Heavy Nuggets On Film #122 Nov 2007

Creamcrop To celebrate, augment and enhance this issue’s Heavy Nuggets CD, we present 11 monstrous moments of UK hard rock heaven...

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Cream - Tales Of Brave Ulysses - 1968

Jimi Hendrix - Sunshine Of Your Love - 1969

Led Zeppelin - Communication Breakdown - 1968

Deep Purple - Black Night - 1970

Black Sabbath - War Pigs - 1970

The Pretty Things - LSD - 1966

The Move - Fire Brigade - 1969

Procol Harum - Repent Walpurgis - 1971

Slade - Look Wot U Dun - 1971

Atomic Rooster - Tomorrow Night - 1971

Terry Reid - Bang Bang - 1969

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Starscrop After the Arcade Fire, Broken Social Scene and The Dears, Montreal’s Stars are further proof that there’s something astounding in the water supply of eastern Canada. Formed by UK-born, C86-minded singer Torquil Campbell and keyboard player Chris Seligman, and possessed with a yearning to realise a “bedroom wankery fantasy of My Bloody Valentine mixed with Momus mixed with the Smiths” - nice -  they’ve been releasing music since 2001. 2004’s Set Yourself On Fire was a doozy, and they continue onwards with the melodramatic synth pop of this year’s In Our Bedroom After The War. Hear some after the break!

Click the MORE button to hear songs from *In Our Bedroom After The War

Campbell’s limey ancestry comes out in this piano ballad about homo-erotic football hooligans. In its way, hilarious!

Take Me To The Riot
A moody indie rock trawl through the small hours that suddenly takes flight. A hint of Pet Shop Boys’ Rent – no bad thing.

Life 2 Unhappy Ending
Life? All meaningless sadness, realised while sitting in the darkened cinema, to the sound of melancholy strings and synths. Campbell hits a Moz-esque pitch.

Stars’ In Our Bedroom After The War is out now on City Slang

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HOW TO BUY...AC/DC25 Sep 2007

Highway_to_hell Any reckoning of the mightiest rock ‘n’ roll bands to have ever shaken the earth would incomplete without genuflection to AC/DC. Bringing the pain on record since 1975, the diehard rockers are planning a new collection next year and will shortly be releasing a career-wide double DVD retrospective. But in the meantime, what are the ten necessary waxings you need to own?

Click MORE to put your opinions forward

How does Highway To Hell measure up against Back In Black? Dirty Deeds… or Ballbreaker? You may also ponder on whether the band’s name stands for ‘Anti-Christ/ Devil’s Codpiece’, or what the precise location of AC/DC Lane in Melbourne is, but it’s the choices we’re interested in.

As ever, the best comments will be printed in the magazine.

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Knaancrop “When you say ‘Somalia’, you think about war, but we were a nation a poets, that is how we were known in Africa,” says Canada-based Mogadishu-born rapper K’naan. After escaping the conflict in his home country in 1991 – he left on the last commercial flight out - the budding rapper went to Ontario via New York and ended up expressing his unique set of influences on his 2005 album The Dusty Foot Philosopher and his latest, the live set The Dusty Foot On The Road.

Click the MORE button to hear songs from The Dusty Foot Philosopher and The Dusty Foot On The Road.

The Dusty Foot Philosopher
Where the MC wryly explains where he’s coming from over clipped beats, whistling and piano, like Eminem’s East African alter-ego. (Taken from The Dusty Foot Philosopher.)

Live guitar and drums come up against synth and the rapper’s extrapolation on the ruination of his homeland. One of his distinctly Marleyesque moments. (Taken from The Dusty Foot On The Road.)

What’s Hardcore?
Stripped and mordant comparison of rap of the gangsta persuasion and life in Somalia: “If I rhymed about home and got descriptive, I’d make 50 Cent look like Limp Bizkit” quoth K’naan. (Taken from The Dusty Foot On The Road.)

Read K’Naan in conversation in this month’s MOJO.

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Dirtyprojectors What kind of group would re-create Black Flag’s splenetic 1981 album Damaged purely from memory, intuition and an old cassette inlay for reference? Brooklyn’s Dirty Projectors, that’s who. In doing so the band changed its name to Rise Above and replaced the earlier record’s bark and punch with an avant-rock mélange of Nigerian hi-life, dissonant guitars, melody and soulful voice.

Click the MORE button to hear songs from Rise Above, out now on Rough Trade records.

Where melodious Afro-flavoured guitars take a left turn and start beating themselves up; somehow fun, despite the edge-of-collapse lyrics.

Six Pack
Equivocal hymn to the joys of a brewski; sounds like Talking Heads with their brains in a meat mincer.

Gimme Gimme Gimme
More desperate words and noise bursts, this time over delicate skanking and harmonies. Does it sound like Black Flag? Not even remotely.

Read chief Projector David Longstreth musing aloud on how Black Flag opened his brain and why he loves The Beatles in the current MOJO.

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Kasabian Everyone’s got a festival these days, and the indie-est of them all was held in Jersey (the one with cows, not Springsteen) at the weekend. MOJO’s Andy Fyfe was there, risking life and limb in a sea-borne speedboat with The Twang (good job they hadn’t yet read his review), and in a stubbly clinch with Kasabian (pictured). Was it worth it? Well, only you can be the judge of that...

Click MORE for the Jersey Live lowdown...

There are some things in life you wish to never see, and two of them are happening simultaneously. The giant inflatable speedboat in which we're currently hurtling across Jersey's St Aubin's Bay at a hairy 48 knots, is being piloted by Phil from The Twang. As if that isn't perturbing enough, in the stern The Twang's drummer - it's always the drummer - is smoking a fag. In our inflatable boat.

Such is the extra-curricular entertainment at Jersey Live festival. The island itself is charming, full of Aston Martins, cows, fine war museums and quaint fish markets, but boasts Britain's foulest tap water, which tastes like it's filtered through a fungal infection.

The festival itself, at the Royal Showground, is also charming, small (10,000 capacity) but perfectly formed. In daylight the atmosphere is that of a slightly beery school sports day, and as darkness falls the daft, out of proportion police presence ensures decorum remains largely intact. Uniquely for a festival - and one that is inexplicably doing a roaring trade in Bob Marley posters and Reggae Reggae burgers - the smell of recreational tobacco does not waft on the breeze.

If there were an award for Britain's indie-est festival, Jersey would scoop it. Already a couple of local acts, all-girl group The Veez, Does It Offend You Yeah? (no, and yet, yes), Snow Patrol wannabes Air Traffic and Little Man Tate have struggled to light any fires in a willing crowd, and only when The Enemy appear does it feel like something exciting is happening. He may be the diddy-est man in rock, but singer Tom Clarke's fusion of Liam Gallagher attitude and Paul Weller passion powers his band's songs with righteous bile. And for a three-piece they make an immense racket.

The Twang, lovely blokes and salty seadogs though they are, are milking every bit of talent they've got while they can. Their premiership swearing is truly exceptional, and co-vocalist Martin Saunders has a sweet '80s soul voice, but their amalgam of Flowered Up, The Farm and Simple Minds isn't going to take them too many more places.

The career of headliners The Fratellis is likely to be equally short, their 60-minute slot too long for Wonder Stuff-lite bounce-alongs. They still cause enough of a crush for one poor sod to be dragged, unconscious, from the crowd, but when they leave the stage mid-set for 10 minutes - mumbling something about loss of power - you have to wonder if it's a ploy to stretch out their meagre material.

Sunday's fare is far more varied. Brakes, the side-project of Electric Soft Parade brothers Tom and Alex White, play furious post-punk country (imagine if Gang Of Four had written Eight Miles High) to a regrettably small crowd. Fellow Brightonians Goose's three-keyboard attack, meanwhile, is likely the loudest thing on the planet. Impossibly young and very probably mad for it, they are what happens when people who went to one too many M25 raves in the '80s breed.

Rakes are dull Britpop fantasists, and singer Alan Donohoe not nearly as clever and ironic as he thinks. He's also a shit dancer. The Pigeon Detectives become one of the festival's undoubted hits, thanks in no small part to the unflagging efforts of singer Matt Bowman, who sprints about the stage like Roadrunner in a John Power wig. The band were actively encouraging a stage invasion on their website, but limit their physical interaction to Bowman invading the audience.

Super Furry Animals have no such energy, looking more and more like a band on the verge of splitting up, a possibility that Gruff Rhys won't comment on later as other members of the band glare at him from a distance.

Nobody wants to watch Audio Bullys, so Kasabian are a welcome relief. Manfully squaring up to their headlining challenge and largely dispelling any lingering notion that they're Primal Scream's dwarf idiot country bumpkin cousins, they also manfully attack their recreational activities back at the hotel bar. On a personal note to singer Tom Meighan, no matter how milk-bottle thick your beer goggles were, there's no way I look like a lovely young lady. And you're a rubbish kisser.

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Tunngcrop_2 Intrigued by the feature in this month’s MOJO about Tunng, the laptop folk fraggles from Matlock, Derbyshire? If so, slake your curiosity further. Step 1) Click the MORE button download a free MP3 of their brilliant track, Take. Step 2) consider investing in their third and latest album – entitled Good Arrows and out this week. Step 3) Enjoy a moderately amusing story about last night’s v. unusual Tunng gig in Brighton.

Click MORE button to download track. And stuff.

Click here to download Take…

…And while you’re doing that, listen to the one about Tunng sharing a bill with an Elvis impersonator, a violin and electric keyboard duo and a teenager covering Smells Like Teen Spirit. These rum shenanigans occurred last night after the band’s instore show at Resident Records, Brighton. Members Mike Lindsay and Sam Genders (pictured) had repaired to nearby hostelry The George, only to find themselves in the middle of the pub’s open mic night. Cajoled into taking part, the two played acoustic versions of Bodies, Jenny Again and Fair Doreen, much to the chagrin of the amateurs present. Damn ringers!


Find out more about Tunng, including forthcoming gig news, at www.myspace.com/thisistunng or www.tunng.co.uk

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Gravencrop “I can’t remember a point when I wasn’t into anything ghoulish and strange,” says Gravenhurst’s Nick Talbot (pictured) of his younger self. It suggests inner turmoil, but what could be better for songwriting?  The Bristol outfit – essentially Talbot plus like-minded helpers – release their fifth album The Western Lands in September, and it’s full of the kind of eerie songs that moved writer Martin Aston to call him “The whispery dark prince of acid-shoegaze-psych-folk” in the new MOJO.

Click the MORE button to hear song clips from Gravenhurst...

Talbot presses the melodic shoegaze pedal on The Western Lands’ soothing yet suspicious lead single.

Toetapper of gothic post-punk unease and regret, which asks, “Remember thrashing in the dark?”

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MOJO RISING: Simone White 1 Aug 2007

Simonecrop3 There aren’t many album covers adorned by glamorous photos of the artiste’s mother (cover) and grandmother (inner sleeve), but California’s Simone White is no ordinary singer. Admiringly compared in the pages of MOJO to the late Karen Dalton, her warm, sweet songs range from a cover of Carole King’s I Didn’t Have Any Summer Romance, through whispered, late night jazz to folk protest. Incidentally, her mum was a singer too, while her old granny did “quite sexy” dancing in the ’50s.

Click the MORE button to hear songs from I Am The Man, out now on Honest Jons.

I Didn’t Have Any Summer Romance
Beautiful interpretation of this single gal blues.

American War
Whispered protest song realises how the rest of the world sees The Korean War, The Vietnam War etc...

I Am The Man
The album’s melancholic title track makes a statement of bold self-accountability (rather than any gender-bending).

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We’re still reeling from the excrescence that is the new Smashing Pumpkins album cover. With its impressive combination of bland execution and pretentious “concept”, it takes the biscuit – although it could be argued that it represents the Pumpkins’ hectoring, supercilious but ultimately rather tedious frontman, Billy Corgan, rather well. It prompted the MOJO office to wonder, Has there been a worse album cover this year?

Click MORE for our Top 5 of the year so far, and for a chance to volunteer your own.

1) Department Of Can’t Be Arsed #1: Van Morrison – The Best Of, Volume 3
Matches the overall willthisdo?ness of the project with cut and paste artwork and various photos of Van saying, “Fuck off, don’t buy this record.”


2) Department Of No Oil Paintings: Kaiser Chiefs – Yours Truly, Angry Mob
Number one: take those scary men away! Number two: is he winking, or does he have an eye infection? Number three: Nick “Peanut” Baines! Arrrgh!


3) Department of Can You Handle This? Can You? Eh?: Patrick Wolf – The Magic Position

A grown man in children's clothes poses on a miniature Merry Go Round! "Aren’t I daring?" wee Paddy appears to be saying. Go home, you silly man!


4) Department of Can’t Be Arsed #2: Findlay Brown – Separated By The Sea
Crappy, twee computer graphics not even hinting at the wonders within. You could say it’s indicative of the lack of money spent on album covers these days, but please... File with all album covers that feature the ubiquitous font that turns into flowers, birds, trees, ghetto-blasters etc.


5) Department Of I'm So Cosmic: Perry Farrell’s Satellite Party - Ultra Payloaded
Previously rejected by George Clinton for being “too tacky and bonkers”.

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