Top 100 Albums - #33: Neon Bible (2007)

Arcade Fire's most recent effort is their second and last entry on the chart at number 33.
The success of Funeral (2004, #37) caught Arcade Fire by surprise. Within a year of its release, the group had received the patronage of David Bowie, been nominated for a Mercury Prize, and been forced to extend what started as a small tour of clubs into a global slog culminating with an appearance at Lollapolooza. Riding this wave of new-found critical acclaim, and commercial success, the band took the last six months of 2005 off to take stock and begin writing new material. In this time Funeral was released in the UK and a second wave of fame came, so that by the end of the year it had sold over half a million copies worldwide.¹ After playing with Bowie at Fashion Rocks - which produced Live EP (2005, #98) - the band opened for U2 on a section of their Vertigo tour. 2006 was devoted to writing and producing new material, halted only by the sudden departure of drummer Howard Bilerman.

We kick off this most difficult of second albums with 'Black Mirror'. The differences are instantly apparent. From the moment the first two chords have clawed their way through the smoke, all hopes of a light-hearted follow-up are gone. Even compared to the sound of Funeral, this is darker, heavier, more claustrophobic. Wyn Butler's delivery has changed from the angry wail of 'Rebellion (Lies)' to a throaty, suspicious murmur; he is singing from the shadows and watching his back. The lyrics are more reactive as well - the closing refrain, Mirror, mirror, on the wall/ Show me where the bombs will fall is less an ironic salvo against war and more a cynical curse uttered under one's breath. But you know what? - it works.

If you're not immediately convinced, 'Keep The Car Running' kicks the tempo up and attempts to take the mood with it. The snappy drums and jaunty mandolin serve as an effective counterpoint to what is still a very bleak subject. Had this been done by any other band on any other instruments, this would have been written off as humdrum indie. But in the hands of Arcade Fire, we have an insane foot-stomper, a classic hand-clapper and a splendid second single all rolled into one.

The title track returns to the quieter, more moody sound of 'Black Mirror'. And it is here that we get the first hints as to what this album is about, what it is attacking or seeking to provoke. The lyrics seem impenetrable at first glance, but dig deeper and they speak of a deep-seated alienation from contemporary society. With their talk of poison and golden calfs, it depicts a generation being seduced and turned sour; the 'neon bible' in question is the overpowering influence of TV. At only 2:17 it's the shortest track on here, but all that needs to be said is here.

For the second time, we oscillate from quiet to loud as 'Intervention' begins. And how it begins. The huge, swelling organ chords in the first few seconds seem overpowering at first, but once the guitar arrives you put such thoughts aside as together they set the backdrop for a classic. Its lyrics, on one level, are a thinly-veiled swipe at power-mad governments, in this case the Bush administration (The king's taken back the throne/ The useless seed is sown). In that sense it is similar to 'Rebellion (Lies)' - you certainly won't find any difference in quality, and on the surface they are both the cries of the helpless individual lost in a world of gung-ho politics and unremitting greed. However, this feels more personal, more helpless, more exposed than 'Rebellion (Lies)'. You empathise with the character more, perhaps because of the references to the plight of soldiers which increasingly hit home. It's a brutal, heart-wrenching song. It pulls no punches and deserves pride of place on the album.

The next track, on the other hand, doesn't. 'Black Wave/ Bad Vibrations' not only has a stupid title, but it feels far too much like straightahead indie pop to be considered veteran 'Fire material. Régine Chassagne takes the lead, and while she can actually sing - unlike a growing majority of indie artists - she is lumbered by skittish lyrics. There are a hotch-potch of banal English and gratuitous French. Even when Butler takes over, you are still pissed off beyond all reconciliation.

Fortunately, with 'Ocean Of Noise' the band regains its composure. The teasingly funky bass line provided by Tim Kingsbury is well-met by drummer Jeremy Gara's hi-hat. These two provide the lilting backdrop for the deep, dark piano chords and, eventually, Butler. The ocean in question is a metaphor for lack of control, again conveying a feeling of helplessness and despair in fthe 21st century. The refrain - Yourgot your reasons/ And me I got mine/ But all the reasons/ I gave were just lies/ To buy myself some time - are both another swipe at government secrecy and a musing on the confrontational role of the internet. It's well-reined in, carefully controlled and a big improvement on the last track.

The next two tracks continue this vein of new-found good luck. 'The Well And The Lighthouse' is up-tempo, echoey and leaves you quivering in your boots. The deceptive pace of the song causes you to move faster, even though the tempo is quite standard and by now you have grown used to Butler's stricken delivery. In the final 90 seconds or so, we slow down to a near-lugubrious crawl as Butler plays with Biblical imagery to convey his contempt of modern life (The lions and the lambs ain't sleepin', yeah). '(Antichrist Television Blues)', meanwhile, manages to avoid being a traditional sleep-inducing strum, even in spite of the off-puttingly postmodern brackets. It may not be crawling, but it is sprawling. With only the 12-bar blues structure to keep him in check, Butler bulldozes his way through this with plenty of sound and fury. Essentially a cross between an impotent, spur-of-the-moment rant and a desperate man wrestling with God, musically it all works out rather well, and the ending is perfectly executed.

'Windowstill' is the third track on here with a bothersome title, in this case a shameless pun or portmanteau. What's more, the structure of the song is flatter than we have come to expect, and we still get the same old brow-beating over war, religion and capitalism:

I don't want to fight in a holy war
I don't want the salesman knocking on my door
I don't want to live in America no more

Don't think, however, that it's a bad song. In spite of these things, this is a damn-sight more original, more compelling and more interesting than anything else recently produced on these subjects. The lyrics, particularly towards the end, are very double-sided. On one reading, they are the angry cry of a rebel, looking to liberate the world from the evil powers which are currently bleeding it dry; on another, it is an exposition of the thoroughly middle-class practice of desiring to ignore any trouble until it becomes personally embarrassing. Because of this fantastic ambiguity - a rarity in today's songwriters - we can even forgive the slapdash references to MTV and World War III.

'No Cars Go' will already be familiar to devoted fans of the 'Fire. It appeared in a more understated guise on Arcade Fire EP (2003). Here, though, it comes in all guns blazing and heavily orchestrated. Which is just how it should be, because here we have the best track on the album. Gara's drumming is like a machine gun powering its way through the mix, passt the sombre violins and cellos, determined not to let the piece drag or become dull. The bass is properly heavy, and at the second verse it jostles with William Butler's Gary Numan-esque synth stylings. This has the style and sophistication of a Parisian café with the raw power of a Koeniggsegg CCX and the brutal honesty of an anarchist. In some respects this is like Peter Gabriel's 'Down The Dolce Vita' (see my review of Peter Gabriel 1 (1977, #71)) - it is unrelenting and uncompromising. It takes your head and messes with it, so that when things finally die down you are left with the sort of ecstacy which takes you ten minutes to get your breath back.

Unfortunately, that is not the end of the story. While we are trying to calm down, we have to sit through 'My Body Is A Cage'. The other political songs on the album got away with being so direct by having lyrics which were crammed full of ambiguity and structures which kept you guessing. This has neither of these things. Lyrically, it's too overt, and with Butler's singing, there is a limit to how long you can put up with ca-age and a-age before you want to rip his head off. The melody meanwhile is restricted by the huge organ, which drowns out everything else. What a crushing disappointment on which to finish.

When compared to Funeral - as it inevitably must - Neon Bible does come up short on a number of points. It doesn't feel as unified as Funeral in either its message or its execution, even if the cause of this unity was largely down to chance. Many will baulk at the grandiose production, which is evident on the closing tracks; a few of the songs are too conventional to satisfy the 'Fire's kookiest followers; and although you get more tracks, you actually get less music for your money. However, if you concentrate very, very hard, everything about this album starts to make sense. The balance between the personal and political - so perfectly captured on Funeral - is there, but the proportions have changed and the goalposts have moved. The mood is more complex, more thought-provoking, and darker to boot. If Funeral reassured you that you were not the only person in the world who felt this way, Neon Bible invites you - nay, commands you - to turn inwards, to investigate yourself and why you feel this way, providing nothing in the way of societal excuses or cultural platitudes. It is a great collection of songs which will, over the years, reveal more and more of itself - and as a result, a great deal more of you.

3.91 out of 5

References
¹ NME News, 'Exclusive - Arcade Fire duet with Bowie released', http://www.nme.com/news/the-arcade-fire/21461. Accessed on July 21 2008.

Top 100 Albums - #38: Send Away The Tigers (2007)

Welsh rockers Manic Street Preachers' only appearance on the chart is also their most recent effort, widely seen by critics as a return to form after the limp-wristed Lifeblood (2004).
After the mysterious disappearance of guitarist Richey Edwards in February 1995, the Manics regrouped and entered a period of critical and commercial success. Everything Must Go (1996) was shortlisted for the Mercury Prize, and was snapped up by the growing lad culture, who presumably missed the irony of the line We don't talk about love/ We only wanna get drunk in 'A Design For Life'. The follow-up, This Is My Truth, Tell Me Yours (1998), contained the No.1 single 'If You Tolerate This Your Children Will Be Next', written about the Spanish Civil War. The band recorded their second No. 1 with 'The Masses Against The Classes' in 2000. After this great crest of popularity, the band's work grew more inconsistent, with both Know Your Enemy (2001) and Lifeblood (2004) being written off as insipid and inconsistent. Following a two-year break to focus on solo projects - including James Dean Bradfield's The Great Western (2006) - the band returned to the studio to regroup.

We kick off with the title track, and it's instantly clear how far this band have come. Don't be put off by the 1970s organ opening, this a beautiful combination of their punk and metal roots dressed up in the dignity of alterative rock. The lyrics may not be especially compelling, especially well they've been coated in some annoying reverb. But the drums are straight and true, and the guitar is deep and menacing, especially at the end of the choruses. Most impressive of all, though, is Bradfield's voice. It remains as rich and politicised as the glory days of the band in the late-1990s.

With 'Underdogs', the mood temporarily switches to toned-down indie, with all its squashed snare work and near-whispered lyrics. But before this becomes even remotely irritating, the whole mix explodes in a ball of socialist fire. The chorus follows the punk formula of short, loud and simple; it's the formula that made them famous and it still works today, producing a cocktail of passion, angst and violence designed to blow your head to smithereens.

'Your Love Alone Is Not Enough' can came across as perturbing. The vocals are shared with Nina Persson, lead singer of Swedish pop group The Cardigans, hardly the most credible force in music today. And the song pattern is more pop than punk, with its frequent breaks and light refrains. You even have overworked lyrics, which reference both Pink Floyd - trade all your heroes in for ghosts - and the band's past glories - you stole the sun straight from my heart. But if you can overlook all of these, hard as it may seem, you have a good midsummery number. It might be a little forgettable, but the feel of the piece just about redeems it.

Enough being generous. 'Indian Summer' doesn't need to pass on feel, it's good in its own right. Bradfield isn't singing at his clearest, but the way in which this is put together feels tighter than before. The lead-in to the chorus showcases the talent of Sean Moore on drums, as he plays with both tightness and brio. The guitars sound good and everything is crisply produced, preventing it from dragging at all. 'The Second Great Depression' isn't all that bad either. If anything, its overtly political nature marks it out an improvement. This feels like an old-school Manics song, though not quite along the same lines as 'The Masses Against The Classes'. The slower tempo means that it is also nowhere near as good, but still packing a fair punch.

It is from this point onwards that we get into dodgier territory. 'Rendition' may be political in image, but the punch is slipping away, being replaced by everything noisy and obnoxious that makes punk such a difficult genre (something that was, perhaps, designed to be). This is too chaotic, too frenetic and without anything to tie their rage down. Like Green Day's most recent work, it comes across sound and fury, signifying very little than hadsn't already been said by better musicians and writers.

Having tossed up such a turkey, we somehow get 'Autumnsong'. And it sounds like a whole different band, as if in a single song the band had gone forward ten years in experience and talent. The opening chords are sublime, screechingly high and yet so easy on the ease. The lyrics are better too - wear your love like it is made of hate is one of the most skillfully crafted lines of 2007. This may be a summery song, in both title and subject, but it blows everything else of this category out of the water. It may be just as simple as 'Your Love Alone Is Not Enough', but here, without stupid extra vocals and with a lot more substance, you get your money's worth. This is the Manics at the best, taking the angst-ridden rawness of the band members' emotions and chanelling through the music to create something which never drags or rushes, never bores, and always thrills.

'I'm Just A Patsy' is political - the title comes from Lee Harvey Oswald - and it may sounds like a riot. But again the punch, the climax never comes. Listening to this song is a bit like driving an Aston Martin V8 Vantage - it sounds amazing, it looks good, but when you put your foot down and demand speed, it never really comes, and you are left ever so slightly empty, and out of pocket. It's a good thing, then, that 'Imperial Bodybags' is a real belter. This is the first track on the album on which the political content properly works. The reason is simple: it's more subtle, tinged with suggestion and irony amid the metallic rhythm guitar and dark thump of the bass. The chorus is reminiscent of 'A Design For Life', and the result is that this album is completely back on track.

The closer is a double whammy, with 'Winterlovers' and a cover of John Lennon's 'Working Class Hero'. The former, with its Na na naa footballers' opening, is a sure-fire anthem. The chorus is catchy, and although, like most of the album, it is written in 4/4, the result does not come across as even slightly tedious. To call it that would be to do it a disservice. 'Working Class Hero', which is in itself an good-to-average song, is given a kick up a backside to produce a punk anthem. To use the car analogy again, this is like taking a moped engine and fitting it with a supercharger and active exhuasts. It's a great way to finish.

Although it marks a return to the glory days for the Manic Street Preachers, in terms of critical acclaim and commercial success, it seems strange to compare it to any of their previous work. Not because it is in any way a massive departure; to put it harshly, it could be described as a return to the formula which made them famous. Instead, this is the first Manics album of recent years in which they appear content in their position within the industry. This doesn't sound like a middle-aged rock album, but you get the sense that all talk of burning out and disappearing is gone, completely. The band are no longer kidding themselves that they are now an established and successful act, and they seem to be content with that. And with the quality of material they have produced here, let's hope that this continues to be the case for a long time to come.

3.90 out of 5

¹ 'Manic Street Preachers', http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Manic_Street_Preachers. Accessed on May 22 2008.

Top 100 Albums - #55: The Ill-Tempered Klavier (2007)

At number 55 is classically-trained jazz pianist Chris Lyons, with his first solo offering, The Ill-Tempered Klavier. The title is a reference to J. S. Bach's Well-Tempered Clavier (1722), reflecting his classical influences. Chris Lyons was born in Dalkeith, Scotland in 1987. A child progidy, he began winning national composition competitions at the age of 7, and by age 10 he was performing his work for the Edinburgh Contemporary Arts Trust. Outside of music, he won the acclaimed Pushkin Prize for Poetry. After he graduated from the City of Edinburgh Music School - the youngest person ever to do so - he began working on a novel. His fascinations with jazz and the state of modern music in general has made him a bright young hopeful in the jazz scene, as proved by the performance of his Trio at the Edinburgh Jazz & Blues Festival in July 2007.

The Ill-Tempered Klavier, therefore, has a potential genius at its helm, a man whose training and expertise is otuflanked only by his dedication to music. We begin, appropriately, with '(Intro) Der Klavierspieler'. Beginning with some scintillating cascades down the keys, it's pretty harmless stuff, and at 1:22 it's the shortest track on the album. But what you do get from this is the sense of poise and the elegance which Lyons brings to the instrument.

Before you allowed to muse and mull over this any further, though, you are through up-tempo and head-first into 'Pterodactylic Hexameters' (answers on a postcard how to pronounce this). Here the vibrant dynamic drums come into play, rocking the whole thing up and about. Having demonstrated his classical prestige on the opener, Lyons uses this track to blow away all notions that he has just another stuffy chold prodigy. True, it's not the catchiest piece you'll ever hear, but it's unpredictable and doesn't get boring - just as jazz should be. And, there's some very graceful guitar at the end.

Having set the bar notoriously high, Lyons comes just a little unstuck with 'Molly's Blooming'. This does not invoke the same dignified, sophisticated rush that the previous two pieces. This has a flavour of self-indulgence to it - had this been played on something like a Minimoog, it would not have felt out of place in the ELP-end of prog rock (an area we shall we return to in due course.). It's less dynamic, it's slower and it's generally a lot less compelling. What is more, the drum part is littered with annoying bell rolls (repeatedly hitting the bell of the ride cymbal) in that stereotypical jazz fashion.

Thank goodness then that the trend is discontinued. 'Free Market Orgonomics' is an incredibly pleasant tune - you feel like you're walking in Central Park with the sun out and the flowers in bloom. But then the mood grows more cagey, just enough to quicken your step and prick up your ears so that you don't doze off, like you were listening to Eddi Reader. Here the drums and piano combine beautifully, taking what The Bad Plus pioneered and twisting around to give a refreshing, relaxing tune.

'Autotheism (Etude For Piano And Pianist)' begins like a concerto by Sergei Prokofiev, before transmuting into an uptight but balmy piano workout. Again, Lyons has chsen a cumbersome title which may serve to dissade many the casual listener. But pray, continue listening, and once you get past 1:37 the whole piece moves up the registers and becomes a great deal more playful. The 6/8 time signature is a refreshing break, if nothing else, from the 4/4 tedium of much modern music, especially from the pages of MySpace.

'Offa's Dyke' begins like the best kind of dinner party music - the kind which conjures to mind champagne and Ferrero Rocher, and finds your guests constantly inquiring as to the origins of what is playing behind them. This is a very graceful number; from the moment you hit the play button your head is soothed and your ears massaged by the sweet tones of Lyons' piano. Having said that, he doesn't let you get bored, he lulls you into a false sense of security, before the crash cymbals and off-set tom-toms let rip and make you listen all the more inquisitively.

The only other time that Lyons fall short on this album is on the next track. 'Thus Swung Zarathustra (Execution Soundtrack For A Bad Artist)' has one of the most pretentious titles since the songs of Ron Geesin's The Body (1970). Not only that, it's pretty formulaic, sounding like a relic of the Ray Ellington quartet with a Fender Stratocaster's effects overdubbed by a very clumsy editor. The piano work is not so much sloppy as indifferent, and the vibe of the piece is not one that makes you cry for more; it's one that makes you want to shout "Get on with it!".

No matter, though, because the remaining three tracks are all a delight. 'Never Crushing The Yellow Flower' has a summery romantic feel to it, the kind of music you'd listen to in a field of dandelions. Or the kind of stuff you'll see on mobile phone adverts by the middle of next year. It's a great deal punchier that a lot of its counterparts, and it rolls along like its title in the wind. Part of its appeal, without beign too derogatory, is the total absence of drums. That might make it plain, but no - instead it creates a sound that just smacks of honesty and devotion. It's a bit like the Red House Painters, but without the dreary vocals.

If you're left pining for the drums however, don't despair. 'Everything You Know (I Taught You)' is a great chance for the drum section to show off, which it does in spades - there are some beautiful rock triplets near the start. The rhythm is often displaced but in a very good way - rather than startle you like it might in rock, because this is jazz you are more relaxed by it. The feeling that no-one is in control lifts you to a different state, and you go from strolling around Paris to reclining in the clouds. (True, there are no accords to make it completely Parissian, but then Lyons is no Yann Tiersen).

To close this remarkable album, we have 'The Advent Of The Artist Tyrants'. While most of the preceding tracks have been flung right at you, this is quieter - it creeps up on slowly with its low minor chords and then rocks you gently in its arms - like you're in a hammock under the full moon. The drums are again given a back seat, reduced to cymbals and soft toms only, but this only heightens the mood - until the piece goes through another motion and it all changes. All of which serves to create something truly great.

Lyons may not have the sense of humour in his playing as his contemporaries The Bad Plus (listen to their rendition of 'Chariots Of Fire' on Suspicious Activity? (2005) if you need convincing). But that does not reduce him to a dour, troubled and mind-numbingly serious composer, doing this project to off-set the tedium of a marketing degree.² The Ill-Tempered Klavier is the perfect combination of classical finesse with the improvised nature of jazz and the groove of rock. In an interview with The Herald in July, Lyons was compared to Gentle Giant, the forgotten pioneers of prog rock. And yes, the talent and the sounds are quite similar. But the most appealing thing about this album is that it's forward thinking. This is not a record designed to buy time while its composer goes off and reinvents jazz in his head. This is him reinventing it now, on paper and on record. This combination of talent and ambition is why Chris Lyons is destined become one of the most important figures in 21st-century jazz.

3.80 out of 5

References
¹ Rob Adams, 'Mane man roars about his inviting vision of jazz' (July 27 2007) - http://www.theherald.co.uk/features/features/display.var.1576826.0.0.php. Accessed on December 10 2007.
² Ibid.

Top 100 Albums - #70: Peacetime (2007)

Eddi Reader makes her second and final appearance on the chart with Peacetime, her most recent offering.After the release of her BRIT Award-winning self-titled second album (#75), Eddi Reader continued to release a steady stream of albums which received less attention in the press but were well-received by critics. Their quality ranged from the fragmented and formulaic (Candyfloss and Medicine (1996)) to the sublime and enchanting (Angels & Electricity (1998)). After a wave of studio and live releases in the first years of the 21st century, in 2003 Reader teamed up with the Royal Scottish National Orchestra. The resulting album, Sings The Songs Of Robert Burns (2003), featured music set to the Scottish 'bard''s lyrics and led to a resurgence in interest in the figure. After being awarded an MBE for services to music and spending most of 2006 touring in Australia, Reader returned to the studio to record Peacetime, her first non-live release in four years.

The album opens with the cleverly titled 'Baron's Heir and Sadenia's Air'. Beginning with a wonderful accordion, this has a more overtly Celtic flavour than any of the pre-Burns material. There are some lovely multiple acoustic guitars layered over each other, each of which compliments Reader's voice. Her voice has aged extraordinary well, with the accent as endearing as before. The production is immaculate, as John McCusker balances the ornate layering of instruments with a laid-back folk feel.

'Muddy Water' continues the focus on acoustic and vocals, to its benefit. This is more repetitive, and just as rigidly structured as the opener. But this does not make it a bad song. If anything it creates hooks to prevent the listener drifting into a satisfied daze. This in turn means that some of the more comprehensible of Boo Hewerdine's lyrics - Who said anything about time?/ Well, it's not yours and it's not mine - to break out of the confines of the melody.

'Mary And The Soldier' is a traditional classic which benefits from Reader's unique delivery. The combined efforts of the guitar and mandolin create a jolly atmosphere over which Reader can croon the Glaswegian lyrics oh-so sweetly. This is folk of the quality and style that bands like Show Of Hands have maintained so well. Reader here takes this successful, well-kept format and adds a Scottish twist to create something which is absolutely charming.

Despite all the praise which 'Mary And The Soldier' deserves, the honour of best track must go to 'Aye Waukin-O'. The reason? Aside from anything else, this is the first number to achieve completely that which the album is meant for. The whole of Peacetime is an intended synthesis of Eddi's earlier solo work - like Eddi Reader (1994) - designed to chill you out, with her Robert Burns work. This achieves both in spades - it's irresistably Celtic and at the same time it avoids being overpowering, allowing you to drift into a welcome slumber without a hint of boredom or dejection.

Both 'Prisons' and 'The Shepherd's Song' continue and extend the aim of relaxation. The former is littered with simple rhymes and ever simpler guitar, over which Reader and Hewerdine harmonise the forgetable but soothing melody. The latter has somewhat more substance to it, thanks to a brass section - perhaps the Black Dyke Mills Band, who knows? It's a little longer, too, which allows the listener sufficient time to get the message even if drifting in and out of a soft slumber.

'Ye Banks And Braes O' Bonnie Doon' is the first real slip-up on the album. It begins with more upbeat folk reminiscent of Martin Joseph's 'Can't Breathe' (see my review of Deep Blue (2005), #94). This suffers from the same problem - the faster tempo does not suit Reader's voice, certainly at this age. And the pipe instrumentals over the (relatively) loud drums make this sound a little too like Big Country to be taken seriously.

'Should I Pray?' restores focus. With an opening reminiscent of later efforts by Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, this makes good use of the piano and violin, complimented by the gentle brushes on the drums. Reader is on top form in this very gentle, soothing number about faith and doubt, which concludes with the exquisite line Lose a life, lose a love, lose it all my friend. Equally deserving of praise is 'The Afton', though in a different way. Here, the guitar returns to the foreground to accompany the violin, and the drums are heavier. This rolls along very gently, giving an incident of what it would have been like if Rick Wright had been into folk instead of jazz.

'Leezie Lindsay' is a second step backward. It's a little too laid back, even for Reader. And that's not all that's wrong with it. Here the Scottish dialect is a little strong for all but the experienced listener, and musically this is quite stripped back. While on many folk tracks this may work well, with Reader it does not when we have been thus far exposed to a delightfully polished studio sound.

Thankfully, 'Safe As Houses' takes the record back where it belongs, at the apex of Reader's repertoire. As on 'Muddy Water', the lyrics are a lot more memorable here; you could almost call the chorus catchy. Almost. With some gentle, understated percussion and a silkish delivery from Reader, it's a good return to form. But, as it turns out, it's wasted because 'Galileo (Someone Like You)' falls back into the same traps as the other tracks did. It's rambling both lyrically and musically, with little to salvage it on either count which has not been heard at least half a dozen times before.

The closer and title track is a good choice, an ideal choice to sum up the album. It sees Reader completely at ease, contented with the niche she has carved for herself in her late-middle-age. Here the accordions return to the mix over the guitars to create some sort of musical motif to link this rather sprawling album. But, as we discover, it is not the end. The hidden track - 'The Calton Weaver or Nancy Whisky' - is a full-blown reel, a more down-to-earth version of the Irish reels which Peter Gabriel sampled on OVO (2000). It's catchy, very repetitive, and will make you want to arise from your place of rest and dance around your coffee table.

As a summary of Reader's later career - post-Burns, that is - Peacetime achieves its tasks. It does, with a few notable and overblown exceptions, synthesise her earlier 'ambient' folk with the Celtic tinges of her work in the 21st century. As on Eddi Reader, there are several points where Reader slips up or becomes downright self-indulgent, but these are the outright minority of cases. For the best part, Peacetime is a record that will sooth you through and through, calming the casual listener and providing enough meet for the devoted folkist. One criticism would be that the album is too long; then again, if you're not a music critic, you won't really want to care.

3.77 out of 5

Top 100 Albums - #77: Kanute EP (2007)

At number 77 is the most recent EP from Leamington-based electro-alternative band Kanute.

[N.B. Actual album cover not available. Image is of 'Viper' single/ 7" vinyl to give a general impression. For more details see http://www.kanute.net/]

Kanute formed in 2006 as a duo between singer-songwriter Rachael Gray and producer-engineer Rob Overseer - a similar make up to Frou Frou, who appear later on up the chart. The pair first collaborated on the track 'Sparks' for Overseer's album Wreckage (2003). The combination seemed to work well and the two embarked on a joint project which became Kanute. After releasing a limited edition 7" vinyl and single via Rough Trade Records, the due began to play gigs in Oxford. Disastified with their live reputation, Gray put together 'Kanute 2.0', comprising her and six other members, which form the live act and the bulk of this recording.

The EP opens with 'Tapeworm', a track which sets the tone for the record. By juxtaposing the violin and cello with a very synthetic production, we get the impression of an electronica band which also sound very authentic live. Rather than just a vocalist performing to a series of backing tapes, like a concert by Basement Jaxx or The Chemical Brothers, this has an orchestral, studio feel to it, achieving the perfect synthesis of what could loosely be called 'the two Kanutes'. The song itself is distinctive for Gray's melancholy vocals backed by piano and guitar parts which are simple but effective. Whereas in live shows the violin and cello have often been drowned out, here they are given proper space, which is certainly welcome.

'Heartless' picks up on a motif of earlier singles like 'Viper': the use of looped male vocals treated to sound like a grammaphone record, creating a more experimental sound. Although this appears in the final third of 'Tapeworm', it is only here that it comes to the fore. Back by the strings, it opens the pieces like a music hall number from the Edwardian period, only to deceive you by breaking into 4/4 soft rock. The drums are very prominent here, with great work on the crash and bass drum providing a hook before Gray opens up. The best part of this song is the harmony between Gray and the loop, which feels ill-at-ease and yet works very well indeed.

'Academy' keeps the strong drums and adds an easy hooking bass line in an attempt to change the sound a little. In reality the bass doesn't really compliment Gray's voice in the high registers in which she chooses oto set the chorus. While the verse sounds like a lighter, more emotive version of Amy Lea from Evanescence, the chorus sounds quite inane because, although she can easily manage the registers, they don't allow room for the vocals. Kanute have tried to compensate both through the bass and piano on the chorus. However they don't really add anything to the piece, certainly not enough to shift it up to the quality of the others.

Already, we have come to the last track, and boy, it's a good'un. 'Seventeen' opens with some delightful bluesy guitar coupled with a drum part that is very basic and yet manages to add a different side to what otherwise could have sounded like a very slow, rather average indie track. Gray soars to a new high of ethereal melancholy, supported as always by a strong cello part. The drumming is very sensitive, with no showboating even on the livelier chorus. The only flaw to this piece is the male vocals after the second chorus. A grammaphone dub would not have worked, but the part as it is sounds stunted and almost throws the whole thing off balance.

Being part of the MySpace generation of budding musicians, the less observant listener may think that there is nothing especially remarkable about this EP. It's a pleasant listen, but doesn't exactly grip you like a lot of bands. In reality, there is a lot of potential here which will reward the more devoted fellower of 'the Leamington sound'. While she may not be the most biting lyricist around, Rachael Gray is a great singer, who conveys a great sense of sadness in her delivery. For fans of the processed, electronica sound of Kanute Mark I, the sampling and 'grammaphone' work will be a source of great interest; for fans of the live act, the string session and drum parts will make you listen more intently. Kanute EP is a very pleasant release from a band who have the potential to go very far.

3.75 out of 5