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LO-FIDELITY ALL-STARS
Battleflag
(Skint)


Even scandalously watered-down to appease a phalanx of copyright lawyers on both sides of the Atlantic, and daftly bowdlerised to better sniff the groin of the charts, this Lo-Fi's remix of an unrecognisable Pigeonhed track is still the shit. Even bereft of all the "motherf--ing"s that peppered the original, it's still freewheeling as hell: a strange duet between a white Seattle dude with the voice of a brother and the intermittently decipherable urban waster poetry of The Wrekked Train.

The reason it's taken this long for the Allstars to put it out is the small matter of an uncleared Prince sample in the original Shawn Smith vocal. But even without His Purple Litigiousness, and all the other inspirationally purloined bits and bobs that made the earlier version of this track so naughty, it still feels barely legal. There is, quite simply, no more expertly ass-liberating anthem in circulation in 1998 than this song.

So it would probably be churlish to point out that the original version came out on Sub Pop (Pigeonhed's label) last year. But you probably can't get it any more...







[url=http://195.152.157.6:7070/ramgen/nme/charep.ra] SUPERCHARGER
PUNK SKUNK FUNK EP
(Indochina)


Why hasn't anyone thought of this before? The first track on this EP is a clubbable 'Rotten To The Core' remix of 'Public Image', arguably one of the best songs ever written that was nearly identical to the band's name. John Lydon's finest hour (ooh! contentious!) is 20 years old this week (or thereabouts), so electronic chancers Supercharger have taken it upon themselves to give it a '90s-style dusting down. And pretty fine it is too: big beated, loose-limbed, a little dubby, very cheeky and full of those great stupid whistly space noises. Although they needn't have bothered monkeying about with Lydon's vocal: it was scary enough already.



[url=http://195.152.157.6:7070/ramgen/nme/faultep.ra] FAULTLINE
EP
(Fused & Bruised)
[url=http://195.152.157.6:7070/ramgen/nme/noicute.ra] NOISE/GIRL
WALL OF CUTE
(Trauma)


Difficult music, then; just on the... uh, faultline between art and arse. Playing dignified minimalism up against thuggish maximalism on the same track is a trick well used by (say) Mogwai or The Third Eye Foundation. But only a well-trained sonic athlete or a total fool would attempt to fuse a desolate, half-speed piano tinkle with the sort of upsetting clanking, speed-trial drum'n'bass and banshee violins that barge suddenly into 'Papercut', the first track on the Faultline EP. There are three more 'pieces' of a similarly experimental bent here (one actually has fax machine noises on it). Play each once, applaud their courage, and give this record to someone you'd like to see dead from sonic exposure.

Or, on second thought, just present them with this Noise/Girl record: it comes wrapped in pink fake fur, features weeping bunnies on the sleeve, and consists mainly of an amorphous stream of toe-curling art noise. The disco remix is, of course, ace.



[url=http://195.152.157.6:7070/ramgen/nme/sukhey.ra] SUKPATCH
HEY JOLIE
(Moshi Moshi)


It ambles in on what would be some strings if they had any money, then sashays around on a precarious breakbeat; drawls languorously, gets stung by a buzzing guitar and ambles back out again. We'd call this the new sound of Seattle, only this lot are from Minneapolis. In brief: Sukpatch are two mellow people with lazy guitars and a drum machine and some other electronics who make warm, happy, scratchy, beaty lo-fi and put it out on Seattle's Slabco label, who (not coincidentally) also put out records by former On faves Volume All*Star, two mellow people with guitars and a drum machine who make... you get the idea. Cool.



EL HOMBRE TRAJEADO
SLEEP DEEP
(Guided Missile)
BILLY MAHONIE
WHISTLING SAM
(Livid Meerkat)


...Or two examples of beautiful, disciplined guitar music that's too stubbornly analogue to be called post-rock. El Hombre are from Glasgow and their intricate, melodic songs - so like a becalmed Fugazi - would be perfect if it weren't for the godawful singing they insist on slapping artlessly in the middle of them.

Billy Mahonie have no such singer problems, regarding them as an unspeakable compromise. They too would be perfect, a gnarled tango of Chicago atmospherics and heavy metal, if it weren't for the fact that their second bassist (oh yes) thinks he's in a prog-rock band circa 1974. Distinguished, nonetheless.



[url=http://195.152.157.6:7070/ramgen/nme/mandope.ra] MARILYN MANSON
THE DOPE SHOW
(Nothing)
BIS
EURODISCO
(Wiiija)


Slugs, snails, puppy dogs' tails, steaming piles of horseshit: these are no longer the staples of Marilyn Manson's idful oeuvre. They've been wiped off the rider, too. For the Antichrist has finally got himself some tunes: four albums in, Manson have started making music. A terrifying prospect, obviously; because where before we used to be able to write them off as an amusing industrial sideshow, now we can't help but howl along.

This first single off MM's all-conquering new record dips a toe warily in the realm of melody, and comes out covered in glitter. As malevolent glam stomps go, this is pretty peerless; displaying a cynical grasp of the fickleness of fame ("They love you when you're on all the covers/When you're not/Then they love another") and the back catalogue of Bowie.

And, much as Marilyn Manson are now the Antichrist Superstars they always said they'd be, so have Bis thoroughly reinvented themselves as the sleek pop tarts of their own imagination. This ace parody-cum-tribute of a single sees the early-'80s pile cheekily on to the '90s dancefloor and clean up. Resistance, in either case, is futile.



[url=http://195.152.157.6:7070/ramgen/nme/turklaw.ra] NEW BOMB TURKS
RAW LAW EP
(Epitaph)


The New York Dolls. The Black Crowes. The Cramps. Just a few wildly dissimilar bands that might have made this single, had punk rockers the New Bomb Turks not beaten them to it. This is easily one of the most unproblematically fantastic CDfuls of guitar music since the last good Rocket From The Crypt record. Whoops, there's another one. Lead track 'So Long Silver Lining' is at once more Rocket than Speedo's quiff, while simultaneously flaunting the sort of doo-wop soul backing vocals that would cause Chris Robinson to auto-combust with envy. Single Of The Week, but for the presence of more contemporary genius.



[url=http://195.152.157.6:7070/ramgen/nme/divof.ra] THE DIVINE COMEDY
CERTAINTY OF CHANCE
(Setanta)


Inspired by the Surrealist Manifesto, it's a ballad for people who hate ballads; an ode to Sod's law, a serenade about shit happening. Its grandeur is gradual, helped along by some really moving strings and - is this a theme? - an unnecessary bit of spoken word tacked on at the end.

After the tubthumping horrorshow that was 'Generation Sex', the DC's last single, this feels a little like a pre-Christmas giftlet for those who prefer the languorous, 'Songs Of Love' Divine Comedy to the rumping, pumping 'Something For The Weekend' Divine Comedy. And there's a top Michael Nyman cover here too, for the terminally effete.



[url=http://195.152.157.6:7070/ramgen/nme/hofhof.ra] HOFMAN
REACH AROUND HOFMAN EP
(Vibrations From The Edge Of Sanity)
[url=http://195.152.157.6:7070/ramgen/nme/cutepop.ra] SUPERCUTE
GIMME INDIE POP
(Sonic Art Union)
A busy week in indie rock, then. Guitar-cuddlers Hofman have come a long way, baby, since the intriguing clatter of their 'Ladies In The Way' debut. Their most confident record to date is a slab of lilting/skulking tunemongering that conceals all sorts of Pavementy bits and bobs. "Retroscending again", intones singer Steve blithely, as American guitars spew lava around him. Like Hefner, they'd make fine low-key heroes, if only you'd let them.

'Gimme Indie Rock!' declared Sebadoh a long time ago; Welsh pranksters Supercute demand something a little different. Namely: Brandy & Monica, Ataris and "too fast songs", according to a list usefully provided here. Shame, then, that they sound like Helen Love's evil little brothers played at 78rpm instead of New Model Bis.



[url=http://195.152.157.6:7070/ramgen/nme/lessway.ra] FAITHLESS
TAKE THE LONG WAY HOME
(Cheeky)


A dance band, but not a buttock-clenching embarrassment. Wildly successful, but never crass or obvious. Polyracial, multi-gendered and spiritually uplifted, without being a Gap ad. Truly, Faithless work a miracle by merely existing. They are a national treasure and a terrific night out... but all their songs are virtually identical. This one sounds like a cross between 'Insomnia' and their summer hit, 'God Is A DJ' - all percolating beats, keyboard builds and singer Maxi Jazz's troubled, liquid musings, later remixed within an inch of its life by everyone else in the band. But, as they may well observe, if the formula ain't broke, why fix it?



[url=http://195.152.157.6:7070/ramgen/nme/reptry.ra] REPUBLICA
TRY EVERYTHING
(deConstruction)


And their record company will try anything to put Republica's career back in the fast lane, if the slothful sales of the 'Speed Ballads' album are anything to go by. Including: the aural blackmail of slapping live versions of 'Drop Dead Gorgeous' and 'Ready To Go' on here as B-sides, and foisting an actual chunksome ballad upon us, after the pumping guitar disco of the last few singles. 'Try Everything' sounds a bit like Oasis fronted by Abba: a curious, but fiendishly resourceful strategy to get the cash registers singing. Only, obviously, not as good. Don't abet this crime against music in any way.

To read all our reviews first - days before they appear online - check out NME magazine, on sale every Wednesday

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