Circus Animals’ Desertion – “S/T” (Self-released)

From the minimalistic cover art to the stunning, atmospheric dream-pop compositions that make up this eponymous début album, it’s immediately clear that Irlam, Greater Manchester’s Circus Animals’ Desertion is not just another UK guitar band.

The vast majority of up and coming acts in CAD’s neighbourhood seem determined to sound like one (or more) of the city’s high profile success stories, be it Oasis, The Smiths, The Stone Roses or Joy Division. On the evidence of Circus Animals’ Desertion, CAD would sooner look to the criminally underrated Chameleons or even the Psychedelic Furs for influence. This alone would be refreshing, but the fact that the band possesses both a knack for intelligent songwriting and is comfortable performing a range of styles so early in its recording career is worthy of genuine excitement.

Distraction and I Met A Girl are the closest things to pop here, and if a major label was handling this release I’d imagine they’d be strong contenders for lead singles. Elsewhere, there are heavier moments (Drive Away) and slower, atmospheric tracks, such as the ethereal Summer Ends and my personal favourite, December Sun, which is reminiscent of early nineties shoegazers Slowdive.

Circus Animals’ Desertion is a varied, mature and ultimately fulfilling début from one of the UK’s most exciting new guitar bands; that it will be ignored if favour of a dozen over-hyped copycat bands is merely symptomatic of the UK music scene’s current malaise.

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Visit Circus Animal Desertion’s MySpace page by clicking here

Harry Smith’s Anthology of American Folk Music

American Folk Music Anthology

I count myself very fortunate to receive more free music than I can possibly contemplate listening to. This has been the case for several years. Currently the only music I actually need to pay for is older music, limited edition stuff, or the odd interesting release that the record companies / PR agencies have neglected to send my way.

It’s a great perk of the music critic’s job, granted, but it also comes with a downside: buying music has begun to feel overly extravagant, a waste of money even. Why pay £10 for something that will be competing for precious stereo time with hundreds of worthy promo releases? The same rule applies to concert tickets. Because I’ve grown accustomed to not paying over the course of nearly ten years, gigs feel like a strange thing to pay money for. I know it doesn’t make a lot of sense, but that’s the way it has, rather strangely, become.

I haven’t really loved going to a real, physical record store and buying a CD for some time, however last Thursday I felt that buzz again, as I handed over my battered Visa to pay £64.99 for Harry Smith’s legendary Anthology of American Folk Music. An 84-track, 6-CD  guide to American folk music of 1927-1932, Harry Smith’s anthology is an inspirational snapshot of the era, and listening to the songs it’s possible to hear the roots of almost every strand of Americana released over the last 80 years. I’m not an American citizen and I’m not particularly acquainted with the more traditional strands US folk and country music, but discovering this music and piecing together some of the gaps in my cultural knowledge is a thrilling experience and I know it’s going to push my listening in all kinds of new directions, which can only be a good thing.

That the anthology is currently jostling for position in my life with Steinski’s What Does It All Mean? retrospective is frankly odd, but perhaps it illustrates the excitement I’m finding in non-independent rock music these days. After all, a man can only take so many angular guitar riffs…

Okkervil River – Wulfrun Hall, Wolverhampton (10/11/2008)

Okkervil River in Wolverhampton

It was my great pleasure to see Okkervil River in Wolverhampton last night and as an added bonus I also got to interview frontman Will Sheff for around twenty minutes before the show. The resulting features (one for Rock ‘n’ Reel, one for No Ripcord) will be published here in due course, along with some additional photos of the band’s performance.

Okkervil River's Will Sheff

Fleet Foxes – Foundry, Sheffield (29/10/2008)

My greatest regret of the year, with regard to No Ripcord at least, is publishing a relatively lukewarm 7/10 review of Fleet Foxes’ début album. If any record deserved the perfect ten this year, and we’ve awarded two such ratings, Fleet Foxes was it.

The widely acclaimed Seattle band has channelled its classic influences, some of which (sacred harp singing, CSNY) aren’t commonly considered fashionable, into a unique and timeless sound. Though frequently compared to many of the 60s artists that creative leader Robin Pecknold grew up worshipping, to my ears Fleet Foxes’ music rarely sounds like anything but Fleet Foxes. That the band achieves this singularity without being particularly experimental in its approach to songwriting is a testament to the strength of its soaring harmonies and, most vitally, Pecknold’s amazing voice. It’s no exaggeration to say that in fifty years time, this young man will be regarded as one of the greats.

It’s October 29th, a cold Wednesday night in Sheffield, and the university’s Foundry venue is the latest stop on Fleet Foxes’ UK tour. I can scarcely recall being this excited about a show in a long time; looked around, it seems I’m not the only one who’s looking forward to this sold out show. The venue is packed to the rafters and there’s a genuine buzz, a palpable sense of expectation.

As they file quietly onto the stage, however, the five members of Fleet Foxes look anything but thrilled to be here. Initially, there’s not a smile in sight, but after a slightly awkward minute or two of additional tuning, the band confidently begins the a capella Sun Giant and suddenly the room is literally full of them. With the exception of the solitary clean-shaven member, guitarist Skye Skjelset, who doesn’t sing a note all night, the band is literally belting this one out, and it sounds spectacular. Pitch perfect. And this is Fleet Foxes warming up? An equally impressive rendition of Sun It Rises follows, sans the ‘Red Squirrel’ intro, and the evening’s entertainment is officially under way.

English House gets a great reception and it becomes apparent that tonight’s packed crowd are not casual onlookers but rabid fans who’ve clearly devoured both Fleet Foxes and the companion EP, Sun Giant. Later on, some members of the audience (not me, of course, I’m far too reserved…) are literally punching their fists into the air and screaming out the words to Mykonos, of all tracks. It’s a great sight, and Pecknold et al, perhaps realising that they’re amongst friends, soon begin to warm up and begin to engage the crowd. The bearded frontman looks aghast as an audience member explains that university students don’t get discount for shows at their own venue. He also fails to comprehend the South Yorkshire housing market, and along with the rest of the band, indulges in the continuation of a Led Zeppelin joke which was started earlier in the evening by drummer, backing vocalist and, for the duration of this tour, support act, J. Tillman (whose short opening set was excellent, by the way). They might look like a bunch of perma-stoned hippies, but, in the world of Fleet Foxes, appearances can be deceptive.

I could easily devote another 500 words to the discussion of set highlights, but it would probably end up reading like an annotated set list. The band’s catalogue is pretty evenly balanced in terms of quality, after all, and tonight everything sounds pretty much stellar, from the gigantic recent single White Winter Hymnal right through to the solo Pecknold renditions of Tiger Mountain Peasant Song and the intimate Oliver James. Your Protector is a big personal favourite of mine, and as those angelic voices launch into its climactic chorus, the sensation is literally spine tingling. For me, this single moment is the most satisfying live music experience of 2008, and I’ve seen some pretty fantastic shows this year (Bon Iver, My Bloody Valentine twice). Yes, you read that right, it’s even better than the famed noise freakout of You Made Me Realise.

So remember, you read it here last: Fleet Foxes – 2008’s greatest band.