Perhaps lesser known, however, is the remix version of the same album, where such electro-luminaries as Ladytron, M83, and Four Tet have a bash at reconfiguring the Bloc’s tunes for ‘em. made a huge splash when it came on the scene a couple of year’s back.
Now, admittedly, it’s going to be pretty damn hard to improve on the original versions. And I’m not completely convinced that the album works.
But I sure am digging the Whitey version of "Helicopter". Maybe for no other reason than I dig everything that man does: Bloc Party - "Helicopter" (Whitey version)
The first impression of War Stories, the third release from UK outfit Unkle, is one of awesome power: a towering juggernaut of sonic beautastic-ness.
Wily and hard-bitten in places, lush and orchestral in others, War Stories strains and snaps at its leash like a feral, wholly unpredictable beast.
Repeated listens, however, begin to reveal a crack or two in the savagery. The album seems less bite, more whimper. Somehow, someway, the whole is not quite equal to its parts.
But, oh, the parts.
The first single, "Burn My Shadow", is like a warped, cracked-out version of Revolution (from the Cult’s Love LP, circa 1985). Ian Astbury is amazing here, managing to sound both menacing and plaintive at the same time. It’s a treat to hear Astbury in such fine form, and he shows up not once, but twice, gracing the albums’ final track as well.
Unkle has had no shortage of big-name guests in the past: Thom Yorke and Ian Brown, to name but two. And their latest line-up is an intriguing mix of some of rock’s more interesting vocalists, including Gavin Clarke, Liela Moss from The Duke Spirit, Josh Homme and, of course, Astbury.
Not all guest tracks work – Gavin Clarke’s "Keys To The Kingdom" is one of the weaker songs on the album. It’s Astbury who is the standout here, no question. His deep, mellifluous voice perfectly suits Unkle’s dark, volatile grooves.
When it works, it works: War Stories' highs are spectacularly high. Certain parts verge on tired retreads of Unkle's older work, however, and this is, ultimately, what makes the album a flawed one.
Darlings of the British music press, the Editors, have released their sophomore effort, An End Has A Start.
It's a strong album, no mistake.
Why do I always end up feeling like I'm listening to a cheap imitation of Interpol, though?
It's all flab and no muscle. Bombast and no discipline.
It's a bit like finding a knock-off of your favourite perfume on Khao San Rd. It does the trick, but leaves you pining for the real thing.
It may just be me, though.
Check out this particularly effusive review from Playlouder:
This album is fucking brilliant – it made me want to cut my hair, paint the ceiling, fuck the postman and burn the disco down. So I did. Then I curled up in a corner, cried, and shat myself.
I might be lukewarm about The Editors, but I think that may be the best endorsement for an album I've read, hands down, ever.
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August 9, 2007
Bloc Party’s debut album Silent Alarm
