Whip your hair, Brucie baby.

If, like me, you find Willow Smith’s Whip My Hair unsettling in an S-Club-Junior-kinda-way, here’s a lovely alternate version for you to try on for size. Major props to Bruce Springsteen for taking a pop at his former self by teaming up with Jimmy Fallon/Neil Young for this rendition. Quality.

Paging Sheryl Crow’s mojo; where the f$*k are you?

The lights were on but no-one was home.

Way back in July, I blogged about the launch of Sheryl Crows’ seventh studio album, 100 Miles From Memphis. I wasn’t best pleased. She’d gone and got all funky on our arses in a way that only an ageing former rock-chick can. As in, she can’t. I mentioned at the time I didn’t think her voice was right for it but, having already got tickets for the tour, resolved to wait and see whether a live show would shed any light on the sorry affair.

Did it? Well, I’ll give you a clue. A Terence Trent d-Arby cover was the HIGHLIGHT. If you’re now thinking, “uh oh, capital letters ahoy, there’s a rant a-coming”, you’re right.

Here goes. Even when covering her old classic rockier fodder, our Sheryl felt it necessary to include a brass section on EVERY SONG. There were huge long instrumentals featuring said brass section where she was left to totter about in heels on a raised platform doing her own version of a DANCE ROUTINE. She murdered some of her best songs live on stage, delivering groovolicious-karoke versions of the songs I treasured growing up – Can’t Cry Anymore? Oh yes we can love.

In the true tradition of the encore, she saved the best to last – a HORRIFIC cover of Michael Jackson’s I Want You back. She’s polished over all the kinks in her voice, which is now a sanitised warble. Oh and by the way, I Shall Believe, the gorgeous ballad from Tuesday Night Music Club, is now a full-on religious warbler, complete with an extra verse at the end to hammer the point home.

I could go on, but I won’t. Suffice to say this was a huge disappointment. I’ve been listening to some of her golden oldies to try and erase the experience from my consciousness. And, if she’s happy to rake in the cash from an audience that gives new meaning to the aforementioned phrase ‘golden oldie’, fair play to her.  No Sheryl, don’t touch me. You’ve soul’d out.

Was it only me???? Let me know…

Tiffany Page; The Great Pretender?

Ouch...that had to hurt. Lemsip on stand-by...

Fast emerging as a rock siren in her own right, Tiffany Page’s burgeoning career has inevitably drawn comparisons to the likes of Chrissie Hynde. She may be packed full of contradictions – a husky vocal that one of the Stones would be proud of vs. impeccable spoken elocution that at the very least deserves a double-barrel – but a pretender she ain’t. There is a certain amount of muso snobbery coming her way no doubt, but in my opinion, she’s the real deal. And that’s exactly what the crowd at Oxford Street’s 100 Club discovered recently.

Prior to the gig, our Tiffany seemed nervous. She had good reason to be, there was a lot riding on this night – not least because her tour and album have both been delayed. The official reason is that she wasn’t happy with it and wanted to include some new songs. Fair play. But you know how people will talk…And, to top it all, she was losing her voice. Sexy husky is one thing, rasping squeaks are quite another. Beer and fags were off the menu as she took centre stage.

As it turned out, she had no reason to worry. She may have been more husky than usual and did skip out on a few of the higher notes. But the energy she exhibited, along with that  of the rest of the band, made up for it in spades. For me, ‘Police’, ‘Walk Away Slow’ and ‘Rude Boy’ were some of the highlights. For others, her decision to drop ‘Roam’ was an outrage. But, for this night, as she said herself, it was just too high. Not to worry people, a couple of lemsips and Roam will be back with a vengeance on tour. Whenever that may be…

Ciao, for now.

One of the most striking aspects of the gig was the fan-base that’s building around the 23 year-old rocker. As predicted, she seems to have well and truly won the lesbian vote and that’s hardly surprising. But what’s more surprising is the middle-aged contingent, the mums and the dads politely bopping away next to the love-sick teenage boys and girls that could well be their offspring. I hope, for both sakes, that never actually happens.

The 100 Club is an amazing venue and a perfect showcase for Tiffany. Joe Strummer, Mick Jagger, The Clash, the Sex Pistols – they’ve all been there, done that since it opened its doors in 1942. It’s a true jewel in the crown of indie music venues; a 350-capacity room with a track record of helping smaller bands on their way to stardom. Let’s hope Ms. Page is one of them.

Credibility is clearly the holy grail for this young artist. Very much a woman in a man’s world, that’s easier said than done. But the likes of Janis, Chrissie, Sheryl and even, Pink to a degree, have done it before her. I’m sure she can blaze in their trail.

Marina & The Diamonds Sparkle in San Francsico

Located on Divisadero in San Francsico, The Independent was an intimate and highly appropriate setting for one Miss Marina Lambrini Diamandis. That’s Marina & The Diamonds to you and me. Pretty damn close to Haight Ashbury, often cited as one of the original centers for hippiedom, the venue showcased something akin to a counterculture being born out of the singer-songwriter’s blend of quirky vocals, new-wave pop and cartoon-style fashion sense.

She believes she can fly. So do they.

At least, the adoring fans singing every word to every song would have you believe in a counterculture. Marina herself told us: “San Francisco, you will always be diamonds.” In truth, and hyperboles aside, this was a charming performance from an artist who can’t be too far off her dream of “breaking America”. Inevitable highlights included I Am Not A Robot and Hollywood, although Obsessions and new single Shampain went down a treat too.

Throughout, Marina displayed an infectious energy that lit up every song she offered the San Francisco crowd. She explained that the name Marina & The Diamonds was created to make herself feel better at a time when she felt she had no friends. Well, she certainly has them in spades now! Faced with her incredible stage presence, you couldn’t help but warm to the 24 year-old.

Here in the UK, she’s yet to truly set the charts on fire, although her album, The Family Jewels peaked at a very respectable number five. Nonetheless, she’s still churning out a series of hits that most popsters would give their right arm for. She’s had her fair share of criticism, one being that her trademark vocal overshadows the songs beneath it. But I think this is just plain lazy – think Morrissey, think Janis, even think Florence. It never caused them any problems.

Nice baps. That was TOO easy.

The issue is that no matter how hard people try they just can’t seem to fit Marina and her Diamonds into a box, and that makes them uneasy. She’s clearly exceptionally talented, she seems fiercely independent and entirely in control of her own creative vision, she’s fashioning the musical pedigree that will make her great, and yet, she can have a laugh too. When the opening strains of Hollywood struck up, she rushed off stage only to reappear in sequinned stars and stripes shorts, a pint-sized football shirt and dollar-sign glasses.

So, if she’s obsessed with the mess that’s America, they certainly seem to be warming to her. I personally welcomed the opportunity to see her somewhere other than a dripping and overcrowded Reading Festival tent. But I have no doubt that wherever she plays next, she’ll continue to shine on.

Kele Okereke rocks NYC. And then some.

Ahh...it's ok, he's picked up a guitar.

I’ve always been a big Bloc Party fan. But, controversially for some, far from holding Kele Okereke in contempt of court for breaking up the band, I am loving his new album, The Boxer. I was therefore so-excited-I-nearly-popped to see him play live at Webster Hall in New York City last night. And, I wasn’t disappointed.

Attracting its fair share of ardent bloc party fans, the gig proved that New Yorkers were in a Kele state of mind alright. Ok, so some were a bit narked by his choice of apparel – a Pistons basketball shirt – but they seemed to calm down when he explained; “I just liked the colour”. The set list and ad libs weren’t a million miles away from those he used when I saw him play Reading Festival, opening with Walk Tall and ending with the inevitably crowd-pleasing Flux.

The shirt didn't go too well in NYC...

Everything You Wanted and Tenderoni were obvious highlights, but The Other Side and Rise were some of my personal favorites. A little Bloc Party medley went down a storm too – hell, it was all mind-blowingly brilliant, shall we just settle on that? As a Brit in NYC it was really interesting to gauge the reaction of the crowd there. Perhaps a little smaller than the kind of crowd he’d attract in the UK, they were enthusiastic to say the least – which bodes well for Kele since he recently announced plans to move to Manhattan.

Indeed, with producer Alex Epton in the crowd and having recorded The Boxer in Brooklyn, this was a homecoming gig of sorts for the former Bloc Party frontman. He confessed that it was the date he’d been most looking forward to on the tour. How very dare you, Kele. And hopefully, he wasn’t disappointed either. To be honest, he bore the demeanor of a man who couldn’t believe his luck for most of the night, even returning for a second encore in answer to his adoring fans.

Something tells me this was a recycled set list...

Fusing dancehall with electronica, funky beats and melancholy sentiment, The Boxer is one of my albums of the year. And, it’s safe to say that seeing it live is one of my gigs of the year, too. It had it all; a high energy performance, an intimate setting, Tommy Sparks on guitar, Kele at the top of his game…I could go on. And on.

If you want an indication of just how well Kele went down last night, I can tell you that there was a proper Bridget-Jones-style fight over his sweaty towel at the end between some fully grown men who should have known better. Bless them. I steered clear but sealed my night with a trip to the top of the empire state building. It was high. However, I have no doubt that after that gig, Kele felt considerably higher above his nearly native New York skyline.

Reading Festival 2010 Day 3: The Day The Rain Came…

The third and final day of Reading Festival 2010 was rocked by some major rain, ensuring that we never really bid goodbye to the mud that had plagued us throughout. It certainly ensured that the tents were packed, something I’m not entirely sure Los Campesinos could have taken full credit for otherwise.

But when did a little bit of mud ever hurt anyone eh? There was ambiguity at times, Limp Bizkit frontman Fred Durst asked the crowd, “Is that mud you’re throwing or doo-doo?”. Doo doo was the response and I for one, having seen others trying to vomit into water pistols, remain undecided. Talking of the mighty Bizkit, their set was great and drew in a massive crowd. Many of whom, I suspect rather like myself, used the opportunity to hark back to their student glory days. Either way, Fred knew the score and stuck to the hits. He was rewarded for his efforts by many topless girls sat astride willing shoulders. Everyone was a winner. 

Get in there Jonny.

Cheesey pervs aside, other highlights of the day included The King Blues, delivering a potent mix of politics, ska and punk to a crowd who lapped it up despite the rain. Lead singer Jonny ‘Itch’ Fox was his customary little ball of loveable rage and leapt into the crowd towards the end as a beleagured security guard held on to the back of his trousers. Highlights included ‘Boulder’, ‘Headbutt’ and ‘The Streets Are Ours’ – the latter a heartfelt dedication to the recent putdown of an EDL demonstration at the weekend. We were all happy to oblige him in raging against the scumbag far right extremists. The Steets Are Ours? Too right Jonny.

Kele. Checkmate.

Kele Okereke played a storming set in the NME tent, easily one of my festival  highlights. Creating the best atmosphere I experienced in my entire time at the festival, Kele continued to manage his transition from Bloc Party pretty well, playing up to new and old fans alike. He told us: “Some of you may know, I used to have another band. They were really rather good.” That was the closest he came to answering the calls for a firm stance on whether Bloc Party’s days are numbered but, if his set was anything to go by, solo success not only beckons, it’s claimed him for one of its own. As you’d expect, Flux went down extremely well, but so did Tenderoni and Everything You Wanted. Kele, what can I say? You’re buff, your’re back and everyone loves you. I’m in New York soon and just booked tickets to see him there – I’ll keep you posted…

Wild Beasts got a good reception and came across as thoroughly nice boys, while Weezer prompted many calls for a full UK tour soon. Headline-wise, Paramore put on a solid performance, and I was amazed that I seemed to be the only one there who didn’t know every word to every song. Especially since the punky popsters are not known for being syllable-light. Following the obligatory calls for Hayley to “show us your tits”, I ditched the band in favour of We Are Scientists, who delivered an energetic performance, characterised by witty quips and a brilliant rendition of After Hours. I gather they were followed by an amazing Klaxons set but since they and Blink are not my bag, I opted to beat the mass exodus and head home.

What a festival. Well done Reading; critics hang your head in shame.

Reading Festival 2010 Day 2: Axl, take note.

As the mud dried and the sun came out, Reading Festival Day 2 was the day Axl Rose should have been sitting in front of the main stage feverishly taking notes about how it should be done. There were lessons a-plenty for the Guns ‘n Roses front man:

1.How to cross-over. Taught by Mr Dizzee Rascal.

People. As far as the eye could see and then some.

Although he was two places removed from the headline slot, it seemed that no-one had told Dizzee, or the festival-goers. I’ve never seen anyone appeal so much to so many different demographics. Every one wanted a piece of the action and he easily attracted the biggest and bounciest crowd of the whole day. Bonkers was exactly that, an eagerly anticipated encore that whipped everyone into a state of frenzy. Other highlights included Dizzee’s rendition of Smells Like Teen Spirit, where he told us, “This is a fucking warning. If you’re soft, don’t stand at the front. This part of the show ain’t no joke.” It wasn’t, it was insane.  

2.How to stage a comeback. Taught by The Libertines.

The Pete & Carl Show in full swing.

Reportedly paid over £1m to play, The Libertines came close to stealing the show on day 2. Indeed, I watched several die-hards come close to wetting themselves as the troubled quartet belted out a fan-pleasing set. The gig opened with images of the band projected onto screens to the tune of Vera Lynn’s We’ll Meet Again. Then, as The Libertines’ banner unfolded ceremoniously behind the stage, the preamble to the long-awaited gig saw many of  the crowd verge on hysteria. You could be forgiven for thinking you were watching The Pete & Carl show as a gratuitous bromance unfolded live on stage. Pete hugged Carl, Carl hugged Pete, Carl kissed Pete, Pete kissed Carl, Pete tousled Carl’s hair – you get the picture. Pete looked relatively healthy and seemed compos mentis. The sound was pulled without explanation during Time For Heroes and the band left the stage to boos before returning. It could have been something to do with some exuberant fans getting crushed at the front; the only time any of the band said anything to the crowd, Pete advised: “Show each other love yeah? If one of you goes down, help each other out. Don’t be standing on each others’ heads.” Wise words. It was a good set from a band who may or may not have had their day. Time will tell. The band were certainly giving nothing away.  

3) How to headline a festival. Taught by Arcade Fire.

Arcade Fire. Legends.

 In the lead-up to the festival there had been some doubt as to whether Montreal’s indie royalty were worthy of the  headline slot, with reported tensions between them and The Libertines over the issue. But, as soon as they took the stage, the band banished any hint of raised eye-brows from the very healthy turn-out (especially given that Pendulum were headlining another stage). Win Butler quipped: “At least we’re punctual, right?”, highlighting the gulf between the magnificent performance of his own band and the mockery that was the previous night’s headline set from Axl Rose and his band. Arcade Fire highlights included No Cars Go, Keep The Car Running, Intervention and a euphoric Wake Up. I’m still not convinced that the new album offerings are as potent as those of the first, but as Win said himself: “Look, we’ve never had a hit single so I don’t know what the fuck we’re doing here.” Bless.

Coco gets up close and personal with the crowd. They liked it.

So, lessons over with, there were plenty of other highlights from day 2, not least Band of Skulls, The Gaslight Anthem, The Maccabees and Frank Turner. Surprise of the day went to I Blame Coco. Don’t be put off by her dad, Coco delivered an amazing performance. Quirky and likeable, Sting’s daughter showed all the signs of a star in the making.    

Day 3 awaits…