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D Says… Fuck Britpop. It’s all about Post-Britpop…

Pulled Apart By Horses

Oasis recently split up… again. Britain’s eyelids remained un-battered. Probably due to nearly two decades of bands remaining radio-friendly and boringly reserved, inspiring avid music fans with little more than yawns and groans (and also because everyone knows Liam Gallagher is a prick anyway). Coldplay have been flying the flag for ‘shitpop’ in recent times, spreading more of this infectious drivel to the mainstream market. It’s time for the flag to be burnt and melted to Chris Martin’s stupid face.

Enter Post-Britpop. Glaswegian six-piece Dananananaykroyd are one of few pioneers grabbing the accessibility of Britpop, putting it in a bag, taking a shit in the bag, and throwing it straight in your face. Two drummers, two screaming vocalists and a shite load of distortion power drill the catchy hooks home, before suddenly dropping into the quiet and melodic – verging on parental friendly – sections.

Dananananaykroyd have aptly coined their sound as ‘Fight Pop’ which, other than making me envisage a savage circle mosh pit at a Take That concert, seems to gel well with their sound but isn’t necessarily a blanket term for the bigger picture of what’s actually occurring. You see, whilst their music contains characteristics of the happy-go-lucky buoyancy of mainstream pop music, other bands like Leeds’ Pulled Apart By Horses and Birmingham’s Blakfish bring a more brutally fierce approach to Post-Britpop. These groups rely more heavily on ballsy underpinning riffs and raucous angst screaming and their subtle moments, whilst still present, are less frequent in and amongst the hectic compositions.

Pulled Apart By Horses, like Dananananaykroyd, have been busy loitering in the shadows down the back alleys in toilet tours, recently popping up into the side stages at Festivals like Download and Reading & Leeds. They’re beginning to rally up enough middle fingers to give a collective “fuck you” to the suit and tie clad, Blackberry Bluetooth talking, laptop sporting, venti mocha latté sipping wankers who dictate what music will bring in the cash. Post-Britpop has a menacing grin on its face with one hand held behind its back concealing the sawn-off shotgun which is to pop a cap in the ass of those who are content with coasting along with the same-old-same-old.

Punk, to draw on an overly drawn on cliché, was a backlash to the growing boredom with psychedelic music and hippies who dominated the 60s and much of the 70s. Post-Britpop is a backlash to the mundane indie music and the flock of topshop/topman fashion sheep over the past decade or so. Don’t be mistaken, Post-Britpop entrepreneurs aren’t doing anything radical with their fashion style like wearing latex onesies or bringing back the mullet, they’re what skater dudes would call hesh – unkempt, tight jeans, mesh camps, facial hair and a general “who gives a toss?” chic (if you can indeed call it chic).

Post-Britpop isn’t a pedigree breed. When we were lumped with the likes of Suede and Blur, the kids in the US of A were getting high to Sunny Day Real Estate (aka the forefathers of emo) and Glassjaw (aka the forefathers of post-hardcore). Whereas it’s true that the limeys enjoy jumping on band wagons (ahem both world wars anyone?) it’s safe to say that the influence of these bands instilled jealousy from us Brits and carved the path for our thriving post-hardcore/emo scene which ultimately lead to this infusion with the Post-Britpop bands.

It’s these bands who aren’t afraid to flaunt the inflections of their regional accents that prove British music is far from a stale loaf. And the loaf, freshly baked, is ready to jump out of the breadbin and fuck up those across the pond, demonstrating that we’re not all a bunch of Bono-boning pussies.

D

D Says… Being seen isn’t scene anymore.

For something which started as a flamboyant, effervescent deviation from metal music’s norm has now become discordant with its primary appeal and purpose. Scene kids, ironically, have inflicted self-harm on the scene they hold most dear and face the ultimate price.

Rock ‘n’ Roll, Punk and Hip Hop are just some of the genres spawned out of youth’s boredom with tedious musical times.  To that degree the metal and post-hardcore scene was similar with its ideals. It was a way of distancing the new generation of metal music fans from the stereotypes and stigmatisms of the old black-clad, overweight, grease-haired, deodorant avoiding type which gave metal music a wholly distasteful image.

Bringing to the table outrageous, ostentatious hair styles and clothing mixed with 80s power metal style skinny jeans with the occasional leopard print thrown in for extra (comedic?) value. Marry that with the ethos of straight edge from hardcore punk and an asexual approach to style from the lads and there you have it. Not to mention the sudden flurry of the suffix ‘core’ flagrantly affixed to a whole host of words (Emo-core, Nintendo-core, crunk-core etc). Bands like ‘Bring Me The Horizon’ and ‘Architects’ have flourished from the scene, even winning over some of the old-school metal aficionados.

However, it’s come to the stage where the whole ‘scene’ has become a grating fad for teenagers seemingly lost within themselves about who they are as people. The focus has shifted from the music to a fad about which new Atticus or Famous Stars and Straps piece of clothing is ‘heavy’ (not forgetting the terrible lingo attached to the scene) and which bands, regardless of actual talent and ability is the next ‘cool’ band to follow. Which screaming vocalist can sound less like an actual human and more like someone trying to dislodge a sharp instrument wrapped in barbed wire from their arsehole?

It’s now about meeting the same people week in week out, with the same god-awful bands on the bill screaming about rape and ‘fucking people up’ and nobody really giving a toss but simply standing idly by, gormlessly watching from the sidelines fiddling and remoulding their hair every few seconds.

Alas, it seems that the ‘scene’ is dying. People are becoming disenchanted listening to terrible bands that require the use of triggers on their drum kits and over-distortion on their guitars to mask their terrible musicianship. The ‘scene’ is also beginning to become intertwined with a more mainstream appeal and this is a telltale sign that the gig is up. It’s time to get a marker pen and scribe a large X over the overblown fad that is the ‘scene’.

D

D Says… Listen up y’all…

Whilst I face the trials and tribulations with my non-existent love life at present I, like most, find solace and hope within my relationship with music. I have a constant nagging thirst to find more and more artists whom I feel an affiliation with.

I yearn to be open-minded and unbiased in my quest in the unchartered realms. Like love there’s a constant chase, a pursuit of sorts, to find a band that you can latch onto and drain every last meaningful note and lyric from and apply it to your own infinitesimal existence.

This summer I had a fling with a five-piece from Atlanta named Manchester Orchestra. I felt that instantaneous bond to their music which was on the most part down to the gently soothing voice of lead singer/guitarist Andy Hull. He is subtle and docile in the quiet sections before bellowing with a compelled compassion in the strident choruses. It’s also true that he looks like a dishevelled hobo, the type which sits by cash points, dog and all, hoping for a stranger compassionate enough to part with, well, a note I guess (not likely).

I had the pleasure of meeting and interviewing them at Leeds Festival this year. My dictaphone shat all over it as the playback is disgustingly terrible quality and non-transcriptional. I was gutted, I’m going to try and transcribe it again sometime but it just grinds my gears. Otherwise I felt we had a really good rapport going on.

I bled both their albums dry over the summer and occasionally play them through now – hence the term fling. It’s my entire fault – the music is still charming in its simplicity and vigorously forceful in its build ups – I just over listened I think. I read a press release today about their new video for Shake It Out and I had a little booty call with them in iTunes.

I just thought I’d share the love. Open up Spotify and listen to both their albums; I’m Like A Virgin Losing A Child and Mean Everything To Nothing. Then if you like that check out Mr Hull’s side project Right Away, Great Captain!

Shake It Out – Manchester Orchestra – MySpace Videos

Manchester Orchestra MySpace

Right Away, Great Captain! MySpace

D

D says… check zis band…

CANTERBURY

It’s been fucking ages since I’ve been excited (in a totally sexual way) about a new British band. To actually listen to something that has the pizzazz of originality is seriously rejuvenating. Their new album – Thank You – has been made available for free on their website. I’ll be honest, it’s beyond me why it has no price tag – not that it’s a bad album – just it ain’t exactly In Rainbows.

I dunno if the motive for releasing it free was a whole middle-finger-fuck-you-corporate-wankers thingy, or whether it was literally just to get the album out there and listened to. I’ll try ask them some day. Meanwhile lets focus on the content.

It’s kinda surreal, there are those wistful Explosions In The Sky post-rock intros and relapses, the intro to Diver wouldn’t be amiss on the Friday Night Lights soundtrack. Then you have Hospital with its Brian Wilson Beach Boys surf vibe and sing along hooks. Set Your Right, on the other hand, has an electro feel whilst Hometime has a hammering piano Panic At The Disco’esque charm.

This album is truly a pick ‘n’ mix of genres and you’d be an absolute mug if you didn’t go and download the shit out of it right now.

Seriously, do it. NOW.

Canterbury MySpace

Canterbury Website (For Album Download)

D

D Says… This is the shizzznay.

This is just a stroke of genius…

D

I’m ‘a do things my way, it’s my way, my way or the A1 Northbound.

Please bear witness to another of my attempts to begin (and update) an online blog, which I doubt many people will read. It occurred to me that there happens to be a minute amount of online publications accommodating a spectrum of what I like to call shit hot music. I thought fuck it. Here goes nothing.

Most of the crap I put on here will be musings of sort. Other stuff will be content that I’ve done for other websites and work which I’ve remodelled to put on here. I’ll be divulging my strife and experiences whilst I try to squeeze my way into the gigantic-fuck-off-corporate-monster-ball-breaking-bum-licking industry.

D