Christen Them With Paraffin

Crystal Castles - Wrath Of God

In the year 1880 any song with the title ‘Wrath Of God’ would have seemed foreboding, one which conjured images of fire, brimstone and the vengeance of an omnipotent creator. But in a modern society where belief in a ‘God’ of any kind is waining, what sort of message are Crystal Castles trying to send?

The track is the standout on their self-titled third album, Crystal Castles III. Where the Canadian duo bind the jittery compositions of their previous work with the ethereal sound of Balam Acab's excellent, Wonder/Wander, to create a new type of gothic-house. One drenched in Silent Hill's cold fog; through which individual voices are lost amongst the hubbub of the crowd. A disquieting experience that perfectly captures the omnipresent role of social networks in day to day life. Where the constant stream of voices can turn from a comfort into an oppressive nightmare of information overload. 

Given that the virtual walls of our profiles have become a place to air our hopes and fears, our responses to them, supportive, sympathetic, mean, disinterested or otherwise are important. We are in essence passing judgement on the ‘prayers’ of friends and our collective voice has taken the role of ‘God.’ Making the potential for wrath, a very real thing indeed.

We Both Enjoyed A Good Fight

Lucy Rose - Shiver

There is an earnestness to Lucy Rose’s debut album, Like I Used To, that makes it hard to ignore. In most ways, the record is just another collection of an unremarkable set of acoustic songs, with very little to differentiate it from an already crowded genre. In Rose’s case, perseverance will reap rewards. The softly sung youngster from Surrey has a knack of capturing relationships that feels intimate without losing accessibility to a wider audience. On ‘Shiver,’ when Rose laments “We broke / Everything that was right / We both enjoyed a good fight” or confesses “And we stole / every moment we had to make the other one feel bad” her vocals are tender and sorrowful enough to convince any listener that she’s opening her heart to them. Whereas the ambiguity of the lyrics allow anyone to adopt the song as their own heartbreak anthem. Rose’s music may not push the sonic or songwriting boundaries, but it has a beautiful judged balance that few can match.

We Don't Need Each Other Now

Foals - My Number

There’s something very eco-friendly about ‘My Number,’ from Foals. The second cut from their forthcoming album, Holy Fire, feels like a slice of retro-funk which has been upcycled. That restyles the sound of Wild Cherry into the danceable yet intelligent indie for which Foals are famed. The indifference with which Yannis sings the opening lines, “You don’t have my number / We don’t need each other now,” sets the tone for the rest of the band vocals. Who follow his cue and layer their voices in an equally disinterested manner. The result is brilliantly modern; a morose funk that hipsters can dance to with the cool detachment they prize.

We Used To Be Closer Than This

The xx - Chained

How do you improve on perfection? That was the problem facing The XX after their 2009 self-titled debut album. An LP that flawlessly realised their spatially aware minimal sound, and through tracks like VCR, captured shyness in a way that no record before or since really managed. With their second album, Coexist, the London trio took the only option realistically viable for them to try, refinement. The trouble is, with an already lean sound, fat to trim is hard to find. The results were mixed, succeeding in trimming their sound to the bare-essentials, but failing to deliver songs with the motional punch of it’s predecessor. ‘Chained,’ is the exception to the generalisation, it’s a romantically charged duet which eschews shyness for confessional pillow talk. A direction that could offer the band a second great album if they take a leaf out of Gareth Campesinos book and are bolder with the pen.

Check out the video below:

So you can stick your words of comfort

Los Campesinos! - Allez Les Blues

Release wise, 2012 was a quiet year for Los Campesinos. As one of the most prolific bands around, it’s strange to come to the end of the year list and not to have a new record or EP to consider. This downtime has allowed the band to focus on other creative endeavours, in particular Heat Rash, their exclusive Fanzine. Each issue comes bundled with a vinyl 7” single that contains two unreleased songs and ‘Allez Les Blues’ is the highlight from the third edition. The track sounds is an off cut from fabric of the groups last record, Hello Sadness; one omitted because it feels like a rehash of old styles and structures rather than trying something new. Los Campesinos desire to progress is admirable and exciting, but fans of the group will be satisfied that this sullen indie-pop gem got a release of its own.

I Haven't Got A Clue

Metz - The Mule

Given the 20 year anniversary of Nirvana’s Nevermind, it’s perhaps unsurprising that plenty of bands found inspiration from 90s lo-fi bands in 2012. One of the better examples was Canadian post-hardcore trio, Metz. Their excellent self titled debut album offers fans of Fugazi and Lizard Jesus, 11 scuzzed out tracks which aped and subtly modernised the sound of these forebears.

‘The Mule’ is the most immediate of the bunch. Its fleeting run-time is powered by a metronomic rhythm section that creates an overbearing hubbub of bone shattering drums and bass strings pushed close to breaking point. Floating above the din is front-man, Alex Edkins, whose panicked screams sound like Ian Curtis freewheeling a BMX into the fires of hell. Breathtaking.

Their Heavy Words Can't Bring Me Down

Lana Del Rey - Radio

2012 was a year of transition for Lana Del Rey (real name Lizzy Grant). Riding atop a wave of hype that followed the late 2011 release of ‘Video Games’ – one of the best pop songs of the last 5 years – she entered the year a critical darling. The song, which combines nihilist songwriting, her smokey voice and trailer trash glamour, singled Del Rey out as an act worthy of attention. Although little was known about her ability as a live performer or her background, hopes for her debut album, Born to Die, had been raised and media scrutiny became intense.

Seeing the opportunity in front of her, Del Rey milked the attention for all it was worth. She embarked on a plethora of interviews and by the start of 2012 had became an almost ubiquitous presence on the pages of the net. The backlash was bound to come, all the critics needed was ammunition. 

They got their wish once Grant’s real life background had been unearthed. It turned out the Del Rey persona was a fabrication. She was a rich girl, playing at being white trash and it tainted all the attention ‘Video Games’ had gathered, It was all paid for “by daddy.” Coupled with a now infamously shoddy performance on Saturday Night Live and her authenticity was shot. The music snobs had enough evidence, Grant was an unworthy faker, and it wouldn’t matter how good Born To Die was, it would only ever be elitist plastic.

It’s this history which gives ‘Radio’ its significance on the album (which is a worthwhile record IF you can listen without prejudice). What was meant to be a retort to ex-lover now sounds like a preemptive strike against this pretension. Adding a satisfying double meaning when Del Rey melodramatically croons, “Their heavy words can’t bring me down,” before really flipping the bird over a gloriously catchy chorus. “Now my life’s sweet like cinnamon / Like a fucking dream I’m living in / Baby love me cause I’m playing on the radio / How do you like me now?”

The defiant arrogance in these words is palpable and serves as a perfect bookend to Del Rey’s year. As the new face of H&M, she doesn’t need critics to love her anymore, the adulation (and money) of the public will be more than enough.