It Hangs Like A Monkey From The Tree Of Genius

...And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead - Worlds Apart

...and then I thought to myself, maybe I'm just getting too old for the
epic bombast that is Trail o' Dead. Curious, I returned to the back
catalogue and the problem was revealed. Old songs like "How Near, How
Far" or "A Perfect Teenhood" were immense destructive forces made of
guitars, blood and anger, whereas news songs like "Classic Arts
Showcase" or "All White" are directionless, vague and strangely
listless. There are good moments here too though: the indiepop title
track combines the holy grails of being both catchy and obscene; "The
Rest Will Follow" almost lives up to the symphonic grandeur of times
past with its swooping crashes and military drumming; and the sparse,
aggressive "The Best" is excellent. Yet still I can't escape the fact
that at least half the album is lacklustre by Trail of Dead standards.
Maybe it's the band that got older, rather than the listeners.

The Arcade Fire - Funeral

If Mercury Rev, the Flaming Lips, and the Polyphonic Spree combined,
cranked up the amps, made an album about life and death, and tacked
indie disco sections to the ends of their songs, they might start to
sound a bit like the Arcade Fire. Or maybe not; maybe comparing music
of this stature to psych-pop also-rans is disingenuous; maybe the
Arcade Fire and songs like the majestic "Neighbourhood #1 (Tunnels)" or
the soaring, roaring "Wake Up" deserve to be looked at in a completely
different manner to most of their contemporaries - packed with emotion
rather than irony, love rather than spite, and contemplation rather
than vicious reaction, while still managing to maintain the visceral
thrill of the best guitar music.

Archie Bronson Outfit - Here He Comes

A short, intense and excellent burst of screeching blues rock from the
ridiculously titled Outfit. The drummer hacks away like a serial killer
trying to take limbs off, the fuzzy riff and dissonant solo's keep the
air full of horror movie chaos, and to top it all the paranoid,
multi-tracked vocals sound like outtakes from a redneck edition of the
Blair Witch Project.

Bjork - Triumph of a Heart

I am speechless. Bjork is instrumentless. She has a human trombone, and
a human turntable, and a human beatbox, and a voice like really weird
nails on a beautiful chalkboard. I cannot explain this. It hangs like a
monkey from the tree of genius, and I keep expecting it to fall to the
floor of stupidity, but it defies gravity. It has to be heard to be
believed or understood.

Bright Eyes - I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning

In which Conor Oberst finally gets past the whining self-indulgence
that has plagued some of his earlier work and makes a potentially
classic album on most definitely classic themes: religion, greed,
booze, broken hearts and, of course, war. This is a combined cry of
frustration and hope, collapsing under the weight of inertia, hatred
and helplessness before resurrecting to lead the march towards
something new, like a lyrical version of Godspeed You Black Emperor. In
other words, it is an encapsulation of the current America, rather than
the nostalgic country-and-western lament to myths that might be
expected from the tag 'Americana'. Oberst's voice suits this mixture
well, alternating between his trademark fearful whimper and a sneering
shout of defiance. And if, like me, you've never really appreciated
Emmylou Harris, the duet "Landlocked Blues" becomes even more
essential.

Devendra Banhart - At The Hop

Sorry if there's any typing errors but I'm still bouncing around in joy
after hearing the latest piece of genius/madness from Devendra Banhart,
the only psychedelic folk-pop hippie worth your time. If one of the
catchiest, funniest and sweetest songs of 2004 can't elicit a positive
response from you during it's sub-three minute running time, it
probably means you have no soul. Or you're a Linkin Park fan. Same
thing.

Four Square - Industry At Home

To some extent, this is music. It combines instrumentation with vocal
cords. It contains such musical elements as rhythm, melody and
dynamics. However, this tired, banal emo rock cannot be placed under
the category of music. It doesn't make you smile. It doesn't make you
cry. It doesn't even make you notice it. It doesn't make you scream or
shout or shriek or whisper. It will not make you think. It will not
make you dance. It will not make you believe in anything new. It will
never bring you and another person closer together. It will not inspire
you to overthrow capitalism, or plant a tree, or read a book, or
convert to religion. It will not inspire hate. It will not remind you
of comfort or of joy. It is nothing. It barely exists.

Kaiser Chiefs - I Predict A Riot

Sadly nothing to do with those countryside fellows and their recent
kerfuffle outside Parliament, but the Chiefs second single opens
promisingly enough anyway with some eery harmonics, and scores bonus
points for rhyming "lairy" with "I tell thee". Which makes it a
disappointment that the rest of the song is a catchy but unspectacular
retread of mid-90's indie rock, complete with la-la-la's before the
chorus; a bit like Mansun on an off-day.

The Mars Volta - The Widow

If my hair had the ability I would grow it like The Mars Volta. As
could be expected, this sounds like At The Drive-In without the three
boring members to hold back the prog tendencies of the hairy two. It's
also essentially nothing but a four minute extract from the 77-minute
song/album Frances The Mute. The music is an acquired taste; the afro
is universal. Peace.

The Wedding Present - I'm From Further North Than You

There wasn't a great clamour at the weekly CD-stealing session for the
Wedding Present - they're from the eighties, but they don't sound like
Bloc Party so no-one really cares. Maybe it's just my mental state, but
I still think there's room in the world for twee little indiepop songs
with funny titles and lyrics about failed love and "weird pornography",
and it's about damn time the world agreed.