Earlier this year I submitted a short story, called ‘The Wannabe Shamus’ to the Costa Book Awards. Alas, I haven’t made the shortlist. I’d like to think it’s because I’m so edgy and underground, but in reality it’s probably because I swear quite profusely from the outset. 

The Wannabe Shamus follows Max on his misguided journey to become a hard-boiled private eye a la Philip Marlowe.

You can read my story here, if you like.

(Warning: contains strong language, and northern vernacular throughout, lad)

I’m currently working on a website (i.e. a vaguely professional looking Wordpress) which will hopefully act as both an online portfolio as well as advertising my services as a writer/proofer etc. I’ll post the link when it’s finished and ready to go, of course!

Apologies, I Have None - London

(For Zest For Life)

I can’t believe I’m writing this review. It’s been a long time coming, but here I sit, with Apologies I Have None’s full-length debut, London spread across my lap in all its glory.

I can’t actually pinpoint the first time I heard Apologies exactly. That’s not really a very credible thing to admit is it? I should have a wicked-cool fan boy story, which ends with a grandiose statement along the lines of ‘…and I knew my life was changed forever when the opening twangs of Bent Strings rushed through my body, for the greatest band of all time had just flowed through me like a perfect orgasmic experience.’

Well, I don’t have a bag of bollocks story like that, unfortunately. The fact is, I stumbled across Apologies, I Have None in the same way I stumble across most of my favourite bands - either as a support act at a gig, online, or thanks to a recommendation from a vaguely trusted source. With Apologies, I’m pretty sure it was a combination of all three.

Through their honest, catchy, gritty and just plain brilliant punk rock, Apologies cemented themselves not only as one of my favourite bands, but also as the much-deserved spearhead of the UK punk scene. While the cockney quartet’s live reputation precedes them, in terms of recorded work, Apologies have thrown only a few scraps for their ravenous fans to feast upon. A couple of early EPs (neither of which were as a full band), a 7”, a split, and a few other bits and bobs has not been enough to satisfy my deep hunger for Apologies, I Have None. Like many others, I have craved a full-length, full-band album for fucking ages.

And incredibly, here I sit, with Apologies I Have None’s full-length debut London spread across my lap in all its glory, and I can’t quite believe that I’m about to listen to it.

The first single, ‘60 Miles’ begins with a full-scale attack, showing a band that has progressed significantly from having only two sticks and six strings. ‘60 Miles’ is an enormous track - stadium-sized sounds and production values, big choruses and bigger solos, and it’s great. As if to offer solace for such a huge leap forward, ‘Sat In Vicky Park’ throws the band back into their folksier beginnings, and it sounds better than ever, ‘my relationship, with reality, it comes and goes’.

‘Clapton Pond’ is probably London’s finest offering (which is a huge compliment), it’s angstier than Sam Russo mid-way through forgetting his own songs, and just dirtier, louder and catchier than ever before, ‘all this is progress, towards perfection’. What is so striking about London from the outset is how it sounds so big and bellowing, whilst remaining warm and intimate. The record is somehow excitingly new, yet wholesome and familiar at the same time. Boss.

‘Still Sitting Tight’ is another example of faultless Apologies songwriting. They really are the masters of writing lines that will be spewed back at them with delight by hoards of recently well-fed fans, ‘it’s alright, ‘cause we got the boot packed up tonight’.

Songs like ‘Holloway Or Anywhere’ and the serene ‘Foundations’ offer a deeper insight into the band, showing both a shit-tonne of maturity, and roots spanning broader musical influences than just those most prominent within punk rock. Then there’s ‘The 26’. A growling and snarling track about love lost and loathing, which peaks with a fiery scream of violent indignation and hate. Passionate and aggressive, this is Apologies, I Have None at their wound-up best.

Apologies have absolutely delivered – and numerous consecutive listens tell me that London is the great album I always knew they could make. Managing to straddle the line between being both dizzyingly immense, and pleasingly familiar, London shows growth, but remains true to the bands beginnings. Apologies, I Have None should be as big as their sound, and London is probably a big step on the way to greatness. I need to start working harder on my ‘first time I heard Apologies’ story, then.

9/10

The Menzingers – On The Impossible Past

(For Louder Than War)

Boy, do The Gaslight Anthem have a lot to answer for. Before Brian Fallon discovered that there was more to Bruce Springsteen than un-patriotic patriotic rock music and shit loads of denim, your standard self-respecting punk wouldn’t be seen dead listening to The Boss. Then, The ’59 Sound emerges, and punk rock still hasn’t got over it. Since this monumental discovery by Mr. Fallon et al, many of the more learned punk rock bands have made a concerted effort to drape their music in a warming layer of refined twangs, and pepper their lyrics with an erudite effervescence. Don’t mistake this observation for a complaint, the beauty of punk rock is that is can, and should, soak up external influences like a musical sponge. Sometimes though, why mess with perfection?

Over the last few years, The Menzingers catchy-as-fuck orgcore punk has fast-tracked the Philly act to the pinnacle of the US punk rock pyramid. 2010’s Chamberlain Waits was an absolutely supreme record - a nudge over 30 minutes of punk rock perfection, which saw The Menzingers smash together powerful riffs, hammering drums, shouty gang vocals and pretty much everything else you could want from a punk rock band with enviable ease.

Of course, the problem with releasing a near-perfect record is how do you follow it up? For The Menzingers, the best option was to take the Fallon-approach (trademark, Rob Samuels) – they plonked themselves down, bought a dick-load of whisky, chucked Born To Run on a loop, and started writing. The result is On The Impossible Past, and it is great.

From the records beginnings, with the blues-charged opening-twiddles of ‘Good Things’, through to the final pleading cry of ‘Freedom Bridge’, On The Impossible Past ebbs and flows with the ease and simplicity which is now a minimum expectation from The Menzingers. Songs like ‘The Obituaries’ and ‘Gates’ show a tremendous amount of maturity - gone are the angry shouts and thrashy guitars, replaced by angst-ridden wails and gently strummed patterns in their place.

That isn’t to say that The Menzingers have gone soft, far from it – they can still bawl and bellow with the best of ‘em. Tracks like ‘Sun Hotel’, and ‘Casey’ hark back to their earlier work, and bound along with familiar glee. Simply put, On The Impossible Past is not a record of revolution, but instead evolution, showing The Menzingers in another light, and demonstrating a pleasing element of development. Sometimes though, why mess with perfection? The addition of Fallon-inspired blues riffs to the firm punk foundations that are so prominent within On The Impossible Past is great, sure - but it’s not Chamberlain Waits. 

8/10

Pudge – EP

(For Zest For Life - we’re back in business!) 

Right, so punk rock is a pretty varied genre, isn’t it? It can be just about anything you want it to be - and right now, the trend is for punk bands to look a bit further afield. Many acts are soaking up various influences outside of the typical constraints of the genre, and punk rock seems to have become this ravenous devouring monster, chomping up any tasty musical style that appears before it. Country? STARTERS. Math? PALETTE CLEANSER. Blues? MAINS. Twinkly bollocks? PUDDIN’. 

Then Pudge came back and released an EP so unpretentiously titled, it is actually just called EP. 

Pudge exist to fill the gap left behind by everyone else. While many of their contemporaries are searching new and uncharted fields, Pudge are sitting in a puddle of their own bodily fluids swigging cider and writing tunes. Having said that, since Chippy Tea, Pudge have learnt how to use samples – with all but one track beginning with a daft clip. I cannot begin to tell you how amazing this is.

‘Peggy Hill Boggle Champ’ picks up where their last record left off, quickly catching us up on what Pudge have been up to, “still drinkin’, still dreamin’”. A roaring belch indicates that the brief catch-up session is over, and we can get down to business. ‘Kirby’ thrashes it’s way aggressively into the fray – a battering two minutes of perverted pop punk. This though, is all just a set-up for the second best sample-based intro to a song I’ve ever heard, as the Phoenix Club’s finest northern psychic Clinton Baptiste introduces us to ‘Clairvoyance’: 

“Ay, don’t shoot the messenger! I’m only tellin’ you what the spirits are telling me’. Now, I’m getting’ the word… nonce.”

‘Clairvoyance’ is a grubby, thrashy, sweary piece of pop punk bollocks. And it is amazing. ‘Channel Hop’ follows on with similar haste and aggression, offering tales of woe about daytime TV and the hardships of being bored and unemployed, “I need something to put a smile on my face, it makes me feel like my afternoon was a waste.” Tell me about it, Pudge lad.

The lofty ‘Over To John Anderson’ looms over the horizon next, which contains incidentally, the best sample-based intro to a song I’ve ever heard. If you haven’t guessed by the title, or you weren’t into spandex-clad 90s game shows, then you may not understand the massive Gladiators clip that is played at the beginning of the song. If this is the case, I pity you. Christ though, does the song stands up to the weighty intro, “We’ve got our big foam ‘ands, we’ve got our big foam ‘ands! And another one bites the dust!”

I thought I had heard the best wanky pop punk song I was ever going to hear at the end of Chippy Tea, but ‘Over To John Anderson’ is actually, dare I say, better than ‘Sweetheart’. “Get some ciders in, we’ll fuckin’ drink until we’re dead, try not to piss the bed, again, remember what we said.” I absolutely detest the word ‘anthem’ because it is banded around far too often, but this track is an absolute punk anthem. Seriously.   

With the cunningly titled EP, Pudge have somehow managed to take their completely non-pretentious brand of punk rock, and make it catchier, and trashier than ever before. I just want to say love to Pudge, and his big jug of cider.  

While the punk rock monster continues to chew up every genre in its path, Pudge are more than happy to stay exactly where they are, and gorge on Strongbow instead. And it’s really hard to argue with that. 

9/10 

Alvin Purple – Huh Her/Please Please

(For Croon)

When you hear the name Alvin Purple what do you think? My thought was simple - ‘this best be funky as hell’. I wanted levels of funk that would knock the star-shaped glasses from Bootsy Collins face. Funk-drenched rhythms that could make even Sly Stone dance to the music. Alvin Purple though, are far from a throwback funk outfit - messing with the types of genres that probably oughtn’t be messed with. 

In fact, Alvin Purple sound like a product of the regrettable love between Jamiroquai and the Scissor Sisters. Now, though that bastard child has grown up, is sporting long greasy hair, and has even started staring at its shoes a lot. This description of course, sounds terrible – funky rhythms with electronic, shoegaze, indie and slick pop overtones? But wait, Alvin Purple are incredibly adept at balancing these contrasting styles, to the point where their double single just gels with intrinsic ease.

‘Huh Her’ begins with a soulful vocal loop, before da funk kicks in hard- with a saucy bass groove led by the guiding hand of a crisp drum pattern. Funk central. Then, all of a sudden, BANG. Pounding distorted indie chorus. Then, WALLOP. Electro punctuation. Sure… Wait though, KAPOW. Twiddly Shoegazey guitar diddling. BLAMMO. Top notch pop song.

‘Please Please’ follows with a brief electronic glitch before hurling itself into a brooding indie-electro-pop chorus, flooded with a huge indie riff and a squeeking synth backdrop. This is dark, and dangerously danceable. At this point though, Alvin Purple aren’t about to rest on their laurels - as the track suddenly descends into a dingy sub-gothic hole, with the haunting cry of ‘Please, please don’t leave’ echoing from below. 

The effortlessness with which Alvin Purple operate and mash together genres is a joy to behold, and Huh Her/Please Me is able to balance this experimental lunacy with a simple desire to make great pop music.

8/10

Wilful Missing – Molehills out of Mountains

Remember when folk music was the exclusive property of jumper-wearing and beard-clad geeky types? Thems were the days. Mumford and his sons changed that forever a couple of years ago, making folk music fucking cool. Since then, folk and indie – who were once strange bedfellows, are now a rather well established item. Wilfil Missing are another cracking band to emerge in this vein, the Bradford 5-piece having already whittled a pleasant niche for themselves in the folksy woodlands with their two previous EPs. ‘Molehills out of Mountains’ is the bands debut full-length, with the band looking to pitch a log cabin atop the groundwork set by their previous releases. That’s one contrived metaphor.

Beginning with a reverberating gospel moan, ‘Cry For The City’ quickly shifts into a sumptuous folk melody. Wilful Missing’s style seems to be more grounded in traditional folk movements as opposed to the more recent indie-drenched manner of their contemporaries. This style is galvanized with the awfully purdy ‘Don’t Be Scared 48’, which just strolls with the relaxed pleasure of a countryside rambler – the vocal melodies are beautifully balanced with some clickity-clack drums and some sweet instrumentation. Lovely stuff. 

Third track ‘Constitution Failed’ has featured on the TV series Waterloo Road, and is a drifting stripped-back effort, sandwiched between the previous track, and the pluckier ‘London Road’ – which rolls with a pleasing naivety to it. Electric guitar dabbling and the hum of an organ add a very welcome Americana influence to ‘London Road’, adding tremendous depth and a showy knowledge of earlier folk offshoots.

In spite of its name, ‘The Waltz’ carries a rather Gaelic overtone to it, particularly with the brief romp that occurs somewhere in the middle - Another tremendous reference to previous folk movements. ‘Like Lovers Do’ is a gently plodding follow-up, with the pleasant European flair of an accordion drifting as a stunning backdrop throughout the track. Like a Parisian evening, or some shit.

‘Powerful Pill’ is just that, providing a well-placed punch at the heart of the record, Wilful Missing again dabbling in a richer Americana chorus, but with distinct English patterns, “and these bonds that we made with our history, are the bonds that bind us still”. ‘Caught Between Seasons’ brings us back home; the opening riff almost sounds like a plucked sea shanty, if such a thing exists.

The bands eponymous track appears next, with ‘Wilful Missing’ beginning with a surprisingly sinister hum and a stunning vocal harmony. The track is probably the most melancholic on the album, although it is far from being imposing and dark – imagine it more as a sunset - the warming ambience that precedes the night. ‘Wilful Missing’ is a stunning effort of contrast that adds yet more layers to this already deep record.

The penultimate track, ‘I Am Clay’ is perhaps the albums most blatantly American yet, closing on an explosive organ solo that even The Band would be proud to call their own. Finally, ‘Sleeptalking Over’ allows the album to drift to a close, and just like that, it’s over.

Remember when folk used to belong to homely music geeks in thick-weave jumpers? Wilful Missing do, and Molehills out of Mountains is a beautiful attempt to showcase the glorious and recently plastered-over past of folk music. With rich Americana textures, dancing Irish melodies, and quivering continental vibes, Molehills out of Mountains is a well researched and even better performed guide to folk history.

8/10

Feature: The Sunshine Underground

(For Croon)

On December 17^th, The Sunshine Underground made a welcome return to Yorkshire, dropping in at Wakefield’s BlackFlag Warehouse to spread a little Christmas cheer, and thank the local fans for the continuing love affair that the region has had with the band. The night proved a fine way to cap 2011 for their loyal West Yorkshire fan base, but it is fair to say that 2011 has been a slow year for The Sunshine Underground, with their bassist Daley Smith leaving the band at the beginning of the year. Aside from this, 2011 has also been consumed by watching “Coronation Street and Eastenders” en bulk according to guitarist Stuart Jones. 

The Sunshine Underground emerged with their 2006 album ‘Raise The Alarm’, a record that was in fact mooted by the all-mighty NME as the beginning of New Rave at the time. While the Leeds-adoptees were certainly amongst the pacesetters in the genre, they were not involved in it’s downfall – waiting a-just-short-of Chinese Democracy-esque four years before the release of their vastly changed follow-up ‘Nobody’s Coming To Save You’. So what next for The Sunshine Underground? The band has always been eager to embrace the changes over the years, and Croon had the chance to sit down with the omnipotent indie-kings to map out their plans for the future.

First though, we were eager to quickly recap 2011 – and the big news for the year, the loss of their bassist, “I am related to Daley”, said guitarist Stuart, “I couldn’t play guitar ‘til Daley showed me. On that respect it was a shame but then on the flip side he kinda lost his drive really to make music and you do really need that. We started to write the (new) album, and he wasn’t into it. You could tell he wasn’t getting involved and when you are touring you really need everyone wanting to be there. He still doesn’t know what he wants to do but he knew he didn’t want to do this anymore.” Vocalist and guitarist Craig Wellington elaborated, “it was good timing really as we were starting album 3, and if we had to start writing all the songs, then we would have had to tour the songs - so it was a good point to say something.”

The elusive ‘album 3’ has been the band’s top priority this year (aside from Corrie), and has perhaps been to blame for The Sunshine Underground’s relative inactivity, a fact admitted by Stuart, “we have been quiet, we have been locked away. I haven’t been myself to be honest.” So what of album number 3? “We have just finished writing our new album” added Craig, “basically, that’s what we have been doing for the last two years on and off - and we have been doing a bit of touring and stuff and played some music festivals too. We have mainly been writing though, and we have just finished last week.”

In addition to writing the new album, In 2011, The Sunshine Underground have also managed to shoehorn in a couple of festival appearances, including April’s Snowbomb event in Austria, which didn’t quite go smoothly, “I got the most sunburnt I have ever been in my entire life at Snowbomb festival.” Noted Stuart,  “The day after the gig we had a day off and they gave us skiing passes to go up the mountains and we didn’t think about it being red hot up there. I got to the top of this mountain, and there were bars and everyone was dancing. So I was there just dancing in my vest on my skis, flying down this mountain and I got sunstroke.” TSU Top tip: Don’t ski-dance in a vest.

While Shropshire may well lay claim to The Sunshine Underground, Leeds has always acted as the bands musical home, and perhaps without their move to Yorkshire, the band may never have been, according to Craig, “the only reason we came to Leeds is because Matt went to university here” the singer added, “we had got the band together in Shropshire two weeks before Matt moved to Leeds, and we spent a whole year going ‘we’re on to something here…’”

Like most great relationships, The Sunshine Underground seemed to immediately click with the Leeds scene, and its vat of local promoters who “were putting on ace nights”, as Craig puts it. And, while the initial sparks may have faded, the romance between band and city seems not to have waned since these early years - even with the relationship going through a long-distance and aloof phase last year. In 2012, though The Sunshine Underground will be back for the long haul, “it’s time to get busy again,” promised Craig, “we’ve kept ourselves away for a year and a half not doing anything. Honestly, if we got a two year schedule of gigs to play, then we couldn’t be any happier”.