A multi-award-winning experience of what it’s like to live in constant fear, from rookie Hungarian director László Nemes
Sometimes, like you, I look at Mansun and laugh my zip-covered orange jumpsuit off.
Mansun songs appear far too ungainly to fly, but fly they do, right up beyond the official rules of indie cool. 'Electric Man' is classic Paul Draper on first contact: queasy and treacle-voiced to begin, huge and persuasive by the end, swept along by the sort of towering chorus which could topple empires. Draper is trying to be David Bowie trying to be Marvin Gaye on 'Young Americans', or possibly trying to be Brett Anderson trying to be David Sylvian trying to be Bryan Ferry on 'Head Music' - in fact, on strutting newie 'The Apartment' he even sounds like Freddie Mercury circa 'Killer Queen'. But whatever parallels
you lob at Mansun, this is still a mighty anthem of string-kissed, winsdswept soul-rock.
Unwieldy? Overreaching? Pompous? In parts, maybe, but admit it - sometimes you really
feel like an ice-cream sundae with all the toppings.
A disappointingly shallow dig into the soul of a man who should be on the edge, but isn’t
The A$AP Mob member’s second album is personal and poppy, and features a guest spot from his mum
LA/Vancouver trio White Lung soften the edges of their hardcore sound on their gripping fourth album
An over-sugared combo of Katy and big names in grime, techno, hip-hop and d’n’b