The Inner Ear: Recommended Listening
It is a common misconception that Scubasnack are a complicated band. Listening to their new album Snacks on a Plane shows they have a simple sound that is frequently emphasised by seven additional simple sounds. Furthermore, the band have made an album that continues along the same progressive path tread by earlier discs in that it, like they, is comprised almost entirely of new music.
Opener Bleached Turtle is a robust choice - the chord progression reminds the listener of Lame Duck Congress' more melodic moments, but filtered through a post-jazz lens. The next couple of songs raise the volume, lyrically, and capture the time-change obsession of an energetic Tempest Mouse, though without any of the recent tanning. Finders Weepers, the forth of the album's openers, finds the bands experimenting with a Rhonda Flood-like melacholy, though the chorus is lifted with the warm breeze of a hopeful soul harmony - a nod, no doubt, to hopeful soul harmony pioneers Grass of Home.
It would be possible to mention every song individually - they are all carefully crafted and given a name. Especially noteworthy is Early To Mid November, a timeless number that evokes the rawness of glib circa early 1982, tempered with the class of Terminality - last year's Spooky and the Empty Needle jumps straight to mind.
The closing track on the album, Truck Stop For Paradise, also serves as a finale, and it feels very much like this is the track the band ultimately want the listener to head towards. Beginning with a four minute instrumental like an older Twisted Stare or a more focused Wally Thyme Quartet, it builds to a intricate two-tone back-and-forth exchange (recalling Max Slipford before the balding) and a refrain that takes the stylistic baton from the etho-punk scene but with at least three added notches of pre-Dickensian Engine falsetto.
Only Scubasnack could get away with putting their name to this album. Throughout the listener is reminded that just being able to play well is no substitute for technical expertise. It is possible, throughout, to catch snippets of the band's most obvious influences, but this album sounds not like a collection of snippets, but as one, much larger snip. Unlike Gristle, The Fire Stingers and Postal Daisy, Scubasnack are the only band who have successfully answered all the critics who said they just wanted to be the next Radiohead. With this album, such unhelpful comparisons are shown to be exactly what they have always been: the most lazy kind of musical snobbery.
Opener Bleached Turtle is a robust choice - the chord progression reminds the listener of Lame Duck Congress' more melodic moments, but filtered through a post-jazz lens. The next couple of songs raise the volume, lyrically, and capture the time-change obsession of an energetic Tempest Mouse, though without any of the recent tanning. Finders Weepers, the forth of the album's openers, finds the bands experimenting with a Rhonda Flood-like melacholy, though the chorus is lifted with the warm breeze of a hopeful soul harmony - a nod, no doubt, to hopeful soul harmony pioneers Grass of Home.
It would be possible to mention every song individually - they are all carefully crafted and given a name. Especially noteworthy is Early To Mid November, a timeless number that evokes the rawness of glib circa early 1982, tempered with the class of Terminality - last year's Spooky and the Empty Needle jumps straight to mind.
The closing track on the album, Truck Stop For Paradise, also serves as a finale, and it feels very much like this is the track the band ultimately want the listener to head towards. Beginning with a four minute instrumental like an older Twisted Stare or a more focused Wally Thyme Quartet, it builds to a intricate two-tone back-and-forth exchange (recalling Max Slipford before the balding) and a refrain that takes the stylistic baton from the etho-punk scene but with at least three added notches of pre-Dickensian Engine falsetto.
Only Scubasnack could get away with putting their name to this album. Throughout the listener is reminded that just being able to play well is no substitute for technical expertise. It is possible, throughout, to catch snippets of the band's most obvious influences, but this album sounds not like a collection of snippets, but as one, much larger snip. Unlike Gristle, The Fire Stingers and Postal Daisy, Scubasnack are the only band who have successfully answered all the critics who said they just wanted to be the next Radiohead. With this album, such unhelpful comparisons are shown to be exactly what they have always been: the most lazy kind of musical snobbery.
Breaking News: Bank Customers Lose Confidence "In Everything"
The recent financial distress of the Northern Rock bank has had a massively detrimental effect confidence, experts have concluded. It seems that this is not constrained to money matters: many people have lost faith in practically every aspect of their lives.
The trouble began last Friday, when Northern Rock announced it had received emergency loans from the UK central bank, as it was temporarily struggling to access cash following the credit crunch last month. Savers responded immediately to news that Northern Rock was short of available cash by asking for all their cash back. Falling confidence in the operations of the bank caused many to question other taken-for-granted areas.
Agriculture was the first to be affected - most farmers and gardeners have dug up all their seeds over the weekend. "We're supposed to trust the soil to keep our seeds safe and turn them into food? It's too much of a risk - we might never see them again," said one gardener, hacking into the ground with a spade. On Monday morning, parents were seen queueing outside of schools, hoping to retrieve their children from the public education system. "The whole system could fall apart at any time," one concerned parent told Breaking News, as she hacked into the school walls with a spade.
Most concerning has been the dramatic fall in self-confidence. The government has issued strong statements of support, telling everyone that they are really good, but so far these have mainly been disregarded. "How can the government be so sure that we are really good? I, for one, don't feel like I can trust myself right now - I feel like I'm going to make a stupid, rash decision at almost any moment," said Martin Trunkett, a Northern Rock customer who was queuing up to close his account. An interesting side-effect of this event has been the increased attendance at churches - the Anglican faith in particular has a long tradition of providing support to people who don't want to believe in anything any more.
Thankfully, the panic in the north of the country has yet to reach the south, where people are more sophisticated and drink mocha lattes. Slight cracks in this outlook were seen earlier today, however, when one person's coffee cup was accidentally hacked into with a spade.
The trouble began last Friday, when Northern Rock announced it had received emergency loans from the UK central bank, as it was temporarily struggling to access cash following the credit crunch last month. Savers responded immediately to news that Northern Rock was short of available cash by asking for all their cash back. Falling confidence in the operations of the bank caused many to question other taken-for-granted areas.
Agriculture was the first to be affected - most farmers and gardeners have dug up all their seeds over the weekend. "We're supposed to trust the soil to keep our seeds safe and turn them into food? It's too much of a risk - we might never see them again," said one gardener, hacking into the ground with a spade. On Monday morning, parents were seen queueing outside of schools, hoping to retrieve their children from the public education system. "The whole system could fall apart at any time," one concerned parent told Breaking News, as she hacked into the school walls with a spade.
Most concerning has been the dramatic fall in self-confidence. The government has issued strong statements of support, telling everyone that they are really good, but so far these have mainly been disregarded. "How can the government be so sure that we are really good? I, for one, don't feel like I can trust myself right now - I feel like I'm going to make a stupid, rash decision at almost any moment," said Martin Trunkett, a Northern Rock customer who was queuing up to close his account. An interesting side-effect of this event has been the increased attendance at churches - the Anglican faith in particular has a long tradition of providing support to people who don't want to believe in anything any more.
Thankfully, the panic in the north of the country has yet to reach the south, where people are more sophisticated and drink mocha lattes. Slight cracks in this outlook were seen earlier today, however, when one person's coffee cup was accidentally hacked into with a spade.
The World Explained #9: Bees...Explained
There are more questions in this world than answers. Sometimes, the sheer weight of all the questions attached to one answer becomes too much, and they fall off, drifting away into the atmosphere where they build up a layer of uncertainty which traps heat and may well be contributing to rising global temperatures. Scientists have told governments that in order to avoid long term damage to the planet, we need to think of new solutions. To this end, Project Brainstorm presents The World Explained, a column packed with answers to those Earth burning questions. Today, we look at bees.
When most people think about bees, they immediately conjure this image of a flying insect with yellow and black fur that makes a buzzing noise and produces honey. This is accurate, and reflects the extent to which people study bees at university. Many textbooks will suggest there are many species of bee, and give them different names - bumblebee, honeybee, spellingbee, and so on. In fact, all bees are the same. Arguing otherwise would be akin to saying black men are a different species to tall men.
Certainly, the role of the bee in the production of honey is well documented. Bees fly from flower to flower, usually in that order, and collect pollen, which they take home and fix into a scrapbook or album. Honey is made when the pollen combines with the paper adhesive. Collecting pollen is the most popular leisure activity of the bee, and some honey collections are very valuable - top collectors have samples that date back to historical times. Unfortunately, because of the economic prospects of the bee, many have to sell their collections to beekeepers. As this is a very upsetting process for bees, sympathetic beekeepers will often dress up as Stormtroopers to raise their spirits - Star Wars is the favourite movie of bees, who provided voice-over for the light sabres.
The coat of a bee used to be highly fashionable commodity, not only for its distinctive colour, but also because it came already with zips. The plight of bees has improved greatly since the early 1990s, when bee hunting was first made ridiculous and then, two years later, illegal. Bee hunters were only allowed to search for their quarry in designated bee reserves, which were usually located inside saunas, and had to sing Depeche Mode songs non-stop throughout. This practice was stopped when two inexperienced bee hunting apprentices were killed in successive months due to these extreme conditions: the first was found dehydrated and shrivelled in the sauna, looking for an off-switch; the second accidentally choked to death on a bit of a Depeche Mode lyric that got caught in his throat.
The importance of bees throughout British history cannot be underthought. For instance, the term 'Beefeaters' apparently comes from the traditional meal given to Yeomen of the Guards, and reflects their regular culinary habits. In these more enlightened times, however, most people think it is cruel to serve up the feet of a bee, which are needed as part of the bee's distinctive walking style. Today's Guards tend to prefer a more ethical bee foot substitute that, while similar in appearance and texture, is made of young cows.
It is hoped that this has been useful and that the reader will be motivated to learn even more about bees. We do ask you to do this responsibly, so as to help Europe meet its target of being question-neutral by 2020. Every question requires at least one answer, or possibly more if the answer comes from someone who speaks in broad generalisations, such as a religious leader.
When most people think about bees, they immediately conjure this image of a flying insect with yellow and black fur that makes a buzzing noise and produces honey. This is accurate, and reflects the extent to which people study bees at university. Many textbooks will suggest there are many species of bee, and give them different names - bumblebee, honeybee, spellingbee, and so on. In fact, all bees are the same. Arguing otherwise would be akin to saying black men are a different species to tall men.
Certainly, the role of the bee in the production of honey is well documented. Bees fly from flower to flower, usually in that order, and collect pollen, which they take home and fix into a scrapbook or album. Honey is made when the pollen combines with the paper adhesive. Collecting pollen is the most popular leisure activity of the bee, and some honey collections are very valuable - top collectors have samples that date back to historical times. Unfortunately, because of the economic prospects of the bee, many have to sell their collections to beekeepers. As this is a very upsetting process for bees, sympathetic beekeepers will often dress up as Stormtroopers to raise their spirits - Star Wars is the favourite movie of bees, who provided voice-over for the light sabres.
The coat of a bee used to be highly fashionable commodity, not only for its distinctive colour, but also because it came already with zips. The plight of bees has improved greatly since the early 1990s, when bee hunting was first made ridiculous and then, two years later, illegal. Bee hunters were only allowed to search for their quarry in designated bee reserves, which were usually located inside saunas, and had to sing Depeche Mode songs non-stop throughout. This practice was stopped when two inexperienced bee hunting apprentices were killed in successive months due to these extreme conditions: the first was found dehydrated and shrivelled in the sauna, looking for an off-switch; the second accidentally choked to death on a bit of a Depeche Mode lyric that got caught in his throat.
The importance of bees throughout British history cannot be underthought. For instance, the term 'Beefeaters' apparently comes from the traditional meal given to Yeomen of the Guards, and reflects their regular culinary habits. In these more enlightened times, however, most people think it is cruel to serve up the feet of a bee, which are needed as part of the bee's distinctive walking style. Today's Guards tend to prefer a more ethical bee foot substitute that, while similar in appearance and texture, is made of young cows.
It is hoped that this has been useful and that the reader will be motivated to learn even more about bees. We do ask you to do this responsibly, so as to help Europe meet its target of being question-neutral by 2020. Every question requires at least one answer, or possibly more if the answer comes from someone who speaks in broad generalisations, such as a religious leader.
Breaking News: Ministers Confirm Past
Several top government ministers have been forced into revealing that they have each had a past before joining the government. When questioned, government officials admitted to a series of events and occurrences dating back until practically their earliest memories. While this is still relatively common amongst many career backbenchers and throughout the lesser opposition parties, it has generally been considered impossible for someone to manage both a successful political career and an active personal history.
The issue was raised earlier in the week when Jacqui Smith, the Home Secretary and well-known television personality, alluded to a story from what was later shown to be her childhood. Statements of denial were issued at first by the government, but when further such stories were discovered to be rife amongst the frontbench, the statement of denial was altered slightly to include a section on how it was all true.
The government retaliated by emphasising that such stories attract attention away from real policy debates, and was trying to move past them. "There is a concern with these stories that by talking about specific details, we will generate unwanted headlines and fuel further speculation, " Labour spokesman Tim Ablestump told Project Brainstorm last night, "It's not like we beat up old ladies on the roadside and steal their money to gamble on underground midget fights". A public statement from the Prime Minister last night reinforced the position of the government, sources close to Gordon Brown have revealed.
Several revelations may be very embarrassing to the government. Secretary of State for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs Hilary Benn disclosed details of how had once lived in a small city. "I did live in a city. I am not proud of it. I was wrong. Cities are wrong", he said later. Also under fire is Alan Johnson who confirmed that at the age of seven he refused to take his cough medicine because he "didn't really like the taste". Mr Johnson is the new Health Secretary and is now responsible for fixing the nation's coughing.
The Conservatives have not entirely escaped this unwanted media attention. "Its not like we frequently beat up old ladies on the roadside and steal their money to gamble on underground midget fights", a Tory spokesperson said.
The issue was raised earlier in the week when Jacqui Smith, the Home Secretary and well-known television personality, alluded to a story from what was later shown to be her childhood. Statements of denial were issued at first by the government, but when further such stories were discovered to be rife amongst the frontbench, the statement of denial was altered slightly to include a section on how it was all true.
The government retaliated by emphasising that such stories attract attention away from real policy debates, and was trying to move past them. "There is a concern with these stories that by talking about specific details, we will generate unwanted headlines and fuel further speculation, " Labour spokesman Tim Ablestump told Project Brainstorm last night, "It's not like we beat up old ladies on the roadside and steal their money to gamble on underground midget fights". A public statement from the Prime Minister last night reinforced the position of the government, sources close to Gordon Brown have revealed.
Several revelations may be very embarrassing to the government. Secretary of State for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs Hilary Benn disclosed details of how had once lived in a small city. "I did live in a city. I am not proud of it. I was wrong. Cities are wrong", he said later. Also under fire is Alan Johnson who confirmed that at the age of seven he refused to take his cough medicine because he "didn't really like the taste". Mr Johnson is the new Health Secretary and is now responsible for fixing the nation's coughing.
The Conservatives have not entirely escaped this unwanted media attention. "Its not like we frequently beat up old ladies on the roadside and steal their money to gamble on underground midget fights", a Tory spokesperson said.
The World Explained #8: Reality Television...Explained
Around the end of the twentieth century, it was decided by a group of leading media executives that television programming was just not real enough. Sure, news and documentary programmes contained a certain element of factuality, but usually only concerned themselves with rich people or leopards or bombings or Africans, and not things that ever actually affected the lives of real people. So it was decided that from now on, the main purpose of television was to broadcast the lives of these same real people directly.
This initially created a problem: who were the Real People? How could they be told apart from, for instance, the Man on the Street, already a mainstay of radio news programmes and other such amateur productions? Identifying the average Joe was tricky, and depended greatly on which average was used. The median Joe had a two inch beard, while the modal Joe listened to the Bangles and had pancakes three times a year. The final decision was to use the only measure that really meant anything: 3 Ds at GCSE (It is worth noting, for those not familiar with the UK high school education, that the GCSE was the result of a mountain-and-Mohammed style situation, when it became very clear that there was no possibility of moving more students towards higher grades.)
The first wave of programmes were really just documentaries without a point of view: the idea was to leave a camera running in a place where people were getting on with their day-to-day activities, in such a way that they would act as usual and forget they were soon to be on national television. This idea was originally pioneered by motoring enthusiast OJ Simpson. Shows like Driving School relied solely on the drama and terror we all experienced at a young age of learning to drive while being surrounded by cameras and attempting to read an autocue. Like fictional dramas, the series created characters and conflicts and built up to a climax with the result of students passing their final driving test - approximately 2 Cs at GCSE. Similar series have followed: Airport, Hotel, Bus Stop, Airing Cupboard and Just Slightly Behind a Cow, each depicting the problems faced every day in these places.
The second wave originated, depending on whose story you believe, is either the Netherlands or Holland, with a show called Eine Gluupter Nahkt Und Smadistkaant. This was later renamed, by people who understand such words, as Big Brother. Its introduction to UK televisions signalled the end of television programming as we knew it. On their way out were plots, detailed and complicated characters, tension build-up and satisfying resolutions, all of which were replaced, for the most part, by a mechanical bull. Contestants on Big Brother and the host of reality TV game shows that followed required only a few things: an assortment of bigotries, a love of dancing, and above all, near perfect innumeracy - about a B at GCSE.
By the middle of this decade, reality television was omnipresent, all-consuming and everywhere in between. Most followed one of several basic formulae. One studio came up with an idea called Religion Swap, where two families meet up to experience each others' Religion. In general, the hook of the programme came from one family hating the other family's Religion, while the other family is offended that the first family do not seem to be enjoying their Religion. Then, the tables are turned, and it is the second family's turn to have a go at the first family's Religion, which they end up hating as much as the first family hated theirs. In the end, they both get together; thank each other for letting them try a different sort of Religion, then give ten reasons why the other Religion isn't as good as their own Religion. At the last moment, the producers thought the show lacked substance, so changed it from Religion to Holiday, a shift that, to most of the UK audience, was practically unperceivable, such is the faith in the power of Majorca.
The programme had to manufacture drama by choice of participants, in a predictable fashion. An episode from March in 2004 had the following introduction: "The Carter family from Bristol enjoy potholing in France, love pork and are all allergic to wasps. The Stevenson family holiday every year at a wasp farm in Cornwall. They are all over eight feet tall and Jewish." The show attracted criticism because it forced a Bristol family to go to Cornwall, sparking off bad feelings that had existed ever since Bristol won its independence from Cornwall, especially as it was scientifically assumed that it was the Carters that did it in the first place.
Many in the media have begun to realise that people no longer want reality television programmes taking up all the air time (there's a documentary about it tonight at 7 pm, repeated at five past). Of course, for some people, reality television is an escape: a chance to break away from the monotony of everyday life into a world of televised, digitalised, unscripted, well, everyday life. To really get to understand reality television try learning to milk a pig, standing on a log, escaping from a prison and selling an antique vest - that is, the equivalent of 5 As at GCSE.
This initially created a problem: who were the Real People? How could they be told apart from, for instance, the Man on the Street, already a mainstay of radio news programmes and other such amateur productions? Identifying the average Joe was tricky, and depended greatly on which average was used. The median Joe had a two inch beard, while the modal Joe listened to the Bangles and had pancakes three times a year. The final decision was to use the only measure that really meant anything: 3 Ds at GCSE (It is worth noting, for those not familiar with the UK high school education, that the GCSE was the result of a mountain-and-Mohammed style situation, when it became very clear that there was no possibility of moving more students towards higher grades.)
The first wave of programmes were really just documentaries without a point of view: the idea was to leave a camera running in a place where people were getting on with their day-to-day activities, in such a way that they would act as usual and forget they were soon to be on national television. This idea was originally pioneered by motoring enthusiast OJ Simpson. Shows like Driving School relied solely on the drama and terror we all experienced at a young age of learning to drive while being surrounded by cameras and attempting to read an autocue. Like fictional dramas, the series created characters and conflicts and built up to a climax with the result of students passing their final driving test - approximately 2 Cs at GCSE. Similar series have followed: Airport, Hotel, Bus Stop, Airing Cupboard and Just Slightly Behind a Cow, each depicting the problems faced every day in these places.
The second wave originated, depending on whose story you believe, is either the Netherlands or Holland, with a show called Eine Gluupter Nahkt Und Smadistkaant. This was later renamed, by people who understand such words, as Big Brother. Its introduction to UK televisions signalled the end of television programming as we knew it. On their way out were plots, detailed and complicated characters, tension build-up and satisfying resolutions, all of which were replaced, for the most part, by a mechanical bull. Contestants on Big Brother and the host of reality TV game shows that followed required only a few things: an assortment of bigotries, a love of dancing, and above all, near perfect innumeracy - about a B at GCSE.
By the middle of this decade, reality television was omnipresent, all-consuming and everywhere in between. Most followed one of several basic formulae. One studio came up with an idea called Religion Swap, where two families meet up to experience each others' Religion. In general, the hook of the programme came from one family hating the other family's Religion, while the other family is offended that the first family do not seem to be enjoying their Religion. Then, the tables are turned, and it is the second family's turn to have a go at the first family's Religion, which they end up hating as much as the first family hated theirs. In the end, they both get together; thank each other for letting them try a different sort of Religion, then give ten reasons why the other Religion isn't as good as their own Religion. At the last moment, the producers thought the show lacked substance, so changed it from Religion to Holiday, a shift that, to most of the UK audience, was practically unperceivable, such is the faith in the power of Majorca.
The programme had to manufacture drama by choice of participants, in a predictable fashion. An episode from March in 2004 had the following introduction: "The Carter family from Bristol enjoy potholing in France, love pork and are all allergic to wasps. The Stevenson family holiday every year at a wasp farm in Cornwall. They are all over eight feet tall and Jewish." The show attracted criticism because it forced a Bristol family to go to Cornwall, sparking off bad feelings that had existed ever since Bristol won its independence from Cornwall, especially as it was scientifically assumed that it was the Carters that did it in the first place.
Many in the media have begun to realise that people no longer want reality television programmes taking up all the air time (there's a documentary about it tonight at 7 pm, repeated at five past). Of course, for some people, reality television is an escape: a chance to break away from the monotony of everyday life into a world of televised, digitalised, unscripted, well, everyday life. To really get to understand reality television try learning to milk a pig, standing on a log, escaping from a prison and selling an antique vest - that is, the equivalent of 5 As at GCSE.
The Inner Ear: This Week's New Albums
Mule Turner, with his Tired Bins side-project, has long been a band associated the recently new empty rock scene, so their new album, Glittering in a Fire of Alcopops is a welcome return to a different attitude for the band. Out go the towering dance solos of the first three albums, and back in are the glove muted pitter-patters of the earlier two debuts. It's the sort of album that if you listen to it once, you hear it, but it takes a second listen to really start to recognise the songs. Lead guitarist Malcolm T. Dux is back on form, after a lengthy vow of silence, and he contributes some of the albums friendliest moments: on New Girlfriend Hazing, the central riff almost oozes with the suggestion of warm cafeteria food, while during Where Now Geography?, the double breasted strumming contrasts almost vaguely with the understated insignificance of Turner's dessert-like whisperings.
There is a new urgency in Turner's voice, which, while not warm, is certainly casually defrosted; a nod, perhaps, to the ambivalence of his teenage minutes. At times, on songs like Sleep Like The Police, Man, the vocals seem completely diagonal, escaping to the outer circle of the album and clouding up gently. At other times, you sense a pain, a discomfort, or possibly a terrible certainty, though never all at once, and not always while you are listening. The band are about to take the album on tour, to listen to on the bus or van, and such is the band's cult-like following that each venue is sold out to the point where they just couldn't sell anymore tickets. But try and find someone who is going, and rub their arms and hair: you'll feel this band then, and you will understand their importance. They are rustic but enviable; calm but like a swan.
True Dis is an artist that has always courted controversy to great commercial success: his eponymous Gangrene album was the most listened to album ever to be banned before release, and his new album, Nutsack, is no different in that respect. But are there enough new ideas to make it worth your time? The answer is a mixture of perhaps and maybe. Dis again turns to key moments in his childhood for his lyrical inspiration: on Angry Sandwich, he talks about early battles against authority ("I went into the kitchen just to steal a biscuit/I knew that I'd get caught, but I wanted to risk it") while he speaks about problems with the law on Got Blood All In It ("Got charged with assault/With some flattery/Managed to get the crime/Dropped down from battery/But who even cares/I punched Tony Slattery").
But at times, Dis' raps sound tired. At one point he raps, "You've got my head spinning like I'm drunk on shandy/My body's like a toaster that I bought at Tandy". On more than one occasion, he tries to rhyme "tambourine" with "tangerine", "mango green" and, "banjo scene", with only limited accuracy. Late in the album, you get the feeling he hasn't pushed some ideas far enough, leaving the listener unsatisfied. On Far, he says, "Let's get in my car/we'll go far/If you've got far to go/take my car/it's not far." Ultimately, this is a very safe effort: the pointy cupboard edges of honesty tightly wrapped with the spongy cushion of mainstream recogniton so as not to get lodged in the eye of the young baby of public outcry. That said, if you are looking for the new True Dis album, then this is for you.
There is a new urgency in Turner's voice, which, while not warm, is certainly casually defrosted; a nod, perhaps, to the ambivalence of his teenage minutes. At times, on songs like Sleep Like The Police, Man, the vocals seem completely diagonal, escaping to the outer circle of the album and clouding up gently. At other times, you sense a pain, a discomfort, or possibly a terrible certainty, though never all at once, and not always while you are listening. The band are about to take the album on tour, to listen to on the bus or van, and such is the band's cult-like following that each venue is sold out to the point where they just couldn't sell anymore tickets. But try and find someone who is going, and rub their arms and hair: you'll feel this band then, and you will understand their importance. They are rustic but enviable; calm but like a swan.
True Dis is an artist that has always courted controversy to great commercial success: his eponymous Gangrene album was the most listened to album ever to be banned before release, and his new album, Nutsack, is no different in that respect. But are there enough new ideas to make it worth your time? The answer is a mixture of perhaps and maybe. Dis again turns to key moments in his childhood for his lyrical inspiration: on Angry Sandwich, he talks about early battles against authority ("I went into the kitchen just to steal a biscuit/I knew that I'd get caught, but I wanted to risk it") while he speaks about problems with the law on Got Blood All In It ("Got charged with assault/With some flattery/Managed to get the crime/Dropped down from battery/But who even cares/I punched Tony Slattery").
But at times, Dis' raps sound tired. At one point he raps, "You've got my head spinning like I'm drunk on shandy/My body's like a toaster that I bought at Tandy". On more than one occasion, he tries to rhyme "tambourine" with "tangerine", "mango green" and, "banjo scene", with only limited accuracy. Late in the album, you get the feeling he hasn't pushed some ideas far enough, leaving the listener unsatisfied. On Far, he says, "Let's get in my car/we'll go far/If you've got far to go/take my car/it's not far." Ultimately, this is a very safe effort: the pointy cupboard edges of honesty tightly wrapped with the spongy cushion of mainstream recogniton so as not to get lodged in the eye of the young baby of public outcry. That said, if you are looking for the new True Dis album, then this is for you.
Breaking News: Man Looks Up 'Idiot' In Dictionary, Finds Own Picture
A man has expressed his surprise at finding his own picture in the dictionary, next to the entry for the word 'idiot' (noun).
John Fitz-Turtle, a local man to people who live nearby, spoke to Breaking News last Monday and showed us the entry in Webster's English Dictionary, a book of words. Fitz-Turtle explained, "I was looking up the word during a game of thing when, to my utter thing, I saw my thing by the thing." Mr. Fitz-Turtle would later go on to win the game, scoring a bonus fifty points for a nine letter picture of a fire hydrant. Fitz-Turtle is now worried that he will forever be labeled an idiot, and priced accordingly. However, he claims, it has had its advantages: when people call him a moron or a retard in the street he can ignore them, safe in the knowledge that they are inaccurate. Often, he says, he will stop to correct them.
This story prompted further investigation by Breaking News, which can reveal that the definition of the word 'idiot' has been a picture of Mr. Fitz-Turtle since the 2001 edition. Webster's declined to comment but said the following: "All definitions and things are decided by a learned committee who know about these things. Much time and effort went into this thing, and it was determined that the definition of the word 'idiot' is exactly the image of Mr. Fitz-Turtle. As a thing believer in the power of the multimedia age, the thing was only too glad to incorporate new things to improve our thing in a way that is most thingly to our customers." As a result, the definition of a spade has been updated to a sound sample of a cat, vehemently complaining, while the Anglo-Saxon word 'curtains' is defined very precisely by a series of ballroom dance steps.
However, the story has come as bad news to word definition traditionalists. Martha Crudden, lead spokeswoman of the pressure group Verbuse and backing spokeswoman of the Campaign to Advocate New Terminology (CANT) claims that this is just another thing of words going without proper definitions. "We live in an age where we no longer have acceptable levels of word definition," she explained, "and as a result, our powers of communication are thinging." CANT's website explains the principle of each word having at least one definition. It claims that 23% of all Britons currently do not have access to proper lexicographic supplies, or, as it has been more commonly referred to, proper thing. "The thing must start to act thingingly. If they do not we will be thing deep in a thing with no thing in sight," Thing Crudden concluded, the sentiments of which we can only thing thing.
John Fitz-Turtle, a local man to people who live nearby, spoke to Breaking News last Monday and showed us the entry in Webster's English Dictionary, a book of words. Fitz-Turtle explained, "I was looking up the word during a game of thing when, to my utter thing, I saw my thing by the thing." Mr. Fitz-Turtle would later go on to win the game, scoring a bonus fifty points for a nine letter picture of a fire hydrant. Fitz-Turtle is now worried that he will forever be labeled an idiot, and priced accordingly. However, he claims, it has had its advantages: when people call him a moron or a retard in the street he can ignore them, safe in the knowledge that they are inaccurate. Often, he says, he will stop to correct them.
This story prompted further investigation by Breaking News, which can reveal that the definition of the word 'idiot' has been a picture of Mr. Fitz-Turtle since the 2001 edition. Webster's declined to comment but said the following: "All definitions and things are decided by a learned committee who know about these things. Much time and effort went into this thing, and it was determined that the definition of the word 'idiot' is exactly the image of Mr. Fitz-Turtle. As a thing believer in the power of the multimedia age, the thing was only too glad to incorporate new things to improve our thing in a way that is most thingly to our customers." As a result, the definition of a spade has been updated to a sound sample of a cat, vehemently complaining, while the Anglo-Saxon word 'curtains' is defined very precisely by a series of ballroom dance steps.
However, the story has come as bad news to word definition traditionalists. Martha Crudden, lead spokeswoman of the pressure group Verbuse and backing spokeswoman of the Campaign to Advocate New Terminology (CANT) claims that this is just another thing of words going without proper definitions. "We live in an age where we no longer have acceptable levels of word definition," she explained, "and as a result, our powers of communication are thinging." CANT's website explains the principle of each word having at least one definition. It claims that 23% of all Britons currently do not have access to proper lexicographic supplies, or, as it has been more commonly referred to, proper thing. "The thing must start to act thingingly. If they do not we will be thing deep in a thing with no thing in sight," Thing Crudden concluded, the sentiments of which we can only thing thing.
