Aus Music is one of the UK's most vital electronic imprints, a marker for quality that refuses to drop its standards.
Shenoda is a treasured voice in the label's circles, a producer who simply seems to get both their approach and their aesthetic.
New EP 'Burn' is out now, and it comprises of three heavyweight dance melters – productions that fizzled with an energy of their own.
Clash is able to air new cut 'Vista', and it's a muscular outing from a producer who knows how to make the most precise use of sonic weight.
Rugged, bold club music, it's the work of a real individual. Tune in now.
Dire Wolves are a self-regenerating phenomenon.
A perpetually evolving psychedelic unit, more than 20 individuals have passed through their gates, with the experience leaving its mark on each one of them.
The San Francisco cult heroes have buddied up with Beyond Beyond Is Beyond for a new album project, with 'Excursions To Cloudland' set to land next month.
Clash is able to bring you a preview, but it's not to be taken lightly. An aural experience, 'Fogged Out (Two)' shatters the barriers on what could be called a 'song', replacing them with conduits, with ripplets of sound.
Video artist Caitlin Denny assists on visuals, with the whole thing blurring into an immersive, meditative experience.
Guitarist Jeffrey Alexander:
"I first worked with Caitlin Denny for a video performance of hers at a museum in San Francisco several years ago. Her work with live visual feedback is captivating and immersive. I'm drawn to the beautiful abstraction but still with little touches of familiar images – such a nice balance. Especially when the images are dancing slowly while the colours are freaking out fast, it fits with the glacial pace of our music even though individual instruments are frenetic. Our goal musically is to get lost in the sound, to explore other cloudlands and Caitlin's visual work compliments that quite well."
Tune in now.
'Excursions To Cloudland' is due to be released on March 24th.
The Orwells and Our Girl are set to play the latest instalment of Metropolis Live.
The intimate West London event takes control of Metropolis Studios, one of the capital's most sought-after recording spaces.
With an intimate crowd and impeccable sound, it's basically the best way possible to catch an exclusive set from your favourite bands.
American tykes The Orwells return, fresh from the release of their scandalous new album 'Terrible Human Beings'.
Joining the band are Brighton/London three-piece Our Girl, with the Cannibal Hymns-aligned band already making waves.
The show takes place on March 6th, with Clash able to give away 20 tickets to the gig.
To stand a chance of winning simply fill in the following form and we'll decide the winners…
Music is always bound by context.
When The Away Days settled down to focus on new album 'Dreamed At Dawn', they no doubt took inspiration from within.
Lyrically, it's rather personal, while the Istanbul band's shoegaze wash is moulded within a renewed fixation with clinical electronics.
Yet the continued themes of escape, of reaching towards dawn have renewed relevance in a time punctuated by political chaos.
Returning to the UK, The Away Days have shot a video for album highlight 'Places To Go'.
Shown have in twilight, the shadowy clip is laced with powerful suggestion – a little like the music, then…
Catch The Away Days at the following shows:
8 Brighton Green Door Store
13 London Shacklewell Arms
20 Hertford Dog and Whistle
Kim Gordon picks up the phone.
“Hello, Kim?” I say. Then, as a way to break the ice: “It’s always nice to speak to another Kim – there aren’t that many of us.”
There’s a pause.
“Just some really famous ones…” she retorts. She’s right, of course – and she’s one of them, although you doubt she’d include herself in the list. Fame is not something that powers this woman, nor is it a phenomenon she seems to identify with, despite a list of famous friends as long as all your arms and legs combined.
A lot has changed in the last few years for Kim Gordon. A lot of things have come to pass that weren’t in the plan. Not that she’s historically been much of a planner. If her memoir, published last year, is anything to go by, life has been a ship that she hasn’t wittingly steered; more a string of incidents sculpted in part by her resourceful yet instinctive reactions to them. But change has been vital in the making of Kim Gordon.
As a child, she moved because her father’s job in academia took them somewhere – Los Angeles, Hawaii, Hong Kong – or because she wasn’t happy with a situation and followed her gut. Like the time she realised she’d made a mistake trailing friend Willie Winant to art college in Toronto and promptly transferred herself back to LA and the Otis Art Institute. A move, not so incidentally, she credits with changing her life: one detour among many with similar effect, the sagacious observer might say.
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When we look back, it’s easy to see life with a narrative structure. In the same way in which history is presented, there’s a clear element of cause and effect through Kim Gordon’s Girl In A Band as she tackles articulating her own story. This is at odds with the way most of us experience life as we go through it, with myriad choices open at any one time, none of us knowing what comes next.
But there’s also a slackness to Kim’s book – structure, sense of time and place, and trains of thought all shift and meander to varying degrees throughout, illuminating aspects of Kim’s personality and reflecting her magnetic complexity.
A megalith of rock to many, she’s clearly driven, but a planner? The only plan she ever seems to have at least half-formed was to go to New York. Lured by its bohemian siren song as an aspiring artist, it’s the place where she met Thurston Moore; no other place, she says, has ever made her feel more at home. Sonic Youth’s final gig on 14 November 2011 at the SWU Music and Arts Festival in São Paulo, Brazil, ceremonially marked the end of an era for Gordon. Much has been written about the dissolution of both band and Kim’s marriage to Moore. But if fans, the band, even Gordon herself found it traumatic, it was never a full stop. A dash or semicolon, perhaps – a signifier of the next chapter; a signpost for change.
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You can almost feel the space of the theatre…
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Kim had obligations already lined up to follow that historic final set, which was stippled with compositions from throughout Sonic Youth’s 30-year tenure as icons in rock’s (lower case) hall of fame. ‘Teen Age Riot’ from their fifth studio album, 1988’s ‘Daydream Nation’, was the track they said goodbye with. But gigs with friend, experimental musician Bill Nace, would follow – plus she also had an art show in Berlin to prepare for, and a daughter she wanted to see through her senior year.
It’s her work with Bill Nace that’s the impetus for our conversation today, five years on from her Sonic Youth curtain call. The improvisational project, called Body/Head, sees Gordon and Nace come together with their guitars to create their distinctive sound.
“The shows are really important; that’s where we make the music,” chuckles Kim. She finishes a lot of her sentences with a laugh, but it’s just one way she punctuates her rhotic Californian diction. She also pauses frequently, which draws out her unhurried Valley Girl-cum-surfer drawl-style delivery even further.
It’s live where Body/Head really makes sense and, on March 24th 2014 at the Big Ears Festival in Knoxville, Tennessee, everything came together to produce a landmark set, culminating in a live album, ‘No Waves’, out now.
“It just sounded really good, so we decided to put out the whole show,” says Kim. “The festival took place in a really beautiful theatre [the Bijou Theatre]. You can almost feel the space of the theatre.”
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Their first album, ‘Coming Apart’, was recorded in a studio, allowing Gordon and Nace to shape it more than they’re able to live. Kim reveals that they have plans to work together again in the studio on another record and hints that they might use acoustic guitars next time around – but she won’t, or can’t, say for sure.
“It’s evolving; it has a life of its own,” she says. “It’s basically my main music project, I guess. I did do that solo single [‘Murdered Out’] and I might work some more with that producer [Justin Raisen], but I don’t know if it will ever be a live touring thing.”
Where Body/Head is arguably her most dissonant project to date, the solo single, she says, is her most accessible. “But that still has dissonance in it and noise, and it’s kind of ‘rarrr’. Some people make great conventional music. That’s just not me at all. You know, if I can do it on my terms I’ll do it, but as far as making an actual song…” she tails off. “But, um, you know, I’m not interested in… I have a lot of interests.”
Inspired by a mutual love of French filmmaker Catherine Breillat, Gordon and Nace named the band after a phrase they found in a book about her films.
“A lot of the movies have to do with control and sexual relationships – and your body wanting one thing but your head saying no,” she explains. “So we were just like: ‘That’s a great name, let’s make a band’.”
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Some people make great conventional music. That’s just not me at all.
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For Gordon, the chance to experiment and improvise was liberating – and a contrast to the experience of spending 30 years in a successful, democratic rock band.
“When we started playing music together, it was so fun and it was just this kind of great, freeing [feeling]: to play music and not really think about what it’s going to be or have to promote it. I just figured it’s so experimental, no one’s going to be interested,” she splutters. “It was just so much, you know, play music and not think about anything else.”
It’s not surprising the project means so much to her – as well as it being so suited to her exploratory nature, it must have provided a welcome outlet for her after everything she’d been through. A sort of primal therapy.
I tell Kim that the day before listening to the album I’d actually seen a short film – called Manoman – exploring the subject of primal therapy, and that the two have parallels, not least in Kim’s vocals, which feel like an outpouring of raw emotion. This begs the question: how much of Body/Head is self-expression and how far is it just experimentation with sound?
“It’s kind of both,” she says. “People don’t usually hear that many vocals in improv music to begin with. It was just really pure emotion, and visceral instinct guiding it.”
The short film reference isn’t oblique. Not only is Body/Head inspired by film, it sounds like a Lynchian film score. Gordon and Nace also make use of film in performance, slowed down and played behind them on stage.
“It’s in such slow motion, it almost doesn’t look like anything is happening. It’s almost like a tableau,” she says. “We started out with this film, Coming Apart, which is where the title of our record came from, and which was a film that Rip Torn did very early [in his career]. It all takes place in this apartment of his. He has a hidden camera and these women come in and out, and throughout the film he’s gradually having a nervous breakdown – but they don’t know that they’re being photographed. So, that’s actually a great one because [we run it] in such slow motion, it’s really abstractive as a movie and it almost feels like you’re in somebody’s living room – it’s the right scale and everything.”
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It’s like being a painter; having a palette.
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Kim Gordon has previous when it comes to mixing her music with movies – Sonic Youth scored two films, 2010 French drama Simon Werner a Disparu, and 1987 American road movie, Made In USA.
Film is clearly important to her, so would she want to go the way of other musicians – like Cliff Martinez, Clint Mansell, Atticus Ross, former Oingo Boingo singer and one-time boyfriend Danny Elfman – and go further down the film scoring path?
“I like doing it but it depends on the director and how much freedom you have,” she says. “I did one on my own recently for a film that I don’t know what happened to.”
She laughs. What was the film? “It was a James Franco film. It was problematic, I think.”
She doesn’t elaborate. She does, however, admit to still being keen to explore the things she first set out to explore at the start. One of those preoccupations is dissonance.
“Well,” she begins. There’s a long pause. “It’s like being a painter; having a palette. I don’t like to reduce it to visual terms, it sounds corny. But it’s like another layer. [Dissonance] is a good contrast to melody and it lends itself to extremes that we actually don’t really hear in music that much. In commercial [music], you know? Or indie rock, or whatever you want to call it.”
It seems paradoxical that someone with so many interests and diverse enterprises to her name – she’s an artist, a writer, a musician with countless side projects, a fashion designer, yada yada yada – and a person for whom change has been something she’s flourished because of her whole life, would want to be exploring the same things today as when she started.
But an interesting mix of paradoxes is Kim Gordon all over. “I’m not really good with change but I also don’t like stillness either,” she says.
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She likes dissonance and she likes melody, she’s an overachiever dogged by self-doubt, she’s a universally adored rock icon troubled by a sense that she doesn’t fit. Reading her book, you also notice she’s struck by beauty and simultaneously repelled by it – conventional notions of what constitutes beauty anyway. She thrives on uncertainty but is drawn to the security of place, and she loves and hates those places in equal measure.
Throughout Girl In A Band, there are contradictory references to almost all the places she’s lived – her first experience of LA is the lack of anything indigenous: “I’ve always felt there’s something genetically instilled and inbred in Californians – that California is a place of death, a place people are drawn to because they don’t realise deep down they’re actually afraid of what they want”. And yet it’s also a place she felt homesick for; the LA canyons were glamorous to her – in the hills, she says, you could imagine you were anywhere in the world. New York, once a place she adored, is now a place she no longer feels comfortable, while Massachusetts, where she lived until recently, was always a compromise.
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I’m not really good with change but I also don’t like stillness either…
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That Sonic Youth continued for 30 years is also one of those paradoxes. When she says she doesn’t like change but she also doesn’t like stillness, Sonic Youth is the embodiment of that. They grew from strength to strength over the years, emboldened and boosted by the band’s varied side projects, fresh approaches and new ways of looking at things.
Gordon says none of them expected it to last as long as it did. “I think it lasted because we really liked the music we were making together, for the most part,” she says. “We were kind of committed to being together. It’s like a relationship or something. You have to actually want to do it.” She laughs again.
Switching from medium to medium as she does within her assorted projects, I ask if she ever feels limited by the medium she’s working in, or by expectations that are placed on her, and whether those are reasons she feels the compulsion to explore so many avenues. She thinks hard before committing to a no.
“I don’t feel limited by the medium, but I always perform better if I can lower people’s expectations,” she chuckles. “I guess it would be the opposite of bolstering your product!”
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What she says next tells you everything you need to know about Kim Gordon: “I’m kind of interested in what happens on stage when you’re improvising and – this happens a lot in art-making – you have moments when you’re sort of failing, or there’s an awkward silence, or you don’t know how to start the next song or the next part. Or you feel like something isn’t working. But you just sort of plough on with it, then something good comes out of it. I kind of like that.”
Trying, experimenting, maybe failing and then creating something of the fall out – Kim’s done that all her life it seems.
At the suggestion she flourishes in the face of flux, she kind of baulks. “It was really hard and traumatic,” she says of the Thurston/Sonic Youth split. “Now, I feel more free, and so I can kind of do what I want, which is good.”
“Presumably the book was…?” I hesitate. I don’t want to say the word because I know she’ll hate the word: “…cathartic?”
She indulges me: “I guess.” She pauses. “I don’t know; it was more like having an electric nervous system. Which I still have.” That laugh again.
So why did she write it? “I was at a very contemplative point in my life, trying to figure out how I got to where I was,” she says. For Kim, writing was the only way to properly explore that. But it wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t been approached to do it.
“People started asking me,” she explains. “I think after Patti [Smith’s] book they were curious – you know, what’s the next thing? Patti’s success was, in a way, a big surprise. It didn’t occur to me to actually make a book, so I wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t been approached by somebody. And, quite frankly, I didn’t really know how I was going to make a living. Sonic Youth was my main source of income.”
It’s easy to think that in her seventh decade and back in LA, the place where she grew up, Kim Gordon has come full circle. But she was born in the state of New York – a suggestion, perhaps, that Los Angeles isn’t the place she’ll end up settling, corporeally or cerebrally. There’s more change ahead yet for the extraordinary Kim Gordon – that’s something she can count on.
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Words: Kim Taylor-Foster
Photography: Olivia Bee
Fashion: Sean Knight
Combine songs about getting drunk with pals and defiance against the prevailing Tory regime and you’ll get the majority of bands that are produced in the North of England these days. Add a slap bass and a funked up rhythm, and you’ll get Isaac, Luigi, Jack and Matt – AKA No Hot Ashes.
With beats you can’t help but bop along to followed up by Isaac’s raspy vocals, these boys have a chance of becoming your new favourite Northerners. So what’s their story so far? “Isaac, Matt and myself all met in school and messed around with bands until around early 2014 when Jack joined us,” explains guitarist and backing vocalist Luigi. “We were approached not long after by our now long term producer Gavin Monaghan (Editors, The Twang, Ocean Colour Scene) after he heard a few of our early recordings and saw potential. We then went to record with him at Magic Garden Studio’s in Wolverhampton. Since we released our first single 'Goose' and B-side 'Skank' in 2014 we haven’t stopped.”
Take a closer listen to tracks like ‘Easy Peeler’ and ‘Skank’, and you’re sure to hear something reminiscent of early Noughties indie bands such as The Ordinary Boys, but what sets them aside from your standard indie upstarts is their impressive incorporation funk and soul into their music. “Individually we all have quite different music tastes, from 80s pop, funk and soul, to Dub and sound system stuff… but together we all have a mutual affection for funk and guitar-based music,” says bass guitarist Jack. “We are pretty much an amalgamation of all our influences put into an indie/funk guitar based aesthetic.”
Like any good indie band, the boys have a strong social media presence, and even though they aren’t boasting hundreds of thousands of followers just yet, their following is loyal. With their new single ‘Bellyaches’ being released at the beginning of this week, and band tees selling at an impressive rate, their Twitter game is strong. And this could be down to No Hot Ashes being such relatable lads. With ages ranging from 18-21 and lyrics about love, heartache, getting pissed and politics, they are the poster boys for a new age of Indie Twitter. Lyricist Isaac explains some themes behind their songs: “'Bellyaches' was an exploration of how I get drunk on no budget; then how you get home; then the bellyaches after. Goose was an outright love song. 'Skank' was about being sad and from Stockport… 'Smooth' was about a state of political freedom in which you didn't have to surrender to a certain regime and 'Cool Cat' was about being poor and (again) politically dissatisfied.”
As well as down to earth, these boys also have the salient quality of being incredibly humble. “We have been really lucky so far to play some very cool gigs and festivals, we tend to take memories from every gig we play but in particular I think we all agree on a few really great moments as a band, Kendal Calling and Y Not Festival in particular stand-out for us,” says Jack. “We had fairly early slots at both festivals but the crowd we managed to pull in so early in the day was incredible and we felt very humbled by the crowd response from both sets. We have also played numerous Sold Out shows in Manchester to our home-crowd and there is nothing better feeling than having a full room of people jumping and singing along to your music.” We suspect the dancing part comes easy when you’re listening to such vibrant, intrepid sounds.
So what’s in store this year for No Hot Ashes? “Like any unsigned band we would love to be able to drop our day jobs/university and pursue the band full time – until then, we will be constantly gigging, recording, and spreading our music as far as we can.”
What: Bold, raspy vocals fuelled with melodic authoritative riffs
Get Three Songs: 'Bellyaches', 'Skank', 'Smooth (No Bits)'
Fact: Isaac has a five inch long tongue…
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Words: Laura Copley
Photography: Justin Garner @PhotographyJags
Brought to you in association with Cheap Monday. Check out their latest offerings over on their website now.
Roots run deep in London town.
Shanty uncover the capital's bass frequencies, adding a UK twist to those imposing dubwise rhythms.
Fronted by soulful vocalist Benjamin Willis and grime MC Levi Gordon, the group's debut offering 'Leave Me Out' was repped by vital broadcaster David Rodigan.
New EP 'Strange Little Human' drops on March 24th, with Shanty placing new cut 'Happy To Be Sad' online.
The jaunty reggae rhythm matches tougher-than-tough percussion to love-lorn lyrics, with the vocals chirruping: "You make me happy to sad with just a picture of you…"
Tune in now.
“We’re fucked,” sings Martin Gore on ‘Fail’, the final track on the new Depeche Mode album ‘Spirit’. It’s not exactly the uplifting, elegiac ending to an album that one is badly in need of by the end of ‘Spirit’, but as a summary of the prevailing mood, that lyric sums it up perfectly.
This is not an album to listen to if you are remotely worried about the state of the world right now. Lead single ‘Where's The Revolution?’ signalled this, but it didn't quite prepare you for just how bleak a picture Depeche Mode were planning to paint. From the off, with the edgy, slow-building opener ‘Backwards’ – with its trademark bass-heavy rhythms and edgy, nagging melody befitting of a classic Depeche Mode set piece – it's clear that ‘Spirit’ is going to be a challenging listen.
And so you get lyrics dealing with how mankind is ignoring the warning signs, regressing instead of progressing, destroying the planet via undeniable satellite evidence that some would no doubt decry as ‘fake news’, reminds us painfully of how bad race intolerance got with a story about a public lynching, takes a swipe at politicians and public figures with ‘Scum’ and bemoans the devious tactics of major corporations. It's bold, direct and in most cases perfectly reflective of public opinion, even if call-to-arms lyrics like “it’s time to pull the trigger” (‘Scum’) are probably not exactly helpful with a Republican in power.
Fortunately, it's not all doom and gloom. Some of ‘Spirit’ manages to avoid politics or societal damage completely. ‘Move’ nods back to the sleek, sexy grooves of ‘It’s No Good’ (used as the unlikely music to an unlikely pole-dancing scene in Friends, fact fans) with a slightly off-kilter rhythm. ‘Cover Me’ is one of those redemptive songs that Depeche Mode are so good at, with that slow climb out of misery toward some sort of anguished optimism. The track includes an extended analogue middle section that feels like the coda from ‘Violator’s ‘Clean’ expanded into a full song. It's reverential, but fresh at the same time. Some of this can be attributed to producer James Ford from Simian Mobile Disco, who manages to encourage a certain wonkiness and roughness to the modular synth sections where these have felt a little too formulaic on recent Depeche Mode albums.
Politics aside, it is easy to approach ‘Spirit’ as nothing especially new in the almost forty year legacy of this band – especially when tracks like ‘Eternity’ and ‘So Much Love’ feel like a band covering themselves. But listen closely and something has altered; the bluesiness that seemed to dominate recent records is here transformed into a much more soulful sound, with Martin Gore’s guitar largely absent and Dave Gahan’s frontman swagger played down ever-so-slightly. One of the most interesting songs here, ‘No More’, sounds like a late 80s pop song filtered through a distinctly Depeche lens, while ‘Poison Heart’ sounds like a Motown anthem pushed through cavernous distortion. These are tender, if bittersweet moments that offset the negativity elsewhere.
That soulfulness amid the misery is the key to making sense of ‘Spirit’. Something about Martin Gore’s summation of the state of the world on ‘Fail’, with its finger-pointing, ‘shame-on-you’ air evokes the same mood as Marvin Gaye’s ‘What's Going On’ album. Drawing a comparison between a late-period Depeche Mode LP – that some might cynically view as nothing more than a reason for yet another mega-tour – and a classic, politicised Motown album seems sacrilegious somehow, but weirdly apt. This is the kind of album that is necessary for shining a light on our basest traits and for encouraging us to think differently all over again; in that sense, for the first time in a long time, Depeche Mode have judged this just right.
Words: Mat Smith
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Stormzy, it seems, is the everyman MC. Adored by everyone from Ed Sheeran to Adele, from the disaffected youth who constituted grime’s original, core audience, to the Nandos-munching students hashtagging along to his hits, he has penetrated the mainstream more quickly, and more effectively, than almost any MC before him – save, perhaps, Dizzee Rascal.
Unlike Dizzee, though, he did all this before releasing a full length album. 'Gang Signs & Prayer', then, is the MC’s opportunity to properly explore, define and consolidate his sound, and cement his status as the standard-bearer for a new generation of artists, as well as listeners.
So, does he do it? In some respects, yes. Compared to other albums widely considered landmarks, this is closer in tone to 'Ghetto Gospel' than it is to, for example, 'Boy in da Corner', or Roll Deep’s 'Rules And Regulations'. While it has the anger of that first Dizzee record, it’s shorn of the angst, and the cockney wit of Wiley’s entourage isn’t much in display either. What it is, is earnest, honest, and self-confident.
Whether the quasi-gospel feel of tracks like ‘Blinded By Your Grace Part 2’ appeals, it’s impossible to say that Stormzy isn’t speaking from the heart. And for those who find the treacly ‘Cigarettes And Cush’ a bit too much to stomach, Sir Spyro assisted tracks like ‘Mr Skeng’ and ‘Return Of The Rucksack,’ or the Swifta Beater produced ‘Cold’ will likely satisfy.
As the everyman MC, Stormzy has, unsurprisingly, delivered a lengthy record that contains something for everyone. The fact that a few days after its release, all 16 tracks appear somewhere in Spotify’s Top 50 chart seems to confirm this. In an age when fans can pick and choose which songs they buy, this is undoubtedly a smart move.
In doing so, the album sacrifices some coherency. Occasionally it feels like it veers too suddenly from braggadocio to piety, and it’s questionable whether Stormzy has a sufficiently versatile delivery (he’s no Durrty Goodz) to support this. But by casting his net so wide, the MC is unlikely to disappoint his diverse audience.
Words: Alex McFadyen
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John Joseph Brill's music has a certain starkness to it that rings true no matter the approach.
New single 'I'm Not Alright' is a sonic progression, with the songwriter bathing his voice in pared down synths.
The arrangement was constructed with Andrew Davie of Bear’s Den, with the synth bath suiting Brill's languid baritone.
The song itself comes from a personal place, with the author reflecting on a period of turbulence in his life…
"At the time of writing the song I'd just been through a break-up and found myself broke and with nowhere to live. And while superficially that's what the song's about, it grew into something deeper for me. These are strange and uncertain times and I really believe that no matter what your story is, everyone should feel like if they need to, they can raise their hand and say 'I'm Not Alright' and for that to be OK."
Clash is able to premiere the lyric video for 'I'm Not Alright', and the stark monochrome visuals act as the perfect counterweight to John Joseph Brill's lyricism.
There's a feeling, too, of a British equivalent to some of Springsteen's work – of the match between the digital and the organic, resting on post-industrial scenes.
Tune in now.
'I'm Not Alright' is out now via Kobalt – an EP of the same name follows shortly. Catch John Joseph Brill at London's Waiting Room on April 12th.