The Singles Jukebox
Tipping Cows in Fields Elysian



the World Cup's kicked off, so in traditional Stylus fashion it's time to try and pretend those football tie-in records aren't happening. Instead, we have The Tough Alliance breakin' shit in the name of Sweden, The Wreckers having shit broken in the name of country, and the new project from the feller with the glasses out of Kings Of Convenience. We also have a spate of guitary loudness in the form of AFI, The Darkness, and Clutch, as well as the obligatory adventures into the world of Dutch hip-hop, Polish disco, and Dannii Minogue. First, though, some feller that didn't win American Idol covers Bon Jovi, and is bald.


Chris Daughtry - Wanted Dead or Alive
[2.40]

Andrew Unterberger: Theoretically ideal, I suppose—Daughtry is destined to a career of over-singing power ballads, and “Wanted Dead or Alive” is about as good an over-sung power ballad as one is likely to find. Still, when you’re more likely to hear an over-sung version of this song at karaoke bars across the country as pretty much any other song in history, you can’t help but wonder why anyone would wanna hear Chris karaoke this one more than once in their natural lifetime.
[4]

Jonathan Bradley: What I want you to do right now is put on Dipset’s “Crunk Muzik,” and listen to Juelz Santana rap “you’ll rock and roll like Bon Jovi.” This is not only a great lyric, but also a useful critical prism for examining Chris Daughtry’s new single. Dipset main man, Cam’ron, with Beanie Sigel, on their “Wanted… Dead Or Alive,” rocked and rolled like Bon Jovi. Bon Jovi, by definition, rocks and rolls like Bon Jovi. Chris Daughtry, however, does not rock or roll, whether like Bon Jovi or otherwise. Daughtry has none of the soft-metal New Jerseyite’s ability to construct rebel myths out of co-opted Springsteen iconography, and indeed, his half-hearted attempt to do so inspires a new admiration for Jon Bon. As such, Juelz Santana’s method for making one “rock and roll like Bon Jovi” must now be considered: “that palmed .40, pop it slow.” No, Juelz, in Chris Daughtry’s case, you must pop it fast, say, before he gets any more of his caterwauling done.
[2]

Iain Forrester:American Idol's Chris Daughtry has reportedly turned down the offer of becoming the frontman for successful rock band Fuel” apparently. NONE OF THIS MEANS ANYTHING TO ME. And judging by his very average rawk voice on this very very average cover I’m probably not missing out much.
[3]

Hillary Brown: Lord does this make “Blaze of Glory” look awesome in comparison. Bon Jovi at least looked good in a pair of jeans.
[2]


Postman ft. Anouk - Downhill
[3.25]

William B. Swygart: Dutchman raps quite fast in English, doesn’t seem to actually have anything to say. Has quite nice blues-guitar based beat, but not one that’s likely to stop traffic or anything. Worst of all, features a woman singing the hook in the manner of the feller that sang the hook on The Game’s “Dreams”, and as such sounding like Kelly Llorenna imitating Rod Stewart, all the while not realising that “singing a hook” and “singing one line, over and over again” are not the same thing.
[4]

Martin Skidmore: Competent enough (though with very one-paced and monotonous flow) hip-hop from Holland with Anouk adding horrible agonised rock wailing over the top—I kept expecting a "Whoa, Bodyform!" moment. I know she's a big star there, but this is a very unpalatable combination, for my tastes.
[2]

Jonathan Bradley: With Kanye West’s soul-sampling revival now entrenched worldwide, it is worth reminding opportunistic producers of another crate-digging artist whose results were a little more white bread than West’s. Little bald guy with glasses… had a record called Play, big sales, stupid feud with Eminem? Yeah, Postman’s “Downhill,” sounds more Moby than Kanye, and while that is a significant flaw, it’s not a fatal one. The rapping is nimble, if not particularly unique and the beat is more reminiscent of the few exciting Moby tracks. Most importantly, though, it is in 3/4 time, and if there is a bad rap waltz, I have yet to hear it.
[6]

Peter Parrish: Presumably of the utmost importance to some people, somewhere—but it’s difficult to raise the necessary level of enthusiasm to precisely relate to this concept. An occasional flourish teases with the potential for a surprise, but only briefly. World Cup Spirit Brother: Switzerland.
[2]


The Fratellis - Henrietta
[3.50]

Andrew Unterberger: Jaunty brit-rock rave-up, has a nice sort of demo-y energy to it and an annoying demo-y lo-fi sound to it. Fun stuff, but all told, I probably prefer bands like AFI sounding like they’re trying too hard than bands like this who sound like they’re not trying hard enough.
[6]

Peter Parrish: Admittedly, it’s difficult to fault the energy or sheer work rate on display here. Try as you might, however, it is equally difficult to shake the sense of deep-rooted irritation at what can easily be interpreted as misguided over-confidence, or even brash arrogance. In turn, this engenders a serious concern that this mob could ultimately meet with far more success than they strictly deserve. World Cup Spirit Brother: Germany.
[3]

Iain Forrester: A while ago, in somewhat of a fit of madness, I took to MySpace and reviewed all fifty-something bands playing this year’s indie scenefest the Camden Crawl. The Fratellis were very nearly the most awful of the whole derivative sub-Libertines lot, which really is saying something. The utterly uninspired “Henrietta,” shoddy production, horrific vocals, worse lyrics and all, suggests that they have got no better since. A point for not being The Holloways.
[1]

Martin Skidmore: Indie rock that sounds almost like a parody of the Strokes. Since the Strokes are one of the very, very few bands of that kind that are worth a damn, it's a decent model, and this is bright and energetic, but the sense of the singer winking and grinning at you is very annoying. I don't much like it because of that, but I wouldn't be terribly surprised if they made some really good records in the future.
[4]


The Darkness - Girlfriend
[3.80]

Martin Skidmore: The start is very Slade/New York Dolls, which is entirely a good thing, but we do get strings and other things added to the rock mix afterwards, to no real benefit. I don't really mind his risible wailing, but the poppy chorus here is far too low-key to work, and there is of course a burst of horrible guitar wanking.
[4]

William B. Swygart: Ridiculous but in a weirdly perfect kind of way. Condenses fuckloads into incredibly short run-time, without ever sounding bloated or aimless. Chorus performed entirely in falsetto with multi-tracked backing vocals in Even Higher Falsetto. Chorus also catchy as all hell. Performs classic pop trick of purporting to be about break up with girl and desperately wanting to get her back then completely ignoring this theme for the rest of the song. Falsetto gets so overdone that the words become completely indecipherable except for the actual chorus hook itself, so that gets driven into your skull and then kept there by sharp stabs of jubilatory violin and trumpets, and possibly the most incredibly precise use of tambourine since… no idea. The thing about the tambourine—mainly used as stage prop, something for Liam to look bored by in his iconic manner, but here’s it’s An Actual Sonic Device and it’s FANTASTIC! If this were by anybody else, particularly if they were from Europe, people’d be all over it. As it is, it’s by The Darkness, and their singer may be a bit talented but he’s also an utter cock and people have decided that his failure will be more enjoyable than his records, and really, that’s quite definitely his fault.
[8]

Hillary Brown: The shtick is a little thin, but the guitar is quite pleasingly noodly and high-pitched (it ventures into cartoon territory), and it all rushes past too quickly to bring on much in the way of ill feelings.
[6]

Doug Robertson: Blimey! Are you lot still here? Hasn’t the job centre found you something more suited to your talents, such as they are, yet? Frankly if we wanted to listen to some clinical, loveless pastiche of music we’d go and listen to the Chico album. And we don’t. We really, really don’t.
[2]


AFI - Miss Murder
[4.00]


Martin Skidmore: Very professional US punk. If you're thinking that "professional" is not an adjective you want to be the first attached to a punk band, I agree. I can't remember the last new US punk act I thought were any use at all, but it may be before this lot—and they've been going for 15 years.
[2]

Hillary Brown: The slowed-down leather-pants-wearing devil-worshipping break at about 2:30 comes quite close to taking the whole song down the tubes, but mostly it is fairly catchy when they’re doing their chanting thing, if a bit too polished.
[4]

Ian Mathers: Notable mostly for the way Davey Havoc pulls out a hardcore scream near the end, atypical for AFI, this is otherwise pretty standard stuff for this group of over-dramatic, vaguely goth pop-punkers. Those of you over 16 will, in general, be unmoved, and those of us who loved the last My Chemical Romance record now have a prime example of something much more lacklustre the next time people express amazement.
[5]

William B. Swygart: Seems to be convinced it has a half-decent chorus because there’s some people shouting “HEY!” in the back. This is not the case. Also features a slow bit at around two and a half minutes because it’s taken this pissy little chorus and his scraggy little voice (yes, you sing better than him from Staind, congratulations) and flogged it too long, so it needs some kind of a change of tempo or something to push it out to the magical three minute marker whereupon it can start flogging the fucking chorus again.
[3]


Cherish ft. Sean Paul of The Youngbloodz - Do It to It
[4.33]

Jonathan Bradley: This shouldn’t mention “Lean With It, Rock With It,” because it reminds me how much I’d prefer to be listening to Dem Franchize Boyz. I never thought anything could make me say that.
[3]

William B. Swygart: Of all the stuff on the list, this is the one that stuck for me. Yes, they do sound a lot like Ciara (not to mention each other), and yes, as a whole this does bite “Oh” rather a lot. However, there’s just that additional kink as it clips through the chorus, a sort of sloping in the synth noise, a bit like the noise a NES makes when Link dies, and that’s just enough to tip the balance right back in its favour. That, and the way that one of them pronounces “kryp-to-nite.”
[8]

Doug Robertson: Ah, the return of the “Featuring Sean Paul” tag, a sign of… well, maybe not quality as such, but definitely a sign that, yes, Sean Paul is on this record. His contribution is obvious, but while her name might not be on the CD cover, there’s definitely a heavy Beyonce influence on this track. Which, of course, is clearly a very good thing indeed.
[7]

Hillary Brown: Compare with Pussycat Dolls. Very similar, but Sean Paul adds more here than Snoop does there. It’s kind of air-conditioned hotness, which is okay when it’s 96 and you don’t feel so much like getting sweaty with your grind music.
[4]


Pussycat Dolls ft. Snoop Dogg - Buttons
[4.67]

Hillary Brown: Not much is less sexy than singing “I’m a sexy mama,” but we know these girls aren’t exactly sexy so much as bronzed and intentionally oversexed and really good at shaking their hair around. Clearly destined to accompany many a striptease, the song doesn’t have much of a purpose other than that and its soon-to-come life as a brief summer hit for junior high girls to tease their boyfriends with.
[4]

Jonathan Bradley: PCD are hot like you wish your girlfriend was, and they beep the beep beep every beep, but as dolls go, Bratz and Barbie have more personality. “It’s all about the music, man!” is usually such a meaningless statement, ignoring that practically all artists from the most prefab pop group to the indiest DIY troubadour comes with some extra-musical image attached, but for the Pussycat Dolls, the hoary cliché actually does apply; there is nothing for the group to be about but the music. In a cruel twist, though, this is exactly the thing the Pussycat Dolls should not be about at all.
[2]

Iain Forrester: Briefly, towards the end of “Buttons,” I thought that Snoop was trying to get the Pussycat Dolls onto the rickety World Cup songs bandwagon and namechecking Ashley Cole. Turns out it’s “Ashley, Nicole” which is a bit of a disappointment, really.
[8]

William B. Swygart: Pop monoliths are fucking horrible things. In someone else’s hands, this beat would be nice, squishy and compelling, and without a Snoop Dogg guest verse. With it, you get the full-force whack of bland that is the PCD’s charisma, so fetid that they have to actually state categorically that they are/she is (I’m presuming she’s speaking for the rest of them) “seck see maw murrs,” and then get Snoop in as some kind of a legally-binding witness or some such, and then there’s some crap about how hot you—YES, YOU, “BIG” “BOY”—are getting them that they are taking their clothes off now, and oh look, their towel’s slipped, and now they’re bending over, and the net result is that you really just wish they’d piss off.
[2]


Clutch - Burning Beard
[4.67]

Andrew Unterberger: You know it’s an exceptional Jukebox week when even the metal songs are pretty good. No idea what it’s about, really, but tight playing, powerful vocalist (surely from the Chris Cornell School of Righteousness) and lines about “The CNN” and “Fields Elysian” (seriously, you try working that one into a hit rock song) make this one a real pleasure.
[7]

Peter Parrish: Gruff and uncompromising, Clutch pack something of a punch but can’t help exposing themselves to accusations of being rather single note. This lack of invention means they have to rely on pure guitar distortion to carry them through—the musical equivalent of hopefully knocking the ball long to an isolated 6’8” forward. It might eventually work, but no-one’s going to be terribly impressed. World Cup Spirit Brother: Serbia & Montenegro.
[2]

William B. Swygart: Mmm, chug. Affable and entertaining as it thrashes around with its vague war-on-terror allusions: “Everytime! I open my window! Cranes fly in to terrorise me!” Romps along merrily for four minutes, features a bit where they attempt to guess what the holy ghost sounds like by groaning, maybe loses its way towards the end, but soddit: “Tipping cows in Fields Elysian.” That, my friends, is possibly the only decent pun I’ve heard this year. I’d forgotten how wonderful they can be.
[8]

Doug Robertson: What, as the mighty Sparks once asked, are all these bands so angry about? Didn’t their parents take them to the circus when they were young or something? This sounds exactly as you’d expect and, unless you too had a clowns and acrobats free childhood, there’s probably not a lot for you to enjoy here.
[3]


Dannii Minogue - So Under Pressure
[5.33]

Iain Forrester: Flirts dangerously with Kylie knockoff status as usual (and wasn’t it lovely of her to help Dannii out this week?) but has a dancey, if slightly clumsy, edge and some great backing vocals. The fact that it’s from The Hits… And Beyond! speaks volumes, though.
[6]

Adem Ali: Out of the two Minogue’s, Dannii’s always been the one I have loved just that little bit more, purely because she’s always been about dancing. This has meant that virtually everything she’s released has been immediately brilliant. Because she’s not as ‘pop’ as her lovely sister, Dannii has always had more freedom to experiment with her sound. Prime example is this new single, which is Miss Minogue back in absolute fine form. Easily a contender for Single Of The Year.
[10]

Jonathan Bradley: This is ridiculously ordinary, even for Minogue the Younger. A photocopy of a photocopy of every song she’s done before, weak, uninspired, unimaginative, entirely forgettable, and absolutely no bloody fun at all. That is essentially a run down of every criticism made of Minogue’s music, but this song deserves each one. Even if you were in the market for this sort of thing, there are about a million artists doing better versions.
[1]

Doug Robertson: Oh Dannii, never has a song title been more aptly chosen. Dannii’s career seems to be a constant struggle between almost getting dropped and then, just at the last minute, managing to come up with something that, while rarely actual pop genius, usually presses just enough buttons to keep her out of the dumper and make her seem vaguely worthwhile as a pop star. This is ‘good enough.’ It’ll fit nicely on to the best of, sounds almost exciting on the radio and will keep the dancefloor going in clubs while the DJ looks for a better record. In all, everything you’d hope for from a Dannii record, really. Expectations are never too high when she’s around.
[6]


The Tough Alliance - Silly Crimes
[5.71]

Ian Mathers: The sound is almost that of the Knife if they'd suddenly gone all happy-clappy and stopped awesomely warping their vocals, not to mention gone ahead and replaced Karin with some brainless boy. “Silly Crimes” is as utterly inconsequential as the title suggests, but damn if it isn't a pretty way to waste time.
[6]

William B. Swygart: Melt-a-long-a-Scandi-lectro from Sweden. Over-treated vocals that sound like they’re fading before they’ve already begun, and synths so swoony with such an easy, easy beat underneath, like baking in the sunshine with only a banana split for company. At this point I should probably be all like “Ah-HA, but banana splits also ROT your TEETH,” but fuck that noise. No-one eats Cornettos as part of a balanced diet, and like all the best ice-cream, the rest of the world suddenly seems incredibly beautiful and yet totally foreign while you’re consuming this.
[9]

Adem Ali: The minute my dear mother heard this, she asked whether a reformed Culture Club were responsible for it. This is an excellent thing.
[7]

Doug Robertson: The real surname of The Krankies is Tough, y’know, so there’s a very real possibility that this could be them attempting a come back under the guise of being a vaguely Amazulu sounding Swedish pop band. Alas, this is less Fandabidozi, more just, well, dozy, and it’s unlikely to stir too many people’s pulses, slightly disturbing school uniform related gimmick or not.
[4]


The Wreckers - Leave the Pieces
[5.75]

William B. Swygart: Peculiarly lifeless vocals on this: “there’s nothing you can do or say, you’re gonna break my heart anyway / Just leave the pieces when you go.” It’s a good lyric, but they sound weirdly un-enthused by it, and the song can’t quite follow it through—it sounds like it should end at least twice before it does, but then there’s some big flashing signs that say “MIDDLE EIGHT” and “QUIET BIT,” and you don’t wanna be disobeying the flashing signs.
[5]

Ian Mathers: The interzone between AOR and modern country has been blurry for years now, and the only difference between “Leave the Pieces” and Michelle Branch’s past hits are a couple of signifiers. So, given how relatively inaudible Jessica Harp is you'd be forgiven for assuming this was just Branch contributing to a country-themed soundtrack or something. Still, she (or rather they) sound pretty good doing it—no gag inducing “Jesus Take the Wheel” or “Boondocks” moments here.
[5]

Martin Skidmore: The country fiddle on this is terrific, and I'd have liked more of that and a bit less of the Dixie Chicks-style country rock that mostly overwhelms this Michelle Branch project. The singing is good, and it's a very strong song, but this territory almost always make me want either more steel guitar and fiddles, or more rock excitement, rather than this AOR blend of the two.
[7]

Peter Parrish: This is surely the time when a healthy relationship should be hitting dizzying new heights. Alas, all is pain, misery and despair. Attempts at compromise have finally broken down completely and the ugly spectre of finance can only have twisted the knife further. You thought you were going to live the dream together, but in the cold light of day it seems only right for both parties to grit their teeth and try to make the best of this moving separation. World Cup Spirit Brother: Togo.
[6]


The Whitest Boy Alive - Burning
[5.75]

Doug Robertson: Nice. Pleasant. Agreeable. As words go they’re essentially just a polite way of saying “OK” or “passable,” really, and this is, well…that. It potters along, not offending anyone, but not really doing anything to grab hold of your attention and shake you either by the lapels or the heart strings. It is, essentially, the musical equivalent of the old bloke down the street who you smile at in passing: you’d feel a bit sad if he wasn’t there, but it’d be the sort of sadness which would be dealt with by buying a Kinder egg.
[5]

Jonathan Bradley: “Very pleasant” so often translates as “dull” but The Whitest Boy Alive’s gently insistent chug is so charming in its scarves-and-sweaters niceness as to make a virtue of its quietly studied melodies. Erlend Øye laces the music with the same wistful tones that distinguish the best Phoenix tracks, but remains subdued and shy where the French group kicks up their heels.
[8]

Ian Mathers: Although the lyrics are more gnomic (and less goofy) than Barney's usual offerings, “Burning” actually brings to mind New Order, and I don't say that lightly. Not just for the Hook-ariffic guitar/bass prowl that opens the song, and not just for the shyly retiring vocals, but for that sense of haltingly articulating a very specific emotional state, one queasily stranded between several more identifiable ones. Not to mention this kind of steady throb fits Erlend Øye's voice a hell of a lot better than Kings of Convenience ever did.
[8]

Martin Skidmore: Oh great, another side project from an act that I never liked at all anyway. This sounds like what it is, a solo record by a guitarist who was never good enough vocally to be the singer in his band, but is now just about big enough to get to take a shot at the frontman slot anyway. He's an utterly useless vocalist, and too keen on his own guitar fiddling too, so this is predictably completely dreadful, limp, and lifeless.
[1]


Reni Jusis - Magnes
[5.80]

Doug Robertson: The “Uh-uh”’s at the start give legs to a brief hope that this is some sort of fantastic reinterpretation of the Pet Shop Boys’ “What Have I Done to Deserve This,” but we’re not quite that lucky. Instead it gives us good, danceable, if slightly unimaginative trance that’s not without charm. Perhaps she’s the Polish equivalent of Dannii Minogue.
[6]

William B. Swygart: Imagine if “Star Guitar” were sung by a Polish woman and had some lyrics, which were also in Polish, and this is pretty much that. Alternatively, Polish Sophie Ellis-Bextor album track. In one way, a bad thing—Reni’s voice is lacking Bextor’s bite, though it’s pleasant enough in an ethereal kind of manner. In another way, a good thing, because it means that I can’t understand the words and as such can no longer be distracted by quite how terrible a lyricist Sophie is. Whether or not this applies to Polish listeners, I am not sure.
[7]

Adem Ali: This sounds suspiciously like Saint Etienne’s ace “Action” from a few years back. A poor man’s version of it, but a bit of a rip-off nonetheless.
[7]

Peter Parrish: A breezy and ethereal force with the ability to ripple flags and carry the dream of a nation along with it. Naturalistic, flowing passages build and ebb—indicating a potentially lucid path towards glory. Wonderful though everything may appear, it’s hard not to fret about the overall lack of substance and the suspicion that, at heart, this is probably a little too lightweight. World Cup Spirit Brother: Mexico.
[5]


Go Home Productions - Rapture Riders
[6.25]

William B. Swygart: It goes. It works. It gels. But after five listens, you sort of stop caring. The Blondie backing and Jim Morrison’s voice is brilliant, the bit where the keyboards fall away and the trumpets come in and the guitars get like THE CITY IS TUMBLING DOWN AND IT’S COMING TO GET US—all awesome. But they’ve kept the rap from “Rapture.” Not the verses, not the choruses, the rap. And the rap from “Rapture,” despite what people tell you, is bloody appalling. So you suddenly get an entirely different feeling, that of two people who think they are very cool indeed because they have a rap and the man is drawling, and have you noticed, you have these two records, and they go together, and this isn’t going to finish for another three minutes…
[6]

Andrew Unterberger: GHP are pretty much the undisputed mash-up kings at this point, and this song perfectly demonstrates why—the verses to “Riders on the Storm” float eerily above the already insidious and decidedly creepy “Rapture” groove, a pitch-perfect match punctuated by wisely selected Jim Morrison vocal samples and the occasional slipping into the “Riders” piano twinkle and guitar riff.
[9]

Jonathan Bradley: Have you heard about mash-ups? It’s this ultra novel idea where you take the vocals of something like the Doors’ “Riders On The Storm,” and put it over the music of something completely incongruous, like, oh say, Blondie’s “Rapture” and then marvel at the mindfuck. Not impressed? Well, are you nostalgic for 2002 yet? No? Well, is your name Sandi Thom? Because if you’re hoping for the simultaneous revival of the late ‘60s and late ‘70s, then this is bound to be your feel good hit of the summer. Get on it before someone webcasts it out their basement.
[1]

Martin Skidmore: I like bootlegs, and Blondie's "Rapture" is fertile territory, although Debbie's rap sounds less apt than I had recalled. However, I don't like the Doors, so "Riders On The Storm," with its lyrical drivel and posturing vocal, is an entirely unwelcome intrusion for me. Having said that, this is very nicely put together, and very pleasant indeed when Jim is out of the way.
[7]


Veto Silver - Stay Young, Stay Beautiful
[6.60]

Martin Skidmore: I'm coming across a lot of records these days with music I rather like and vocals I very much dislike. This is bleepy electronica/indie, and perfectly pleasant (if certainly not in the Hot Chip class), but the nasty, weak and often strained indie boy vocals on the top completely ruin it for me.
[3]

Andrew Unterberger: My karma must be up for some reason, that I should be blessed with not one, but two synth-era Magnetic Fields-style pop gems this week. It’s hard to find much to say about this song, since its charms are so basic—good hooks, good production, good chorus. Makes you wish Merritt would put down the great Tin Pan Alley songbook for an album or two and go back to writing about Ecstasy and shit.
[8]

Ian Mathers: So we're fully into the synth-pop revival then? The stage where the vaguely manufactured, slightly neutered sounding acts come out? I have enough love for the surface sound of this type of music that “Stay Young, Stay Beautiful” registers as pleasant, but that chorus isn't going anywhere, and the lyrical sentiments seem oddly wrong for this type of thing. Where are the Human League when you really need them?
[4]

Iain Forrester: It’s got a great chorus and lots and lots of excellent bleepy and whirly sounds, which ought to be a very good thing. Only problem is, I had never actually heard Veto Silver before and yet knowing of their Popjustice approval and all was able to allow me to ascertain exactly what this would sound like beforehand (a bit A-Ha, a bit Keane, a lot Lorraine). It would be better if there was anything a bit more surprising or standout in the mix.
[6]


By: Stylus Staff
Published on: 2006-06-13
Comments (2)
 

 
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