Faithless

Bombs

This sounds a bit like every other Faithless song I have ever heard � nothing vocals and silly spoken word bit buried under enough production to sink a battleship. Still, if you�re worried you missed any of the track�s hidden depths there are a couple of remixes on the b-side for you to get your teeth into. And they�re both seven minutes long! You lucky people. Still, I have to admit to being caught humming it afterwards. Don�t tell anyone though.

Lisa Marie Ferla

Fools Circle

Blackpool Tower EP

The first of four on this EP starts promisingly, fusing washed out indie guitar picking with the melodic sensitivity of early Ash or Teenage Fanclub. The vocals are ropey, and the mix is a bit vocal heavy, but I�m quite enjoying it until I hit skip track, at which point I become exposed to a bunch of stadium rock wannabes who can�t even spell the word �what� correctly. �Blackpool Tower� is marginally better, but with lyrics like �burn that fucking tower down� and �why don�t you kill the queen?� you can almost smell John Lydon posed quietly round the corner with his machete, just waiting to take these plagiarists down.

Vicki Cole

Good Shoes

The Photos On My Wall

Persevering with the jerking strut-rock that made �All In My Head� a surprise indie hit, Good Shoes continue to build their �next big thing� reputation with this short-but-sweet single. It might not have the instant appeal of their previous effort, but it�s still a particularly tasty slice of attitude-driven guitar pop. Put on your most tattered shoes and shuffle along with their fashionably unkempt melodies, before the rest of the country catch on.

Dan Coxon

The Gossip

Standing in the Way of Control

These crazy Yanks – coming over here, stealing our women and our number one spots in our well respected cool lists… All the recent �media� fluff surrounding The Gossip can�t take away from the awesome dancefloor credentials of this tune; demented vocals; a blood broiling, infectious bass loop and crashing drums; all perfect for some no brainer dancefloor carnage. Undeniably it stirs a lot of energy, which is perfect because it�s all about a demand for civil rights and gay marriage in the US, or something. The awesome remixes, care of Soulwax and Headman, are so danceable you kind of forget the point behind it.

Laura Doherty

Charlotte Hatherley

I Want You To Know

Did you know Ash had relocated to New York shedding guitarist Charlotte Hatherley in the process? No? Me either. Anyway, apparently Ms Hatherley is now solo and, if her press release is to be believed, striking out in a bold new direction. Her new single, taken from the forthcoming ‘The Deep Blue’ album on her own (read: dropped by previous label) imprint finds her sounding like an exact cross between Belly, Veruca Salt and the Breeders…..not a million miles from the sounds of her previous releases. I suppose for some artists a change of guitar strings can be spun as a change of direction to boost interest in a flagging career.
The songs themselves are pleasant enough if ultimately forgettable with only Hatherley’s adoption of a rather peculiar faux-american accent causing them to stand out in any way.

Alex Botten

The Hours

Back When You Were Good

Every now and then a song comes along that you know you shouldn�t like, and try as I might,I thought I could resist this but if it�s a guilty pleasure then so be it, I love this song! There may come a time when The Hours are massive and it is deemed uncool to like them but on the basis of this one song, they deserve to be given a chance. A piano led, pompous, mini-epic recalling the criminally under rated Puressence and the criminally over rated Echo and the Bunnymen, this is currently on playlists everywhere so does not need me to hype it further but expect big things from this lot.

John Paul Mason

I Killed Pharoah

Home EP

When a up and coming rock band list the best-forgetting Three Colours Red as an influence, one�s natural instinct is to run away. While the requisite low slung guitars and squealing solos are all present and correct, this four piece (whose line up includes a guitarist with the rather exotic name of Lukather, which conjures up images of lots and lots of Scandinavian death metal) do have one trump card up their sleeves � namely an affection for the work of Brian Wilson. The commendable attempt to graft multi-layoured harmonies over the usual metal mix may not be entirely successful, but as least shows this outfit are one willing to try something different.

Paul McGarvey

Juliette And The Licks

Sticky Honey

Serving up three minutes of saccharine-sweet guitar pop, this would have been a surefire hit back in the summer. Bouncy, light, and clearly aimed at the popular market, �Sticky Honey� unfortunately feels all-too-easily discardable when it suddenly comes to a close, lacking even a final chord to fade out on. Like Ronald McDonald�s honeycomb-studded McFlurries, this provides a few moments of pure delight for the sweet-toothed among us, but ultimately fails to fill the hole in our bellies.

Dan Coxon

Kasabian

Me Plus One

�Shoot the Runner� proved that Kasabian could revive glam rock, but �Me Plus One� reveals a more subtle, brooding nature. Due in no small part to Serge Pizzorno’s engaging vocal, this is a wonderfully harmonious dance-rock classic that should see them established as the most refreshing, original, exciting band in Britain. It ebbs and flows so effortlessly, dragging you into its tranquil world. This is music more inventive and stylish than their compatriots Oasis at their peak. Quite simply, a band that may soon be found in the high echelons of musical greatness.

Paul MacDonald

The KBC

Test The Water

Mashing early 90’s psychadelia with a Doves-indebted Madchester groove, The KBC manage to sound completely fresh even though �Test The Water� sounds as though it could easily have crash-landed on your I-pod (or shall we say tape player) ten years ago. Getting Bjork producer Damian Taylor on board also hasn�t harmed them any, as �Test The Water� sounds as though it�s ready to soar off your hi-fi and straight into your nearest indie-disco dancefloor. Pretty shit name though.

Clarke Geddes