There were two very distinctive things about the KLF: number one, everyone liked them. Everyone. Number two, there was nobody else quite like them. The first incarnation of What Time Is Love? was catchy and pleasant in a bland trance dancefloor-filler sort of way, but its reimagining was one of the most vital songs I’ve ever heard. It had this energy, this exuberance that was the most infectious shot of adrenaline to the heart since The Ace Of Spades (which it sampled heavily). Continue reading
The politician looked uncomfortable as the news anchor asked him yet again why the police and government response to the past three nights of rioting had been so inadequate. Even though I thought Michael Gove was a bit of a tw*t, I felt sorry for him. What he was trying not to say is that nobody took the riots particularly seriously for a night or two because, well, rioting is what we do. Not as frequently as the French and not as violently as the Greeks, but often enough for it not to be a big deal. I was four when the riots broke out in Brixton, nine the last time Tottenham was ablaze, 13 years old during the Poll Tax riots and 15 when they were setting cars on fire in Moulscoomb. And so on. Continue reading
New on Collapse Board
Band-members are like the ingredients of a cake: get it wrong, and the result is bland or sickly. It’s about getting people together who make each other feel comfortable, who can inspire the audience, and who can deflate the ego of an overindulgent songwriter. The producer is the mould. If you pour cake mix onto a baking tray, you’ll end up with a flat, sticky mess. Some producers are like old-fashioned round cake tins, providing a strong but subtle structure that simply allows the flavours to emerge. Others make fancy shapes, so vibrant and daring that its cakeness comes second to its art-form. Like the line-up, the right producer for your band is the one that fits your personal dynamic, and brings out the best in what you, uniquely, have to offer.