Reviews by Time Bomb

It is easy to grow with their fans. In order to grow artistically while continuing to satisfy the taste of his audience must remain true to themselves without giving up, always move a bit 'higher up the bar. This new work Paramore is not that of maturity, but the guys at Franklin, Tennessee, are trying. The fourth album - the debut album in 2005 with All We Know Is Falling - the coordinates are those of a teen rock of American-style, energetic and engaging, but with the will, this time, to go a little 'more. You feel the need to try other possibilities, not just the most direct, however, to get to refrain from schitarrato stage.

Perhaps this change is partly due to the abandonment of brothers Josh and Zac Farro, guitarist and drummer founders of the band, which left only to Hayley Williams and guitarist (so far in the shade) Taylor York the honor / burden of composing songs. The fact is that the whole album shines the desire for renewal. You notice the sleeves synth a bit 'everywhere, on the performance of SWING Grow Up, by the shy ukulele interludes (three pieces from one minute to one where Paramore rehearse for the songs from the beach), on how the beautiful Is not Fun should result in even a gospel choir with a lot of claphands. These small experiments are not excessive but are perfectly economy fell hard. To remember where they came from Paramore are the initial Fast In My Car and Part II in the first stanza autocita explicitly blockbuster second album Let The Flames Begins. But the best when they give their nature nourish alternative-but-not-too, playing at the trendy cousins ​​of garbage, either version teen cleared of No Doubt, as in Anklebiters and Still Into You.

Mention is the closing track Future, a ride semi-seven-minute instrumental, ranging from post-rock to industrial leaving open mouth who expects the pop-punk band Paramore at which we were accustomed. Of course you can feel the hand of the producer Justin Meldal-Johnsen (former Nine Inch Nails), but if this is the idea that the band has their own future, the growth has just begun.

Billy Bragg has fifty-five, salt and pepper hair and finally a nice beard like a wise man who always knows what to say and how to say it. Used for thirty years to "mix pop and politics" ("Waiting for the great leap forwards") and to develop a personal path to the "socialism of the heart" ("Upfield") has not lost fighting spirit, commitment and attention to current events anti-fascist (these hours are its timely comments on the case Di Canio). It is no longer the age and the time (not only, at least) for hymns union with banners or pop song winking for the "Sexuality", when Billy played willy-nilly according to the rules of the music business: he is the first to know . After some encouraging signs of recovery and crush highlighted by "Mr. love and justice", a qualification is perfect for the business card, it was time for a disc meditation, deep and intense as "Tooth & Nail", a collection of songs that starts from an acute personal grief (the loss of the mother) to wonder about the future and the difficult art of living and at the heart of the carpet existential questions and non-transitory (number one problem: how to build and maintain long-standing relationships in life time with people who love each other).

It took, therefore, a producer empathetic and sensitive. And Bragg, by his own admission "not a creature to study," he found it overseas just settling for five days - the right time to capture inspiration, as was done in the old days - in the basement of Pasadena that Joe Henry transformed into a recording studio where for years they manufacture musical gems. You'll also be charged, to American, to discs with a single mold, forging a unique sound achieved by using always - in this case - the usual clan of prodigious musicians (Greg Leisz on guitars, Jay Bellerose drums and percussion, David Piltch bass and double bass, Patrick Warren on keyboards). But those sounds scattered and measured that have become his signature, it explains well the same Bragg, in this circumstance have created "an atmosphere of spontaneity and space that has allowed my voice come to the fore." The voice, in fact. Ever so warm and present, in the past, ever so persuasive and expressive (the resounding vanished cockney accent of a time, in the initial "January Song" emerges a polite falsetto), perfect vehicle for looking compassionate and full of humanity that Bragg reserve always to his fellows and to the events of life.

Accomplice Henry and his band, the bard of Barking has tied again this time the threads of "Mermaid Avenue" (volumes one and two) engraved with Wilco at the turn of the new millennium once again honoring the great father Woody Guthrie with a version reflexive and sore the classic "I is not got no home": mat of a disk that, in spite of the quintessential "Englishness" of the character, spreads strong scents of "Americana" between brushes and autoharp, piano and chimes of a Leisz is rewriting between lap and pedal steel, mandolin and mandolin, Dobro and Weissenborn.

Remains imprinted, of "Tooth & Nail", the great melodic and instrumental clarity, the proceeding at a slow and relaxed as those that the protagonist curls on snow-covered trails of the video for "No one knows nothing anymore", a beautiful ballad about the difficulty and fluctuating increasing grasp of the meaning of life in times confusing and contradictory. Jousting between country colors ("Chasing Rainbows" is almost disascalica), old time folk ("Do unto others") and blues ("Over You"), the album everything is moving in one dimension and acoustic shock from a single collection moderate acceleration and power ("There Will Be a Reckoning," the piece more "political", is one of the two selections retrieved from "Pressure Drop", theatrical and musical show was staged in the UK in 2010).

And 'this confidence, that you credit towards employees Bragg who willingly accepts to give carte blanche to the musicians and Henry, author of two texts from the language much more elusive and dream of her ("Over you , "the charming" Your name on my tongue "). Billy, for his part, is always capable of synthesizing a striking and memorable phrases in the human condition and a psychological state ("How can a man be strong / if you can not even pick up the phone / to say you're wrong?" Is how in "Swallow my pride", emoziante white soul ballad), confident of being able to find "how to build with my poetry / a roof over our heads" (as lazy and easygoing "Handyman blues"). It is apparent, here and elsewhere, a wisdom and a capacity of introspection that are both a goal and a stepping stone to what is to come, even when sadly Bragg gives his farewell to the old companions ("Goodbye, goodbye") . And there is, in most of the album, a gravitas appropriate and not at all overwhelming ("Do unto others" quotes the most famous precept of the Gospel according to Luke, "do to others what you would like them to do to you"), tempered by 'epilogue optimistic and whistling of "Tomorrow's going to be a better day", a number of music hall or the Frank Capra comedy that plays Bragg, however, in chiaroscuro, his voice tired and fatigued. Like a classic novel or an art film, "Tooth & Nail" sports a sturdy moral fiber and tells a story of human revenge. Keen observer of the times and customs, for some time Bragg seemed to have lost the feeling with the music, more at ease as a polemicist than as singer-songwriter. Emboldened by the new scenario in which artists increasingly have the opportunity to interact with the public without the need for intermediaries (ideally, for a storyteller like him), has found sap energy and a language with which to express themselves: so that on the radar of those who is ready to tune in "Tooth & Nail" sends strong signals and clear messages of hope and songs that are worth listening to opening the ears and heart.

TRACKLIST

"January Song"
"No one knows nothing anymore"
"Handyman blues"
"I is not got no home"
"Swallow my pride"
"Do unto others"
"Over You"
"Goodbye, goodbye"
"There will be a reckoning"
"Chasing Rainbows"
"Your name on my tongue"
"Tomorrow's going to be a better day"

Bloodsports "Suede: the fourth listening, still nothing. No special lighting, no highlight enough to be the focus of the review. Or at least the starting point.'s Hear a fifth time, then. And here she is lighting: as often happens, the reality was already there, under your nose (or ears) from the beginning.'s review of the disc had already begun long ago.
The comeback of the gang Brett Anderson was made to wait ten years because, according to the same leader, rather than resulting in a poor album "made of mediocre songs. Better not to publish anything." Not always, however, time is the best medicine, and not everything is "like wine." Here, then, what is the truth, this record is not a rare gem. Well packaged, but nothing more. Almost all of the 10 tracks that make up "Bloodposports" have excellent insights of departure, exciting rhythms that are of immediate attention, but do not have the determination and the strength to continue in the same vein. Disappoint a little 'expectations, in fact.
More than 20 from the start, with an artistic sometimes limping between misunderstandings, abandonment and riappacificamenti, training is still in great shape and we find the Suede ever, in all honesty intent to do what they had proved more than capable of doing in 90s: a britpop full of pathos, ambitious and introspective as he wants their best glam rock vein.
"Barriers" pierces the thin veil of cobwebs arisen over the years with a steady pace and a nice ride sound that leaps over the barriers ("jumps over the barriers" the refrain) and breaks down quickly in the confines of the next track "Snowblind" .
The main themes of the album are clear, and Anderson said, the blood, the love and passion drag the entire disk. The three elements that intertwine in the cover penetrate the cover and tracklist to the second track is an obvious example, that "This love is lifting, this blood is lifting you, snowblind over barriers". From the first single on, or taste of Britpop "It starts and ends with you", the disc begins to falter: the wink to his friend and Master David Bowie become gradually more frequent, until they become shameless in "Hit me ". The atmosphere becomes more dense as it flows towards "Sabotage" and "For the strangers" smoke melodrama that surrounds "Bloodsports" boils gently "What are you telling me?" and "Always." Finally, "Faultlines", a closure majestic, proud and dramatic. The centerpiece heard an album that makes the intensity and feeling his strength and departure.
"Bloodsports" is a disc popped up suddenly from the past, in the era of big returns. Nothing seems to have changed for Suede, maybe for the rest of the world, yes, but that does not matter and at the bottom is another story. They waited almost 10 years to get to the second decade of 2000, to present their new album and confirm with dignity the rights gained through years of hard work. One can hardly speak of a great return then, but in the 90s.

TRACKLIST

"Barriers"
"Snowblind"
"It starts and ends with you"
"Sabotage"
"For the strangers"
"Hit me"
"Sometimes I feel I'll float away"
"What are you not telling at me?"
"Always"
"Faultlines"

At the age of seven years, Peter Parker is in the care of Aunt May and Uncle Ben by parents who never see again. A decade later, is a lonely high school student with a crush on classmate Gwen Stacy, daughter of police captain. The discovery, in the attic, a briefcase containing his father's documents kept secret takes Peter to make the acquaintance of Dr. Curt Connors, old family friend and colleague of her father at Oscorp. It is in his lab, where he studies the possibility of coupling between human and animal cells, that Peter is bitten by a spider and finds himself with a new and extraordinary powers.
In the difficult task of Marc Webb reboot of a film product which we were fully satisfied, thanks to the recent trilogy Raimi: useless get to make an impression, difficult to avoid overlapping, since the common text. What to do? Perhaps the answer lies in the poster of Einstein, who stands at the home of Peter Parker and bears the famous phrase that "imagination is more important than knowledge." It does not matter, Webb seems to say, if history is known, you can still reinvent everything. Towards the end of the film will return to this concept, during a school lesson, when will endeavor to remember that there are those who maintain that the world has only ten stories, but maybe there is even only one, which coincides with the question of identity: who I am. Webb and screenwriters imagine, therefore, a different Peter, no longer an outsider but a rebel, almost a snob in the grass, which is not bitten by accident but goes on its own initiative where the impossible can happen, almost sperandolo, and does not fear its transformation, but it is immediately satisfied and aware. There are nuances because redefine the identity of the protagonist actually redraw the picture completely.
Romance, appearance and playful imagery printed films Raimi (in the sense of the Charter of comics but also the photographic and newspaper) is replaced by a vision actualized, less tormented but more realistic, whose imaginary reference is exclusively film and even retro. Unfortunately, the visual ideas are scarce, except for the passage perhaps intentionally ridiculous by the scales of sea bass skin Lizard, the giant destroyer, or the scene dell'infilata crane, which would make sense to 3D, but put aside any comparison with past or there is no exit from the spiral lines of misleading (and something there, a party responsible, such as "is not a choice, it is a responsibility" in replacement of "great power, great responsibility").
Amazing is a big word that does not fit the film in question, but Spider-Man has had many lives and his tour in the red and blue tights, after all, even if it is deserved Andrew Garfield.

"Morals", track number six in the lineup, is a cover of "The last chance," a piece of Mina dated 1965, here interpreted in a hardcore punk. Yes Punk. And hardcore. Type the Black Flag. Indeed, just like Black Flag. Muscular, sweaty and furious. Because, believe it or not, this is what are the Iceage: a hardcore punk band dry, with a sound that is thirty years that we do not feel so good out of the speakers, as dirty as Rollins commands. A band that came to have the luxury of coverizzare Mina. Do not Adele. Not whomever: Mina. Our Mina. Iceage are the Danes, four boys in Copenhagen. They are very young, are on the second disc (the first with Matador, which saw the debut, has seen fit to accaparrarseli on the fly) and in recent years are the head of a punk movement called "New Way of Danish Fuck You". Thus, among other things. Outspoken.
"You're nothing"? twelve pieces, twenty-eight minutes. "Ecstasy" is an intro cut throat, sbraitata. Full blown chaos distorted. "Coalition" like something out of "Damaged". First note: Iceage, since the start, they put on weight. As the production is (again), however, essential and intended only to place much emphasis on the soul of the sound rude, the bundles of muscles are better delineated, much more than in the past, the difference in impact compared to the first "New brigade "is clear. Massive: The Matador Iceage pounding and he thought well not to put any limit, rather encourage them. White paper. "Interlude" more than a break is a run-up to the distorted post punk explosion fast-track "Burning hand in" and "haze". And here are the head of the beautiful Cloud Nothing "Attack on Memory", but in version angry. Dylan Baldi got punched by a gang of Vikings. The urgency is the same, the desire to tear up the melody idem. Not to mention the discomfort. Will like (a lot) with Steve Albini. Second note: all the pieces of "You're nothing" have a reason to be totally independent yet connected with the rest of the disc. "Everything drifts" and "Wounded hearts", say, two pieces can shine on his own (I do not feel right to call individual) but are even more sense when placed in the context of the twelve pieces. Are the culmination of a parable emotional and unique episodes at the same time. Two punches go particularly to sign in the middle of a fight furious that, guaranteed, within ten minutes you put the mat. Ten minutes to four other pieces: "It might hit first," hardcore nihilist and black as pitch, "Rodfæstet" the razor punk, "Awake", the "ballad" disillusioned, and "You're nothing," the cry desperate, ferocious charges bluntly: "We were the same / They all go on without shame / You're nothing."

In a time when the rule of the middle way (not to say mediocrity) to command, the Iceage have taken another path. Do not send her to say, of course not: the slam you in the face, their truth, and that makes "You're nothing" disc (finally) border, extreme, uncompromising, whether with the melody, with the market or you name it. I repeat: twelve pieces, twenty-eight minutes. Absolute, violent, shocking. For myself one of the albums of the year.

TRACKLIST

"Ecstasy"
"Coalition"
"Interlude"
"Burning hand"
"In haze"
"Morals"
"Everything drifts"
"Wounded Hearts"
"It might hit first"
"Rodfæstet"
"Awake"
"You're nothing"

The Bastille has all it takes to be a pain to many people. They have a French name that sounds a bit 'too hipster, are combing "upwards" according to the latest fashion (or at least have it Dan Smith, face and head of the project), have a single, Pompeii, which runs already on the radio and, above all, have the face and the sounds of those who jump on the bandwagon of the winner.

Because the features are all there, eh. There are songs fast setting, resting on catchy rhythms and electronic sounds, with airy choruses that will engage and win the second listening. And there are above all the choirs open to Coldplay last way much like the radio, and in large quantities too.

The Bastille, with these features, you automatically candidates to sit among the winners. Why is there the place of the new winners, with one foot nell'indie and everything else in the mainstream, looking for the chorus radio but also the arrangement attractive, including a reference to the film and a song from the beach. Waiting for them there are already Gotye, Fun, Lana Del Ray, Florence And The Machine. Easy that are already unpleasant.

Among a quote from Twin Peaks and a chorus from the stadium (Laura Palmer), Bad Blood is a disc basically pleasant, with an excellent production work that show the best melodies (These Streets, the title track), a beautiful arrangement of items, which create harmonies always effective, and timely finishing dirty electronics that make interesting listening especially the more intimate pieces (Overjoyed, Oblivion). Unfortunately, the mechanism in the long run is a bit 'predictable and tiring, especially when it all boils down to find the easygoing chorus (Icarus, Flaws). Hardly the Bastille would change the history of music, but some individual in the ranking will place for sure. After all, if these are the coordinates of the new modern pop, could go much worse.

Where they want to end up the Strokes? Their journey, which began with the rock'n'roll brash and angry of This Is It, is evolving from album to album into something more personal, but also more elusive. Comedown Machine continues in the sulcus obliquus which had begun to draw with First Impressions Of Earth, but has many new features. The "sound Strokes", a mixture of guitars and indolence, gave way to compositions unscrupulous delightfully retro, sometimes dreamy, where synthesizers and keyboards are the masters.

The first hearing may leave some 'disoriented. Closing her eyes you can hear the echo of a certain fascination for the 80's of the Cocteau Twins and the dream pop sound, but enriched by the attitude rock that has always characterized the New York quintet. 80's Comedown Machine declares him from the title. And even if it did, that would be enough to snare reverb to claim paternity Eighties. Animals and Slow Happy Ending, the most convincing pieces, find the perfect balance between verses and choruses pressing indulged that take you where they want them. 50 50 and All The Time songs are more reminiscent of early Strokes, but it is as if they were filtered by a particular light that blurs the boundaries and it breaks down strokes. The synth hopping One Way Trigger (that seem stolen from the Enola Gay OMD) intertwine perfectly with the voice of Julian Casablancas, ever so versatile that tapers so as to be barely recognizable. The same thing happens in Welcome To Chances while in Japan, it is soothing and deep.

The general impression is that not even the same Strokes know exactly what direction they're taking, but with courage and a pinch of unconsciousness should be increasingly defining the coordinates of their personal style. The album, without any particularly strong piece with a few shots and vacuum, leaves its mark and clarifies once and for all that no, there are no longer those of This Is It!

Barrett Martin, Screaming Trees drummer, Mike McCready, Pearl Jam guitar, John Baker Saunders, bassist in Walkabouts, and Layne Staley, unforgettable voice of Alice In Chains: The Mad Season, probably one of the most famous supergroups of the past two decades . One disc in the bag for them, "Above", released on 14 March 1995. The story is this: during the troubled production of "Vitalogy" Pearl Jam's Mike McCready ends up in rehab in Minneapolis, Minnesota, to detox from alcohol dependence. There she meets John Baker Saunders in 1994 and, once returned to his native Seattle, they set up with the Screaming Trees drummer Barrett Martin, the most classic side band. The trio began to try, but needs a voice: McCready to bring then in the studio Staley. Layne, unfortunately, already marked by the heroine, is called by friends united by newfound sobriety (with the hope / aim to be helpful), to give its contribution to the nascent disc. Work given birth within ten days, but will remain indelible in the following years as a real milestone for the period. Paradoxically, with a different approach from that of the classic Seattle sound, different from grunge in the strict sense: "Above" is an album of Seventies rock blues hypnotic, melancholic and alienating, played by people who had Led Zeppelin well in the head.
After eighteen years of age, this masterpiece returns in deluxe extended edition consists of a three-disc boxset: two CDs and a DVD. On the disks you can find the original album remastered and enriched with five bonus tracks taken directly from the recording session of the band's second album - four originals plus a cover of "I do not wanna be a soldier" by John Lennon, a disk double never completed that saw Mark Lanegan alternating item with Staley - plus a live dated April 29, 1995 containing the latest performance of Mad Season at the Moore Theatre in Seattle. The DVD contains the videos of this concert, an exhibition held at the historic New Year's Eve always RKCNDY of '95 and two other radio performances badged Self-Pollution Radio, a popular program that saw the leader of Pearl Jam, Eddie Vedder, lead in the unusual role of DJ.

TRACKLIST:

CD 1
"Wake up"
"X-Ray Mind"
"River of deceit"
"I'm above"
"Artificial red"
"Lifeless Dead"
"I do not know anything"
"Long Gone Day"
"November Hotel"
"All alone"
"Interlude"
"Locomotive"
"Black book of fear"
"Slip away"
"I do not want to be a soldier"

CD 2
"Wake up"
"Lifeless Dead"
"Artificial red"
"River of deceit"
"I do not want to be a soldier"
"Long Gone Day"
"I'm above"
"I do not know anything"
"X-Ray Mind"
"All alone"
"November Hotel"

Blues Electronic for those dark years. If you wanted to sum up in one line what they are and what they do today, Depeche Mode, this might be fine. Maybe.
Why, of course, 6 words never run out the complexity of the sound of a band, especially if the band has a sound and a unique story like Depeche Mode.
The DM is now an institution: they have their ways and their times - not short, dictated by internal chemical long-established and stabilzzate, which should allow Gore, Gahan and Fletch to recharge elsewhere before starting their giant machine.
As with all institutions, the risk of standing and exploitation of the advantage of location is around the corner. One might have expected the "usual" album of Depeche Mode, in short, who were "Playing the Angel" and "Sounds of the Universe" at the end: excellent exercises.
"Delta machine" is so much more to our joy. And 'the best album of the trilogy recently (all produced by Ben Hiller), perhaps because that's what the most powerful idea behind: riattualizzuare the sound of the band, rediscovering the roots darker. The much-ballyhooed (by the band) comparisons with "Songs of faith and devotion" and "Violator" are correct and misleading at the same time. There is no "Walking in my shoes" or "Enjoy the silence" in here, but there is a perfect mix of blacks and guitars sounds bluesate buried in beats and synthetic rhythms.
The Delta and the machine.
"Heaven", the first single or "Slow" are two good examples. "Broken" has a melodic structure typically DM, as well as the opening of "Soft touch / raw nerve." The final "Goodbye" looks like a "personal jesus" slowed to become a bluesaccio, with a guitar riff from Mississippi onto which synthesizers, and voice hotter and hotter and gloomy Gahan.
You could go quoting every song, but in the end what is most striking is the uniformity of the sound record, its overall impact. It is no secret that the DM know how to write great songs, but this time they've outdone, vestendole of their dress (black) better. It is not an easy drive, "Delta machine" has little time piacioni. But it is an album that holds up very well hear repeated, reaffirming identity and a unique sound in the best way possible after 30-plus year career.

TRACKLIST:
"Welcome to my world"
"Angel"
"Heaven"
"Secret to the end"
"My little universe"
"Slow"
"Broken"
"The child inside"
"Soft touch / raw nerve"
"Should be higher"
"Alone"
"Soothe my soul"
"Goodbye"

Their look postponed to the port of New York City with an attitude "U-talkin'-to-me?". Real hard in love, however, of the soul. The Dexys Midnight Runners were capable of a dazzling and devastating debut, a true masterpiece (which are mixed in literature, provocation, pop music, rock and R'N'B 'as the quote from Lee Dorsey in closing There, There My Dear and dedication to soul singer Geno Washington Geno) and also falls amazing, so unique and clever as to amaze and surprise today. And if you have not understood after listening to Burn It Down - from fulminant start with the triplet of radio noise and "deepurplesexpistolspecialannunciBBC" (Smoke On the Water / Holyday in the Sun / Rat Race) and the desperate cry introductory Kevin Roland intended to "Big" Jim Paterson, for God's sake, burn it down and explosion of brass - then you will never understand the Clash and all the rest.

The Dexys were much more punk and politicians without declaring it openly so many others who marched, just look at the cover of Searching ... (photo taken in August 1969 in Belfast when hundreds of Catholic families were forced to leave their homes as a result of violent riots against the Protestants and the police) with the first floor of a teenager but hard-eyed astonishment and fear behind her children moved out of the house by their parents. However, not to miss anything phases, the Dexys were also toxic, thieves, drop out, remaining, however, great artists loyal to a fault to their music. And a little 'losers: they steal the master of their first album (by closing the doors of the studio when Peter Wingfield, the producer, goes out for a coffee break, escaping with the loot on a Morris Minor and hiding the recordings at home mother of Kevin) and not trip until the Emi not up to 9% of their royalties, succeeding, in the meantime, to smagnetizzarne most. In short, everything and more.

The new edition double CD, in addition to the original disc released in 1980, remastered, add all of the individual at the time, including b-sides, a demo tape of five songs (dating back to January 1980) and two radio sessions for John Peel and Steve Jensen with amphetamine-like versions of Breaking Down The Walls Of Heartache and The Horse and two exceptional readings of classic Stax: Hold On I'm Coming and Respect. Then, you will, a swing made of many desperate and metamorphosis, including the tragicomic cover of My Beauty (1999) with Kevin fifties style sad, alcoholic drag queen that even Marc Almond of the worst moments, to reach the final intense and sincere work, One Day I'm Going To Soar .... but that's another story.