So this is what happens when you give a bunch of douchebags VIP tickets to Primavera with a free bar all weekend. Id tell you about the bands, sunshine, fun etc but i think it would just be rubbing salt in the wounds of those who missed out on the festival event of the summer so far. So here are some pictures that explain themselves. Viva la Barcelona!

This Thursday night Red Bull host the collaborative art stream, ProjectRoom – a unique collaborative live art event featuring the cream of today’s street artists : Remi/Rough, Jaybo and Juice 126. The three artists will create three individual artworks in front of live crowd on the night and then go on to work on each others work to produce nine artworks across the night. Remi/Rough and Jaybo have collaborated in a similar way before and the results from the night can be seen here to give you an idea of what to expect:

As well as creating some fresh, new artwork on the night the artists also produce an exclusive soundtrack for the evening too.

Expect a full review next week!

Let’s get this established from the off: This is bloody great. Any album that kicks-off with a tune that causes its reviewer to emit a camp ‘ooooh’ like a startled hairdresser is definitely off to a winner. ‘Lightwerk’ sets the tone of Lost Idol’s second long-player ‘Brave The Elements’ quite magnificently and serves as a confident statement of intent for what follows. Brimming with ideas and atmosphere, the latest release by James Dean on Cookshop Records is as sharply executed as many of the finer releases on Warp or Ninja and one hopes it’ll gain enough listeners to reflect this. The opener aside, highlights include the single ‘A Sorrowful Thing’ and the beautiful ‘Peace For Joseph’, a fatherly tribute to the most recent addition to the Cookshop family. Reflecting Dean’s love for Electronica, Ambient, Krautrock and Cinematic soundscapes, ‘Brave The Elements’ comfortably melds genres into what is often a rarity nowadays; a very  pleasurable album experience from start to finish.

Download Album from Bandcamp

By now you’ve probably heard that the founder of the legendary Gangstarr suffered a heart attack last week. The good news is that after surgery on Monday he’s back on the mend. At this stage little other news is available other than an unnamed source being quoted as saying “Guru is alive and recovering from his surgery. Doctors are expecting a full recovery luckily.” However, the internet being what it is there’s plenty of misinformation doing the rounds, with MTV.com flying the flag of poor research at full mast, attributing quotes to people who may have said bugger all on the issue. Good work guys. Maybe have your work experience bods stick to bagel-fetching in future…

Most recently Guru has been working with producer Solar and Beatmag were fortunate enough to catch up with the duo last year. However for fans of his earlier work with Gangstarr, a tidy ‘Get Well Soon’ mix by DJ Wonder has been doing the rounds and will serve as a reminder as to why the man is held in such high regard by so many of us.

Download – DJ Wonder – Get Well Soon (The Guru Respect Mix)

Yordan Orchestra

Psych Introduxeon: Bringing Ingredients Together (Megatier Productions)

So. Beatmag has been away for a half a year and now we return looking very different but let’s not fuss, eh, let’s just review an album of bizarre psychedelica, instead, to get our hand back in. ‘Psych Introduxeon’ arrived at Beatmag Mansions with no info but a snapshot of a sallow pallid dude with sunken stoned eyes. This, we must presume, is Jack Aleister, leader of Yordan Orchestra, a latterday prog-psychedelic outfit from Holland whose concerts are sprawling happenings, heavy with the whiff of a druggier bygone age. Taking their cue from the Polyphonic Spree, who they’ve supported in concert, Yordan Orchestra hurl a mass of instruments into their melodramatic head music. The album has traditional rock leanings, but then the brass and cellos join in for a streak of howling ballads redolent of both Arthur Lee’s Love (for their musical ambition) and early Robyn Hitchcock (for their wilful but tuneful oddness). Like a baroque, burlesque and grungier version of early ’70s Pink Floyd, Yordan Orchestra wear their lysergic attitude loudly  – announcing they have “mushrooms to try” on ‘Faced You In A Neon Light’  – but retain a core of approachable, melodic musical experimentalism that certain media-celebrated British bands would do well to emulate.

Thomas H Green

Hellfest is more than just another summer festival; it is an apocalyptic heavy metal experience that makes you feel like you have entered the thunderdome from Mad Max.  Wondering around the dust and rock strewn main arena you encounter oiled up Fuel Girls, forests of perfectly groomed mullets, rusty flaming towers, stunt motorbikes in spherical cages, giants, midgets, and whole lotta growling. Hellfest is one of the worlds most revered metal festivals, taking place in the idyllic of Clisson in western France, and 2 weeks ago i had my first taste of hell. And it tasted meaty!

The first thing you notice about Hellfest is the sense of camaraderie. Unlike festivals that have a wide range of music genres, Hellfest brings together like minds from all over the world, united as outcasts in the real world but brothers (and a few sisters) in arms in this world. Rarely a time went by without hearing a gut wrenching roar from someone, promptly followed by response roars from people all around you. In fact, on the friday night a ‘mexican’ roar started on the campsite and seemed to echo from tent to tent well into Saturday morning.

There is of course a wide range of sub genres to metal, and Hellfest goes all out to represent the whole picture. The line up for this year illustrated this, featuring, for the stadium rockers, WASP, Motley Crue & Girlschool. Anthrax and Slayer took up the reigns for the 80’s thrash heads. The Doom plaudits went out to Electric Wizard and Orange Goblin, plus Sludgecore from Eyehategod. And for the younger revellers, there was Cardle of Filth and Saturdays headliner, Marilyn Manson. Also on the bill were Europe (looking scarily young!), Cathedral, Grand Magus, Machine Head, Gama Bomb, and to close the festival, Manowar. Plus a whole heap more.

The first band i saw, having arrived pretty late on the friday, was Motley Crue. I think it may have been unfortunate introduction to Hellfest though, as they were shambolic to say the least, and imbued with an arrogance still strong since their heyday. Particularly cringe-worthy was when Tommy Lee was called from his drums to the front of the stage to greet the fans. Either he wasn’t prepared for this or was so wasted that he couldn’t string anything coherent to say together. But hey, i was pretty tired from driving for 8 hours and was probably being slightly harsh. And who can help but get pumped to ‘Girls Girls Girls’!

There are 3 ways to get your food hit at Hellfest. Either at the stalls in the arena (only for hardcore meat lovers), from the local Supermarche, or from the lone MacDonalds restaurant located behind the car parking. The MacDonalds proved to be the most popular choice and from open to close it was a buzzing next of metal heads demanding big macs and the use of a clean toilet. The staff were very accommodating though, and by Sunday had procured some metal cd’s which they were playing through the sound system at full blast. In fact the whole town seemed to give in to the swathe of  black shirts and skintight jeans, and there was a general air of acceptance. After all, there is serious money to be made from a festival crowd who need to eat, drink and smoke lots of cigarettes.

The first thing you saw when you walked into the main arena was the Monster sponsored stunt ball. You got to watch dudes on motorbikes driving around the inside of the sphere while half naked chicks climbed all over the outside of it. For some it was the ultimate wet dream and they could be seen glued to the same spot, day and night. That is, of course, when they weren’t in the chick wrestling tent.

Grand Magus – Rock Hard Stage

We left on monday morning, battered and bruised, in body and mind. But with a constant feeling of inner glee and fire in the pits of our darkened souls. And smelling of lobster. And we chased a battered white van that had 666 in the number plate and a Slayer logo on the bonnet. Maybe it actually was Slayer? Id like to think so….

Beatmag webmaster, boozehound & questionable disc-jockey, Tim Gomersall, takes us through a night playing alongside the big boys (and girls) in London town…

Firstly, a confession. By the end of this gig I was rather plastered. In fact, I was so inebriated that the fact that i actually saw the last band only came back to me a few days later. Anyhow, I will try my best to fill in the blanks, and provide a balanced review of the night. And if there are any glaring holes in my memory, then I will fill them up with sparkles of imagination.

‘This Is Music’ manage to pull of some pretty special line-ups, and this was far from the exception to the rule. Originally billed as a ‘Secret Headliner’ gig, the info that Felix from Basement Jaxx was playing was released only 5 days before the night. And judging by the massive one-in-one-out queue, that was growing rapidly by 10pm, word had spread pretty fast. Also on the line-up were dj’s Firas, Flexmaster Nylon (that’s me by the way), and Gabriel from Metronomy. And on the live stage were electro-pop-rockers, Crystal Fighters and all-girl hip hop crew, Yo Majesty.

Crystal Fighters were the first live band on, and they lit up the stage with a barrage of high energy electro pop. The lead singer leapt around and bawled out lyrics with Jim Morrison-esque vivacity, while 2 guys pumped out the sounds from what appeared to be suitcases full of bleeps and lasers. I know from experience that taking an electronic band to the stage can be a difficult task. When you don’t have a drum kit and conventional instruments, then it takes some innovation and stage presence to rock a crowd, but Crystal Fighters did this with ease, and roused up a storm with a lively sweaty show.

It was probable that the majority of the crowd had come along to see the secret headliner dj, Felix of Basement Jaxx. This was apparent from the torrent of fans wanting to shake his hand and show some love. I’ll add at this point that my memories start to get a little fuzzy. I’m pretty sure somebody spiked my healthy glass of cranberry juice with a large plop of vodka and being an ardent non-drinker (hic) this sent me a little sideways. I got a little obsessed with Felix’s jacket that looked furry, but wasn’t. It was amazing. But stroking a celebrity when you have just met them surely isn’t the ‘done’ thing, so lets pretend I made that bit up from my imaginary memories. Oh yeah, the music. Ive not been to a ‘Rooty’ night before (that is Basement Jaxx’s’ club night), or seen them dj, but I’d heard that they put on a mean party. Unlike Basement Jaxx’s own music, Felix played a less commercial set of electro and dubstep. I think. I cant really remember too well. But I remember hearing some amazing tunes and a dj maestro at work. He seamlessly threaded tracks together and relentlessly kept the dancers on their toes.

Now, the Yo Majesty set really is a little on the hazy side of my recollection. I’m pretty sure one of them had their tits out. I know it sounds like I’m making this bit up, but no, really. She did. I’ve asked one of the promoters since, and it turns out it’s part of their stage show. Yo Majesty are a scary band. They are aggressive, loud and make you feel slightly on edge. But I get the impression that this is part of their feminist stance. They are all openly lesbian, and their lyrics and stage show depicts an antagonism towards conventional male hip hop sensibilities. They talk about girls in the same way male chauvinistic hip hop might, but from the point of view of a girl. It may be a little uncomfortable to listen to, but then that’s what hip hop is about, challenging popular view and exposing the wrongs of our society. These girls are hard, like public enemy, and their heavy electro hip hop sound made the place feel like a block party.

After this, I have very small nuggets of memory left to write from. I don’t remember leaving. I don’t remember if anyone else played afterwards (I presume Gabriel from Metronomy did). And I don’t remember how I got home. But I do remember the police arresting a guy that I’d befriended on the street, and who was trying to steal my record bag…

by Tim Gomersall

50 Cent: Blood On The Sand (Xbox 360, PS3)

Nah, I don’t give a FUCK, if this game be old as dirt! I couldn’t just let my nigga Fiddy drop some new game knowledge without spittin’ ‘bout that shit, yo! My nigga done it again, yo! He’s a prophet and an ambassador for the world, and shit…. And this game proves it! See some Arab bitch done stole Fiddy’s jewel-incrusted Human Skull (I hate when that shit happens!) and now Fif, and G-Unit (remember them niggas? Nah, me neither) are gonna go put a cap in his punk ass, and get it back by blasting every motherfucker in the Middle East into rubble, ya heard!?? They got the big burners, and they be shouting shit like “Fuck yeah!” and “G-g-g-g-unit, Nigga” while they shoot through schools and old people’s homes to get that fuckin’ skull back! You thought now that we got Obama in the White House that niggas were gonna change up and get on some righteous shit?? Hells to the no, son. Fif is gone keep shit as ignorant, as the last 8 years. BRUP BRUP BRUP!!!

Streetfighter IV (Xbox 360, PC, PS3, Wii)

You know how when you were a kid you’d somehow be kicked in the nuts like every week, or something? A normal day could start with your nuts not even under threat at all, just hanging low and all relaxed, then something would kick off and you’d get a swift kick in the goollies by some girl, or someone might just graze your nuts by mistake with their fist? The result was always the same: Pain! Well, now that your older, can you remember the last time you were kicked in the nuts? Nah, didn’t think so, that just doesn’t happen as you get older, does it? WELL, IT DOES WHEN YOU BUY THIS GAME!! You’ll feel like someone just Bruce Lee’d your balls, as you try to control the ugly looking characters, you’ll feel like Ronaldo just took a free kick with your family jewels, as you keep getting whipped, and you’ll feel like MC Hammer did his big trouser dance on your peanuts after you realise you just paid £40 for this shit! Save yourself the pain, don’t even go there, watch the film again instead… it’s less painful.

Afro Samurai (Xbox 360, PS3)

Bet you didn’t now this show was based on a true story, right? No? Well it’s true, every word of it. Verily, there was an African-American Samurai in feudal Japan many, many years ago, and lo did he kick much of the ass, and legend did tell that he sounded much like modern day journeyman actor and “Coolest Motherfucker on the planet” Samuel L. Jackson. All this is true, for it was written in the good books of Japanese history and made into an Anime TV series where my man Afro did relieve many mother-fornicators of their heads and their limbs with his mighty blade. All set to the classical music of the The RZA from the esteemed singers-of-song, The Wu-Tang Clan. And so it came to pass that a game of said Afro Samurai was created and it did kick much posterior, and further it allowed you to chop many heads off and relive this important moment in history as fountains of blood did fly skyward from the severed arms of your enemies. And lo it was good.

The Chronicles Of Riddick: Assault On Dark Athena (PS3, Xbox 360)

One night I dreamed that I was Vin Deisel, I was cool as a motherfuckin’ cucumber, and I was like playing Riddick in Pitch Black. Except I wasn’t acting and shit, nah I WAS Riddick, ok? I was all “Did not know who he was fuckin’ with”, and “Don’t you cry for Johns, don’t you dare.” And “I’m a bad ass, all bald and musclebound, ok?” but it wasn’t a dream, it was all a beautiful true thing. I was Riddick, I really did carry around some cool ass knives and guns that I could kill anyone fool enough to get in my way ! I escaped from prisons, flew spaceships, and killed everyone who looked at me funny. And I could see in the dark with my cool silver eyes… And then I woke up in the real world, in hospital after walking out in front of a bus at 4am in the morning in the dark. Oh well, it was a good dream, while it lasted.

Games for review should be sent to Khalid at P.O. Box 3365, Brighton, East Sussex, BN1 1WQ

The freshest forgotten albums of yesteryear. Not the usual fawned over suspects but albums that ‘net-trawlers and second hand record shop aficionados may come across and should snap up now.

Neil Gardner Recommends:
Chrome
Red Exposure
(Beggars Banquet) 1980

“I am anti-fade and I can’t go away” Chrome -’Eyes On Mars’

When independent label Beggars Banquet were looking to capitalise on the huge success of Gary Numan at the cusp of the Eighties, their attention switched to a strange duo from San Francisco with an obsession with the darker aspects of science fiction.

No doubt Beggars were hoping for an American version of Tubeway Army, a band who could take troubling subjects, give them an offbeat but commercial twist, and turn them into a major cash-generating machine.

What they got was something rather different.

Formed in 1976 by vocalist/drummer Damon Edge and Gary Spain, Chrome’s debut album, ‘The Visitation’, a relatively straightforward take on Latino-tinged electronic rock (‘Eno meets Santana”) gave little warning of the aural carnage to come and it wasn’t until the arrival of maverick guitarist Helios Creed, and Spain’s departure in 1977 that things started to change for the weird.

The notoriously eccentric Creed nearly blew his chances with the band, allegedly irking Edge by turning up to their first meeting dressed as a pirate, but his influence on Chrome was immediate. His abrasive guitar sound coupled with Edge’s demented tape manipulation and powerful drumming gave their next two albums – ‘Alien Soundtracks’ and ‘Half Machine Lip Moves’ – a deliriously wild, chaotic quality, pitched somewhere between Suicide and The Stooges.

Chrome purists invariably gravitate towards those records’ primitive dark psychedelics – Julian Cope memorably referred to ‘Lip Moves’ as ”Turkish robots playing Hawkwind“, but the general view appears to be that their difficult fourth album was where the duo compromised their sound, initiating an inevitable decline.

Yet, even a cursory listen would suggest that was nonsense, as ‘Red Exposure’ is, if anything, equally as wacked out and individual as its predecessors.

Taking a much more electronic approach, it isn’t so much produced (by the band themselves with the wonderfully named John L Cyborg who received a credit despite actually being the drum machine) as submerged. Its dense and cluttered sound, described by one critic as “so murky and bizarre that basically EVERYTHING sounds like it’s in the background”, provided the soundtrack to a gloomy Philip K Dickian future, where horror roamed at the corner of the eye and unspeakable things scuttled in the gutter.

As well as playing with a bewildering array of tape machines, oscillators and delays, the duo share vocal duties throughout – Creed opting for more traditional rock yelp, while Edge remains buried under waves of effects, veering from ominous whisper to malfunctioning robot.

The diseased synth introduction to opener ‘New Age’, an unlikely choice as a single, sets the tone by not so much fading in as seeping out of the speakers like poison gas, while Edge wails menacingly through waves of static over squelchy percussion and a clanking riff.

Even more upfront tunes like ‘Static Gravity’ teeter on the cusp of madness, with a crunching cyclical riff underpinned by a woozy orchestral sample, while ‘Eyes In the Center’ delivers a particularly nasty synth line over cavernous mine-shaft drums, portentous bells and shards of feedback, that explode like firecrackers.

Elsewhere, the menacing ‘Jonestown’ with it’s distorted vocals and piercing bowed guitar line is a close cousin to the harsh industrial tones of Cabaret Voltaire’s ‘Mix Up’, ‘Eyes on Mars’ is a delirious phasers-on-stun frug powered by some fierce tribal drumming, while the stentorian march of ‘Animal’ is enlivened by Creed’s deranged soloing.

Despite the album’s otherworldly qualities, flashes of beauty do occasionally rise out of the murk – the ghostly bleak ambience of instrumental ‘Room 101’ and the spooked piano of ‘Night of the Earth’ in particular.

There was even a cursory attempt at pop with the mutant Devo-esque ‘Electric Chair’, although inevitably it came out all wrong. Only Chrome would attempt to write a catchy song about an execution and although an increasingly hysterical Creed gleefully yelling “I know you want to fry!” over a gloopy guitar riff is oddly catchy, it was hardly Top of the Pops material either.

The deep, droning ‘Isolation’ was a suitably grim closer – with Edge’s repeated plaintive cry of ‘I’m so isolated’ proving to be sadly prescient.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, ‘Red Exposure’ didn’t exactly find favour with the UK music press – the NME dismissed it as “fine for those moods where you want to contemplate life in a toxic atmosphere, like a slave mine on Alpha Centauri, or after the bomb” – and that was one of the kinder reviews.

However, British youth ignored its pioneering use of backwards masking, cut-ups and electronics too, in favour of the more palatable dystopian visions of Numan and Ultravox.

Subsequently dropped by Beggars, Creed and Edge went on to record two more albums together, adding a rhythm section (the great Hilary and John Stench) for the punkish guitar-driven ‘Blood on the Moon’ and the gnarled metallic ‘3rd from the Sun’ before a somewhat acrimonious split in 1982.

Unfortunately, the Chrome story doesn’t have a happy ending. Edge attempted to keep the name alive, relocating to Europe and recording a series of albums that removed Creed’s more extravagant, experimental flourishes and appeared to appeal only to French teenage Cure fans with noticeably diminishing returns.

Depressed by lack of recognition and the break-up of his marriage, Edge eventually became an alcoholic recluse in Los Angeles, ballooning to over 300 pounds and dying of heart failure in 1995. His body lay undiscovered for over 30 days, a bitter reminder of how far Chrome had fallen from the public’s consciousness.

Meanwhile, Creed who had made several well received albums of fried psychedelia under his own steam, including the excellent ‘X-rated Fairy Tales’ in the Eighties, reclaimed the name and has recorded and toured as Chrome once again – most recently with 2008’s occasionally brilliant ‘Retro Transmission’.

Despite their lasting influence, heard in bands as varied as the Butthole Surfers, Skinny Puppy and Prong, Chrome have been rather ill-served by the nostalgia industry, with sporadic re-issues of their material, often in limited quantities. ‘Red Exposure’ itself was given a rather shoddy repackage (even printing the wrong title on the CD spine) by Cleopatra Records last year.

But at least it is now available and, 29 years after its difficult birth, it deserves a higher place in the Chrome canon – a mesmerisingly haunted creeped-out classic that remains determinedly out of its tiny mind and gloriously out of time.

Jack Penate

Everything Is New (XL)

Yes, in an event as unlikely as Phil Collins cutting a dubstep album with The Bug, Jack Penate is Beatmag’s Album Of The Issue. Previously pegged as yet another tedious singer-songwriter, indie-lite model – which indeed he was – he now completely turns the tables on any such criticism. Joining forces with dance producer Paul ‘Phones’ Epworth he popped up at the beginning of the year on an XL compilation with a song called ‘Tonight’s Today’ that sounded absolutely nothing like anything he’d done before, an Afro-flavoured pop romp that reeked of joy and sunshine. Brilliantly, the pair have made an album to match, spraying flecks of African guitar and percussion onto euphoric indie songwriting. It’s original, it’s fun and it’s a feat. If he can do this live, Penate may prove an unexpected highlight of 2009.

www.myspace.com/jackpenate (be careful, though, one of his crappy old songs comes on and you can’t turn it off)

Willie Isz

Georgiavania (LEX)

It’s clear from the start of their debut album that Willie Isz are bringing a much-needed something new to hip hop, but it’s not until a deranged fiddle-led Irish jig called ‘The Grussle’ that you realize quite how far off the rails they’re prepared to go. With the avowed intent to combine crunk’s energy with psychedelic rock attitude, Willie Isz consist of Atlanta MC, Outkast associate Khujo and producer-singer Jneiro Jarel (AKA Dr Who Dat? and Shape Of Broad Minds). Their album, much of which features live instrumentation, has a bawdy pop power that stays away from lyrical cliché and deserves to crossover, like Gnarls Berkley, if they took rock rather than funk as their template. Mind you, it’s still funky as Hell.

www.myspace.com/willieisz

Moby

Wait For Me (Little Idiot)

Moby has done allsorts over the years. He became rich by accident when he famously attached old blues acapellas to electronica and beats on ‘Play’. It was hardly a recipe for immediate success. Previously he’d messed up his dance music career with a dismal punk album. Moby does what he feels is interesting. Last year that meant an album honoring the sound of disco and early house (‘Last Night’). This year, on his own label, he’s in a mordant mood and, together with singing female New York pals, he returns with an elegiac album of strings and tuneful downtempo numbers, all delivered with stripped down yet opulent production. It doesn’t sound a winning formula, as ever, but, despite a few too many filler instrumentals, it works admirably.

www.myspace.com/moby

Malcolm Middleton

Waxing Gibbous (Full Time Hobby)

The Scottish songwriter and former member of Arab Strap claims this, his fifth album, will be his last for a while as he’s said all he wants to say for the moment. This isn’t good news as Middleton is one of Britain’s premier songwriters and his quality threshold rarely drops. ‘Waxing Gibbous’ opens with a couple of numbers that are musically slightly naff but his lyrics never quit and, in any case, once you’re passed those two it’s all gold. Middleton majors in songs of love and humanity that are firmly grounded in messy modern reality. Poignancy and loss are never far away and any album with a tune on it called ‘The Ballad Of Fuck All’ is surely worth a listen.

www.myspace.com/malcolmmiddleton

Silicone Soul

Silicone Soul (Soma)

A little known fact is that two of the greatest electronic albums EVER are ‘Staring Into Space’ (2005) and ‘Save Our Souls’ (2006) by Glasgow duo Silicone Soul, both beautiful, warm, groove-laden masterpieces that emanate everything good about house music. The trouble with that kind of achievement is that comparisons can forever be made. Their first album since is less soulful, lying somewhere between Berlin minimal techno and sadly now defunct Eukahouse acts such as Get Fucked, G-Pal and Smart Alex. It’s very good, especially the sampledelic ‘David Vincent’s Blues’, but perhaps doesn’t quite match the drive and personality of their classics. Never mind that though, it still beats most of the current competition.

www.myspace.com/4siliconesoul

Homecut

No Freedom Without Sacrifice (First Word)

Jazzual hip hop is very much an acquired taste, often disappearing up its own fundament in a welter of musical technique and yawn-inducing supper club smoothness. Sometimes, however, someone as classy as Homecut appears. Sure the mellow finger-clickin’ grooves, midnight muted trumpets and flute flourishes are intact but this young dude from Leeds, otherwise known as Testament, weaves it all into a mellow engaging whole. While it’s certainly coffee-table friendly (it even has Corinne Bailey Rae on one song) his style, somewhere between Roots Manuva and Soweto Kinch (who also features), is sufficiently bright and engaging to draw appreciation from all quarters.

www.myspace.com/homecut

We Fell To Earth

We Fell To Earth (In Stereo)

For those who like the idea of Krautrock but always found it a bit relentless, Richard File, once of U.N.K.L.E., and American singer Wendy Rae Fowler, arrive with We Fell To Earth. They take the hypnotic drones and rhythms of European space-rock, sprinkle it with electronic pulses and bleeps, then gently mutate it into sweet, mellow cosmic pop music. It veers towards the melancholic but is carried by a wistful sweetness and late night ambience that bears comparison to Portishead or Massive Attack.

www.myspace.com/wefelltoearth

Motor

Metal Machine (Shitkatapult)

The third album from Parisian doom-dancefloor duo Mr No and Bryan Black lays off their more industrial rock tendencies in favour of fierce gnarly techno. Appearing on T.Raumschmiere’s Shitkatapult label from Berlin, the nine tracks hammer home a viscerally hard club sound, jammed with waves of angrily humming machinery-in-meltdown effects. Far from Saturday night high street dancefloors, this one has steel in its blood, and the completely OTT ‘Death Rave’ will send fluff-merchants scurrying for their bolt-holes, quivering terrified beside their racks of David Guetta mix CDs.

www.myspace.com/motor66

Bachelorette

My Electric Family (Drag City)

Annabel Alpers may be based in New Zealand but I suspect that rather than surfing or country hikes, she spends all her time locked away with her collection of cheap synthesizers (possibly the electric family of the title) which she mingles with more conventional instruments, all played by herself. Her second album is a cheery collection that bridges the gap between synth-pop and the Beach Boys. Admittedly she’s nowhere near in the league of the latter in their ‘60s prime but her multi-layered sweetly harmonic songs have a charm that’s well worth checking out.

www.myspace.com/bachelorettepop

Terefe Whitecross

From Here To Helsinki (Kensaltown)

Back at the tail end of the original electro-pop boom, a time La Roux and Little Boots dream of, Nick Whitecross was singer with Kissing The Pink whose ‘The Last Film’ was a minor hit in 1983. Thirteen years later, he created an album with Martin Terefe (now best known for producing singer-songwriter bores such as James Morrison and Jason Mraz). Thirteen years after that the pair are back with a follow-up (although, to confuse things, it was apparently recorded six years ago). The wait has paid off. Terefe Whitecross muster juicy contagious synth-pop such as the ace ‘Jesus Was A Hippie’ or the mellow ‘The Collector’ with it’s haunting whistled riff, but even when they pull out their acoustic guitars, it’s all fairly witty and enjoyable.

www.myspace.com/terefewhitecross

OLDIES/REISSUES

Rodriguez

Coming From Reality (Light In The Attic)

A Mexican-American based in Detroit, Sixto Rodriguez recorded in the late ‘60s and early ‘70s but no one paid him any mind and by the early ‘70s he had to give up and get a ‘proper’ job. He sounds a bit like ‘Season Of The Witch’-era Donovan and, in an unlikely turn of events, over time his music became hugely popular in South Africa, eventually growing into a global cult that came into focus last year when his debut album ‘Cold Fact’ was re-released to acclaim. ‘Coming From Reality’ was his last album, made in London in 1971, and it’s a vibrant mixture of Dylan-esque poetics, electric and acoustic guitar action, and palatably kitsch forays into stringed up easy listening pop. While of its time – a time of hippies – ‘Coming From Reality’ is so approachable and vibrant it’s hard to believe no-one cared a jot when it first appeared.

www.myspace.com/sixtorodriguezzz

COMPILATIONS

Disco Kosmische Volume 1 (People In The Sky)

Jerry Dickens was once better known as Red Jerry. His Hooj Choons stable fronted an armada of top notch techno, trance and (quality) prog-house from the mid-‘90s to the early ‘00s. Dickens had golden A&R ears, a cracking attitude and the hedonic spirit to match. Then he disappeared. Happily, he eventually came back with People In The Sky, a new label, original home of Friendly Fires and current home to Wax Stag and Plugs. Where he’s at on this selection is an extremely tasty melding of psyche-disco grooves, techno throb and indie-funk. ‘Disko Kosmische’ ranges from heavy ‘80s Italo-disco to remixes by Optimo Espacio and Hercules & Love Affair, from Chaz Jankel to They Came From The Stars I Saw Them. Underground, edgy and original, it’s a thoroughly welcome listen.

www.myspace.com/peopleinthesky1

Albums for review should be sent to…

Thomas H Green, Beatmag, PO Box 4653, Worthing BN11 9FG

Beatmag Album of the Issue