A very different sound for fans of Quantic aka Will Holland, who is hugely influenced by his adopted homeland of Columbia. To reassure you these Latin salsa beats where in no way related to your Gloria Estefan – no Miami sound machine here folks step away – this was proper collaborative funky bluesy folky latin soul.

Holland on guitar led a six-piece band which complemented one another perfectly bringing a vibrant foot tapping hip swinging sound. Alongside Quantic we were introduced to fiddler Mike Simmonds – ‘fingers of flames’ extraordinaire and right hand man to Alice – and the African conga percussion of Combo Barbaro’s Freddy Colorado, a human Zebedee who lead us all in a conga.

The legend on the keys of the Fender Rhodes piano was a slick dude hailin’ from Peru, the one and only Senior Alfredito Linares.

The band kicked it off easy loungey style with an instrumental, then Alice took to the stage opening with ‘I’ll Keep My Light In My Window’, the latest single from Look Around The Corner album. Alice was a charming host and butters us up well with “Hello lovely Edinburgh people!” She likes a bit of banter, sadly most of which due to acoustics we couldn’t hear.

Alice’s voice is faultless, a very sexy soul senorita, looking like she loves what she does and gives it what she can, tonight with a latin strut in her stride. This did not go unnoticed as I caught a mention of “she’s got some pair o’ pipes eh?”. True praise indeed.

The accordion accompanied a cracking cover of ‘Golden Brown’ and for the Quantic Soul Orchestra fans amongst us we grooved to ‘Pushin’ On’, minus AR’s James Brown esq. scream on this occasion, and ‘End of the Road’.
If you want some world in your music they are well worth a listen.

Look Around The Corner is their latest LP released in April 2012 on Tru Thoughts

And there are a couple of 6music sessions, with Craig Charles and with Lauren Laverne.

Catch them at festivals across Europe this year, you won’t regret it… they bring the sunshine in.

More is the pity. With bands like All We Are peddling their incandescent brand of glassy eyed psychedelia to what amounts to be a relatively small market.

With that rather flattening thought in mind, the band releases their new EP, We Hunt. Formed in the musical hotbed of Liverpool, this trio of like minded musicians has striven since 2011 to be recognized as leaders amongst their contemporaries.

Their inspirations are clear on this latest offering. Consisting of four, user friendly tracks. The EP kicks off with the ethereal and atmospheric ‘Trainspotting’. A venerably distant track, All We Are provide a watermark for their own take on a populist style.

Second track ‘Cardhouse’ has been touted as the lead single from the EP. Clearly the most commercially appealing of all the tracks, it builds on a recognizable, vaguely catchy chorus and upbeat tempo. Listeners could quite easily picture this as backing music for various highlight reels and vignettes on Sky Sports or an advert for Center Parcs. A strange inclusion then for a band who have, until this point, sought artistic accreditation before commercial viability. Regardless of ulterior motives, ‘Cardhouse’, is a strong offering. The band themselves sight this as their definitive anthem and who could blame or argue with them. It’s pop credentials and mass appeal are apparent.

Citing The XX, Elbow and Sugar Ros as inspirations, their influences are almost blatant. If imitation is the most sincere form of flattery then All We Are should be paid for their shameless adulation.

This is none more apparent than ‘Red Sky’, the EP’s third entry. Dripping in heavy symbolism and purposely descriptive lyrics, the delicate guitar interacts well with accent heavy vocals. However, the lack of originality is glaringly obvious. Begging the question, if other, more established, better funded, original bands do this, why should listeners give All We Are a chance and money? Sadly, even the track’s lyrics “Lighthouse, throw me a lifeline,” seem strangely prophetic and altogether self prophesying.

In all, We Hunt is a laid back almost Valium educed comatose offering from the Liverpudlian trio. An enjoyable romp through a drunken dream, the EP showcases an obvious musical talent and passion for their own sound. With vocals more reminiscent with a medieval choir and psychedelic soaked guitar riffs and hooks, it is an enjoyable, if cryptic offering from All We Are.

Where it fails is a lack of originality and creative courage. To be inspired by contemporaries is, of course, a staple of any art form, music even more so. However, a fine line exists between inspiration and mimicry. This line is something that All We Are must clearly define to themselves if they are to escape the shadows of their more successful counterparts and produce something truly unique to their own identity. We Hunt is a fine starting point but by no means their finished article.

Capitalising on the strengths and well received previous outings Solferino and Eroded, there is a softer, mellower-post punk feel to this latest album. 13 Difficult Lessons plods along with a sprightly tempo that drives the album forward and makes it effortless to listen to.

80s influences are clear. From Roxy Music to Talking Heads, Dancing Mice flirt with the decade where synthesizers walked the earth. Art house rock tinged with the merest sprinkling of surreal psychedila, 13 Difficult Lessons offers up some memorable and above all enjoyable music.

The album’s title is perhaps the most misleading aspect of this work. Standing at thirteen tracks long, the lovingly-crafted lyricism may speak of lessons learned but listening to them is anything but difficult. With a laid back, gentle infusion of riffs and hooks, peppered with keyboards and the soft vocals, Dancing Mice take listeners on a comforting journey through their wickedly vivid imaginations.

‘The Red Shadow’ is a techno-infused track that conjures up visions of Conan Doyle style escapades around the band’s native Edinburgh. The tongue in cheek attitude oozes from this and the album as a whole with an enjoyable aplomb. Dancing Mice know what they have and where their talents lie. They are masters of a conjured reality and happily invite you, the listener, along for their ride.

Twelfth track ‘Father and Sons’ offers the album its best song. A delightful ballad, Ian Deary’s vocals wail over the others with a saddened edge that teases the listener with unknown tragedy, the lyrics made all the more poignant. A track that would not feel out of place in a Shakespeare sonnet, the scope of Dancing Mice’s knowledge and musical influence as aptly displayed.

It is perhaps a little surprising then, to those unfamiliar with their work, that Dancing Mice hail from Scotland. Shock, horror and as scathingly betraying to Braveheart as that sounds, there is a method in the madness. As a country, the proudly boasted “Best small country in the World,” Scotland has an image crisis when it comes to its art.

Altogether maudlin, caustic altogether dreich, the art of this country often reflects this. From the gothic darkness of architecture to the savagely beautiful paintings of Peter Howson. Scottish art, much like the people, has always retained that underlying menace and cynicism. With acid tongued pessimism and a wit that would cut diamond, Scotland has an identity the world over as being something altogether a bit moody.

It is with great joy then that a band like Dancing Mice and their contemporaries, are blowing these aspersions away in a flood of good cheer and upbeat optimism. This is no cutsey poo, Walter Scott short bread tin effort. Dancing Mice deliver 13 Difficult Lessons as a legitimate piece of work and in doing so, fly a much more positive, less than dreary flag for the musicians of Scotland.

There are many reasons this has happened, all of which are no doubt correct and accurate. All to blame for the demise of what was once the UK’s favourite, most commercially successful and greatest musical export.
It is, therefore, no surprise when a new band proclaiming to be “hardcore rock and metal” appear; their arrival is met with some scepticism. That band is Black Moth and their debut album is The Killing Jar. Bracketing themselves as “dark noise destroyers,” this four-piece outfit are as metal and angry as a spotty faced teenager in a faded Slipknot hoodie. Arrogance, pomp and more than a hint of malevolence. Black Moth certainly fit the bill on paper. With more than a little surprise and relief, they also walk the walk.

With ten tracks of crushing riffs and titles to match, The Killing Jar, a suitably macabre title, is Black Moth’s first foray into a fully-fledged album. Formed from the remnants of acclaimed garage rockers, The Bacchae, Black Moth strut with the nerve and holistically ‘evil’ swagger that has been missing in the hard rock scene for a long time.
Harriet Boven’s leather lunged vocals scream with an unsettling calm over Jim Swainston’s guitar that belts out riffs as raw and savage as the foundries of their native Leeds’ industrial past. Percussion from Dave Vachon on bass and Dom McCready (a drummer’s name is there ever was one) provide a thumping, lumbering support that feels like a giant’s marching footsteps throughout. None more apparent than on the opening three tracks, ‘The Articulate Dead’, ‘Blackbirds Fall’ and the suitably grim ‘Banished but Blameless’.
This anathema and deliberate self-pitying continues throughout the album. ‘Blind Faith’, ‘Plastic Blaze’ and the concluding ‘Honey Lung’, a brooding, tempo changing hymn to all things demonic provide ample metal sustenance. Indeed, as deliberately gloomy as it sounds, Black Moth pull off the dark outsiders routine with style and grace.

Channelling the great industrious metal and hard rock bands of yesteryear, Black Sabbath, Alice in Chains and Slayer, The Killing Jar is a refreshingly original throwback to an almost forgotten era. Bristling with a cumbersome, almost suffocating sound, the album ticks every box for headbanging, mosh pitting metallers. The grimy distortion guitars and thrashing drums provide a venerable, cerebral sound capable of standing up to anything the scene, both currently and anything in the past decade, could throw up.

Boven’s vocals, without doubt, tie the whole outfit together. Much like Ozzy Osbourne did in the early days of Black Sabbath, the heavy, lugubrious riffs and hooks are mirrored by her calculated, malicious vocals. Balanced perfectly in pitch and tone, the grim, maudlin subject matter and lyrics flow effortlessly, painting the band’s bleak pictures in eyeliner black.

In an era where softer, ‘user friendly’ style music is all too commonplace on the market, this album is a stark difference. Established acts within the scene have often been criticised for going soft in their older age. The new wave of harder bands like The Answer, Black Spiders and Black Stone Cherry all garner huge media attention. Their sound, however, always seems to lack that extra crunch that would have perhaps been present twenty years ago.
Call it commercial savvy or corporate surrender; the proof is, as always, in the pudding. Fans still clamour for new albums and rightly they should. However, it is flagrantly false to flog these works as anything other than distilled shadows of an era long gone.

The Killing Jar is as Heavy Rock an album as could be. Skirting on the border between rock and heavy metal, this is definitely not music for a sunny day. With an ambitious sound and talent to match, Black Moth has delivered a powerful debut. The prestige and credits are neatly set in place. It is now up to the band to capitalise on what is, arguably, the strongest debut album by a hard rock outfit in 2012.

Electric Cables is a fantastic mix of light and airy instrumentals and floating vocals, creating an atmospheric sound that is distinguished and unique. The ten-track album’s main focus is on slow but perfectly assembled sounds, with Tom Crossley’s flute and Love’s vocals playing the main parts. Beginning with ‘Two Lines’, it has a twinkling understated melody and gentle guitar riffs to let you know what you’re in for.

The rest of the album follows in the same vein, with a few prominent tracks – ‘Muddy Rivers’, ‘Silver & Gold’ and ‘The Warmth of the Sun’ being personal favourites. ‘Muddy Rivers’ stands out for its simmering drums throughout, setting a base for Love’s floating vocals, while ‘Silver & Gold’ is somewhat different. The vocals are well written, and sung with such energy yet still maintaining the delicate sound needed to balance seamlessly with the mellow guitar and drifting percussion that enters the track. ‘The Warmth of the Sun’ differs again and offers a more folksy element to the album, with a lot of flute and slow, drifting rhythms.

Lovely music, by lovely people, is the best I can describe it. Spacious, airy, and expertly put together: layering flute over guitar and drums with vocals flowing nicely in between it all. All that’s needed now is a comfy chair, a Sunday morning and a wee bit of sunshine. Perfect.

As clichéd as it may be, Totterdell possesses a wisdom and insight that stretches way beyond her tenderly few years. Her debut album, Sweep, arrives amongst a furore of potential and high praise. Her CV is impressive, a back catalogue of over forty original pieces, writing songs since she was eleven and a final appearance in UK Unsigned. All of this before her sixteenth birthday.

Beginning with the album’s lead single, ‘Counting My Fingers’, listeners are immediately introduced to this folk infused pop. Totterdell’s fragile, savagely honest voice feels like a dandelion seed floating effortlessly through the air of some Devonshire meadow.

‘Kaleidoscope’ and ‘Blushing Bride’ are two highlights of the album. Both display Totterdell’s tender purity that would melt even the stoniest heart. As listeners are taken through the various poetically painted and image intensive ballads, the vigour and naive belief of the teenager becomes strangely infectious.

Sweep closes with ‘Little Puzzle’, a soft tempo, upbeat track that has more than a little influence of Thea Gilmour ladened through its lyrics. Like an altogether more pleasant, easier on the ears Lilly Allen, the album serves as perfect background music fodder.

There is often an underlying, belittling problem with acts like Maz Totterdell. Her talent is unquestionable. The sheer moxy and courage of someone so young to venture into the cutthroat world of show business should also be celebrated. But it is this very fact that leaves Totterdell open to criticism and high expectation.

In a musical world that is saturated with young, talented musicians who sing wistfully of life’s little foibles, it is hard for the audience to distinguish one from the other. Totterdell’s youth is her marquee selling point. But it is also her biggest Achilles heel. At just fifteen years young she will no doubt ignite the paying public’s interests and curiosities. Bringing out the so called “freak show” crowd who wish to see the talent, of which there is plenty, in an otherwise extraordinary set of circumstances.

The real test for Totterdell is whether she can make the leap from mild curiosity to successfully recognized artists. Not merely as the incredibly young, good for her teenager. But as the multi-talented, musically professional artist she appears to be.

As debut albums go, Sweep is a mediocre offering. There is nothing outlandishly special about the songs featured nor the way they are delivered. Listeners are spoiled for choice when it comes to confessional tales of ruined teenage romance and dreams. Why would they pick Totterdell over anybody else other than the fact she is only fifteen?

A great shame perhaps that the gimmick by which she will no doubt sell albums could prove to ironically and ultimately be what denies her success. What Maz Totterdell has on her side, however, is time and plenty of it. Standing on the very cusp of what could prove to be a long and illustrious career, things can only get better.

I must confess that we missed a fair chunk of Joy Kills Sorrow, due to waiting for a tannoy ‘next act is on’ announcement that never came. Sadly, though bluegrass – that’s them neatly pigeonholed, then – isn’t my own thing, this American five-piece transcend lazy comparisons and cliches. They also, it seems have attracted a few followers of their own with a noticeable proportion of Americans in the crowd. They’re on the bill at the special request of tonight’s headliners, and while their style is largely unconnected with Scottish indie-folk, you can see the point. Rather striking boy-girl harmonies, a fair few tunes of considerable hummability – ‘Jason’ a real standout – and some virtuoso instrumentation, with banjo, accordion, and a remarkable mandolin solo from Jacob, who, following a long spell on the road looks like the progeny of Elvis and Teen Wolf.

While the crowd are mainly there to see the headliners, you could be fooled for thinking this as the Glasgow act silently take the stage. The first few tunes are a mix of pedestrian and prog, as the band, possibly jetlagged from their tour of the Highlands, slowly warm up. However, new single ‘Paper Trench’ increases the tempo, its pounding beat kicking the show into life. That sets the pattern in a sense as ‘Subbuteo’ and ‘These Barren Years’ see the crowd similarly wake up, to the point where singer Louis Abbott declares the Stirling locals ‘best audience’, trumping the likes of Ullapool and Dunfermline in the singalong stakes.
It’s not all about big and brassy, though. New tune ‘Brothers’ and encore ‘Oh Oscar’ both showcase the vocal abilities of Abbott and Sarah Hayes as well as the chemistry in the band as it seems they warm to the audience and to each other.
‘Squealing Pigs’ is of course the final song played, probably the oldest in their catalogue, dating back to their incarnation as Brother Louis Collective. However, with new album Tree Bursts In Snow due in a couple of weeks, it looks like they can finally lay that ghost to rest. Their reputation, like their audience, can only grow with them.

The stage was dressed in bold attire promoting ‘Weapons’ and the room filled with atmospheric smoke until the lights faded to darkness. The crowd roared with excitement during the short but sweet introduction as drummer Luke Johnson started the show with shattering drumbeats, closely followed by the intense opening guitar line of new single ‘Bring ‘Em Down’ where guitarists Lee Gaze and Mike Lewis cascaded around the front of the stage along with keyboardist Jamie Oliver and bassist Stuart Richardson. The audience worked up to final ignition when frontman Ian Watkins emerged into the venue as he weighed up the crowd from afar with a solemn expression on his face.

Unlike his usual high-spirited character, Watkins slowly walked towards the microphone stand and it was apparent that he was still in agony from the previous nights A&E trip which he had been rushed off to for a problem with his ribs at the end of their Aberdeen show.

Back to Glasgow’s performance and it was evident that Watkins health had no signs of great improvement as every step was taken in slow motion as he battled throughout the set. However, albeit somewhat subdued, the frontman courageously maintained his perfected showmanship as he ruled the stage with a megaphone during the group’s newer tracks including the angst driven ‘Better Off Dead’.

A brief cover of ‘Sweet Child O’ Mine’ by Guns N’ Roses brightened up the atmosphere in the venue before the band launched into their monumental stadium anthem ‘Where We Belong’ at which Oliver grabbed the audiences attention by leaving his keyboard for center stage with Watkins, frequently obliging everyone to sing along, concluding in the O2 Academy venue pulsating with crowd chants.

Lostprophets then kicked straight into classics from their ever popular early records ‘Start Something’ and ‘Liberation Transmission’ both surprisingly dominating the majority of their setlist for the night, accompanied by the odd tune from ‘The Fake Sound Of Progress’ thrown in for good measure. All of which resulted in the groups hardcore fans going wild with elation, especially upon the return of hearing ‘Last Train Home’ and the unforgettable ‘Shinobi Vs. Dragon Ninja’ the latter subsequently causing immense carnage in the moshpit.

Completing their incredible set with an adverse choice for a closer, ‘Sway’ brought out the groups more unseen emotive side compared with the rest of the nights rather chaotic and rowdy performance, yet the group nailed it on the spot for the crowd as they all cheered in a mass sea of approval.

Throughout the 15 or so years that Lostprophets have been together, it’s no surprise that the six-piece are one of those greatly admirable bands that many people adore to this day. Their consistent effort to produce flawless albums and perform one of the most astounding shows continually manages to wow their fanbase, new and old. From here, we can only wonder where Lostprophets will be in another few years time.
(Photos by Nicola Sharkey – www.nicolasharkeyphotography.com)