Editors at Clapham Grand: Live Review (06/03/2018)

‘Let’s get nostalgic for a moment’, Tom Smith muttered, before breaking into a tirade of ‘Lights’, ‘Blood’, ‘Munich’ and ‘An End Has A Start’.

But if Editors proved one thing in their siege of the 1250-strong Clapham Grand: it’s that they are no longer defined by nostalgia. And that their current iteration –– one that climbed out of the scrapheap of NME mid-noughties indie –– represents the tenacity and triumph of one of Britain’s most overlooked acts.


Closing a string of intimate club shows to promote of their sixth LP, Violence, Editors set something of a mission statement on a wintery South London evening. A band, once lauded with platinum record sales and Mercury notations, seemed at ease with the small venue. There was an eeriness –– a theatrical quality of sorts –– about their arrival on stage. And opening with their latest blend of aggressive industrial-electronica indie, ‘Hallelujah (So Low)’, they seemed confident with their material, too.

As the band burnt through a diverse set (including material from their overlooked 2015 effort, In Dream), they offset new tracks with old favourites with great diplomacy. But from their early, R.E.M inspired records to more recent electronic meanderings: it became abundantly clear that frontman Tom Smith’s heart lies in his latest work. These expertly crafted, almost progressive arrangements, reflect a genuine development in his songwriting and were –– to my surprise –– the highlight of the entire evening. Albeit the pulsating synthesisers in ‘Nothingness’ to the restrained guitars of ‘Cold’, it’s clear that this band –– one that has been accused of everything from Joy Division parody to relying on a formulaic guitar sound –– have grown exponentially. And it seems the additional band members have been maximised, too. It’s worth noting that following Chris Urbanowicz’s departure in 2010, the band recruited a new guitarist and additional synth/guitar player to provide textures on their fourth, stadium-inspired outing, A Ton Of Love. If this signified ‘Editors 2.0’, then their current iteration; the polished, electronic and aggressive formation of that line-up, is the true culmination of that journey. And a far-cry from The Back Room.

But for all their growth, Editors were not afraid to indulge the past, either. Segway-ing old into new, including a rather impressive acoustic encore of ‘Smokers Outside The Hospital Door’ into ‘The Racing Rats’, their 21 song setlist felt a diverse and impressive as their career. And the sheer abundance of great songs became a little jarring. To the extent there was audible cheers amongst the crowd, including some self-confesed surprise at simply how many songs they’ve penned over the years. It’s an eclectic, but wholly consistent, back catalogue. And one that deserves more credit.


No doubt, Editors represent an anomaly in British indie. From constant Interpol comparisons to a relative abandonment by the UK press after their risqué third record (a record that, curiously, cemented their place as a festival headliners across Europe); they’re one of the few acts to survive the purge of that era. And one of the even fewer to come back stronger. Whilst they’ve seemingly alienated the casual radio fanbase with subsequent, more abstract, releases; their resolve has never been more contagious. In fact, this could not be better encapsulated than by the minor technical difficulties experienced during the set. Smith’s microphone cut out during the eponymous ‘Violence’; forcing the band to restart. But they returned, fired-up and stronger than ever. And just as they recharged and recalibrated –– so has their career –– which is more confident, bombastic and melodic than ever.

If anything, Editors proved that they are much more than their past. Their earliest records soundtracked a wonderful time-and-place and remain vital to so many. But they still have so much more to give. They are full of momentum, energy and tactful melodies. And for all their divisive ‘new directions’, they remain objectively one of the greatest live acts in Britain today. An act that I implore you to see if you get the chance.



Victory at Sea: Festival Review 

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This August Bank Holiday I attended Victorious Festival in Southsea, Portsmouth. Boasting a heavyweight line-up at a remarkably modest price; I enjoyed a belated birthday weekend of Britpop and beer. But I’ll be honest, I didn’t know what to expect. Despite a variety of festivals under my belt — from the juggernauts of Glastonbury and Reading to much smaller, cheaper affairs — this was my first year at the seaside. And with a number of my favourite artists on the bill, coupled with the promise of a shower and a clean bed every night, I entered with an open mind.

What I found was rather exciting. Victorious offers something of a mediation. A sweet-spot between the larger festivals that I’ve become increasingly jaded with something far more accessible — if not inherently more enjoyable. Big names, a cheap ticket and an interesting site to boot? It seems almost too good to be true.

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Muse – Drones (Album Review)

Read the published article for The Boar here: http://theboar.org/2015/06/05/album-review-muse-drones/#.VXG6f6SCOnN, or continue below for the full, un-edited write up.

It was only a matter of time before the Devon stadium-rock trio released a concept album. Inspired by the rise of military technology and ‘remote killings’: Drones bolsters Muse, proudly, into more contentious territory. 

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Preluded by a handful of singles [‘Psycho’, ‘Dead Inside’, ‘Mercy’] and a number of festival appearances — it’s safe to say Muse are confident about their latest offering. So much so that frontman Matt Bellamy proclaims it to be their greatest album yet. But Drones is a strangely problematic record. Sonically, it is exciting. It sees a return to the heavy guitar prowess that feels long overdue from the band. Yet it is also lacks direction. It follows the unfocused trajectory of their ‘Queen-meets-Skrillex’ haphazard The Second Law [2012]. Likewise, its attempts to tackle politics — which tends to make or break bands of this size — feels superficial, and undermines any positive attributes of the record.

Nevertheless, upon first listen, Drones appears promising. ‘Psycho’ blasts a furious lead hook — [which, curiously, is a jam the band have trialled-and-tested on stage for a number of years] — the musicianship is impeccable. ‘The Handler’ evokes a similar guitar centricity that satisfies an overdue void in Muse records; building to a finale that is not far removed from their seminal LP Absolution [2003]. With dark riffs and snarling bass, it’s certainly one of the strongest moments of the record. ‘Reapers’, similarly, features familiar undertones: finger-tapped guitar solos a la ‘New Born’ but with a more refined production. This blend of the ‘old’ and ‘new’ is comforting. It is how one expects Muse to sound in 2015. 

However, looking past the immediate ‘rock’ aesthetic lies a harsh reality. Given that Muse are still [*arguably*] one of the best live acts on the planet  — churning out this sort of instrumental clamour is relatively easy for them. Furthermore, it is clear that ‘sort of sounding like your old stuff’ is not valid praise for your latest release. Drones, as a record in its own right, is badly structured and heavy-handed in its attempts to create meaning.  Nostalgia nor prestige should excuse that.

In fact, the vast majority of Drones is let down by either poor vocals or sloppy lyricism. The single ‘Dead Inside’, a radio-friendly attempt at a Depeche Mode Bond-song, features crass Kraftwerkian vocal effects. It does not add anything to the song and taints the overall listening experience. ‘Defector’, which for the most part is a great guitar piece, sees similar sci-fi ambiance overshadow its redeeming factors. Whilst I gather the theme of technology is prominent throughout this album — I can’t help but feel that robotic vocal effects are a little too obvious in trying to reinforce the message.

Indeed, for a self-proclaimed ‘concept’ record: Drones is remarkably misguided. It tackles provocative themes in a typical Muse style [elaborate composition and production, lengthy guitar solos etc] but with the literary clumsiness of a sixth-former reading George Orwell. It is as if Matt Bellamy framed an entire album around a five-kill-streak reward. Drones, and the detachment in killing from above, is really the extent of his grand ‘concept’. It feels immensely stretched out for a full record. Frequent lyrics about ‘control’ and ‘oppression’ become almost laughable and it becomes entirely cringeworthy hearing, nine songs into the record, lines such as:

‘They’ll take away our homes

They’re just machines and drones’

‘Our freedom’s just a loan

Run by machines and drones’


Military Drones may well be, as Bellamy considers them, ‘a modern metaphor for what it is to lose empathy’ — but the record is not even close to capturing that sentiment. It’s not entirely smart, it’s not entirely thought provoking. It’s flagrant pseudo-intellectualism at best. 

With that said, ‘The Globalist’ is a welcomed surge of optimism towards the end of the record. Ten minutes of progressive guitars and keys hark back to the epic ‘Citizen Erased’ of Origin of Symmetry [2001]. It is, by and large, the most ambitious song Muse have released in years. But it also reinforces my criticisms. Drones’ strengths lie in its musicianship —  its crushing drums and intricate guitar leads. Not its lyricism or belligerent attempts to force-feed a ‘concept’. Fittingly, this moment of strength is a track which leans more towards instrumental composition and where Bellamy, for the most part, keeps his mouth shut.

On balance, what makes Drones most painful is that is flirts with being something brilliant. Sonically it is hard to fault. The notions we associate with a ‘classic’ Muse record are largely there. The heavy-riffs, falsetto melodies and prog-rock time signatures are all present. It all makes an exciting departure from 2012’s [frankly abysmal] The Second Law. But such promises of a ‘return to form’ and a ‘guitar album’ seem redundant when the album lacks depth. The lyricism is inexcusably poor, the vocal production is crass and it all becomes something of a parody of their former selves. It may well be on the cusp of something interesting — but it serves to expose a band who have lost their way.  It is, above all else, style over substance — yet it stubbornly proclaims that such ‘substance’ is the greatest thing the band have ever produced.

Perhaps the most poetic referent in Drones is accidental. I can’t think a more apt metaphor for Muse’s career than a Drone missile falling from the sky — and crashing, explosively, to the ground.

Oh how the mighty have fallen.


Listen to the ‘The Globalist’, ‘The Handler’ and ‘Reaper’ [Live]. 

[n.b ‘Revolt’ is, quite honestly, the worst song Muse have ever recorded. Worth a listen in a strange/somewhat disturbing way.]

Music Abundance and the Fate of the Album

In an attempt to put recent discussions I’ve had into writing, I thought I’d kick this blog off with an article on the dubious fate of album. Music is an incredibly important part of my life and the ever changing face of how we consume it affects us all. With the influx of digital music and the inevitable change it has bought to our listening habits, I’m interested to look into whether the album has any real relevance today.

Primarily, it’s the album as an artistic entity that I am looking at. It’s worth noting that physicality (or rather, the lack of) never killed it before, so to simply point the finger at the iPod is shortsighted. Albeit in vinyl, cassette or CD – music has always adapted to the shifts in technology. That said, who exactly listens to a full album today? Who has the time?

If anything, it’s the art of listening to the album that I feel has changed. It seems we’ve become so accustom to picking specific songs, shuffling and streaming through our favourite tracks, that the structured format of the record has been lost. In fact, the idea of listening to an album in isolation, from start to finish, seems somewhat alien. No doubt Smartphones have made public transport more bearable, but seeing music as merely an accompaniment to our daily lives demonstrates a clear change in attitudes today.

Interestingly enough, Noel Gallagher commented on how these attitudes have changed in a recent interview about Arcade Fire’s Reflektor:


“Anybody that comes back with a double album, to me, needs to pry themselves out of their own asshole. This is not the ’70s, okay? Go and ask Billy Corgan about a double album. Who has the fucking time, in 2013, to sit through 45 minutes of a single album? How arrogant are these people to think that you’ve got an hour and a half to listen to a fucking record?”1

In true Gallagher fashion, the LP is ripped to pieces. That said, it does open up an interesting angle for this debate. The Double-LP represents a slightly pretentious era of music, but certainly demonstrates how much time was once devoted to the listening to music. Does this fit in with our on-demand approach to music today? I can’t help but think that 75 minutes of The Who’s Tommy would be lost on the average iPhone or Spotify playlist. Cynicism aside, it’s a great lost to see these ambitiously crafted albums die out. In fact, Some of my favourite albums of all time, (London Calling, The Fragile, The White Album, Melancholily & ISS’), are double albums. Gallagher may disregard the relevance of the double LP today, but there is no denying that some of the most influential albums of all time were presented in this format.


Likewise, what about the concept album? Ziggy Stardust or The Wall – albums that really come into their own when listened to as a continuous narrative. Has this art form died for the sake of specific songs? I’ve always liked to raise the discussion about Nine Inch Nails’ Hurt here – a song that whilst depressing in isolation feels like a peaceful ending in the context of its album. (The Downward Spiral, 1994). Once more – I look towards how we listen to music today and ask if all this construction is lost. Artists devote a huge amount of time to meticulously order track listings, hell, they even cut incongruous tracks from records all together. But perhaps this is entirely redundant – as continuity and fluidity is irrelevant when listening to specific tracks.

ASH-FLATCOVERBizarrely, some efforts have been made to counter this. Kaiser Chiefs released a (frankly underwhelming) record in 2011 where fans could ‘create their own’ track listing from track samplers on their website. Similarly, ASH released their ambitious A-Z Series, a digital subscription service that provided fortnightly singles via download. Of course, maybe this could be the evolution that the album needs, a sort of blend of artistic construction and digital flexibility. That said, neither were truly successful and it’s worth nothing that both                                                          bands have returned to making conventional albums.

Moreover, I should probably take a moment to stop romanticising the album. Modern listening habits reflect a wealth of advantages that were alien in the era of the double LP. We no longer have to buy a record (that’s assuming music is still payed for) only to find a handful of enjoyable songs. Likewise, making playlists allows us to make our own personal greatest hits, a sort of tailor-fitting that no record will ever provide. In fact, the sheer convince of digital media is unparalleled. I can can access an unlimited amount of songs on my phone with an internet connection – you sure as hell couldn’t do that with a walkman in the 80’s. Similarly, Spotify and YouTube offer a platform for discovering music that would normally go unheard. The ‘try before you buy’ ethos of streaming services gives us access to more music than ever before. However, I can’t help but feel this is is the harmartia, or tragic flaw for the album all together – accessibility will eventually kill it.

Ultimately, this is this is the argument I have building towards. I recently debated my own thesis of ‘entertainment abundance’ in light of how we consume film and TV. Netflix provides more shows on-demand than any physical form of media, to the point where we have no idea what to watch. How this happens is actually quite remarkable and I feel it spawns from the fact we’ve never had so much choice before. Whilst listening and viewing habits are totally individual, to be overwhelmed with options inevitably leads to a less engaged relationship with records or films. The idea of passive and active engagement is useful here as it seems music is seen as less of a major source entertainment and rather a subsidiary to something else. (i.e. listening via an iPhone on the bus, rather than in the dark listening/crying to The Smiths etc)

And that’s really the point I’m really trying to make. Through such an open access to music we haven fallen trap to superficiality in our listening habits. Maybe we need to go back to listening to albums again. Sitting down with a tea or gin, listening from start to finish and enduring all those painfully shit filler tracks. Because that is *listening* to music is it not? Warts and all? Browsing through specific tracks whilst undoubtably convenient, ultimately undermines the artists’ creation.

Above else, what I’m calling Musical Abundance , you may well consider the greatest thing to happen to music. This increase in accessibility will continue and no doubt the relevance of the album will slip away. Ultimately, this piece has been intended to reassess how modern habits have changed, for good and for bad. Of course, I’m not denying the marvels of recent media forms, and I admit I enjoy handpicking songs as much as a fluid concept album.London Calling - Sound System [Disc 1]

But I’d still try to encourage that we give the album another chance. I like to see music as much as a narrative as any book or film and a way of conveying an artists thoughts and feelings concisely. Whether or not you agree with this view is perfectly understandable, and I intended this to be contradictive article for the sake of provoking thought. Nevertheless, I for one am going to sit down and listen to London Calling… and you’re more than welcome to follow suit.