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Poetic storytelling lyrics from Canada.

Beautiful story telling narratives are a rarity in rock music, but that's exactly what The Weakerthans have provided us with here—again. The vocal tricks and dexterity John K. Sampson uses to weave his poetry-prose into the band's folk styled rock is quite wonderful in it's apparent seamless ease and make The Weakerthans something pretty special and beloved to their fans.

It's been a long wait since 2004's Reconstruction Site but the album here is still very familiar and The Weakerthans as already known—there isn't anything much in the way of new other than the stories the songs tell. In my mind that's enough, when you have such a perfect sound for your art why go changing when you still have the imagination, empathy and talent to tell these new tales. Reunion Tour is however, overall, a more melancholy album than previous outings, the wistful nature of the tracks still somehow manages to be uplifting rather than totally depressing though. Is there such a thing as happy melancholy?

Starting out with the tale of a love sick bus driver, Civil Twilight is a song for anyone who has ever lost anyone and wandered, wondering. The thrumming bassline of Hymn of the Medical Oddity carrys over into Relative Surplus Value while it then turns down the folk and turns up the Rock to full tilt for a tale of exhausted failure. After a brief jaunt into the world of curling for Tournament of Hearts, Virtute the cat makes a return appearance (after having her plea on Reconstruction Site), this time round it's a heart-breaking ballad of her life and regrets after leaving, reminiscing "I'd knead into your chest while you were sleeping. Shallow breathing made me purr."

Elegy for Gump Worsley delves into a more spoken word style with minimal melody and instrumentation. Sun in an Empty Room has the happiest guitars of the album, jangling away while moving on from an old shared apartment room. Night Windows may regretfully be an attempt to be more radio-friendly than necessary, sounding the most commercial and ending up with the lyrics seeming disjointed at times. The albm then rolls into a song superficially about Bigfoot! with the haunting intro & outro try to convince you it's only about some big hairy ape-like creature but the lyrics are written so well that there's undertones of much, much more. Finishing up the album with the marching drums and plodding life-on-the-road guitar of Reunion Tour and finally the end of show wind down of Utilities won't leave you in a joyous mood, but wistfully happy. It's what The Weakerthans do best and do better than anyone else. Simply beautiful.

Not The Arctic Monkeys

Milburn are four mates from Sheffield who are not the Arctic Monkeys. I couldn't care less about the Arctic Monkeys or whether this second album from Milburn helps to distance them or stamp their own individual identity down on vinyl ("vinyl" just sounds a better word when saying such things so lets gloss over any digital age inaccuracies) so lets forget that comparison now. Writing a full albums worth of all new material just a year after their debut, Well Well Well says something, probably something good, about the band. Especially one touted as at their best performing live.

And the album is okay. On second listen it's quite fine. Third time round and aye, I'm admitting that it's good. The initial impression is set strongly by first single, What Will You Do (When The Money Goes)? with it's stabby guitars flowing into The Shadows styled twangs. The themes remain similar throughout the rest of the album; Wolves At Bay has some great stop-start stuff going on in there, again very Hank Marvin; Lucy Lovemenot ups the pace slightly to get the head nodding and foot tapping; Sinking Ships slows down into a competent ballad moment for the guitar to get lovely and bassy; Count To 10 manages some good vocal melodies. Cowboys And Indians is a great stand out track, a jumpy, spiky fun and playful anthem for live shows.

On first listen I'd written that the album tried to update the sixties and incorporate that into today's indie rock pop but failed due to the sixties being a bit rubbish without it's required tacky retro kitsch. But after a couple more plays I am won over and the sixties influence on the record has become quite endearing. These Are The Facts is a grower.

Glasgow Garage - 18th September 2007

The last time I intended to go see The Holloways was as support for Babyshambles who inevitably cancelled… The Holloways still played a show that night, in a different venue, and despite not being able to make it along, I appreciated that they still played for their own fans—maybe touring with Pete Doherty you learn quick to make alternative arrangements as a backup. Tonight it's co-headliners The Wombats who don't show up—their singer has a sore throat—but this time The Holloways fans are the majority of the sold-out crowd so the show goes on, it's been a successful year after all.

The crowd are an unexpected mix to be honest, it's not just all teenage girls crushing on the band and teenage boys crushing on the teenage girl fans; there's an edgier look to some of the fans, some look like they've never worn eye-liner in their life—a rare thing at gigs these days and there's a group of ageing late-twenties lads in, swigging back the lagers in stereotypical lout manner. There's even a couple of us old enough to recognise the impromptu Kenneth Williams impression halfway through the set. Infamy, infamy…!

The Holloways themselves I find an awkward bunch to describe, frontman Alfie Jackson, appears to be straight out of a Dexy's Midnight Runners cover band; the tunes are touched by the Libertines' influence and range from indie bubblegum punk to calypso tinged 2-Tone style ska, with Rob Skipper throwing in shades of the Levellers via a tiger-striped old fiddle for many tunes. It's all very pop. And indie, and punk-ish and ska and dancehall.

The band are undeniably catchy, by the time Happy Birthday is sang for Alfie and the band follow up with, soon to be re-released, Two Left Feet I want to be up there on stage with them and adored by such an enthusiastic crowd. And enthusiastic the crowd most emphatically are, raising visions of structural engineers being called in to check the dance floor after it seems to flex beyond recovery as the whole place bounces and sings along in perfect time. But the mood drops a little after this as they play a new song and then slide into slower, less well known, material. In fact my interest wanders so much that I only just notice them leaving the stage.

Luckily The Holloways have kept two of their best aces in store for the encore. Great Britain provides a huge Specials-esque party jam and ending on Generator ensures the audience leave happy, having bounced and danced to their heart's content. There may not be anything too original from The Holloways but this gig has convinced me that I'm not going to care while the music's playing, they can play an excellent dancehall show generating music to make you feel better and lift you out of that rut even if just for that hot & sweaty hour throwing yourself around in a heaving, dancing crowd.

Operator Please - Levi's Ones To Watch Tour

Glasgow’s Barfly on the edge of the Clyde is a long way from Brisbane and Australia’s Gold Coast. It’s a damn long way for five teenagers to come and play a gig. Formed to take part in a school battle of the bands, Operator Please are a disco-punk five-piece who have since gone on to tour with Kaiser Chiefs, Arctic Monkeys, The Go! Team and Maximo Park as well as gaining a #10 spot in the UK indie charts with a song about ping pong. The cynic in me is ready for a poor show with their success down to good PR and slick production on the recorded material. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

As soon as they take to the stage their energy infects the room, lead vocalist Amandah Wilkinson belting out the tunes with a power and command that impresses and will no doubt see her become one of the most lauded front women out there playing to the indie rock scene. Classically trained Taylor’s violin out performs any guitar they could have chosen for the role as she never misses a note while still managing to bounce up to the mic for her backing vocals. Again the enthusiasm of the band overwhelms anything describable, Ash on bass seems in a world of his own throwing out the rock bass for the rest of the band to play on—Timmy on drums grins away as he beats out the punk rhythms as if there could be nothing in the world more exciting & entertaining than to be up there playing this gig. Sarah,doesn’t stop moving for a second, continually dancing along and visibly enjoying the tunes and the show while still keeping her mind on the business at hand of technically perfect keyboards and other matters such as fixing Amandah’s outfit!

The tunes themselves are spot on, a mix of bubblegum pop punk anthems like Just A Song About Ping Pong to slower almost bluesy ballads every one played with more confidence than the most experienced international superstars usually manage. Leave Me Alone showcases the bands talent for performing perfectly as Amandah dedicates the song to a fan and then realises the choice could be taken badly, she cringes, apologises, the band & crowd laugh, and the song intro never misses a beat while recovering from the ad libs.

In fact for the whole show the band play so tight together and with no discernible mistakes that at one point I’m double checking for evidence of them miming to tape or some hypnosis trick—maybe the balloons strewn about the venue have mini-CD players hidden inside; anything to explain why this band are playing support tours and smaller venue shows rather than being top of the world & selling out headline slots at Wembley Stadium. Quite frankly I’m blown away and left simply flabbergasted without much more to say at the end of the gig than a string of hyperbolic adjectives. “Amazing.” “Impressive.” “Really great.” “Astounding.”

The year is only two thirds done but I’m already marking Operator Please down as my best live gig for 2007.

Hot Punk from Iceland

A sarcastic and sardonic Icelandic indictment of the lack of integrity within the music industry. Jakobinarina’s English vocals have a strong accent which adds to the feeling of contempt thrown up here, and the target is a good’un. Seemingly borne out of the oh-so-fake indie pop punk genre popular with trend setters and chart watchers, Jakobinarina (pronounced yakob-in-arena) have a better understanding of the Punk part of their genre labelling than most. With an anger reminiscent of Ned’s Atomic Dustbin playing Top Of The Pops, This Is An Advertisement provides a healthy antidote to newspaper punks who think media attention on their shitty behaviour covers for their shitty music. Here the punk is in the message, the sniping vocals criticising industry moguls, peers and you; the guitars baiting you to get a kicking if you even look at them funny; keyboards snorting speed round the back and the drums smashing fuck outta a phonebox.

The underlying attitude is there but it isn’t smashed over your head in a horrific bile filled onslaught, rather it comes away as being a rousing and inspiring track, managing to avoid wallowing in the negativity and bitterness of it’s message. The success is not half down to the band’s trick of balancing the fine line between disaffected intelligence and drunken imbecility—tongues are in cheeks here but the whole thing works because, underneath, that bitter negativity is most probably real.