Song reviews

Someone was talking to me about “chick led grunge” the other day and, as if the words themselves were some sort of devilish incantation, Animal Hands then delivered their single “Roaring Girlie” up to the altar for some worship with Danielle Whalebone infusing the lyrics with cigarette smoke and poetry whilst the rest of the band relive the guitar led glories of a misspent youth. The attitude, as you might imagine, is all present and correct.

You can’t get a better weapon than a bit of manic techno and Ninja Spice uses it to beat the dance floor to death with a psychotic mix of metronomic aggression and nihilistic vocals from somewhere beyond the grave. “You Pathetic Bastards Are All Scum” is the name of the song and I think she means it.

Keyboard heavy as an emotive big ballad should be, “All The Money” provides more than enough evidence of Elvira Stitt’s ability to take her diminutive voice and, through musical prestidigitation, make it fill your heart.

A raucous and rowdy rock threesome from Lancashire, Sunken Money sound like the kind of band that would make an excellent soundtrack to a drunken Friday night and “This Town’s Too Big (For The Both Of Us)” is the proof of the pudding (or, more likely, the sauce on the kebab).

A Scottish singer songwriter with a heart? It would appear so and Emma Forman keeps it honest and, most likely personal, throughout the few minutes of acoustic fragility that lead her song “Dear Sara” out into the land of moonlight and things that could have been.

“Empty Room” is nothing if not a convincing attempt at resurrecting the relentless robot electro of the eighties with the dark and distant male vocals doing an equally convincing homage to the bleakness of Joy Division. Ash Code may therefore sound like they are on an old train but at least they are on the right track.

Melodious, mid paced and obviously mature, “Walk Alone” highlights the deep and meaningful vibe that characterises London’s Lizzie and the Yes Men. The song is perhaps an unwise choice for a single, but makes for a fine album track for, in the final assessment, Lizzie and the Yes Men always were more of a relationship than a one night stand.

Endearing casual in his approach, Jamie Flett meanders through “Ewar Woowar” like a man so enamoured with west coast psychedelic rock that a marriage proposal has to be on the cards. As always though, Mr Flett’s proper manly voice and those ever present hints of quirkiness provide all the evidence needed for a conviction.

“Crystal Hall” is one of those songs that probably says more about those you listen to it than the actual performer with the ever ethereal Luna Green nonetheless taking the song and floating it upon a wistful cloud before leading all who hear her for a look in Snow White’s mirror. It’s deep.

Whilst Memory In Plant seem to be performing a peculiarly perverse pastiche of art house chic, even the sometimes awkward tempo shifting loops and reverb powered exorcism of musical influences from across the world can’t stop “Shame on Me” from being a somewhat offbeat but ultimately convincing song.

Although there are enough hard rock clichés on show to suggest that Fat Goth are out to seek the approval of the hairy and unwashed, there is also an undeniable humour to the lyrics of “Sin Altar” and that suggests to me that this is a band smarter than your average member of the Scottish parliament. I know that many of you think that there are turnips smarter than the average member of the Scottish parliament but no turnip ever did pseudo machismo as well as Fat Goth do.

“Road To Recovery”, by San Diego’s Double Score, has the mark of a DJ stamped all over it so I wouldn’t be surprised if it exists in any number of remixed versions. There’s not a lot of song to hold the dance floor beats together in this version however and, to tell the truth, a more impassioned vocal wouldn’t go amiss either.