Them Crooked Vultures: Them Crooked Vultures

WTF, A supergroup that actually exceeds the sum of its constituent parts. And as those constituent parts include the greatest rock bassist from the greatest rock band, ever, that’s no light statement.

Work on TGV has been a fairly covert affair with Dave Grohl (Nirvana, Foo Fighters), Josh Homme (Queens of the Stone Age) and John Paul Jones (Led Zeppelin) beavering away for much of the year under the radar. And with Jonsey on this sort of form, Planty should be feeling suitably embarrassed for not wanting to come and play with his old mates.

“New Fang” has a vivacious beat that could cause you to hop around the lounge like Mr Spigott at a Tarzan audition.

“Scumbag Blues” has a Cream-like guitar and vocal introducing a sort of “Trampled Under Foot” clavinet funk that occasionally threatens to turn into the theme tune to Mission Impossible before squealing guitars steer things back on track.

Top track for me though is “Gunman” with its super solid bass-lines, last heard on Jonsey’s 2 solo albums at the start of the noughties.

I seem to have focused rather more on John Paul Jones’ bass parts than the other two contributors. Did I never mention that I’m a massive Zeppelin fan?

Mark Knopfler: Get Lucky

In terms of quantity, Knopfler’s solo output has now eclipsed his Dire Straits output. However, I don’t think many would be so quick to make the same claim for quality. It is perhaps unfair to compare Knopfler’s solo albums with his Dire Straits albums, they are essentially separate beasts, and to his credit, Knopfler has explored some different and often interesting avenues when not shackled to Dire Straits. However, in the case of Panic Crew, it seems to me that Knopfler has at times strayed into a Celtic-folk cul-de-sac.

It’s not that I’m just pinning for the rockier riffs and guitar solos of the old days, I have in fact enjoyed many of the slower more subtle pieces on his solo albums. Especially when he’s sniffing around that American Blues sound, and indeed there are some tracks on this album, such as “You Can’t Beat The House” where I am happily reminded of it.

Echo & The Bunnymen: The Fountain

Ever since Rick from the Young Ones addressed his letter of complaint to the lead singer of Echo and the Bunnymen, I’ve been a fan of Ian McCulloch and his merry band of Scouse rabiteers.

However, if you’ve yet to buy an Echo and the Bunnymen album (and you really should), this is not the place to start. The album is instantly recognizable as an Echo album, but it’s a completely uninspiring set of mediocre songs covered in a dull coat of Coldplay production.

The lyrical puns embed in “Shroud of Turin” are so cringing it makes the song hard to listen to. Things do however pick up on the upbeat “Proxy” and the contemplative “Idolness of Gods” that closes the album

A great band sadly treading water.

The Editors: In This Light and On This Evening

I must confess to making the mistake of prejudging this album. I was expecting the well worked out commercially successful, but often bland indie rock standard formula to be adhered in order to maximise sales. I am however delighted to hear that this album has far more interest and originality than I anticipated.

Despite the vocals on many tracks sounding rather like a cross between Gene Pitney and Vic Reeves’ pub singer, I have to confess that this is a most agreeable album.

Although, it might be an idea to listen to the tracks in reverse order, as I reckon the tracks at the arse end of the album out shine the openers. In fact, better still, start off with, “Eat Raw Meat = Blood Drool” as its wobbly bouncing rhythm and sing-a-long chorus should certainly engage your enthusiasm.

The Flaming Lips: Embryonic

Weird avant-garde music often requires you to put in a lot of hard groundwork, listening multiple times before the free form cacophony comes into focus. I frequently give up before I reach the fourth bobo of avant-garde musical enlightenment. However if you an persevere, once you’ve achieved this higher astral musical plane it is possible to exclusivley and meaningfully converse with ones fellow musical aficionados and sneer at the musically unenlightened rather like Dicky Dawkins poking out a bit of Christian from the tread of his shoe.

Actually, Embryonic isn’t really that hard work to get into. It is also quite early Floydian in places, which as far as I’m concerned, is a good thing.