“Have you seen the new A$AP Rocky video?” she asked.

The video for Wassup is directed by Vice.  Apparently A$AP is their hottest property.  We can’t tell if they’re being ironic or whether they truly believe this shit is cool.  The video features some well-mined hip-hop tropes.  ‘Bitches’ lezzing it up in the shower, a young man sitting in a pentangle made of a white powder, Hennessey in the bathtub, counting Benjamins, smoking purple and it’s all set against the backdrop of hipsta’s paradise Williamsburgh.

The themes piss me off – sexist, consumerist, puerile – but I can’t fight the melody and I’m hooked on A$AP’s undeniable lyrical prowess. Why does most hip-hop sound so good musically but lyrically and visually leave such a bad taste in my mouth?  I want a rapper who I can identify with. Someone who sounds good and addresses themes I’m interested in. A rapper who thinks that women exist for more than just shaking their booties.

The young female MCs Azealia Banks, Nicky Minaj and Kreayshawn pique my interest for a moment until I realize that it’s all verbosity.  It lacks substance.  They’re just rapping about what ‘top class bitches’ they are and how much better they are than all the other ‘bitches’.  They may be woman rapping as well as men but they don’t transcend the guidelines laid out by men.

Then on Sunday night something happens.  I stumble on MIA’s new video Bad Girls.  I watch it six times in a row.  Prior to Sunday night I only had a vague awareness of MIA but after watching the video I am completely enthralled by her.

The video features Saudi women wearing lipstick and driving cars in the desert.  In Saudi Arabia women are banned from driving and they face corporal punishment if they are caught doing so.

Lyrically Bad Girls is not treading anywhere new, Live fast, die young, bad girls do it well goes the refrain but paired with the imagery you have one of the most powerful music videos I have seen in a long time.  MIA has not chosen western ideas of transgression to portray her bad girls. She has chosen driving, an act which is no big deal to us western girls, to highlight the ridiculous way in which women can be classed as bad girls simply by doing what the men do.

When women speak out they get vilified.  Emin gets vilified, Greer gets vilified.  How long until MIA gets vilified?

Later that night MIA appears on the Superbowl.  I don’t watch it but in the morning I hear that she’s given the finger to camera.  Of course, she gets internationally vilified.  Pitchfork writes a huffy news story. Tim Winter, head of The Parents Television Council says, “MIA used a finger shamelessly to bring attention to herself, effectively telling an audience filled with children, ‘f*** you.’”

Maybe she was shamelessly bringing attention to the fact that we still live in a society where there is one rule for the girls and one rule for the boys.  Luckily there are still people dumb enough to rise to the bait.

Arabrot are a revelation.  For someone who does not profess to know much about the genre known as necromantic I managed to find lots of points of reference which simultaneously rendered Arabrot new and exciting and reassuringly familiar.  Arabrot’s latest album Solar Anus is produced by Steve Albini so it’s no surprise that you can hear shades of Shellac. What did surprise me was that I could hear a splash Tom Waits in frontman Kjetil Nernes’s delivery.  Their bassist was mesmerising, with his convincing rock stance and flowing locks he conjured up memories of Metallica bassist Cliff Burton.

In marrying the stark isolation of black metal with the comfort of the familiar, Arabrot are as brilliant as they are brutal. AB

I like it when a 7″ is clearly a labour of love.  Trash Aesthetics have put out a lovely little record with some pretty artwork and a couple of sweet tunes.  Little Joanne by Dalston band My Sad Captains is a perfect autumnal melancholic number with top harmonies and shades of Big Star and Teenage Fanclub.  While H.Hawkline’s You Say You Love Me sounds like folk legends Nick Drake or Donovan singing a twee Belle & Sebastian number.

If you’re a fan of jangly, melancholic, indie-pop you should definitely these guys out.  They are launching the 7″ at top Dalston gig venue The Servants Jazz Quarters on Friday.  AB

https://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=161473913934956

When I was a teenager I remember a friend of my mum’s telling me,

“I could never wear a mini-skirt again.  I wore one in the sixties.  You should never wear anything you remember wearing the first time around.”

Old Forest make me feel like an old bird in a mini skirt.  I love wearing it, it reminds me of  my youth but I know I probably look a bit silly.

The members of Old Forest weren’t even born when Nevermind was released.

I’ve been listening to the track Moe on repeat this morning and I’ve got to say that I can’t get enough of the infectious melodies and delicious discord.

Old Forest -Moe

Old Forest are what would happen if The Melvins and Dinosaur Jr got it on in the nineties and had a lovechild.  They’ve got those heavy Melvins metal riffs but they’re offset with Dinosaur Jr’s melodic discord.

They’re releasing a cassette on Italian Beach Babes Records.  You can order it here.  If you’re old like me you might even have something to play it on.   AB

Well, if you not quite ready to trade in your leather and eyeliner for a nice tailored suit, then Swedish band Pen Expers are for you.   Dirty Tender Love kicks off with Ghost Train a haunting ballad melding Waits-esque piano with woozy guitars and mournful vocals.  While in Drink To Me, Victoria Lee a man gives his dying wishes in spiralling Spaghetti Western style.  Iwannadoher rolls into Suicide territory and is somewhere in between Ghostrider and a more brutal interpretation of Girl.  

Pen Expers frontman Alexander Arvman is gifted with the same oratory skills as Waits and Cave.  He artfully spins out each song into a blood curdling tale.  Although the similarities between him and his influences are plentiful, the blues is something that can not be faked or emulated and Arvman sings straight from the gut.

Pen Expers are the sum of their influences.  They may not take you anywhere new.  They may well take you somewhere you don’t want to go.  Wherever they take you, you can be sure it will sound pretty damn good.

You can check out Dirty Tender Love here    AB

Expect to hear The Microdance burning up the dancefloor at an indie disco near you soon.  AB

The Microdance – We Are Made of Evil Things

The Microdance – Fucking Fucker

You can download the EP here

What better way to mark the twentieth anniversary of Nevermind than with a kickass Nirvana tribute band, Melvana.  Yep it’s hard to do Kurt justice but these guys did a pretty good job.

Throwing Up kept it well nineties with covers of Offspring, Foo Fighters and best of all Hole!

I send out my sincere apologies to the DJs for being a drunken requests dick.    AB

All photos © Amanda Barokh

‘Jeez, what’s all the fuss about?   They look about twelve and they’re dressed like Oasis.’

Their baby faces and their coy down-turned eyes lead me to suspect that they will not be able to pull off an engaging live performance.  So I prepare myself for half an hour of turgid adolescent guitar wanking.

But didn’t George Michael once instruct us to listen without prejudice?   I should have heeded his advice.

Within in minutes of taking to the stage Iceage create chaos in the two-man moshpit.  They may not sound like Oasis but they do have something in common with a young Liam and Noel.  Swagger, bravado and testosterone.  That raw sexual energy that is the essence of rock n roll.

Musically their dark and austere sound is more akin to Joy Division, Wire or Hex Enduction Hour era Fall.

Endless comparisons are bound to be drawn between Iceage frontman Elias Bender Ronnenfelt and Ian Curtis. Like Curtis, Ronnenfelt is both mesmerizing and terrifying.  He strides zombie-like into the crowd.  His detached state only serves to highlight the chaos all around him.  In the midst of noise and the anarchy Ronnenfelt elbows me in the nose.  He feels the impact but he doesn’t even look back.  The man behind me is horrified but I am strangely exhilarated.

Iceage are nose-bleedingly good.  AB

All photos © Amanda Barokh

From the moment I walked into the packed out little room I could feel a surge of the kind of energy that I haven’t felt at a gig for a while.  Excitement, awe, expectation.

I always feel a bit of trepidation before I see someone legendary perform.  Are they going to disappoint me?  Are they going to be past their peak?

Keith Morris is looking a little wizened and there’s a bald patch in his trademark dreadlocks but from the moment he looks out into the crowd I know I have nothing to fear.  He’s got a stage presence that’s enthralling.  He’s got an energy that’s intense.  He’s got thirty years of rocking a hardcore audience under his belt.

Some ungrateful heckler yells,

‘Play a squat party!’  as if playing a free gig isn’t enough.  Morris cuts him down to size pretty sharp.  He’s got the witty in-between song repartee down to an art form.

My pal says to me afterwards,

‘I think he talked a little to much.’

Au contraire, my friend.

He talks just the right amount.  He reminds me of a club DJ.  Building it up and letting it drop.  He knows exactly how to work the crowd.

He’s sporting a Gun Club t-shirt.  He tells a story about boozing with his best friend, the now deceased Gun Club frontman, Jeffrey Lee Pierce and with Nick Cave in Shepherd’s Bush, before launching into the song Jeffrey Lee Pierce. What I love about Morris is his genuine passion and sincerity.  He won’t let his friend’s music die and I’m glad there’s someone out there preachin’ the blues because The Gun Club are the best.

OFF!’s songs are short and sharp and full of power.  Like all the best gigs there’s crowd surfing and sweating and yelling (I wake up the next morning with a bruise on my chin).  There’s also a fuckload of photographers, all probably taking better photos than mine but fuck it, here they are: