PICK OF THE WEEK
Gold Panda
Time Eater (City Slang)
Where have you been Gold Panda? It’s been ages. Do you still feel the same about us? Do we feel the same about you? Can you still do all the things we like? It appears so. The lush Time Eater transports you to a Buddhist temple in Kyoto haunted by sadness and pain. Featuring the moody, clattering strings of what sounds like a Koto, it’s a fascinating blend of soft synthesized drums and harsher analogue sounds. The whole thing is poked through with hints of optimism but has an overarching malaise to it. Not one for the comedown Sunday roast with Mum’s new boyfriend.
Bryan Adams
Do What Ya Gotta Do (Polydor)
I was born after 1990, so in my head Bryan Adams and Ryan Adams are the same guy. Part of me wonders if their respective careers have been a kind of war of attrition, each willing the other to change their name, perhaps via some kind of voodoo doll. Anyway, Do What Ya Gotta Do feels as if it could be on the Dumb And Dumber soundtrack, which I don’t mind telling you is the best OST of all time. It’s short and sweet at just over two minutes, and the muddy guitar jangle mixed in with fun Beach Boys melody makes for a nice slice of dad rock. Beat that, Ryan!
Markus Feehily
Sanctuary (Harmoney Entertainment)
Ex-Westlifer Markus Feehily must have been livid when he turned on the telly and was met with Sam Smith. They share a similar voice and vibe, yet one is an Oscars darling and the other is a former boyband member trying not to be just a name only mums would recognise. Sanctuary is a valiant effort, yet really just feels like a vocal CV for Feehily, a great display of his pipes but otherwise about as rousing as the call of “bring out yer dead” ringing out in a plague-ridden alleyway in 1349.
Foals
Birch Tree (Warner Music)
Listening to Foals for me in 2016 is a bit like having an awkward drink with a forgotten friend. I was fully there for it in the Cassius days, but then I made new mates who dressed differently and went to different clubs. Hearing Birch Tree, it’s good to see them just getting on with things, still pitting beach-guitar melodies against Yannis’s cool-guy karaoke voice, but we’re just not the same people any more. I’ll see them again at someone’s funeral.
The Weeknd
Often (Republic Records)
It feels like a lifetime ago that music journo types were fawning over this guy’s three-mixtape opus, which decreased in quality with each release. We all seemed to forget about him after that, his shrill voice becoming a wince-inducing thing to experience, like hearing your mum talk about cocaine. Yet, somehow, here we are again, listening to Abęl Tesfaye singing about sex and codeine in 2016. His time has come and gone for me, and no amount of XO-branded bomber jackets or so-called No 1 singles will change that.
