Star Little Thing are brimming with a certain Dublin charm that permeates this album, blending the sounds of early 90’s dance and Irish rock. This creates a sound that elevates them above the crammed monotony of many a local band. They have fashioned a debut album with some great songs but a few unnecessary fillers. In songs such as the recent single ‘Where Is The Child Gone’ one hears the latent potential of the band. It is a single layered with melancholy, menace and hope covered in a dance rock beat. While in a number of songs you feel they have over-salted the soup, Star Little Thing have concocted a commendable debut for an Irish band. It’s Easy To Be Alive You Just Are is the sound of a band with a lot of promise.

Roisin Murphy is a woman of understated charisma. Quietly and contentedly wallowing just under the radar, her debut album Ruby Blue was an idiosyncratic blend of jazz, break beats and pop, but with her sophomore outing, Roisin has gone all disco. Overpowered is a much stronger, ultimately more lucid piece of work. Gone are the more out-there sounds and in comes in the mirrorball. Aptly named “Mirrorball” burns with a techno intensity not seen since the early nineties while recent single “Let Me Know” is Kim Syms Mark II. It is in the pumping techno sounding “Movie Star” we see the star herself showing her mettle and potential.

Overpowered is a giant platform shoe step above her debut and a thoroughly enjoyable album. Long may Roisin continue to entertain us in her own flamboyant way.

Wyatt’s artfully disorganised album is divided into three acts-Lost in the Noise/ the Here and the Now/ Away with the Fairies- which swerve manically from genre to genre. The vocals on the melodramatic opener -‘Stay Tuned’- are reminiscent of Zero Seven, while rough electronica (‘Out of the Blue’) is preceded by Scarborough Fair-era Simon and Garfunkel (‘A Beautiful Peace’). The final act of the album is more cohesive, and chooses to focus on pared-down world music, with echoes of earlier tracks weaving their way back in (‘Fragment’).  It shouldn’t work, but it does. This is due, perhaps, to the overwhelming array of producers/collaborators behind the record. Brian Eno (who is credited with playing the ‘Enotron’), Paul Weller and Phil Manzanera all feature on the album in some shape or form. Had this record been made by a musician with less conviction, it would have sounded contrived. Thankfully, Wyatt’s distinctive vocal range, and musical fearlessness combine to make Comicopera a challenging, and rewarding diversion.

Psapp’s re-release of their 2004 album Tiger My Friend record shows the band’s first foray into ‘toytronica’, using squeaking cats (‘About Fun’) and beer cans as instruments (‘Tiger, My Friend’). Pretty arrangements (‘The Counter’) draw in the ear, while the clean production of the record allows electronic glitches to blend with more traditional strings, without feeling like it’s trying too hard. It’s Galia Durant’s vocal delivery; however, that raises the album from insouciant début, to a record worthy of re-issue. When she enticingly sings ‘it’s only ourselves…but I like it that way’ on ‘Curuncula’, a thousand collective hearts rise and fall, yet on the following track (‘King Kong’) her tone becomes menacing-‘one of us is leaving, and it won’t be me’- though never any less provocative. Though their later work -The Only Thing I Have Ever Wanted- favours a less polished sound, one hopes that this re-issue will provoke Psapp to return to their glistening, whimsical and exquisite roots.

Nightmarish, intelligent electro pop groups from are not known for their longevity. This makes Pram’s newest offering, 17 years after their formation, worthy of some reverence. To their credit, Pram have managed to avoid sounding dated. The Moving Frontier pulls together various parts of the music landscape that do not meet very often, creating a strangely atmospheric whole. Throughout the record, movie soundtracks are called to mind, not least in opening instrumental The Empty Quarter. Spaghetti western guitar and dramatic organs intermingle, leaving a tune Quentin Tarantino might use if he ever made a Western. There is also more straight-forward lo-fi electro in evidence, notably on Salt & Sand and Beluga. Lyrics, on the five songs where there are vocals, seem to indicate a general unease with modern existence. Perhaps the most memorable line comes early in the album: “Everyone wants a date with the city surveyor”. Who can argue with that sort of insight? Pram set their stall out, unphased by the music others are making at the moment. Their little world is worth investigating.

Georgie James are not a stereotypical Saddle Creek band. Usually signing bands of either Emo or Folk strains, the Nebraskan label has taken a risk with putting out this album. Citing E.L.O. and Simon & Garfunkel as influences could turn many off the band before so much as listening to a song, but taking a leap of faith with this band might just pay off for both the listener and Saddle Creek.
The songs are straightforward, the artwork unpretentious, and the lyrics bordering on banal, but there’s a charm to Places that sucks you in and arrests you until the last note of handclapped closer (and album highlight) Only Cause You’re Young.
If you were a fan of band member John Davis’ previous dance-punk outfit Q and Not U, Places isn’t going to make you wish the band never reforms. However, if you’re looking for pop-rock thrills and memorable melodies, Georgie James will leave you hooked.

What comes to mind think of when you think of Neil Young? A pacifist folkie strumming away with Dylan and Mitchell, a hard rocking guitar hero, the Godfather of Grunge? Maybe you remember him for Trans…. Whichever it is, you wouldn’t think of Young as a lecherous old geezer; a hard drinking, womanising, troublemaker. Nonetheless this is the persona  which Young assumes for his best song in years: Dirty Old Man, a pure slab of Crazy Horse wonder which out-shines all the other tracks on his latest album Chrome Dreams II.

Young’s been very prolific in recent years, especially considering his close brush with death due to a brain aneurysm in 2005. However all his recent albums have had a very conceptual basis. This began with Greendale back in 2003, his astonishingly good melodramatic hillbilly opera. Since then they all seem to have been experimental exercises in theme or genre. Prairie Wind was a hark back to Harvest era folkieness, Living with War was his attempt to reinstate the power of the protest song. Chrome Dreams II however is an entirely different kettle of ferrets. It’s a sequel to the unreleased original Chrome Dreams, which was planned but unfortunately shelved in 1977 in favour of American Stars and Bars. The original included Like a Hurricane, an acoustic version of Powderfinger, Welfare Mothers and Pocahontas to name just the very best. As a result, the title of this release is striking statement of Young’s belief in these songs.

It starts with a harmonica, some lilting guitar and suddenly we’re wondering whether Beautiful Bluebird is a cutting floor victim from Harvest. Is this 1972? The second track Boxcar gets things moving a bit, it’s got an Ohio vibe to it and ghostly backing vocals, nonetheless it still feels dated. This is because the first three tracks of Chrome Dreams II are all relics of the eighties from the This Note’s for You era.  Ordinary People is the third of these, an eighteen minute long dirge of traditional Young verse/solo composition. Bombastic horn arrangements smother all the instrumental passages and even when we do get to hear a bit of Young’s guitar licks they seem tired and worn, with none of the fieriness of Cowgirl in the Sand or Cinnamon Girl. Although these have been live standards for years, they’ve never been recorded before, and in truth there’s no real need to air them now. Despite this Ordinary People has been a firm favourite in Young’s live repertoire for years. We were bound to see it released at some stage, though in this current form it’s only a chore to listen to.

The rest of the album is melange of new songs in different styles, but two themes thread all the tracks together: old-age and, Neil’s old favourite, the open road. Shining Light, The Way and The Believer all tie in the old-age theme in a slightly corny but soul-infused way. This is a style that Young has flirted with before but never fully embraced. The Way especially encapsulates this, with its very lo-fi Beatles-esque sound. It’s a wonder to hear Young trying something that for him sounds fresh. It’s a sweet sixties-pop gem. Whereas Spirit Road and No Hidden Path run the same gauntlet of hippie-rock nostalgia that he’s tread countless times before. Dirty Old Man is without a doubt the highlight of Chrome Dreams II. It rocks. Really hard. In the way you want Neil to rock; completely fuzzed out with lashings of blasted solos and that Crazy Horse pounding that sounds like the hooves of the great Lakota’s mount thundering across the plains. It’s also comic, try imagining Neil as filthy old man; drunk, sneering at women and starting fights he’s bound to lose. To top it off it has the haunting sense of melancholy that all his best songs contain, a sense that this may be a tragedy, but the feeling is too ambiguous for us to pin down.

Chrome Dreams II has been released at a time when many were expecting the release of the Archives box set they have been anticipating for years. An eight disc box set of live recordings, b-sides and rough cuts from Young’s long and meandering career seems like the perfect way to cap off the work one of popular music’s rock legends . This probably isn’t going to appear any time soon though. Young is like Madonna, constantly shifting, changing and looking for new creative outlets. Unlike the Harlot-Queen of Pop though, these aren’t motivated by any desire to conform to marketing department demands; he follows his own muse. Although in recent years she has led him astray, to create some boring and sometimes puzzling work; with Chrome Dreams II, Neil Young is back on track to creating not essential, and maybe not great, but certainly good and solid eclectic albums in the style of After the Goldrush. If he continues at this rate, don’t expect Archives anytime time soon. Mr. Young just remember; rust never sleeps.

With Prince’s crowning residence at the O2 Arena ended and musicians like Justin Timberlake unfortunately moving towards a more hip hop sound, I ask you this question. Who’s gonna funk us up now? A good healthy dose of funk is good for the hips and as a means to get close to that hot guy or girl on the dance floor. Germany’s Michael Fakesch is a man who with his debut album Dos has combined the classic funk sound of Prince and to a lesser extent Michael Jackson with a good old dose of electro.

Dos is an album that is unquestionably funktastic and as Michael says on the first song ‘Escalate’, “I’m everything you need”. Michael Fakesch has cultivated a sound, which, with its electronic beats and twiddles, is unquestionably modern. At first listen one may think that Har Mar Superstar has returned minus the joking lyrics. Michael has a voice quite similar to the pervy Har Mar but the beats are more professional, more confident and more astute. It laces its sexuality in the squeaks of the turntable and beat box.

So what about the songs? ‘I Want It’ is pulsating, slinky and undeniably sexual with a throbbing electronic beat and suggestive lyrics. ‘On The Floor’ is a nasty, filthy song sung by a voice that sounds like a banshee having sex. That may sound weird but it is incredibly affective. It’s filth, there’s no denying it, as Michael screams “Lets get on the floor!” to a throbbing beat that is achingly good. However it is in songs like ‘Escalate’ where you see the comparisons to that artist formally known by an odd little symbol. It positively pulsates and is littered with provocative lyrics.

Dos is an album to test many fans of old funk. It sounds like the next technological level of the genre, while also appealing to fans of electronic music too. Michael has delivered an album that drowns in electronic break beats. It is this mix that elevates this album above the other graduates from the School of Prince. Here is 21st century funk fused successfully with modern electro and break beat. It may be a bit too dependent on technology and the computer. The more natural sound of a guitar would add a more basic feel to accentuate the sexuality. Near the end the quality also dips but there is enough here to get anyone frisky.

Michael Fakesch has created a slinky and very funky album. It is a musical black dress that will at times appeal to many people and many styles- So let’s all get sexed up to Dos!

Friend and Foe is somewhat of a marathon for the listener- It’s easy to pelt through the first few tracks, Muscle N’ Flo, The Pelican, and Wet And Rusting, and think that “this is all a bit easier than
I thought”. However, with a little pacing,the album’s subtleties begin to reveal themselves. The sinister saxophone and strange mewing in the background (I’m pretty sure they’re using kittens instead of plectrums) on “Weird” add to song texture rather than reaching a climax, or providing hooks, a recurring feature of Friend And Foe. “Running” is an interesting sideshow- a two minute long stop-start affair accompanied by strange-voiced reassurances that “we’ll make it before the cows come home”. A paean to advice rejected in the past, “My My” has music to match the reminiscent and reflective feel of the lyrical content, is the album’s second-half highlight. This album is arduous and fun in equal measures. For example, see their “La Blogotheque” performance of “Wet And Rusting. “Post-Rock” done properly.

Washington DC’s Le Loup have all the hallmarks of the Next Big Thing. In their arsenal is a sound like a conglomeration of North America’s indie aristocracy (Arcade Fire, Animal Collective and Sufjan Stevens predominantly) that they yet craft it into something wholly unique, lyrics about cataclysm and destruction, and, most importantly, some seriously nifty artwork. And since when did a clunky album name and exclamation mark heavy song titles ever set anyone back?  The Throne is a hypnotic listen. For the work of a seven-piece collective the songs are decidedly sparse, revolving around a simple banjo riff around which echoing chanted vocals and some electronics circulate. The lyrics are based on Dante’s Inferno, which would be overwhelmingly pretentious were they not so affecting and knowingly grandiose. Opener Canto I is a vulnerable confession interspersed with “like”s and pauses that keep its lofty subject of personal hell grounded to earth. Le Loup: on the lips of hipsters near you soon.