Hamish MacBain takes on this week’s releases.
Elbow – ‘Lippy Kids’
Good on Elbow and all that, but fuck me backwards, their Glasto set was nauseatingly pleasant. This is the one off the new album from which all the gushing reviews have quoted the “never perfected that simian stroll” line to emphasise Guy’s everyman un-Liam-ness. Sorry, but I would have spent more time on the walk, less time on the talk.
Wretch 32 – ‘Don’t Go’
This will be as massive a hit as the last one, but it sure as hell won’t have anything to do with me.
Charlie Simpson – ‘Parachutes’
Oh, he’s alright, this chappie, isn’t he? He’s been true to his commitment to making serious music for serious people (rather than making teenage girls scream), to the point where he can now quite rightly call people who even mention his Busted past “boring”. Fightstar have done three albums, three-out-of-five-type affairs. Now comes the solo one, and this second
single, which is even more serious and features Charlie seemingly styled by Marcus Mumford in the video. Does there ever come a point where he realises there’s more to life than proving you’re serious about music? Unlikely.
Tom Vek – ‘Aroused’
Here’s someone who doesn’t have to prove he’s serious about music. His comeback was truly hysterical: after about 20 years, release music that sounds just like your last lot, watch the 10 people who care (all music journalists) start dribbling… then do nothing again. ‘Aroused’ is not rubbish. It’s got a nice-ish groove, but basically sounds like soup being
microwaved, except without it bursting all over the inside, like soup seems to do. Tom Vek – literally and figuratively – is never going to burst.
Klaus – ‘Cypher’
One website I went on described this as “pensive, minimalist dubstep”. How can I top that for nonsense-speak? Probably best just to stick to plain English. Here goes: nothing happens, thus it’s boring. Sorry if that makes me unsophisticated or whatever. It made me feel the need for sugar. And ‘Brown Sugar’.
Clap Your Hands Say Yeah! – ‘Same Mistake’
It’s the return of Marmite-voice man! Except, er, someone appears to have de-Marmited his voice, so that it’s not lovable, or hateable, but anonymous. Weird. Plus, the music has gone all polite and – God, I hate this word – widescreen. At the end, he yelps about an “open road”, which is normally a can’t-lose scenario, but here just feels like a drag.
This article originally appeared in the August 6th issue of NME