Noisettes
Scratch your name
Musically, the Noisettes don’t seem too bothered about making things complicated: there’s a simple, tearing riff skittering all over the place; insistent rhythm and melody; and scratchy production over the whole thing leaving a scruffy sort of feel. None of this is a bad thing, it suits them well and gives them a prickly sound all of their own; but it’s in the vocal stylings of Shingai Shoniwa where things get tricky. Is she Bjork? PJ Harvey? Debbie Harry? Karen O? Someone has been playing a naughty game of steal and splice with the DNA of lots of formidable vocalists, and they’ve created an even more formidable beast that yelps, snarls and scratches its way through this track with a hissing conviction so feral and engaging that the slightly dodgy lyrics (‘scratch your name into the fabric of this world’?) are soon forgotten. It’s sharp, crackling, slighty nasty – and definitely has claws. Go get mauled.
Murder by Death
Sometimes the line walks you
There you are, walking through the rain in a storm-tormented delta blues city, your head bent against the storm and your collar up, when the bastard son of Johnny Cash and The Clash lurches out from a tasty bar brawl which thunders behind him as he grabs you and spins you through the door. ‘I’ve taken a hit or two, I’ve given quite a few,’ he snarls, as piano rolls against bourbon soaked guitars. Bodies fly through the air while he drags you in a mad waltz through the carnage, ducking plunging bass throbs while he rails and rages into your face, seething about horsemen riding, cracked ribs and the kind of sizzling, dried out pain you imagine only the bottom of something very, very alcoholic can cause. He slings you out into the street as final brass stabs leap unexpectedly after you, leaving you sat breathless in the alleyway. But you’re back on your feet knocking at the door before you know it – ‘Sorry, could you repeat that?’ Tremendous.
www.murderbydeath.com / www.myspace.com/murderbydeath
Sondre Lerche
The Tape
Last track we heard from this fellow – a daftly young Norwegian who signed to Virgin at 16 – was the lilting ‘Two way monologue,’ which was a charming little record about the misunderstandings of love set against beautiful pop lullabies. Now he’s moved to New York, though, and someone has given him a guitar and a stack of Hot Hot Heat albums, and he’s gone all LOUD and JANGLY, with melody-stuffed tunes played very fast indeed. It’s a change of direction, and it’s pretty good – there’s no doubting the energy and enthusiasm – but it lacks the personality and the little quirks that made his previous tunes stand out. Time to decide whether to be pop or punk, perhaps; he’s not really suited to both.
www.sondrelerche.com
Kharma 45
Where’s your spirit, man?
Another identity crisis here, with the Northern Irish quintet unsure if they’re dance, or rock, or what. The two can quite happily co-exist, of course, but for that to happen there needs to be a bit more going on than a single line of endlessly repeated Kasabian-ish drawl set against the first pattern anyone could find on the drum machine. Deeply unimpressive.
www.kharma45.com / www.myspace.com/kharma45
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