Molony Performs ‘Northern Town’

Listen to this track embedded below by British singer songwriter Molony.  It’s an ode to the love-hate relationship to one’s hometown, “Northern Town” as taken from his eponymous album, Molony, an 11-track record you can download for FREE.

Getting out of a dead end town is a huge theme in pop music, and is a part of the Hero’s Quest as demonstrated in myth and literature, too.  It’s certainly been lived by some of our greatest musical acts, from any number of depressed towns and lifeless suburbs in the United States, to the industrial corners of Europe.

There is a certain inertia which can come about when one stays too long in one’s home town. The longer you stay, the harder it is to leave.  When it comes to the matter of hometowns, you don’t have to be a musician to appreciate that.  And that’s what this tune is about; succumbing to the familiar, while still experiencing a curiosity for the wider world at the same time.  But, when it comes to this theme, getting out of the place you’re from is often a tricky pursuit.  “I love you but I hate you” sums up the complexities of this quite nicely.

I spoke with Molony about this song, about hometowns, about singer-songwriters, and about making his record for the sheer joy of turning on new listeners.


The Delete Bin: This song, “Northern Town” sounds like it could be autobiographical. But, it seems to me that you’re talking about a human tendency to stick to what’s familiar. What’s the ratio here between the personal and the observational in this song?

Molony:  Most of my songs have some relevance to my feelings or events in my life. I was born in Ashington, Northumberland. Ashington is a dying town in the North East of England. It only existed because of a [mining] pit, that was closed down in the late 1980s and now it has nothing to sustain it. It is a place of high unemployment and the social ills that come with deprivation.

At the time of writing ‘Northern Town’ (and it was written over a decade ago), I was teaching at a school in Ashington. As a result of going away and then coming back again, I was able to see it with a sense of perspective that had been missing during my childhood. The children in the school were restricted and blighted by unemployment, low expectations, and mental illness.  So, I was writing it for them as well.

The song also expresses my contradictory feelings about my home town. Ashington, like so many places in northern England, was laid low by the decimation of manufacturing in the 80s. It has never recovered, and I do feel anger that it probably never will.  I think it’s a song suitable for anyone who understands that small-town feeling and that’s why I wrote ‘the name escapes me/ It don’t matter anyhow’. I also think that working-class kids tend to lack the self-confidence of their middle-class peers.

DB:  You recorded this song, and the album on your own and made it available on your own, too.  In the light of the themes in the song, how much does the Internet change this need to leave one’s hometown, in an age of free uploads, and creating music in bedrooms, rather than in the Big City?

M: I love the fact that I can write and record a song and make it available for anyone interested within minutes. Geographical location is less important in that respect I suppose. I was always recording though, and I have dozens of 4-track tapes from the pre-Internet/digital recording era. They sound muddy and loose in comparison, but they retain a certain charm.

I write these songs primarily as diary entries or little ‘markers’ of a time and place. It is always great if someone shows an interest in listening to them, even if they dislike what they hear. There’s so much small-scale music on the Internet now that it’s hard to draw attention to what you’re doing.

DB: Your music seems to evoke a certain period in musical history that celebrated the singer-songwriter, the individual musical point of view, arguably more so than today.  Do you agree that there was a golden age when it comes to singer-songwriters?

M:  The music that I always return to is largely melancholy and melodic. I’m thinking The Beatles (and McCartney in particular), Leonard Cohen, Neil Finn. I have a sweet tooth, though, and I’m a sucker for well-written, catchy, lightweight pop.   In some respects, there probably was a ‘golden age’ when songwriters produced something fresh and new, but it’s harder to do something original in that form now. I don’t think that I can do anything massively original, but I hope that I can catch a moment in a melody or turn of phrase.

DB:  You learned to play guitar when you were 16, and started writing songs right away.  When did you start playing live?

M:  I don’t play live, but did do for a year or so in 2007/2008. Ultimately, I became disillusioned with the indifference that all musicians were getting in the places I was playing. I now write and play for myself.

DB: Tell Me about your other project, The Kessler Boy.

M:  The Kessler Boy is used for my experimental sounds. These are less conventional ‘songs’ based on loops and fragments. I created an album of these experimental tracks called Trees.   I do experiment with sounds under the name The Kessler Boy, but ultimately I look to express emotion and thoughts rather than produce music that is removed from personal experience.  Melody is important. Whatever the genre or structure of a song, I think that I look for a hook or melodic drift that resonates with me.

DB: You’ve written and recorded this song and the album just for the sheer joy of doing it. Have you ever considered selling your music?

M: I still buy CDs and records, and I belong to a generation used to a physical product. Perhaps one day I will package up my songs for posterity.  Right now, I just want people to listen to what I write. I understand the argument that putting a price on something gives it value, but the thrill for me lies in the thought that maybe someone will download these songs and one day when they press shuffle a Molony song will come up. I’d love it if one of my songs could prompt them to lift the iPod from their pocket to check who the artist is on the screen.


For more information about, and to hear more music from, Molony, be sure to check out Molony on MySpace.

Also, investigate the Kessler Boy on MySpace.

And of course – download songs by Molony for free at


Lily Allen Performs ‘LDN’

Here’s a clip of chirpy Londoner with an eye for criticism for her surroundings, Lily Allen.  It’s “LDN” a calypso-infused pop tune about the Big Smoke as taken from her debut album  Alright, Still.

There is something to be said about duality in everyday life, and I think that’s what may have been on Lily Allen’s mind when she co-wrote this song for her debut, a song originally released as a single in September of 2006.  Her voice is absolutely and unabashedly ‘London’ on this track, which adds a layer of credibility to what is easily interpreted as something of a pessimistic outlook on living there.

The song is a series of vignettes, outlining the darker side of living in a place where so many are thrust together in close quarters in various states of desperation, not unlike Richard Thompson’s “The Sights and Sounds of London Town”, which covers similar thematic ground.

To me, this is the song of one who once had an idealized vision of her hometown which is embodied by the bouncy calypso style, soon to be let down by reality as reflected in the lyrics.  In some ways, it’s sad to hear this story sung by someone so young that is basically about the cruelty of the world, even if that cruelty has a distinctive London air about it.

But, in other ways this is an encouraging tale.  The song’s narrator is a young woman who is aware of her surroundings.  The tone of the song is disappointment (illustrated very well in the video at the end, when her plans are cancelled by the unknown party on the other end of her cellphone conversation). But, this is a song about someone being relieved of her illusions.  In this, it’s about a unique kind of liberation.

And to me, it’s encouraging that this song tells the story for so many young people in an otherwise numb state of being, not realizing that life can be so much better than it is.  When disappointment of this kind is expressed, the fight for change is often not far behind.

For more information, check out the legendary Lily Allen MySpace page, which was the hub of her success as a mainstream artist working outside of mainstream marketing channels.


Extra Plays ‘Free In Time’

Listen to this track by L.A-based pop classicists Extra.  It’s “Free In Time”, a crunchy feast of a pop tune taken from the band’s 2006 album FR Double E. The band is set to appear at the CD Release show of fellow L.A band Radar Brothers on March 26th, 2010. Find out more about that event on and catch them live.

FR Double E was recorded solo by singer and multi-instrumentalist Jim Mills, although a full band was assembled afterwards under the Extra banner. The players consist of Anita Morand is on bass and melodica, Aaron Criswell is on “galactic” guitar and treatments, and Jon Niemann is on guitar, keyboards and effects, with Mills on drums and vocals.

I talked to Jim about this song, about Extra, and about the writing of lists …


The Delete Bin: Hi Jim, thanks for taking time out for the interview.

Jim Mills: Yeah, to me this is a great thing. I’m not on a label. You’re doing me the favor.

DB: First, where did the name Extra come from?

JM: It was just a good, simple name that had never been taken. It’s like Yes … or Traffic maybe. Just a solid, positive name. And I wanted to force myself into a situation where I always had to do more, give more. Like that poster that came with the album, to be a little ambitious. I think the name reminds me to do that.

DBYou recorded F R Double E on your own and you expanded the line-up afterward with permanent members. What initiated that decision?

JM: I’ve always had trouble finding people to play with. Even when I was young, in high school, we were always one or two people short of having a real band. This led to me, like, singing the bass line while I’m drumming, or trying to play a keyboard and bass at the same time, stuff like that. This was probably really good for my own skills. Also, I don’t like telling people I don’t like their ideas, you know? So when I got around to making this album, I just did it myself. But you know, once I did the album, I wanted to play the stuff live. When you’re sitting on something you think is really good, you want to bring it to other people. So I got friends of mine that I knew I could get along with, and did the band that way. For all my tendency to be alone, I’ve always liked bands, and once I got these people on board, I just feel like giving them equal billing.

DBIf you’d fallen in with a band earlier on as you were developing as a musician, how do you think that would have affected your trajectory as a songwriter?

JM: That is really hard. I think I’m just now coming to where I might be able to really work with people. I used to think I was going to get into a Lennon/McCartney-type thing, but that’s just the archetype. Everybody thinks they’re going to be The Beatles at some point. But either I never found the right person or I could never let go enough to really collaborate. I don’t think I had that much to offer because I was too self-conscious and not really confident enough. I was too impressionable. Now, I think I am more confident. Maybe now I could really collaborate with someone.

DB: Do you think it’s important for band members to present a unified creative ‘front’ in order for the music to come across?

JM: We were talking about bands the other day and it seems that bands are like a cult or “group think”, and sometimes a band will get going on a good thought process and be really good, like these awesome, real quartets like The Who, and The Beatles, early Pink Floyd , 10cc, where everybody is contributing and still is an individual.  ABBA is another.  And I just named all my favorite bands. It’s no wonder I wanted a group like that. But most “group think” ends up being fucked up. I don’t know, I was never comfortable in a group trying to collaborate, but I always had a fantasy about being in a band like Traffic, just at peace with one another and hanging around on the hillside as a group of equals.  I actually met Jon at a Traffic tribute show. He was playing piano and I was doing percussion, like the Jim Capaldi part, and we got to know each other that way.

DBWhat fed “Free In Time” lyrically and stylistically?

JM: Lyrically, there’s a whole story behind it which is kind of embarrassing I think but… Basically, a friend of mine and I both landed an audition for a famous rock musician.  I think we both felt we didn’t do very well, and you know, we never heard from the guy so I guess we were right.  But while I was sitting over at his house, I was thinking how much cooler I felt sitting with him and commiserating, and how much more rock and roll we were than the guy we were trying out for.  It kind of made an impression on me. So when I got this nice power pop song going, I used that idea for it. It’s like an affirmation for us and everybody who’s listening, being happier and cooler and freer than all those people who get you down the rest of the time.

DBDid you feel that “Free In Time” played a role in helping you to frame the rest of the album in some way?

JM:  I realized that pretty much all the songs had to do with freedom or trying to feel free of the outside things that get to you. And “Free in Time” seemed like kind of the distillation of that, because it’s a pure rock song. That’s what rock is good for: just going, to hell with everything that isn’t this music right at this moment! Half of the song doesn’t even have any singing.  It’s just us getting our feelings out on our instruments. It’s one of the best parts of our show for me, just being able to get my head down and play and not having to sing or try to be anything. Everything that needs to has already been said, it’s just time to fucking play, right! So it’s kind of like the title track. Maybe you picked up on that. “F R double E”, that line came from a Pretty Things song.

DBYou draw from a musical era that placed a lot of importance on the sanctity of the LP. In this age of song-by-song downloads, how does this affect the way you approach songwriting and production?

JM: I always write lists out of all the songs and try to come up with song orders, even before the songs are completed. I just like playing around with lists. I don’t think about downloads or worry about people turning off the CD before they get to the end. I just order the album the way I know it has to be for posterity. I still do “Side One” and “Side Two” — it’s just how I think of it. And if they never hear “Free in Time” ’cause I put it last on the album, well it makes sense ’cause it’s about them anyway! If I started thinking about downloads or how the songs all have to stand on their own, I mean, these are the thoughts that could ruin your music if you let it.

DBComing out of Los Angeles, a geographical region with so many established pop music traditions, how much pressure was on you to hold to or veer away from those traditions when establishing a sound of your own and making the record?

JM: I’ve never been afraid of copying a sound if I like it. I realized a long time ago that I could never quite get it right anyway. Sometimes I have to record a song as quickly as possible just to know if the song is working. So it always comes out like me anyway even when I’m strongly influenced by something or totally trying to copy something. I’m not worried about it not beingme” enough. So I wouldn’t hesitate to copy a sound if I wanted to. But that being said, I think most of my influences are British artists anyway.

DB: My ear agrees with that. But I also hear some Brian Wilson, and even some Todd Rundgren in your stuff.

JM: Well, I kind of think of those guys as honorary British people anyway. I know that doesn’t make sense.

When I think of British music, I guess I think of songs and songwriting and structure and ambition, and not really having any roots except maybe in classical music or theater, so the music is very conscious. This is how I’ve always been. I like American music and stuff with roots I guess, but I can’t really write that way. I think in terms of songs, melodies, and the lyrics being just right. A couple days ago, Anita and I were talking about the difference in meaning between … it was between “and” and “but” in a song I wrote, and “and” sounded better but “but” was absolutely the meaning I had in mind. I had to go with it on principle. I remember reading about Edgar Allan Poe and how he worked for ages getting the words just right, just coming up with the word “Nevermore”.

DBHow important is the awareness of where inspiration comes from to you? Is it important that the listener get a sense of it as well?

JM: I know where each little idea comes from, but no one else has the same reference points, so what I think is a direct steal from something, somebody else will see it a different way. That’s why it’s hard to describe your own music because my reference points are meaningless to someone else. Either they’re obscure or I pick up on something they don’t hear or whatever. I get inspired by fades sometimes, just the speed of a particular fade on a record. It totally puts the song into a particular perspective when it fades really fast. But that’s meaningless to someone else.

DB: It seems like so far, all the bands you’ve talked about have been old bands. What new bands do you like?

JM:  I’m honestly always afraid people are going to ask me this. I like friends’ music more than the stuff that’s out there. I think Flaming Lips have it about right, the right level of fame and influences and everything. They can be weird and their fans really appreciate it. I respect them, I like how sincere they are, but I don’t really listen to it, you know! A lot of bands aren’t really into songwriting, I don’t think. I mean, they think they are, but they aren’t really. There’s something wrong. I don’t know. I shouldn’t say that. It’s easier for me to focus on my pantheon and try to write something maybe almost as good as that than to look at modern bands and go through feelings of superiority and jealousy and whatever.

DBYou were able to make the record however you wanted, without a label and the marketing engines that have traditionally gone along with it. In the light of this, do you feel you have more or less control in terms of getting your music out to new fans?

JM: I have more control, but don’t know what to do with it. It’s all on me now. “Do whatever you want!” But what am I supposed to do? It’s a mixed blessing because you are completely free, but it’s also now your own responsibility. I have no idea what I’m supposed to do. It ends up that all I can do is just focus on doing more music — just do my own fantasies, ’cause that’s the only thing I know how to do — and just hope more and more people start to notice it.

DB: Is that what you mean in [opening track] “Forward to Mono” when you say “I am music and that’s all I know”?

JM: Basically, yes.

DBDo you find that bands without labels such as yours are more likely or less likely to form a community or a scene with each other?

JM: Probably more. Here in L.A., there is always that sense that something could happen, that you might be discovered, so I think there is a tendency for people to stick to their own a bit more. I hear stories of friends in Chicago with much more of a fun scene with everybody interacting. I think the clubs are the most responsible for whether there’s a scene or not. When there are a lot of clubs and a lot of opportunities, there’s more likelihood of a scene. Right now in L.A., there only seems to be a few any more, and some of those aren’t even that easy to get shows at. A couple of bands I know and I have talked about starting a club ourselves and just playing there all the time like a residency.

DBSince you’ve recorded an album on your own, and have since formed a permanent band, is there a process that you’ve got in mind for the next one to account for the shift in dynamics?

JMOne of the things about being my age is that I already have a big backlog of ideas and projects. I don’t write that prolifically, but I still have a few albums’ worth of stuff I want to do. My next project is trying to clear a lot of that stuff out. It should be two or three discs of stuff, just kind of a wholesale clearing out of ideas. I think it’s going to be really amazing, it could be the best thing I’ll ever do. It’s like my life’s work, you know. I’ve been collecting this amazing stuff for 10 years. The first album just scratched the surface really. So, I’m working on that, but Anita also has songs she wants to record, very different stuff, almost like mini-movies. And there is some new stuff that is starting come out. I think I will work every which way, sometimes by myself, sometimes with the band, and there’s plenty for everybody. I’ve just finished working on Aaron’s solo album [“Elaborate Noise” by Dream Apes], and Jon and I are working on his stuff too. The hardest part is just organizing your time and doing it all.  I have tons of lists.

DBWhat does each band member bring to the Extra table?

JM: Jon is like me, very into playing music but sort of impatient. We’ve had a few sessions where I just come over and he plays me something he’s working on — these intricate things with guitar and keyboard patterns — and I just play drums along to it. Neither of us wants to go for more takes. But it all sounds totally together. Sometimes we’ll just jam with electric piano and drums, and just follow each other and improvise these songs with bridges and everything. No words though, but like the songs are playing themselves.  I think we’re just getting it out.

Aaron is different. He really is super-patient about music. When he was doing his album, after I did the drum parts, he worked on his stuff for months, with all these overdubbed guitars, then cutting things up, doing a bunch of different mixes. Then I started to get involved again and commenting on things and listening to mixes — and then he would do more mixes and more layers of guitar. And we finally got to a finished product we both liked, but he did a lot of work of mixing and tweaking.

DBI gotta know. What is the ‘galactic’ guitar that you’ve described Aaron as playing?

JM: Well, in Extra, Aaron plays in my style, which is more like Paul McCartney-type lead playing, but he has a tendency to play kind of mind-melting psychedelic guitar, so when I was thinking of credits, that’s kind of how I think of him.

DBAnd Anita?

JM: Anita is like a totally different kind of person. She’s totally ingenuous. When I met her, it took time to realize she isn’t cynical really at all. She’s almost like a dog. Like, loyal and nice! That’s part of her personality. And her take on music is from some other place. She doesn’t have normal influences like The Beatles and everything. She’s a bit younger so maybe that’s part of it. But she just has a different take on everything.

DB: How do Anita’s songs differ from yours?

JM: The way she approaches music, besides loving Black Sabbath, is writing songsthat are more like these little movies. We’re trying to get these songs down.  They’re never about feelings or anything — like, my stuff is all my thoughts inside me — her stuff is all stories about washed-up old movie stars, or a guy down at the pub, or she has this one about about watching the Altamont footage. Things inspire her and become part of her inner movie or something. She doesn’t have to write about her feelings ’cause she’s not screwed up. She doesn’t like emotional women singers. Or power pop, to be honest. Same thing!


For more about Extra, check out the Extra MySpace page . Also,  to hear more tracks from the band, consider the Extra profile.

And of course, to buy F R Double E, go to the Extra official website,, or CD Baby.


Wreckless Eric Plays ‘Whole Wide World’

Listen to this track by Stiff Records urchin and new wave scrapper Wreckless Eric.  It’s ‘Whole Wide World’ as taken from his self-titled, 1978 LP Wreckless Eric. The song had previously been released as a single (twinned with ‘Semaphor Signals’), as produced by Stiff house producer Nick Lowe.

This song is one of the results of a keen interest that Wreckless Eric (born Eric Goulden) had in pub rock, a scene that grew up alongside punk rock, and in fact pre-dated it.  ‘Whole Wide World’ and the innocence it exudes was used to great effect in the film Stranger Than Fiction, when Will Farrell’s repressed IRS agent finally falls in love, getting the girl by singing this song to her.

Wreckless Eric’s sound was looked upon as something of the runt in the Stiff Records litter, basic three-chord constructions that drew from 60s garage rock, girl groups, and early 70s glam poppers Slade. His music is idiosyncratic, and sometimes half-baked, making him something of an English Jonathan Richman.  But, like Richman, Wreckless Eric got by on his ability to charm, even while demonstrating a sort of studied ineptitude when it comes to traditional pop subject matter.

It’s arguable that Wreckless Eric was the most ‘punk’ of the Stiff stable, with a adenoidal whine of a voice matched with a muddy, bludgeoning stomp of a beat behind it.  But with this song, you’re hearing something of a return to  classic pop songwriting aimed at teenagers.  This is a tried and true approach to rock ‘n’ roll songwriting, and has been from the beginning.

There is something endearingly juvenile about this song, with some truly clunky lyrics and bare bones arrangement.  To me, this tune is a look inside the mind of an early teen, a snapshot of a kid’s idea about romance.  As such, this song does what the best rock ‘n’ roll songs do; it gives a voice to the awkward teen audience it’s aimed at.  For all of Wreckless Eric’s wide-eyed innocence here on this song, it’s clear that his approach to songwriting betrayed the mark of experience, too. And with this tune, he captures a kernel of truth, which is another aspect to be found in the best of pop songwriting.

For more information about Wreckless Eric, check out


Peter Gabriel Sings ‘Digging in the Dirt’

Listen to this song, a confessional piece from an artist formerly known for his role playing more so than for his emotional candour. It’s Peter Gabriel with his “Digging in the Dirt” as taken from his 1992 album Us, a record that was a loose concept album about the nature of relationships.

When Peter Gabriel fronted Genesis, the role he appeared to take on was a using himself as an empty canvas, literally and figuratively dressing himself for each song; a Moonlight Knight, a Watcher of the Skies, a rapidly and unnaturally aged old man, a deformed Slipperman, and many others. He used his body as a tool to communicate characters, with costumes, with hairstyles, with make-up.

It was the early 70s, a period rife with this kind of theatricality and distance between audience and performer. Gabriel and his bandmates were in their early 20s, and (not to put too fine a point on it) British.  The possibility that the band would take on a confessional singer-songwriter approach that revealed their deepest vulnerabilities and complex psychologies without filtering it through a character was pretty remote. Even by his arguable peak as a solo artist in the mid-80s, Gabriel was known more as an animated head, more so than a fully-dimensional person in his own songs.

But, by the early 90s, Gabriel had come a fair distance, career-wise and on a personal level, too.  He’d been married and divorced. He’d had high-profile affairs with celebrities.  His children were grown up.  And he’d moved on from the approach that had him emphasizing fanstastical or observational material, including a more political vantage point starting in the 80s, telling stories of social oppression (‘Biko’) and the fear of where reactionary politics might affect our fate as a species (‘Red Rain’).

By the time Us came out, he was ready to tell his own story using his own face.  And this was the first single, which revealed all of the pain and turmoil that is often associated with the great adventure that is involved in seeking intimacy with another.  The emotions here are extreme, with frustration and rage in a relationship (‘shut your mouth, I know what you are..’) coupled with a recognition that isolation is just as intolerable (‘stay with me, I need support…’).  It also acknowledges that seeking the past is a key to the future too, with finding that which is ‘dark and sticky’ inside of us is the first step in dealing with it.

This song was representative of the album as a whole, with songs like ‘The Blood of Eden’,  ‘Washing of the Water’, and ‘Secret World’ being other highlights  that brought out some of the writer’s most intensely personal material he’d ever committed to vinyl. In some ways, it’s no wonder that he took over a decade to follow this up, seeming to say it all here.

For more information about Peter Gabriel including news of a new album and tour, check out

Also, check out the video for Digging in the Dirt, which includes footage of a snail-festooned Gabriel, who endured some pain in letting them crawl on him.  In the days before you could fake that kind of thing, those are real snails.  And they had a bite or two while the video was being filmed.  Talk about an artist’s dedication!


The Zutons Play ‘Valerie’

Listen to this song by Liverpudlian rock-pop heroes The Zutons. It’s their UK hit from 2006 “Valerie”, as taken from their second album Tired Of Hanging Around, what an R&B-flavoured burst of poptastic charm it is, too!  This soul/indie-stew may come from the fact that this band has an element once very popular, and now rare in rock-pop outfits – a full-time sax player!

This band comes out of an area of the world known to produce hook-laden pop music as if it’s a cash crop – the North-West of England, and even more specifically, Liverpool.  Not even mentioning a certain world-changing quartet, this city has produced some of the most influential bands of more recent eras including Echo & the Bunnymen, The La’s, The Pale Fountains, Shack, The Coral, and the Lightning Seeds, among many others. Indeed, head Lightning Seed Ian Broudie produced their first album in 2004, Who Killed the Zutons, nominated for the coveted Mercury Music Prize that year.

Abi Harding of the Zutons - a full-time sax player! (photo: Mark Whale)

The thing I notice about this band, and this track in general is the fact that it diverges quite a lot from typical jangly guitar pop out of Liverpool.  This isn’t the Beatle-esque power pop song you might expect.  To me, it seems to have soul music at its heart more so than Revolver, with guitarist/vocalist David McCabe’s passionate, belting voice, punctuated by saxophonist Abi Harding’s abrasive horn stabs. The overall construction of this tune is downright funky, with the on beats and off-beats kind of pulling and pushing as the song rolls along.

One criticism that indie guitar music gets is the lack of sweat to be found in it, that spark of physicality.  With this tune, you get plenty, and is a case for the fact that just because a band hails from a certain region famous for a sound, it doesn’t mean that one can’t be pleasantly surprised by a shattered expectation.  Of course, this band was dropped from their label at one point, an indication that record labels still don’t get it.

For more information about this band, make sure and visit the Zutons on MySpace.

And for real time updates, make sure and follow David McCabe on Twitter @davezuton


Crowded House Play ‘Something So Strong’

Listen to this top 40 hit and opening salvo from Split Enz spinoff band Crowded House.  It’s the immensely radio-friendly ‘Something So Strong’ from the band’s 1986 debut album, and cleverly titled it is too, Crowded House.

By the end of its life, Split Enz had been abandoned by one Finn brother, Tim, and handed over to the songwriting talents and leadership of his younger brother, Neil.  The younger Finn had penned an important single for the band, ‘I Got You’ in 1979 on the pop-oriented True Colours album. And  under his guidance, the band recorded another storming single in “Message To My Girl” by the early 80s.  But, by then, Tim had left the band to pursue a solo career, and momentum for Split Enz was beginning to wane.

Split Enz held their farewell concert in 1984.  One of the latter-day members of Split Enz was drummer Paul Hester, who followed leader Neil Finn’s path to the formation of a new band which also included the younger brother of Hunters & Collectors Mark Seymour, one Nick Seymour, on bass guitar.  The fruits of their labours, with the help of producer and keyboardist Mitchell Froom, was the debut album that featured this song, and another international hit single “Don’t Dream It’s Over”, as their ticket onto the North American charts.

This song just pops with a sheen of aural optimism, even if the lyrics hint at something far more dark. And indeed, this radio single that was a top ten hit in North America, sounds like a jubilant love song, that actually hints at the dangers of love as much as it does its wonders.  Neil Finn would never write a lyrically straight-forward pop song .  But, his ability to create songs which sound like simple ear candy, while equally revealing hidden thematic depths, would always be his strength.

By the mid-80s, it seems to me that the face of pop music had taken a turn for the worse.  At one point in pop history, accessible songs did not mean shallow writing hidden by studio trickery.  But, generally speaking, the state of pop chart entries seemed to veer pretty close to this precipice by 1986.  In this, the arrival of  Crowded House on the scene helped to curtail this, and listeners were reminded that pop songs in the mainstream could be well constructed musically as well as lyrically challenging. And this would be Crowded House’s manifesto through out, even with this debut.

The band would put out four more albums, including a live farewell album, before dissolving officially in 1997.  Members would join and fall away in this time, which is a hell of a run when you consider the quality of the material through out that span.  The reunion tour and a new album by 2007 would bring them to public attention again, reminding everyone how many songs they had recorded that were instantly familiar.

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