Gary Go – Open Arms
Barely a day goes by without some kind of bulletin/press release/tweet from News of the World's Dan Wooton about Gary Go. One minute he's remixing a song using only iPhone applications, the next he's announcing a string of dates supporting Take That. Tomorrow he'll no doubt be supporting Take That with only his iPhone. Oh, hang on, he's already doing that. We're slightly disappointed, then (although not entirely surprised), to report that Gary Go's music is duller than watching paint dry in Snow Patrol's spare room while a bunch of balding session musicians take a mid-afternoon nap next door. In fact, Open Arms is even more boring than that, because at least in my tortuous metaphor you can imagine remixing Gary Lightbody's snores into a techno anthem. Using an iPhone app, naturally.
The Invisible – OK
Here on guardian.co.uk/music, we're rather partial to the Invisible and their sonically inventive ways. What really sold us was when they came in to record a song for our podcast and made a makeshift drumkit out of the studio chairs. Yet for all their boffinry, they're remarkably restrained. OK employs short snippets of acoustic guitar, Prince-style licks and lush vocal beds, while never over-egging the pudding. It doesn't have the same monster pop chorus as with previous effort London Girl, but still moves to a decidedly futuristic groove. And, if you listen hard enough, you'll notice that the whole thing is based around a loop of their freezer defrosting. Or something.
Listen to OK
Dizzee Rascal – Bonkers
When critics were dissing Dizzee (dizzing?) last summer over Dance Wiv Me, I quietly approved of its cheesy dancefloor thrills. And yet now, one year later, I just can't get excited about this veritable slice of Pont-l'Évêque. Yes, it's guaranteed to go down a storm in student discos. Yes, it makes for a suitably annoying catchphrase. And yes, it's good to see that Dizzee's become a genuine chart-topping pop star. But Armand Van Helden's TranceNationMegamix1999-style backing is no different to the music I was listening to 10 years ago while dying my hair green and waving glowsticks. And that's not really a period I'm in a rush to get back to.
Kap Bambino – Dead Lazers
Days go by. Glaciers melt. Parliament crumbles. And yet there will always be a group willing to yelp noisily over a tinny electro racket. In fact, should nuclear armageddon strike, you would still probably find a group of DIY electro-terrorists playing somewhere, no doubt to a crowd of hipster cockroaches. Anyway, Kap Bambino come from France, wear retina-scarring Lycra and manage to wrestle all manner of gurgly squeals from whatever cheap technology they've mugged a defenceless granny for. It's perfectly fine but, in a world going increasingly potty, it's as if this kind of thing is a cosy, reassuring blanket of sanity. And being reassuring and cosy isn't quite the point of DIY electro-terrorism, is it?
Graham Coxon – Sorrow's Army
Graham Coxon was always the pop star who refused to grow up. While touring the world as a million-selling member of Blur, he was the one who looked like he wanted to get home so he could spend his time painting childlike doodles or skateboarding around Camden. His music's often taken a similarly naive approach, but Sorrow's Army shows that he might just be ready to accept those advancing years. Rather than scuzzy, lo-fi American punk and indie, his new album, The Spinning Top, looks to Davey Graham, Bert Jansch and Nick Drake for inspiration. He's always had a folky string to his bow, but Sorrow's Army sees him immersing himself in some trad finger-picking techniques. He seems slightly concerned about this sign of maturity, unleashing thundering drums midway through. Looks like middle age won't have its wicked way with Coxon just yet.
Watch the video to Sorrow's Army
