might expect from a Lostprophets show. Sure, they play the “big hits”. You know, the kind of songs with lyrics 15-year-old girls are going to set as their Facebook statuses and post on their Twitter accounts. But they arrive few and far between, with excessive on-stage tom-foolery and chauvinistic displays of arrogance breaking up the pace and leaving the audience to grow increasingly impatient.

Songs like Rooftops, Last Train Home and breakthrough single Shinobi vs Dragon Ninja elicit strong reactions, but there’s nothing breaking the mould here: it’s all very Kerrang! magazine 101.

While their peers, from My Chemical Romance to Fall Out Boy, have tried to show progression and growth over the years, Lostprophets seem to have stayed in the same place, relying on heavy distortion and optimistic repetition to drill their hooks deep into the collective subconscious.

From the stage, the band are constantly reminding us that this is their last show of the year, nay, the decade. If it’s anything to go from, I don’t think the next 10 years are going to be much different for Lostprophets. But in their eyes, that might not necessarily be a bad thing.

Asobi Seksu: Rewolf

Asobi Seksu are one of the relatively unknown gems of the thriving New York alternative scene.


Their dream-like melodies and hypnotic vocals might sound familiar at first listen – they’re the kind of band likely to feature on trendy TV show soundtracks. Lurking somewhere in the background of the latest episode of Skins or Ugly Betty, they have just the right balance of artistic integrity and underground cool to make them immediately irresistible to a market constantly searching for the discovery of a “new sound”.

Rewolf is a small collection of re-worked songs that span the band’s career, resulting from a brief recording stop at London’s Olympic Studios. These newly composed tracks are a slight detour from the usual neo-showgaze of their previously recorded material. Production values and effects have been taken away, along with several band members, leaving vocalist Yuki Chikudate and guitarist James Hanna to deliver haunting, acoustic-driven, blissfully-layered harmonies.

A full broken-down technical analysis of the inner-workings of Rewolf seems almost insulting to the beauty of the art which has been created here. To put it poetically, Rewolf drips into the ear note by note like black ink into a glass of water. Subconsciously, it seeps through, consuming the whole body with a blissful lull and sense of peace. For all intents and purposes, Rewolf is the aural equivalent of valium.

Chikudate boasts an impressive vocal range. At times she comes across as a slightly more subdued Kate Bush, while at others more like an optimistic Chan Marshall. Refreshingly, Chikudate doesn’t feel the need to supplement her voice with physical eccentricities in the same way as, say, Florence Welch.

If you’re looking for the next step of the sonic revolution, then this is not it. Rewolf is merely an acoustic album made up of nine re-workings – and an extraordinary Hope Sandoval cover from a relatively unknown American band. However, if you’re looking for a collection of songs to love, cherish and to call your very own, this could very well be your record of the year.

With the guitar effects stripped away, Asobi Seksu are able to highlight the delicate and compassionate songwriting they’re capable of, creating an album which shines, sparkles and shows the band really are a diamond in the rough.

Julian Casablancas: Phrazes of the Young

Julian Casablancas is a man deep in turmoil. In 2001, he was the chief architect responsible for the re-birth of distorted guitar cool, fronting possibly the most influential band of the decade, The Strokes. The throne of modern pop music rightfully belonged to him, writes Ryan Butcher.


However, somewhere Casablancas lost his way. The Strokes went on an extended hiatus and gradually lost their momentum, inevitably fragmenting into a series of average-at-best solo projects, and leaving a number of pretenders fighting for the crown which, by all rights, should belong to them.

Which brings us to Casablancas’ Phrazes of the Young, the latest, and probably most-anticipated solo record originating from a Strokes member.

Opening with Out Of The Blue, Casablancas gets straight to the point and offers a possible explanation to his, well, lets face it, disappointing contribution to songwriting since the phenomenal debut record from The Strokes: “Somewhere along the way my hopefulness turned to sadness, somewhere along the way my sadness turned to bitterness...” and so on.

For all intents and purposes, Out Of The Blue progresses with the musicology of the archetypical Strokes tune. But from there-on in, Phrazes takes a turn, and it’s hard to tell as to whether it’s for better or worse.

Casablancas’ has moved his trademark appreciation for retro forward a decade or two. Heavy distortion and Lou Reed drawls have been replaced by glamorous compositions and, perhaps, an over-excessive fondness for synthesizers.

Perhaps, as an avid supporter of The Strokes, I’m merely motivated by nostalgia into being vindictive of Casablancas’ solo effort. It’s clear he still has an unrivalled knack for melody, and his songwriting is still consistent throughout. This is merely a case of the wrong record at the wrong time.

Phrazes is a record steeped in contradiction. It longs to maintain the edgy sense of cool The Strokes first introduced, but it’s been forced kicking and screaming to mature for a more mainstream audience. Overall, the record shares a lot of parallels with the 80s, the very decade from which it has seemingly been inspired: clustered, stubborn, and unsure of its own identity.

Frankly, Phrazes for the Young is a slap in the face, teasing all those who have been patient with The Strokes for many years, waiting for them return to their former glory. The one shining light is the subtle hints throughout that Casablancas is ready to return and reclaim his kingdom. If he wants to.

Daniel Johnston: Is And Always Was

Not to be confused with the X Factor contestant of almost the same name, Daniel Johnston adds another chapter to his already relevant artistic legend with the release of his latest album Is And Always Was, writes Ryan Butcher.


Already a cult icon, Daniel Johnston became an unlikely American pop phenomenon in 1981 with the release of Songs of Pain. These unique, lo-fi recordings provided the basis for nearly three decades of tales of unrequited love, cosmic mishaps and existential torment.

However, the most noticeable thing about Is And Always Was is that the lo-fi production values which made Johnston so accessibly authentic have been stripped away and replaced by the knob-twiddling of musician and producer Jason Falkner, best known for his work with Beck, Air and Paul McCartney.

Daniel Johnston loyalists might find themselves a little taken back by the shine and polish which surrounds Is And Always Was. Fortunately, Johnston’s unstable nature is to such an extent that each filtered, accentuated note still carries his archetypical weight of lament and heartbreak. Tracks such as Tears and Without You recall the melodic pop brilliance of his earlier work, and would fit comfortably on his highly-regarded seminal album Hi, How Are You.

Coming in at a little under a minute and a half, sixth track on the album Had Lost My Mind is so quintessentially Daniel Johnston, it could easily be mistake as a parody or homage to his earlier self. With no shame in mentioning his history of mental health problems, Johnston mumbles in his trademark Texan drawl: “I had lost my mind. I lost my head for a while, was off my rocker, outta line, outta wack”.

Other tracks like Light of Day and Freedom suggest a newer direction for Johnston. In the former, he hints at Pink Floyd-esque prog-rock, whilst the later explores tempos faster and more upbeat than any of his previous work.

Daniel Johnston is now 48 years of age. His skinny frame and curly-haired mop have experienced the effects of adolescence and time. But this is the same Daniel Johnston the world has grown to know and love: still looking for love, still an unashamed fan of The Beatles, and still plagued by the Devil and his demons.

Is And Always Was is everything we have come to expect from Daniel Johnston, yet somehow so much more.

Lost Prophets, The Enemy

This week I’ve taken a break from Lincoln’s live music scene to plough through some of the review CDs piling up here at the Echo offices, and coincidentally preview some of the city’s upcoming major performances, writes Ryan Butcher.


First off, the latest single from Lost Prophets, who are gearing up to play a series of warm-up dates, including a stop at our very own Engine Shed, in preparation for a mammoth nationwide tour early next year.

It’s Not The End of The World, But I Can See It From Here, the first taster from their fourth, up-coming album The Betrayed, sees the Welsh rock heavyweights re-invigorated, energised, and doing what they do best.

Coming in a little over three and half minutes long, It’s Not The End of The World isn’t anything new, and it certainly isn’t breaking any moulds, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. It’s everything you might expect from a Lost Prophets come back single: distorted guitars, lyrics centred around sub-cultured unity, and a few woah-oahs thrown in for good measure. It’s sure to get legions of pierced, black-haired fans jumping around rock clubs across the country.

If the rest of the material on the Betrayed is anything like this, then Lost Prophets are sure to be a staple on the mainstream radio waves later next year.

Next up we have The Enemy, with their most recent single Be Somebody. Okay, okay, it was released last month. But they’re going to be playing the Engine Shed on 17 November, so there’s the connection there, okay?

I have a huge problem with The Enemy and their faux-working class ideals. Frontman Tom Clarke insists that he’s this authentic, down-to-earth everyman from Coventry, yet, he was born in Birmingham and attended school in Kenilworth, a nice middle-class town in Warwickshire.

In three minutes, The Enemy manage to take a swipe at the BBC – who have championed them since the off – and make reference to British steel. Interesting themes for a band barely in their twenties. The falsehoods that ring through Be Somebody are blatant and altogether manage to make me cringe more than those twins from X-Factor.

The Enemy need to accept they weren’t struggling on the breadline in the 80s, they don’t have it tough, and no matter how hard they try, they are never going to be The Jam.

Moda @ Lincoln Engine Shed

Homegrown, cutting-edge electro and dubstep club night Moda returned to Lincoln on Friday with an enthused live performance from Delphic, a well-received appearance from Rusko, and a highly-anticipated return from Radio 1’s own Annie Mac, writes Ryan Butcher.


Playing to a highly-enthused crowd, the Leeds-born Rusko brought a highly driven energy to the evening, showing why he’s considered by many to be the future of dub. His appearance on the stage garnered an almost cult-like reaction, making him the surprise hit of the night.

Don’t get me wrong, there’s still a long way to go for Rusko before he can be considered as some kind of saviour of dubstep. First time listeners to the genre could easily be dissuaded by the somewhat monotonous base that makes up the meat of many of his mixes, and although he was well received, there’s a air of discomfort about him that suggests he’s not quite sure how he got where he is. Nonetheless, his star is rising, and continued crowd reactions like he received on this night could very well be his making.

As the night draws on, sometime between midnight and two in the morning, Delphic take to the stage to a thoroughly warmed up crowd. Distilling the spirit of Manchester’s Hacienda through to a new decade, they play with a hint of determination, almost desperate to cast of the stereotypical label of “indie-dance”.

Delphic’s biggest appeal is their ambition, as they strive to complete a masochistic quest to determine that it is possible to combine dance music, and soul. Unfortunately for them, Moda isn’t necessarily the night to showcase ambition.

Then, onto Annie Mac, who emerges from the darkness like the apparition of a stunning, electro-pixie. Annie has long been a firm favourite of the Moda branded club nights, and subsequentially, this isn’t the first time she’s taken to the Engine Shed stage.

With an eclectic music taste at her disposal, she spices up classic dub basslines with radio-friendly, high-profile names like Florence and the Machine and Yeah Yeah Yeahs, making the evolved dance genre more universally acceptable to such a diverse audience. Annie’s mixes are intelligible, well-placed, and fantastically put together.

When she leaves the stage, wide-eyed clubbers stumble home, or onto the after-party, eager for the next appearance, and safe in the knowledge that on this night, Annie had delivered the goods.

Bloc Party @ Lincoln Engine Shed

It’s almost five years to the day since I first saw Bloc Party live.

And, as I’m thrown into the air by a couple of so-called “friends” – nearly being evicted from the venue by a burly bouncer – it is remarkable to see how much they have evolved as a band, writes Ryan Butcher.



After a summer of high-profile festival appearances at Glastonbury, Reading and Leeds, Bloc Party received a fair share of negative criticism. This year, it seems they fell flat on such a vast, outdoor soundscape.

However, if their performances at the rest of their run of dates this month – dubbed “Bloctober” by the band – are anything like their appearance at the Engine Shed, then they have surely found a stride they are both confident and comfortable with.

Sonically, Bloc Party’s third album, Intimacy, saw the band at their most self-indulgent. Many of the tracks took a lot of work to get into, lacking the immediate appeal of their first two efforts. However, when performed, each note of every alternating time signature seemed to jump alive.

Signs and Ion Square both boast that rare combination of intelligence and delicacy, without coming across as disheartening, whereas Mercury and latest single One More Chance sound like the soundtrack to the rave at the end of the world.

But the band didn’t just stick to their newer material, playing a plethora of tracks from their back catalogue and sparking waves of euphoria from the exuberant crowd.

Banquet and Helicopter, predictably, received the biggest reactions of the night, confirming their status as modern indie classics, whilst Silent Alarm album track Positive Tension, at the request of a singled-out girl in the crowd, still managed to rear its monstrous head. Song For Clay (Disappear Here) sparked riotous scenes, with girls losing their shoes and bodies flying in every direction, while The Prayer thundered to life, sparking an eerie, almost cult-like reaction.

Unfortunately, before Bloc Party could finish their last song – presumably the top-ten hit Flux – the Engine Shed was evacuated due to the activation of the fire alarm.

The disappointment of the 1,500-strong crowd spoke volumes, as fans gathered outside the venue yearning for more.

If this truly is Bloc Party’s final tour for a while, they will be sorely missed by a legion of well-deserved devotees.

The Cribs, Adam Green @ Lincoln Engine Shed

The Cribs make a triumphant return to Lincoln, courtesy of a star-studded line-up featuring Manchester guitar legend Johnny Marr, and ex-Moldy Peaches frontman Adam Green, writes Ryan Butcher.



First off, Adam Green, who warms up the crowd with his unusual troubadour styling’s. Green has recently received a resurgence in popularity thanks largely to the success of cult-film Juno, and his old band’s affiliation with the soundtrack.

But those expecting twee, acoustic anti-folk duets are left a little surprised, as Green commands the stage with an implosive snarl, channelling the energy of a 1972-Lou Reed. Closing track Baby’s Gonna Die Tonight is a stomping, verbose blues number, completely eradicating the memory of Anyone Else But You from the minds of a bewildered, awestruck crowd.

So then, onto headline act. Since their transition into a four-piece, The Cribs hold themselves with much more authority – and rightly so.

Over the last eight years The Cribs have done a flawless job of engineering themselves from Lo-Fi obscurity into the indie mainstream. Superstar girlfriends, high profile collaborations and raucous live shows have helped transform Wakefield’s little-band-that-could into a credible, and more importantly, believable rock and roll machine.

The Lincoln crowd eat out of the palm of their collective hands as they shred through a set spanning their entire back catalogue.

Hey Scenesters and Mirror Kissers have evolved into archetypical indie anthems, which get the crowd going albeit sounding, dare I say, a little stale.

However, newer tracks like We Were Aborted and Cheat On Me have a much more mature sound, whilst still encapsulating the riotous 1970s punk rock fuzz which made their debut such a stand-out affair.

Thankfully, the recruitment of new member, and ex-Smiths guitarist, Johnny Marr proves to be a sound investment rather than a cheap gimmick to sell a few extra tickets.

His contribution to the line-up is to add an extra, much-needed layer of rhythmic depth which goes a long way to support the hoarse unpredictability of the brothers Jarman.

Over the last few years, The Cribs have shown a steady progression in both popularity and ability. Their Lincoln show goes further to demonstrate the imminent domination that they’ve always hinted at.

Lost Souls @ Lincoln Mezz Bar

Lost Souls’s performance to a legion of loyal fans proved why they’re ready for the spotlight, writes Ryan Butcher.

A couple of weeks ago, I reviewed Lost Souls’ eponymous EP release, and was perhaps misunderstood when describing it as “over-polished”. This comment wasn’t mean to be taken as a negative criticism. The quality of Lost Soul’s production values is a credit to the self-assured confidence the band willingly exude.

Regardless, following my review of the EP, one question remained. Could Lost Souls translate the same bile and energy from their recorded material effectively to a live environment? If last Friday’s performance at Lincoln’s Mezz Bar is anything to go by, then undoubtedly, yes.

First up, a couple of deserving mentions to the support acts. The Ironi manage to distill the faux working class sensibilities of the Arctic Monkeys with optimistic, yet somewhat juvenile, potential. Their cover of When the Sun Goes down sounds flawlessly like the original.

Meanwhile, steeped in flannel and distortion, The Rafters sound like the band Kurt Cobain wished Nirvana could have been when he first listened to a Pixies record.

Then its on to the headline act, Lost Souls, whose live performances are made up of three equal parts. Quality song composition, a convincingly professional stage presence, and a horde of dedicated followers immersing themselves in every note of every song.

Surrounded by smoke and multi-coloured flashing lasers, frontman Sam Warner leads a chorus of voices whilst looking very much like an Ian Brown waiting to happen. The vocal range that impressed me from their EP manages to stay true when transferred to stage, filtered through a sense of invincible aggression.

Meanwhile, the rest of the band prove that they don’t just rely on expensive studio production, coming across as a fearless, well-oiled, and more importantly, well-rehearsed machine. Interestingly though, they invite a sitar player to the stage through one of their closing songs, not only confirming The Beatles as a big inspiration for the band, but also showing that Lost Souls are a group unafraid to try new things.

Lost Souls look like a band waiting for their call up to the big time, and if they stay with this compelling progression, it’s surely only a matter of time.

Remnant: EP

If Remnant aren’t a Christian rock band already, then they sure should be, writes Ryan Butcher.


Right from the start of their demo EP, there are religious undertones running throughout. Opening track In Such As Me even goes as far to repeat the line “so gracious God, your grace will be ever reborn in such as me”, hidden amongst metaphors of light and life in reference to an omniscient presence.

Meanwhile, second track Wait For The Day references prayer and an eager anticipation for a returning presence, whilst closing track The War Song seeks for an explanation and justification of holy war.

I have my qualms with Christian rock. Music is a vibrant and living art-form which should not be subjected to a continuous stagnant and stale theme. This is to say, I have my qualms with any album or EP which doesn’t attempt to explore different emotions and viewpoints. Even a standard break-up album tends to range from songs of utter despair to blissful optimism.

Now, don’t misunderstand. This isn’t a Richard Dawkins inspired attack against Remnant because of their beliefs. If this was a Christian rock band producing something of substance and quality, then the religious tendencies could be forgiven for the sake of thoughtful composition. Some of Johnny Cash’s best work came post-1968 after he’d claimed to feel the presence of God in his heart. Unfortunately, with Remnant, this isn’t the case.

The lyrics are clumsy, almost juvenile in places, with a melody which seems out of time with what the rest of the band are playing.

The vocals themselves are an entirely different problem altogether. Remnant’s singer possess a limited range and often comes across flat and tuneless.

Meanwhile, the band seem to be performing with competing time signatures, which is surely a technique only acceptable within the genre of contemporary jazz. The drums, guitar and keys sound sloppy, careless, and just generally badly played.

The use of panpipes throughout instrumental track Running Through The Glen, however charming they may be, give the EP an archaic and dated sensibility.

I accept that this is a demo EP, but if Remnant want to get anywhere, within Christian rock or otherwise, then they have a long way to go.

MARKS: 1/10