Film: Dir. Nicholas Hytner - The History Boys

Dir. Nicholas Hytner
The History Boys
[Comedy]





Of all the popular British pastimes, smugly celebrating the supposed majesty of British comedy has to be among the most lamentable. Because we "get" irony and Americans don't, it's acceptable in Britain to make offensive jokes under the pretence of satire. For example, a Jew portraying Arabs as racist, homophobic and misogynistic is funny. Blacking-up and stereotyping black women is funny. Pretending that Asian women are incomprehensible is funny. I thought the dark days of Mind Your Language and Love Thy Neighbour were behind us, but a quick glance at mainstream British comedy suggests otherwise. Come on faithful TV, how long before Roy "Chubby" Brown gets his own Friday night sketch show?

Aside from the latent mainstream racism, supposedly "alternative" British comedy is also decidedly unfunny. Though a handful of shows have slipped shyly by with impotent mediocrity (Green Wing, The IT Crowd, Mitchell & Webb), we have also seen some of the worst "comedy" of all time. Hyperspace, for example, managed to get commissioned despite an unfunny premise, few recognisable jokes and that fat girl who's funny because she's fat and doesn't mind jokes about how she's fat so it makes her funny.

Elsewhere, Time Trumpet recently proved that Armando Iannucci is well past his sell-by date, and The Thick Of It almost defies description - never did I believe that a series could be considered amusing through the sad, desperate repetition of single four-letter word. Maybe it's fucking just fucking me, but I can't fucking understand why the fuck British fucking comedy is fucking considered so fucking better than its American counterpart.

Which, incidentally, brings us on to The History Boys - Nicholas Hytner's recent adaptation of the successful Alan Bennett play. The film follows a class of boys at a Sheffield school as they attempt to gain entry to Cambridge University. After successful A-level results, they return to school in order to perfect their interview routine under the watchful eye of teacher and part-time paedophile Hector (Richard Griffiths). Everything proceeds in a safe, light-hearted fashion with all the upper-middle class, tea and biscuit jokes that underline the insipid banality of recent British comedy.

The collection of characters is almost embarrassing in its absurd representation of every section of society; there's the black one, the Asian one, the fat one, the gay one, the foppish one, the laddy one, the dopey one and the working-class one - a strangely cosmopolitan bunch for a mid-80s South Yorkshire comprehensive. This aside, the film isn't actually very funny and didn't produce a single hearty laugh in the screening I saw. It occasionally considers issues of repressed homosexuality and the public perception of paedophilia, but this is largely superfluous (and unintentionally ironic) considering the appalling stereotypes on which the rest of The History Boys is based.

There is nevertheless a single, ten-minute section of the film, conducted entirely in French, which amused me. Recalling similar lessons experienced at school, the class attempt to perform a play in the language, stumbling over certain words and acting out the more difficult ones. The characters' Anglicisation of the language was excellent, and the slapstick accompaniment was similarly enjoyable.

The rest of the film plays on the tired notion of "aren't national eccentricities like soooo funny??!!" and suffers dreadfully as a result. The actors all do their respective stereotypes justice, but that only serves to emphasise the lifelessness of the script. However, given the recent state of British comedy, one laugh is probably above average and something for which the film makers should be commended. Oh and extra marks for putting the superb Clash instrumental "Mustapha Dance" on the soundtrack. 27

Film: Dir. Guillermo del Toro - El Labyrinto del Fauno

Dir. Guillermo del Toro
El Labyrinto del Fauno
[Fantasy]





Guillermo del Toro's fairytale epic combines beauty, elegance, wonder, terror, sadness and hope in a way I never thought possible. Not only is it the best release of 2006, it is a compelling masterpiece and one of the greatest movies of recent times.

Set against the backdrop of the Spanish Civil War, El Labyrinto del Fauno follows the story of a young girl named Ofelia (Ivana Baquero) who, ignoring the wishes of her murderous and brutal step father, Captain Vidal (Sergi Lopez), follows a fairy into the woods and happens upon a forgotten labyrinth. Its inhabitant, a faun named Pan (Doug Jones), reveals that Ofelia is the long-lost princess of an ancient kingdom and must complete three tasks in order to return to her despairing family.

Though the plot of the film may appear derivative, it is the way in which El Labyrinto del Fauno is presented, acted and constructed which makes it so special. It is visually stunning from beginning to end, effortlessly juxtaposing grim, war-torn environments with inspired fantasy settings. The actors all give flawless performances, especially Lopez who, despite playing a deranged sadist for the most part, succeeds in exposing his character's hidden fragility as forgotten secrets begin to emerge. In fact, all of the main characters are given space to develop and do so accordingly - Ofelia's wide-eyed acceptance is soon riddled with suspicion and even Vidal's doctor is forced to reassess his loyalties.

El Labyrinto del Fauno is tough, violent and occasionally terrifying - certainly not characteristics of a traditional fairytale. However, what del Toro manages to capture so majestically is the essence of what makes the form so successful; the fact that this occurs in such a mature setting is testament to the man's ability and imagination. Try to recall, if you will, your initial reaction to the tales of Goldilocks, Cinderella, Red Riding Hood et al and you'll begin to appreciate the feelings that El Labyrinto del Fauno can evoke. Believe it or not, it really is that good. 96

Music: The Long Blondes - Someone to Drive You Home

The Long Blondes
Someone to Drive You Home
[Guitar Pop / Indie]








Something that really irks me about modern British "indie" music is the prominence of substance over style. The seemingly endless procession of scrubbed-up, safe, mirror kissing rock and rollers has really hit a high point in 2006, and sadly looks set to continue. It is fair to say that, since the release of Silent Alarm in early 2005, only North American music has really mattered, seeing strong releases from Joanna Newsom, Sufjan Stevens, Animal Collective, The Decemberists, The Hold Steady, The New Pornographers, My Morning Jacket, Sleater-Kinney, Wolf Parade, Antony and the Johnsons, TV on the Radio...do I need to go on? Even Belle & Sebastian, traditionally one of the shining lights in British indie, served up an underwhelming effort with The Life Pursuit.

That said, it's even more annoying when my ingrained elitist preconceptions about British guitar bands are found to be fallible, as was recently the case with the Long Blondes. Sure, they attract innumerable scenesters, fit snugly in the NME and will be forgotten as quickly as they arrived, but their music displays qualities traditionally associated with good bands. Yes, really. Though singer Kate Jackson's shy introvert shtick is about as transparent as Larrikin Love's...well...everything, her strained Debbie Harry-style histrionics are pleasantly alluring. Some of the songs have irresistible hooks and, while shortlived, certainly leave an impression.

Someone to Drive You Home may not be the most sophisticated music you'll hear in years, but then the Long Blondes are not a sophisticated band. That said, on the odd occasion the band do attempt to break the mould, they are surprisingly successful. The one-two punch of "Swallow Tattoo" and "Weekend Without Makeup" provides the album's strongest sequence, and elsewhere "Giddy Stratospheres" and "Once & Never Again" feature soulful, believable vocals and strong melodies. What is noticeable on each of these songs is that, though playing pretty safe music, The Long Blondes are an extremely tight unit. Each instrument is clear and the sounds mesh together nicely without ever sounding over-produced or artificial.

Despite these four noticeable highs, however, The Long Blondes appear to be on auto-pilot for much of their debut. Many songs on Someone To Drive You Home are indistinguishable from one another, following the same structure, repetetively musing on the naivety of youth and sounding pretty much identical. Only the aforementioned "Weekend..." has lyrics of interest, with Jackson refusing to play the role of "some kind of 50s housewife" and heartily bitching about her man until the realisation hits: "I've got you, got you under my skin". Elsewhere, it's all boys, girls, lipstick and giddy-eyed romance. Snooze.

So, while Someone to Drive You Home may not be the indie masterpiece the British scene badly needs, it's a pleasant enough surprise to warrant a knowing wink of approval. Well done, chaps. 61

Games: Rockstar Vancouver - Canis Canem Edit

Rockstar Vancouver
Canis Canem Edit
[Third-Person Action]





Canis Canem Edit will do nothing to dispel the notion that Rockstar make good games. What it will do, however, is bring into question the company's ability to make good, original games. Although the first few hours of the game (which see serial delinquant Jimmy Hopkins tackling daily life at Bullworth Academy) are a blast to play, the game rapidly descends into standard GTA fare, with the player required to perform errands, conquer different groups and acquire safehouses in order to progress through the main story.

There are a lot of enjoyable things about Canis Canem Edit, such as its distinct sense of humour and engaging cast, the crazy assortment of weapons, the school environment, a strong story and a charming assortment of social cliques, yet the majority of the gameplay feels like a retread.

The control system, on screen displays, graphic design and even the pause menu are pretty much lifted from the Grand Theft Auto series, and the fact that the majority of the second half of the game takes place in a city, rather than the academy, doesn't help matters. Even though the game has prefects instead of police, soda cans instead of health packs and joke shops instead of gun shops, it operates in such a similar manner to GTA that it feels more like playing a mod than a brand new game.

Although the structure of life at Bullworth is an interesting aspect of the game - Jimmy must attend two lessons a day, avoid the curfew after dark and be in bed by two - it becomes an irritant when missions require Jimmy to visit the other side of town, especially given the speed of the clock. Of course there is the option to skip lessons and locate alternate areas to sleep, but doing so on a regular basis negates one of the most appealing and distinguishing aspects of the game.

Despite all its faults, it would be unfair to conclude that Canis Canem Edit is a bad game - far from it. It's just that with such an initially joyous and original setting, I expected a little more. 74

Games: Telltale Games - Sam and Max Episode 1: Culture Shock

Telltale Games
Sam And Max: Episode 1 - Culture Shock
[Adventure]


Could any game possibly measure up to the anticipation created by 13 years of false hopes and cancellations? Released in 1993, "Sam and Max Hit the Road" was one of the most idiosyncratic and entertaining games ever made. The point-and-click adventure, based on the comic strip of the same name, featured an anthropomorphic duo of a canine shamus and a psychopathic bunny, touring corny tourist spots across the US in a seemingly indestructible DeSoto. The combination of the pair's unique brand of wordplay and senseless violence with a satirical broadside targeting pop cultural vacuity proved popular, and the game has remained a cherished fan favourite ever since, eclipsing the popularity of the comic or the short lived TV show.

The road to a follow up, however, has been long and arduous. The developers, LucasArts, announced a sequel in 2002, which soon got canned as the company decided to stop making critically acclaimed adventure games and start pumping out cheap Star Wars releases like a bilge pump (The only decent Star Wars titles since "The Phantom Menace" came out having been 3rd party.) A totally seperate FPS take on the characters was then in development, then abandoned, and then a German publisher tried to buy the canned sequel from LucasArts, and failed dismally.

Fortunately, LucasArts' rights to the characters soon expired and reverted back to the comic's creator, Steve Purcell, who then promptly licensed the characters to Telltale Games, a splinter group of disgruntled ex-LucasArts staff and others, who have now, thirteen years later, proceeded to create a fitting comeback for the series.

Culture Shock feels both retro and revolutionary. From the pitch perfect (and now 3D) artwork to the excellent jazz score, Sam and Max Episode 1 fills the veteran with a warm 1993 glow. And yet, this isn't just some hazy trip down memory lane, content to rest on the laurels of former years. The most radically progressive move is the episodic nature. This episode is only part one of an ongoing TV-style series of six; one to be released each month. Hence, it's only as long as a movie; you'll get about three hours of play time out of the game, but it does have replay value built into the various humorous options the player can take. The series is going to follow a larger story incorporating the individual cases. You can pick up all the episodes on Telltale's website for about £20, given the US exchange rate, which works out at about £3.50 an episode; very reasonable given how much fun you'll have.

The plot of this episode stays almost entirely within the confines of Sam and Max's immediate neighbourhood, although future episodes are set to expand the locations. A group of washed up 70s childstars called the "Soda Poppers" are terrorizing the neighbourhood with random acts of vandalism and shopdropping. Of course, it's up to the duo to find out what's going on; I won't spoil the story, but suffice to say, it's delightfully weird. The puzzles, whilst a touch easy, are a real joy to solve; they're warped, but never in the illogical how-was-anyone-ever-supposed-to-figure-that-out way many an adventure game falls for. The voice acting will initially jar; they just aren't the same guys that did Sam and Max from 1993, but pretty soon it becomes unnoticeable.

But whilst all the elements can be broken analysed seperately, what makes Sam and Max: Episode One the best damn pure adventure game since Grim Fandango is unplaceable. Is it the snappy dialogue? The perfectly structured plot arc? The art? Well, yes, all these things, but it's more than that. Not only does it get everything right, it also does it and gives the impression of ease. Like a great stand-up comic, it's always sharp, always on, but never fells forced or like it's trying too hard. Maybe the size is a blessing - it just feels like three hours of unadulterated fun, playful and witty, that leaves you wanting more. They say when a great sitcom begins, the first episode often feels a little weird, with all the ground rules and characters it has to establish. Hopefully when more of this, arguably gaming's first sitcom, follows, it'll be even better - because it's already off to a flying start.

95

Games: Revolution/Sumo Digital - Broken Sword: The Angel of Death

Revolution / Sumo Digital
Broken Sword: The Angel of Death
[Adventure]








For reasons known only to the worldwide gaming press, the Broken Sword series has never quite garnered the praise it deserves. The first game in the series, 1996's The Shadow of the Templars, set new standards in cinematic adventuring, and follow-up The Smoking Mirror, though rushed out in little over a year, was a similarly excellent game. The move to 3D in 2003's The Sleeping Dragon was practically seamless, featuring gorgeously realised environments, a typically diverse collection of characters and a strong storyline.

However, there was something quite unusual about BS3 in that, despite an already strong fan base, modernised controls and simplified puzzles, the game sold poorly, shifting barely any units on consoles. This has led to something of a knee-jerk reaction from Revolution, who have not only decided to return to the traditional point 'n' click interface of old, but have also taken the decision (or been told) to make BS4 a PC exclusive. This decision has backfired severely, resulting in a game that feels tired and dated, though one which admittedly retains just enough retro charm and tricks of the trade to avoid being a total disappointment.

The starting point in assessing any adventure game is obviously the strength of its story and, surprisingly, the plot in The Angel of Death is much weaker than one might expect. Discredited after the "Glastonbury incident" in BS3, chiselled chump George Stobbart is now working as a bail bond clerk in New York. One day, a mysterious and suspiciously buxom blonde goes to see George about - you guessed it - an ancient manuscript which she is hoping to decipher. An offer of $10000 is enough to convince George that he should come along for the ride, but before he can dust off his adventuring cap, the office is invaded by an unpleasant-looking crew of Italian mobsters. They appear to be pursuing Anna Maria and her manuscript and thus, without hanging around to peruse the finer details of the thugs' intentions, George and his sidekick escape the office and seemingly head off on yet another journey brimming with elements of history, mythology and intrigue.

While this might sound exciting, the beginning of the game develops slowly and, despite occasional twists and turns, predictably. In an attempt to counteract this, the second half of the game is something of a mess, with numerous loose ends, unexplained motives (for example the sudden and inexplicable appearance of Nico), and an unsatisfying conclusion. The final third of the game also feels far too short, while the opening two thirds feels too long, creating a sense of imbalance. In addition, certain characters are unnecessarily overdeveloped, with key proponents in the game's storyline easily mistaken as minor characters. Whether this is a technique deliberately employed in order to deceive the player is unclear, however what is perfectly lucid is that Revolution have not given certain characters the attention they deserve.

Furthermore, the cutscenes of the game present the idea of a thrilling chase across Europe, with all sides caught up in a race against time to stop their adversaries from succeeding. While this approach certainly pays dividends in the movies, it does not lend itself well to the ambling pace of point 'n' click adventure games. Whereas previous games in the series saw George strolling around, picking up the odd clue and engaging in casual conversation, BS4 fails to successfully tap in to the mechanics of the genre. It is quite ridiculous, for example, when the player is forced to postpone the relentless pursuit of the bad guys in order to decide which item to combine with the paperclip.

Though The Angel of Death's story might not hold your attention, the puzzles certainly will, with a terrific blend of traditional "use x on y" situations and arguably the finest logic and riddle-based puzzles ever seen in a game of this type. While there are inevitably going to be one or two puzzles where the solution may seem a little obtuse, for the most part each puzzle strikes a perfect balance between difficulty and achievability. For example, one section of the game involves deciphering riddles from a manuscript by cross-referencing cryptic imagery with information available on an internet database (one of the many functions of the new PDA gadget). This is the first game I can recall where using Wikipedia might be considered a genuine (though by no means necessary) path to a solution!

It is worth mentioning at this point that The Angel of Death is the first game in the series that hasn't been developed by Revolution. Though Charles Cecil and co. are behind the story and the puzzle mechanics, it was Sumo Digital's responsibility to bring the project to life. And they certainly came on board with a glowing reputation: an amalgamation of Infogrames and Gremlin, they've produced recent hits TOCA Race Driver 2 and Virtua Tennis: World Tour. However, both the graphics and the gameplay of BS4 fall substantially short of the mark, with the latter in some cases reaching almost game-breaking proportions.

Considering there are so few environments in the game, it is disappointing that all of them look extremely washed-out, uninspired and insipid. The graphics are substantially worse than those found in the previous game, leading this reviewer to wonder why on earth Sumo were needed in the first place. That said, how the game looks is largely irrelevant, given the genre of game, and at least the graphics are functional enough to avoid hindering the puzzle solving.

What is a complete disaster, however, is the game's control system. Returning to the point 'n' click style of old, what Sumo have failed to successfully achieve is incorporating the classic controls into 3D environments. They do not help themselves by modelling almost all of the interior environments on an exact ninety degree axis, meaning that going through doors at the left and right of the screen can be, at times, extremely difficult. Add to this the fact that, in the larger outdoor environments, the camera is almost constantly in motion and BS4 makes for a frustrating experience to say the least. Just moving George from one building to another feels as though it is taking twice as long as it should, and our hero's movement is again hindered by the 'speed of movement' defaulting to walk every time the player interacts with the environment.

In contrast, the audio of the game continues the impeccably high standards set by Revolution in previous titles. The quality of the score means it now merits its own release in an official soundtrack and, despite an appallingly amateurish turn by Nico's actor, most of the characters are done justice with some compelling voice work. Rolf Saxon again excels himself as George Stobbart, now the suave, charming adventurer as opposed to the bumbling fop of old.

On the face of it, then, it doesn't look all good for The Angel of Death. The game feels rushed and unbalanced, the plot is unsatisfying, the controls are abhorrent and the environments look decidedly dull. However, as a long term fan of the series, it is hard to deny that there's nothing quite like a Broken Sword game. Yes, here comes the old allusion that "they don't make 'em like this anymore", but it's true, and in one sense the archaic, challenging and insular nature of adventure games is part of what makes them so appealing. Broken Sword: The Angel of Death is the most niche title in the series, demanding the most patient and unassuming of gamers, however if you fit that description, you should find yourself having more fun than you might expect. Otherwise, stay well clear. 59

Film: Dir. Rian Johnson - Brick

Dir. Rian Johnson
Brick
[Neo-noir/School]






Rian Johnson is a film-maker with an astonishingly original vision. For eight years he laboured to assemble the small budget necessary to bring his stylised high-school detective story to the screen. The results show a confident first-time director assembling an unclassifiable, strangely intriguing film.

Brendon is a tough but honest kid who stays outside the shady drug dealings of the so-called "Upper Crust" at his california school. Taking place in a semi-fantasy vision of a school which pays homage to the classic noir films, (The Maltese Falcon, Marlowe etc.) Brendon is thrust into a world of mystery, double crosses and intrigue. The cast talk in a mesmerising dialect full of outdated or imaginary slang; it's immediately clear that this is not a film which wants to make any sort of hard-hitting point about teenage substance abuse or the like. It's purpose is simply to enertain, and perhaps make a point about how magnified in importance school life can be. The eponymous "Brick" is a solidified block of heroin - and it's at the centre of a network of double-crossings involving Brendon, femme-fatale Laura, hired muscle Tug and the sinister "pin" or kingpin of all the dealing at the school. Assisted by sage-like geek Brain, Brendon's out to find the truth about his ex-girlfriend's death. The film opens with a haunting score, reminiscent of spaghetti-westerns, as Brendon discovers her body lying dead in an evocatively shot drainage channel. Cut to a couple of days earlier, and we see Brendon receiving an impassioned call for help from Emily.

Unfortunately, it's largely downhill from there. The more the plot unravels the more confusing it becomes, due in part to the lingo, some of which proves indeciphrable; it is often not couched in enough context or spoken clearly enough to be intelligible, and ends up impeding the story. Were it not for this layer of smoke and mirrors, the cliched plot would doubtless be utterly predictable; even as confused as I was, one could smell the twists a mile off; the hero playing the villains off against each other, the inevitable backstab from a hard hearted dame, and so on. Further, whilst at best, the high-school parallels with classic noir fit nicely, some of the more obvious scenes (the interrogation by the vice principle, for example) seem rather contrived to fit with in the confines of the genre. "You've helped this office in the past" bawls the VP, and one can't help being reminded of every confrontation between a washed-up detective and the local police chief in the history of cinema. The characters, too, are halfway between caricatures and fully-realised portraits; confronted with an array of dull archetypes, the viewer is never entirely engaged. At least the music, stylish cinematography and production design manage to provoke emotion, to an extent, but this is very much a film for the head, not the heart. If Johnson's next film-school exercise in style and genre-bending can manage to speak to us emotionally, he will have made a great film. As it is, he's only written and directed a pretty decent, very unique one.

65

Music: Peter Bjorn And John - Writer's Block

Peter Bjorn And John
Writer's Block
[Guitar Pop / Indie]






Over the past few years, Sweden has certainly had a lot to offer to the world of indie and alternative music. Bands such as The Hives, The Concretes and The Knife, for example, have all enjoyed degrees of critical or commercial success. However, no act has, of yet, successfully transcended the divide between acclaim and sales. It comes as no surprise, then, that on their second full-length release, Peter Bjorn And John attempt to fuse friendly, bitesize guitar pop with occasional (yet substantial) experimentation. Needless to say, while this approach is at times triumphant, it can also lead to some decidedly mixed results.

However, that is not to say that the trio have particular difficulty in either field - as the two opening songs immediately demonstrate. "Objects of My Affection" is bombastic, loud, messy and soulful, recalling My Bloody Valentine and Neutral Milk Hotel in equal measure. Crashing guitars, pounding drums and distant whistles provide a suitable template for Peter Bergsman's forced, slightly offbeat tone. 'I laugh more often now / I cry more often now / I am more me' is one among a host of memorable lines, all of which fit the defiant, emotive nature of the song.

Following on from such a strong opener is the tune that, I would hazard a guess, is the reason most people will buy Writer's Block. "Young Folks" has been on extremely heavy rotation since the summer, and deservedly so. Unfolding as an awkward, idyllic conversation between two...young folks (with The Concretes' Victoria Bergsman on hand to add an even dreamier touch), it's infectious whistled melody, groovy bass line, bongos, maracas and simple, programmed beats combine to gorgeous effect. While I wouldn't go as far as calling it pop perfection, it's damn close.

The sludgy "Amsterdam" then provides an interesting diversion, combining withdrawn vocals, another good backing beat, more piercing whistles and prominent bass to create an eerie (yet strangely relaxing) song quite unlike anything I'd heard before. Fourth song "Start To Melt" is the first disappointment of Writer's Block, attempting to recycle the overblown guitars of "Objects..." but coming off as slightly lacking in structure and direction. The lyrics also leave a lot to be desired; 'I start to melt / With your arms around my waist.' It's two minutes are easily forgotten, especially given the calibre of superb album centrepiece and last song of Part A (more on that later), "Up Against The Wall".

At seven minutes in length there is certainly room for creative manoeuvre, yet it is the song's charming simplicity that makes it so memorable. Pulsing drums and a gently plucked melody form the foundation for the verses, in which Bergsman details a difficult relationship: 'Bones are trembling, hands are cold / You don't know how it feels / You got me up against the wall'. In between each section, an additional guitar overlaps and winds around the main melody while moody synths hover in the background. It is at this point that Writer's Block (albeit briefly) achieves the ideal balance between creativity and accessibility, and when the spiralling extended outro then kicks in with two minutes remaining, it is a challenge not to grin with unbridled joy.

And so ends Part A - not a PB&J label but one which I have applied myself, one which describes what could also be known as "The Good Part of the Record". You see, Writer's Block is an extremely top-heavy record, to the point where roughly 80 percent of the latter half is completely disposable. "Paris 2004" tries to be sweet and ends up sickly; "Let's Call It Off" is barely listenable, early Beatles mimicry; "Roll The Credits" is over six minutes of strummed guitar, poor lyrics and dull vocals, and "Poor Cow" is more of the same but at an even slower pace.

Only "The Chills" - a song which easily matches the calibre of Part A - is a worthwhile listen on the second half of the album. Combining dense bass, an unconventional beat and frantic "shh-shh-shh-shh-shh"-es, it is certainly the most interesting song musically on Writer's Block, despite the fact that the chorus is quite weak and does nothing but restrict the momentum of the song.

In conclusion, it would be easy to write off Peter Bjorn And John as yet another group with a strong single, some bright moments and lot of dull ones; and perhaps that is what they deserve after producing Writer's Block. However, with such substantial and inspired creativity brimming in certain songs, it is puzzling as to why more of that energy could not be expended on every track. Whether that's down to writer's block, or just plain laziness, I guess we'll never know. 68

Film: Banlieue 13 (District 13) - Dir. Pierre Morel

Dir. Pierre Morel
Banlieue 13 (District 13)
[Action/Martial Arts]







Trust the french to have a martial arts film about running away.

For those unfamiliar with the sport, Parkour, or Free Running, is a physical discipline centred around the concept of using environments, in particular urban ones, as a giant adventure playground. The only objective is to start moving and to not let anything stop you, bypassing obstacles and using the environment in unusual and inventive ways. Spectacular jumps, vaults, flips, climbing, and a host of other moves comprise the visually stunning array of options a Traceur, as the participants are known, has at their fingertips.

In 2002, Luc Besson, the french action maestro behind films like The Fifth Element and Leon hit on two very simple, very good ideas. The first was to make a buddy action movie about parkour. The second was to make a near-future film in which the french government decides to cordon off entirely the most crime ridden suburbs (or Banlieue) of Paris. The result is one of the most energetic, pacey and politically relevant films for years; an action film which is both virtuoso entertainment and satire. Some critics will doubtless dismiss the political theme as heavy handed or superfluous, but if the flick was three hours long and full of symbolism, stilted dialogue and twenty second shots of coffee cups they would probably lap it up. One of District 13's chief virtues, in fact, is it's length; a svelte seventy-something minutes. It never bores, every scene is necessary and enjoyable, and the two leads, David Belle and Cyril Raffaelli, pull off convincing and likeable performances despite being Parkour/Stunt experts, not professional actors.

The plot is simple but effective; Leito (Belle) is a good guy in a bad neighbourhood; he fights against the local drug lord, Taha (played by scriptwriter Bibi Naceri) and his right hand man, K2 (Tony D'Amorio). After killing a corrupt police officer, he finds himself in jail. Damien (Raffaelli) is a police officer charged with a desperate mission; infiltrate the now closed off District 13 and recover a stolen nuke which is primed to blow. He is assigned Leito as a reluctant guide, whose sister is being kept, drugged, by Taha, and so begins the second half of the film; a non-stop orchestra of incredible stunts and fight scenes, made all the more potent by the knowledge that this film was wirework free. To detail some of the highlights; at one point Belle slides himself effortlessly in one clean jump through a tiny window above a locked door. In another, Raffaeli jumps clean over a long casino table and kicks an assailant; again, in a smooth fluid movement. In a third, the two protagonists run straight over a moving car which then crashes spectacularly. The action is the real star of the film, and the short length keeps all the in-between sequences relevant and suspenseful.

The only criticisms I can make are that Leito's sister (Dany Verrisimo) is weakly characterised and clearly a servant of the plot, that the music is all very similar, and the final revelation, whilst clever and politically charged (the french government aren't quite that bad, but they probably would if they could) doesn't quite hang together. Otherwise, this film comes highly reccommended; it's one of the most purely exhilarating films you'll see this year.

90

Film: Dir. Martin Scorsese - The Departed

Dir: Martin Scorsese
The Departed
[Thriller]

One the one hand, The Departed is the kind of movie that makes film makers up and down the country seeth with jealously. Every shot is exact - painstakingly crafted and costing thousands of dollars, the lead actors mostly turn in solid performances and the plot contains a suitable number of twists and turns to keep even the most ardent 24 fan on the edge of their seat. However, it is also produced so appallingly (with one of the most unsatisfying non-endings in recent memory) that any teen with a video camera will be wondering why they can't get a job in Hollywood.

The tagline is perhaps the best way to outline the plot of The Departed without giving too much away. "Cops or criminals - when you're facing a loaded gun, what's the difference?" growls Jack Nicholson in one of the movie's most memorable scenes. Nicholson plays the head of an Irish family business who want to secure a lucrative deal with the Chinese for an exchange of microchip technology. As you might expect, they also kill lots of people along the way with the help of guns, muscle (provided here by a typically gruff Ray Winstone) and sweet talking in restaurants.

However, what sets The Departed apart from run-of-the-mill cops and robbers thrillers is the much-alluded to dichotomy. You see, the cops have a rat inside the mob (a superb Leonardo Di Caprio), and the mob have a rat inside the police force (a predictable Matt Damon). Communications between the rats and their respective groups take place via numerous covert telephone conversations which arouse little or no suspicion, despite the fact that both sides know their ranks have been infiltrated.

At one point, for example, police rat Damon is caught by his boss whispering into a mobile phone and looking painfully secretive in a way that graduates of acting school really shouldn't. However, Damon simply explains that it is his mother on the line, to which his boss (Martin Sheen, still in West Wing mode) fails to react and thus refuses to pursue a blatantly unnatural situation. Nevertheless, Scorsese's direction and strong moments of dialogue ensure that such occasional blips are easily overlooked.

That is, of course, until the aforementioned car crash of an ending. While initially satisfying (for reasons which it would be inappropriate to discuss here), much of the conclusion of the film was clearly left on the cutting room floor and is extremely unsatisfactory considering the calibre of the previous 150 minutes. Loose ends are left hanging, but in a frustrating rather than intriguing manner. Furthermore, the ending does not mesh at all well with the slow, deliberate pacing of the movie.

So, though hampered by minor plot inconsistencies and a disastrous conclusion, The Departed remains a smart, funny, gripping thriller in the rightly revered Scorsese tradition. As a result, it comes highly recommended. 82

Games: KCET - Pro Evolution Soccer 6

KCET
Pro Evolution Soccer 6
[Sports Simulation]

Contrary to traditional Musically Sound methodology, I decided to browse through a handful of Pro Evolution Soccer 6 reviews prior to writing my own. However, fear not loyal readers, for this investigative journalism was undertaken purely for pleasure. You see, the Pro Evolution Soccer series has long been subjected to what I call "back of the box" reviews - that is, reviews simply listing the features given out in press releases - which are often highly amusing. The sixth instalment in the series is no different, with analysis focused on such trivialities as the new animations, new teams, and even, wait for it, fully licensed French, Spanish, Dutch and Italian leagues!

This style of review also inevitably leads to the same conclusion year upon year - that nothing much has changed and FIFA is catching up slightly and the commentary ain't great and ooh er that Seabass fella better buck his ideas up or he could find himself out of a job. Not only is this conclusion worryingly widespread, it is completely farcical and something I hope to debunk over the course of this review.

Analysing what it is exactly that makes Konami's long-running series of football games so majestic is made increasingly difficult when horrid clichés are banded about and consequently accepted as the definitive explanation of the Pro Evolution Soccer experience. While such slogans are plentiful, the claim that PES "feels just like real football" is my personal favourite. Having seemingly been mandatory for the last five years, this phrase is beginning to wear thin even by games journalism standards. Not only that, it simply isn't true. Ask anyone new to the series to describe the game’s mechanics and I guarantee that the clunky, loping style and mathematical, unforgiving passing system would not make their fingers tingle with appreciation for the beautiful game.

This is especially with true PES6, whose overhauled passing and shooting system initially feels entirely broken; passes dither and are easily intercepted, shots float harmlessly into the keeper's arms, scoring one-on-ones is practically impossible. The frustration grows when free kicks appear to have no power, headers are horribly misplaced, tackling doesn't always work and through balls are impossible to defend against. Make no mistake - the first few days of PES6 are brutal; relentless; unfair; helpless.

And then it comes. Firstly, a slick passing move - one-twos, full backs overlapping, midfielders surging beyond the line of defence - moving the ball becomes easier, quicker and more responsive. Shots from outside the box suddenly have more bite to them; free kicks are whipped rather than floated; headed pellets become headed bullets; slotting the ball past an onrushing keeper seems too easy. "How can this be?" comes the first question, "What am I doing now that I wasn't doing before?" And yet there is no answer, no explanation, nothing to measure your achievement against except that you have cracked the uncrackable and haven't the foggiest idea how or why.

This elation, of course, is followed by utter dismay as the inevitable dip in form sets in. Games you should win are frustrating draws, even games result in defeat and goals seem a million miles away. And so the process continues for the next twelve months – peaks and troughs, highs and lows – a relentless ride off which there is no escape.

And it is this seemingly ridiculous, emotional attachment to every minute of every game that ensures the PES format will always be a successful one. There are as many tight midfield scraps as there are incidents in and around the penalty area, yet the thrill never ceases. Some would argue that this is simply the nature of the sport, however that argument is easily countered by the torrent of horrendous football games we have been subjected to over the years (Three Lions, FIFA post-1996 and the This is Football and Actua Soccer series to name but a few).

Yes, some teams don’t have full licensing. Yes, the translation isn’t word perfect. Yes, the number and format of competitions has remained unchanged for a number of years. In addition, you could even argue that this review doesn't actually review the specifics of the game at all. However, it doesn't need to.

No amount of graphical polish, licensed music, marketing campaigns or attempted gameplay theft can ever make a FIFA game comparable to a PES game in the foreseeable future. Football is a sport so diverse and complex that it is impossible to ever imagine recreating it on a small screen in a living room. Make no mistake, however, that the Pro Evolution Soccer series is the only worthwhile attempt to extrapolate what it is that makes the sport so appealing. So, while caressing a pad in a muggy room may never feel like football, Pro Evolution Soccer 6 takes another important (and successful) step towards understanding what it is to feel football. 98

Music: The Pipettes - We Are The Pipettes

The Pipettes
We Are The Pipettes
[Pop]






This review is a bit late in coming, however I feel it is necessary to expose one of the biggest missed opportunities in 2006. You see, The Pipettes have put out some of the sweetest pop songs this year ("'Dirty Mind", "Your Kisses Are Wasted On Me", "Pull Shapes"), yet this half-hour collection of post-trendy, 60s girl group-aping nostalgia trip fever features a stunning percentage 0f stunningly dull filler. I mean at least half the record's running time - now that's stunning.

In addition to the aforementioned singles. the genuinely funny "It Hurts To See You Dance So Well" ('Half-past one on the dancefloor / And my thoughts they turn to murder') and bully-baiting "Judy" are highly memorable moments among the new material. Sadly, however, the majority of We Are The Pipettes opts to coast along on a wave of mid-tempo mediocroty and features extreme repititions on a theme ("Tell Me What You Want", "Sex", "One Night Stand" - have you guessed it yet?) that quickly becomes dull after repeat listens. It is especially puzzling to listen to sequences of bouncy, proto-feminist, sugar-sweet indignations only to be reminded in a lonesome ballad such as "Winter's Sky" that, actually, men might be important after all.

That said, I have perhaps been overly harsh in my criticism of the entire output from what are, in essence, a harmless singles band who'll be fortunate to make it beyond a third album. Nevertheless, after seeing Brighton's premier vocal trio aiming (and reaching) so high with their early singles, it is disheartening to hear such an underwhelming full-length from The Pipettes. 63

Live Music: The Subways, The Sunshine Underground, Wry

The Subways + Sunshine Underground + Wry
Rock City, Nottingham
September 6th
Guest Reviewer Mike Treece




Firstly, a confession: I don’t really like indie music. Not that I can’t recognise a good song when I hear it, but so much of the genre seems more concerned with looking cool than with originality and musical intelligence (see: The Kooks). So I was not expecting to enjoy the whole gig: I hoped that the hits would be enough to leave me satisfied with the night as a whole. So I was pleasantly surprised by the wealth of talent on display.

First, though, I had to listen to Wry. These hopeless poseurs somehow managed to set the crowd alight with their own brand of generic, sub-Snow Patrol whinging. Original melodic ideas were scarce but the crowd lapped it up and the band responded, rocking out like a 14-year old who had just learnt to play Smells Like Teen Spirit. While such enthusiasm is hard to fault, I’ve come to expect better, even from a support band. Coming to an indie disco near you soon. Sadly. 35

The Sunshine Underground were a much different proposition. Their style of funky indie is genuinely new, sounding like a mixture of early Red Hot Chili Peppers and Franz Ferdinand at their best. The only gripe worth mentioning is that they have yet to write a really big hook or chorus, but they’ve plenty of time. They have the potential to be miles better than, if not a big as, any of the current generation of radio-friendly indie-rock bands. 65

When The Subways finally hit the stage the atmosphere was excellent, the crowd thoroughly in the mood having responded to both support acts. Set-opener With You proved an excellent choice, appealing to both hardcore fans and the uninitiated. The dark Young for Eternity followed this, proving that the band can write a straight rock song when they feel like it. During the first part of the set, bassist Charlotte’s vocals were a little indistinct, a pity, as these serve to separate The Subways from many an indie-punk band. Fortunately this was soon corrected.

As the set progressed the band threw in some new material in the form of Girls And Boys and Shake! Shake! While these were solid enough, they lack the spark of some of the best material off the first album. The excellent Oh Yeah proved a reminder of how the band can perform, epitomised by frontman Billy’s athletics around the stage and climbs on amplifiers. Set-closer Somewhere was suitably anthemic, and for me was the best song so far.

However, it was the encore that really showed what the band could do. Perfect ska-edged songwriting in the form of Mary. An exciting new song entitled Clocks. And superb performance during Rock and Roll Queen, culminating in the first stage dive I have seen in five years of gig-going. The subways may never conquer the world, but if they keep playing like they did tonight, they’ll always have an audience. 79

Film: Dir. Richard Linklater - A Scanner Darkly

Dir: Richard Linklater
A Scanner Darkly
[Sci-Fi/Thriller/Animation]





You may have heard a lot about this film's rather unique visual style. Essentially, it combines live action of actors like Keanu Reeves and Winona Ryder with real and CGI enhanced backdrops. The twist is that all this footage is then "drawn over" by a computer to look like a cartoon, in a similar method to the rotoscoping of old.

Whilst this makes all the film posters look rather beautiful, you'll likely find yourself looking straight past it within the first few minutes of the film. In stills, the actors look like well drawn cartoons of themselves. In motion, your eyes will soon begin to ignore the cartoon treatment completely.

Does this detract from the film? Not really, thankfully. Indeed, the main gain may well be that it kept the budget down to a relatively tiny three million pounds mark. And despite the fog of the graphical style, it's easy to distinguish some great acting. Keanu Reeves, famous for only being able to play a confused stoner or a zen-like super agent, gets to do both here, just like in The Matrix. He plays an undercover cop sent to infiltrate a houseful of - confused stoners. Being a Philip K. Dick plot, the story is as drug addled and enjoyably crazy as a trip without the come-down. I don't want to spoil it, but the central themes are identity and paranoia; pretty typical Dick. The supporting cast, in particular Robert Downey Jr. are also rather great; his unhinged dope fiend is both funny and terrifying.

The music also deserves a mention; as well as a specially written soundtrack, the film also features quite a bit of Musically Sound favourite Radiohead. The script adaptation does a great job of transferring the 1970s set novel to the present day without sacrificing the plot or the characters. And the direction's choice of camera angles and POV shots, and the gorgeous composition of the driving scenes, had me hooked.

As much as I like Dick, the only thing that saved me from loving this film to bits was one aspect of the plot - the stylishly animated "scrambler suit", designed to render a persons identity as a fleeting composite; simply didn't make a lot of sense; why not just use a mask and a vocoder? Still, are you expecting water-tight logic from a film about taking a lot of hallucinogens? Probably not. In all, a faithful adaptation and a great stand-alone entity in itself. 90

Music: Guillemots - Through the Windowpane

Guillemots
Through The Windowpane
[Indie Pop]






It’s nearly that time of year when Top Figures in the British Music Industry listen to Radio 1 for a couple of hours, have a brief chat with Edith Bowman and then decide on the best British album of the past twelve months. While it is traditionally billed as an “alternative” award, the Mercury Music Prize often features nominations that appear to be selected purely on sales figures. In fact, some years it even feels as though the judges can’t think up enough worthy artists to make up the shortlist, for example the puzzling choice of Editors this year.

However, I happen to have some good news for the industry men – this year there is no need for a competition. That’s right guys and gals, we shouldn't fear another debacle of Miss Dynamite proportions; Guillemots have the competition so far beaten it would be embarrassing to perceive of another winner.

I cannot remember enjoying a debut album as much as Through The Windowpane. From its rich samba freak outs to more purer forms of song writing, it is a clear winner across the board. What’s immediately welcome is that chief Mot Fyfe Dangerfield eschews the current trend of half-baked Mike Skinnerisms in his lyrics, instead choosing to write in a more traditional style. Themes of existentialism are especially prominent, leading to some truly moving moments, such as the following (rather long) excerpt from “Trains To Brazil”. “And to those of you who mourn your lives from one day to the next / Well let them take you next / Can’t you just be thankful you’re here? / It could be you tomorrow or next year”. Accompanied with the typically desperate, clinging-on-for-dear-life vocals, it certainly trumps “Well ah met a feller down t’pub…”

There’s also room for plenty of dark humour, too, with killer lines such as “I bank all my dreams on an earthquake” and “There’s poetry in an empty coke can” rife throughout. The lyrics are of such a high standard that it is a genuine surprise when Dangerfield utters the clanger “If I had you / All the stars wouldn’t fall from the sky / And the moon wouldn’t start to cry”. However, he delivers the line with such Yorkian pathos that it doesn’t feel as contrived as it perhaps should.

Having a classically trained vocalist and cellist in the band is obviously going to put significant pressure on the music, and this is where Through The Windowpane really earns its stripes. After all, anyone can write about love, right? From dizzyingly complex, multi-instrument arrangements (“Made-Up Lovesong #43”) to the subtlest ever use of organ, strings and ambient noise (“If The World Ends”, “Little Bear”), it is clear the album’s apparently big budget has not gone to waste. Yet at no point does the album sound over-produced, retaining a warmth and humanity that is only usually accustomed to a lone man with a guitar.

As well as recent single “Trains To Brazil”, many numbers have a bruising momentum that is just plain funky. “We’re Here” and “Annie, Let’s Not Wait” have real bite, the latter employing 80s cheese synth, groovy bass, banjo and smiley piano to make it irresistibly danceable. In contrast, Guillemots aren’t afraid to use silence as an important instrument in their songs. “Little Bear” and “Blue Would Still Be Blue” in particular aren’t afraid to leave a sizeable volume of empty space to emphasise the teary words.

Album closer “Sao Paulo” deserves a paragraph all of its own, and that’s exactly what it’s going to get. A twelve minute, brooding, indulgent, musical rollercoaster of a masterpiece, it flies the flag defiantly against edgy guitars, post-post-punk and the twenty-first century in general. Beginning with a simple piano backdrop, Dangerfield tells a traveller’s tale reminiscent of “Bob Dylan’s 115th Dream” before strings leap in and blow the mind. “Sometimes I could drop my bags and run for miles / Sometimes I could live nine lives / But I won’t” is one of many standout lines as the first part of the arrangement fades out to a wall of distorted screaming. The song then engulfs its subject matter and begins five minutes of pure samba madness as the listener is warned against doctors, lovers, soldiers, lawyers and more. I defy anyone not to like this song.

So, whether floating on the catchiest of pop melodies of attempting something that little bit different, Guillemots clearly have what it takes musically and lyrically. Their biggest challenge comes when they are expected to build on this astounding effort in eighteen months time. For now though, we should let them bask in the glory of Through The Windowpane. The biggest threat to their success will come should they act violently when Muse snatch the Mercury prize and talk about changing the face of music… 91

Music: Thom Yorke - The Eraser

Thom Yorke
The Eraser
[Electronic]






At first, the idea of a Radiohead fan reviewing a Thom Yorke album may well seem a mite daft. You can bet I’ll be a biased fan-boy, right? Well, the truth is, if you’re not a Radiohead fan then there are only three reasonable possibilities: (a) you detest music (b) you detest popular music (c) your favourite band gets good reviews in Kerrang magazine.

Thom’s boys have been responsible for some of the most rewarding, innovative, enduring, mind-bending, danceable and downright catchy tunes of the last fifteen years. They are the most critically acclaimed band since the Beatles. They had a number one album without releasing any singles. Tickets for their tours sell out in minutes yet their sets notoriously emit some of their most popular songs. They are name-dropped by everyone from David Cameron to Graham Le Saux. They make experimental jazz wankery appealing for chrissakes! To put it simply, if you’re not a Radiohead fan to some degree, you just don’t appreciate good music.

To say The Eraser has been shrouded in secrecy would be like calling the MI5 a bit insular – it was only announced in May and leaked on the internet soon after. Compared with the immense pressure traditionally associated with Radiohead releases (Yorke described the post-production work on Ok Computer as “utterly terrifying”, the follow-up’s recording sessions almost split the band), The Eraser has been a breeze for the Radiohead marketing machine. A few cryptic adverts, a cryptic website, cryptic blog posts from Thom – we are effectively back to the deliberately obtuse, non-promotional strategy of Kid A. And there is good reason for it.

Unlike the bombast of Ok Computer or its stadium-friendly predecessor, The Bends, The Eraser’s primary focus is the minimal, claustrophobic laptop sound that Thom has been obsessing over for a number of years. It is a sound that can be recognised in previous Radiohead songs (“The Gloaming”, “Packt Like Sardines In A Crushd Tin Box”), yet to say The Eraser sounds like a Radiohead record would be wholly fallacious. The voice we all know and love is obviously on show, but this is clearly Thom’s own work, and it is because of this that his debut “solo” effort occasionally falls short of the impeccably high standards we have become accustomed to.

One of Radiohead’s biggest strengths has always been to play to each band member’s individual strengths. For example, Jonny Greenwood can play every instrument under the sun, so why not let him? Phil Selway is an exceptional drummer, so why make him behave like a caveman banging a big stick a la Meg White when he can beat out incredible rhythmic patterns? The Eraser, therefore, lacks the warmth of Amnesiac or the textures of Ok Computer, yet is nevertheless similarly engrossing.

The majority of songs are built around a single idea, honed to perfection by the stellar production work of long-time collaborator Nigel Godrich. The title track begins with off-key piano chords and a soft yet urgent beat, building into a chilling chorus with Yorke singing choral backing vocals behind his own words (“The more you try to erase me / The more that I appear”). An incredibly tight arrangement, it is immediatedly listenable.

“Analyse” continues the confident start with skittering beats and a gentle piano melody, topped off with another strong vocal performance. “It gets you down” muses Thom as he successfully aims for a similar reaction in the listener, “There’s no time to analyse / To think things through / To make sense”. On first listen you may well roll your eyes and reach for the irony file. Perseverance reaps great rewards here, however.

Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for “The Clock”. As well as recycled Aphex Twin electronics, part of the melody is made up of Yorke’s obscure warbling that accompanies the intro to live renditions of “The National Anthem”. It might sound good on paper, but it really doesn’t resonate on record. Of course, the consistently outstanding vocal work carries the track well enough; the musical backing here just does nothing to get the pulse racing.

Perhaps the most well-known song on The Eraser is “Black Swan”, given its prominence on the television adverts, and it has been used to promote the album with good reason. Yorke repeatedly notes a relationship is “fucked up” in the least obnoxious way possible, over a reserved bass line and the funkiest beats on the album. “People get crushed like biscuit crumbs / And lay down in the bitumen” also happens to be my favourite lyric on the record.

The next two songs - “Skip Divided” and “Atoms For Peace” - offer mixed, if interesting, results. The former is easily the weakest song on the album, going seriously overboard with the experimentation. Yorke fails to use his voice to maximum effect, singing a low, monotone vocal as overbearing synth noise overwhelms any intended anger in the words. The latter, on the other hand, sets the album up for a strong closing sequence. If singing about eating an “artichoke heart” could ever be described as beautiful, then Thom Yorke would be one of a rare handful able to pull it off. An astounding falsetto overcomes the lyrical inadequacies with ease and, backed by a delightful tune reminiscent of Boards of Canada, the song is a winner.

“And It Rained All Night” could be described as the strongest of the truly experimental songs on offer here. Bass hums enticingly beneath the “click click clack” of two drumsticks and wobbly synth. Yorke even raps some of the words (“It’s relentless, invisible, indefatigable, indisputable, undeniable”) to the flow of the music, recalling the verses of “A Wolf At The Door” which were so highly acclaimed.

While not among the most impressive songs, “Harrowdown Hill” (a commentary on the suicide of government official David Kelly) is certainly competent. A fidgety bass line leads the way for most of the duration, accompanying the rant effectively. “I can’t take the pressure / No-one cares if you live or die” is as direct as Yorke’s words come and characterises the majority of the songs here, opting for a more forthright theme rather than the traditional cut ‘n’ paste lyrical style of Radiohead’s experimental tunes.

Closer “Cymbal Rush”, much like the rest of this release, would not fit on any Radiohead record. However, the difference is that it can easily stand alongside Radiohead’s best work and is a superb way for Yorke to put a cap on his solo career, at least for the time being. Incredibly urgent beats synchronise with a surging piano chord as video game noises phase in and out of the background. The success of this song is that it reaches its peak so late on (four minutes into a five minute song) and ends while still growing in momentum. The genius is that it immediately makes you want to hear The Eraser all over again. If the song reached its rightful conclusion at around the eight minute mark, it wouldn’t have anywhere near the same effect. Instead, the listener is enticed by the prospect of further recordings from a man who is unarguably one of the leading lights in modern music.

If The Eraser is indeed only the starting point many believe it to be then, faults aside, it is potentially the start of something wonderful. 81

Music: Two Gallants - What The Toll Tells

Two Gallants
What The Tell Tolls
[Country / Punk]





Two Gallants are the latest signing to Saddle Creek, and one of the few bands on the roster not to originate in Omaha, Nebraska, home of the label. These San-Franciscans play a blend of literate (hence the James Joyce inspired name), narrative-based, country-folk-soul-punk-blues-rock that sounds like asphalt and whisky with a twist of gunpowder and old leather.

The album is immediately arresting; opener "Las Cruces Jail" is a straight-up loud/quiet cowboy song that kicks harder than an angry mule. Everything evokes the mood perfectly; from the whistling melody to the atmospheric noises of a windy canyon. After the quiet opening, the strident lyrics "Well I spent last night in Las Cruces Jail / Raining hail, born to fail / Nobody coming for to go my bail / Sun don't you rise no more" catch the listener by surprise and from that moment on, you'll be humming this dust-soaked tale of a young gunfighter awaiting the noose all week.

A slightly more laid-back track follows; but one easily the equal of the opener in terms of narrative and flavour; "Steady Rollin'" manages to tell the story of a disillusioned wife-murderer in a manner poignant and sympathetic; "My loving lady she's a ball and chain / I still can travel but my speed is changed".

These two are not the only highlights on the album; "Long Summer Day" is another fine example of good storytelling; this time racial injustice comes under fire from the central character "The summer day makes a white man lazy / He sits on his porch, killing time / I've got to work to feed my wife and baby / I work so goddamn hard that it's a crime". The song culminates in a glorious, soaring conclusion, in which the man decides to take justice into his own hands. "The Prodigal Son" is a much softer song, with a delicate, memorable melody and lyrics that do exactly what they say on the tin; "I'm well known in story, famous in song / The black sheep, the blemish, the one who went wrong."

So what's wrong with this album? Well, firstly it suffers from what I'd like to christen "EP syndrome". Distilled, it would make a damn fine EP, but as it is it seems stretched into an album. At only nine tracks, the length is stretched by the fact that four of the tracks are over eight minutes long. Now I'm not one who shys away from epics, but let me repeat that; four of the tracks are over eight minutes long (and two of them are pushing the ten minute mark). There comes a point where words like "sprawling" dont really apply anymore. It's not that they are bad tracks, by any means, but frankly, these nostalgic poets need an editor. I'm willing to forgive them "Waves of Grain" as a majestic album closer and a great parting shot at American complacency, but frankly the bible-infused death throes of "Threnody" are borderline painful. "Age of Assasins" has a nice little ramshackle chorus, but could have been fitted by a less self-indulgent band into five minutes.

"Some Slender Rest" benefits from being couched between "Steady Rollin'" and "Long Summer Day" but it's still three minutes longer than it needed to be. The only track I haven't covered so far is the ultra-lo-fi "16th St. Dozens", which is (mercifully) a relatively petite five minutes and enhanced by an excellent ska-sounding trumpet part, which remains somewhat underused, only entering at the end of the track.

Overall, then, congratulations to Two Gallants; you've made my favourite EP of the year. Now quit being lazy, exercise some quality control and follow it up with the album you are evidently capable of making. 75

Music: Placebo - Meds

Placebo
Meds
[Glam / Grunge]






Ok, Here's a confession; I've never really cared about Placebo. Don't get me wrong, I've never thought they were a bad band. Everyone has a soft spot for "Pure Morning" and "Special Needs", surely? But they've never really grabbed me enough to listen further. Well, that changed with this album. Why? Is it their best album? Is it incredibly inovative? Is it just really, really good?

No, no and no. The reason I had to review it is because two years ago this band released a "Best Of". And everyone knows that once a band has released a "Best Of", anything subsequent will be a shadow of their former work. (OK, so maybe it was a single collection and a live album, but in my opinion that equates to a "Best Of" at least.)

However, in Placebo's case, they've somehow managed to bypass the getting old and rubbish stage. What Meds is is a tight set of typical Placebo songs. It's not pushing envelopes, but it's so well crafted you probably won't mind. Sticking to that classic Placebo combination of distortion, distressed lyrics and melodic, ethereal passages, Molko and crew are still crafting emotional, sleazy songs about academic inadequacy, drugs (of both the legal and the non-legal variety) and kinky sex.

The album kicks off with a strong trio of songs (title track "Meds", new single "Infra-Red" and the lovely "Drag") which don't break any new ground but succeed in being catchy and touching. A blip on the radar comes from "Space Monkey" (filler if ever I've heard it), but things are back on track with the delicate but very depressing "Follow the Cops Back Home". "Post Blue" and "Because I Want You" are also good; but as a single choice I would have picked the former over the latter. "Blind" is take-it-or-leave it, leaning too hard on it's keyboard introduction.

It's the second half of the album that let's the side down somewhat. By this time the listener may be starting to find Brian Molko' s self pitying intonations somewhat wearying, and the songs aren't as good, either. "Pierrot The Clown" is another weepy; it's similarity to "Follow The Cops" does it no favours, but it's still a pretty little ditty. "Broken Promise" has a good piano line, but it's strangled by overpowered drums and guitar. By "One of a Kind", though, we are definitely into the low after Placebo's ketamine-induced high; both musically and in terms of quality. The song has nothing to particularly recommend it apart from a gimmicky guitar part that sounds like a child who's found something annoying to twang. "In The Cold Light Of Morning" we have another spooky downer; but it's not particularly good compared to "Cops" or "Pierrot"; at times it really does sound like a nasty hangover and not in a good way. I do appreciate the line "a cock in a dildo's disguise" though; gave me a giggle. "Song To Say Goodbye", which appropriately concludes the album, apparently saw an international single release. Heaven knows why, though, as it's not great; there is far better on offer here.

Really, though, whether you like this album depends on whether you like Placebo, replete with Molko's nasal serenading and self-conscious lyrics; "You got A on your algebra test, I lagged behind". If you do appreciate their style, you'll be relieved to know that the band don't seem to have lost their edge with age. If you can't stand it, this is not a new, radically changed Placebo which will win you over. But it is a Placebo on fine form, and, for a band I thought were finished, they firmly re-assert that they are not done yet. 73

Music: Hope of the States - Left

Hope of the States
Left
[Post-rock]





Hope of the States are like no other band in recent memory. Adjectives used to describe the sound of their music are more along the lines of "hopeful" and "soaring" than "melodic". They aren't particular to any music scene, nor do they wish to be. They aren't even ashamed to call upon an orchestra when required - something practically forbidden in today's world of tight riffs and even tighter jeans. However, if one particular incident could be said to have distinguished them in 2004, the suicide of lead guitarist and founder member Jimi Lawrence would be pretty high on the list. Everyone from Newsnight to Rupert Murdoch seemed to want a piece of the news, and unfortunately for Sam Herlihy's boys, the unforgettable sound of their debut album became lost in typically melodramatic media frenzy.

Receiving mixed reviews (including one of the most amateurish ever published on Pitchfork Media, from a writer who hadn't contributed before, and thankfully hasn't been heard of since), The Lost Riots was heard by few and appreciated by even less. Yet for the band's supporters, it was one of 2004's strongest releases, superbly balancing Herlihy's fractured vocals with suitably grandiose post-rock arrangements. Two years later and Hope of the States' sophomore effort, Left, has arrived, hoping to further capture the band's unique sound and act as an ideal antidote to the ephemeral trite pushed by the likes of NME. The Automatic? Too right.

What's immediately obvious on first listen to Left is that Hope of the States have become a much more rigid musical outfit. Instrumental opener "Seconds" gets the album rolling with twitchy strings and stacatto beats, before flattening out into a smoother sound as the listener prepares for a severe aural workout. However, coming in at under two minutes, “Seconds” has no chance to reach the blistering highs and dramatic lows of The Lost Riots' opener, "The Black Amnesias", to which it will be inevitably compared. It comes off as something of a disappointment, and with mediocre lead single "Blood Meridian" following immediately after, one begins to fear that Hope of the States have lost all sense of what made their debut effort so wonderful. "Emergency, emergency / Someone acted honestly" notes Herlihy in his signature faux-Americana whine, however with such a standard rise/fall string backing and a guitar lead Editors would think twice about adopting, this particular call-to-arms comes off as tired and routine.

Fortunately, second single "Sing It Out" plays perfectly to the band's strengths while also showcasing the benefits of a tighter sound. A pulsing drum beat overlaps smoothly with post-punk guitar, giving the song some real bite and setting the stage perfectly for one of the band's trademark first-pumping choruses ("Sing it out / Sing it out / You are not alone"). The line "I am debt / I am loss / I am written off again and again and again and again" then gives a brief glimpse into the socialist agenda hinted at in the record's title, and is a nice alternative to conventional mainstream love/loss themes.

While "Seconds" barely had time to get going, fourth song "Bonfires" is a prime example of a shortcoming apparent in many of Left's weaker songs - it is a three minute song trapped in a much larger space, and the record's momentum suffers because of it. When Herlihy spits "I'll lead them off the edge, I'll drown them in the Dead Sea / Now they're noticing", the urgency of the line is lost through endless repeats of the chorus and a worthless, minute-long outro. By the time "The Good Fight" gently phases in, much of the impact is forgotten. On The Lost Riots, the orchestral mist enveloping many of the songs was entirely welcome and served an emotional purpose. When strings are replaced by cold riffage, however, the point is lost.

Thank goodness "The Good Fight" is such a tear jerker, then, and allows the album to regain its focus with delicate ease. "Defiant I shall be today / But I won't forget how much we paid" may mean nothing to you, it may mean everything; whatever the case, it expresses more than any other moment on Left the ideology of the band. If this line resonates with you, and it certainly did with this reviewer, then you will appreciate what is to be said. On the other hand, if lyrics to you are nothing more than "Gorilla, cuntilla", you should perhaps look elsewhere. Towards the end of the song, the hazy guitar and plodding drums give way to a single acoustic guitar. "We'll win in another life / I know we will" sings a choir , "Tomorrow is another chance / To make the next day better". Embrace comparisons are welcome, if only to exhibit complete, unadulterated musical ignorance. There has never been a better line to raise a lighter to, cheesy or otherwise.

Album centre piece "Left" sounds like the thirteenth best song recorded in sessions for The Lost Riots. It's long, has strings and piano, yet somehow lacks pathos. The chorus is far too overblown, the lyrical focus has wavered somewhat (What you want, yr never gonna get / Unless you are prepared to be alone) and the instrumental parts are dull. Someone in Hope of the States' A&R department has decided it would be a good single, whereas the emphatic, violent, loud, short and very, very sweet "Industry" would do a far better job. Here Herlihy is on his best ever lyrical form ("The factory cheats and the industry lies / Your daddy ain't got a job in the morning") and is backed by a punchy drum beat, winding guitars and nicely textured synth effects. Only "The Red The White The Black The Blue" stands above this is the band's repertoire.

Not far behind the dizzying kick of "Industry" is another example of Hope of the States’ typically resigned take on politics, "This Is A Question", opting for long gazes into the night sky rather than picket lines and wire fences. Arguably the best song musically on Left, genuinely moving crescendos roll over one of Herlihy’s strongest ever vocal performances. Proving he deserves his much-debated tag as one of the best rock vocalists around, the emotional brutality of his delivery here is a far cry from the exhausted tone of The Lost Riots. While the message here is not the strongest on Left by any means ("If you sing a couple of words the world moves / It changes because you do / It changes 'cause we need it to"), the way it is belted out thankfully recalls "Death or Glory" rather than "Killing in the Name".

"Little Silver Birds" is something of an obscure, confused rant about industrial dehumanisation ("All the people stuck behind dead bolts"), love ("Let nobody tell you that yr heart was wrong") and opportunism ("I am in love with the chance that we could all do better than we do"). While lyrically powerful, the structure is decidedly by-numbers and, apart from a fantastic final minute, is largely forgettable. The disappointment continues with "Four", a routine chest beater with ham-fisted lyrics ("You people should wonder / How yr ever gonna shut us up forever") and "Forwardirection:", an initially light acoustic number with a repetitive, overly harsh chorus that would better have been left as a b-side.

Superb piano ballad "January" then adds to Left's triumphs, recalling "Don't Go To Pieces", one of The Lost Riots' strongest pieces. Here, sonar bleeps and whirls are used to good effect as Herlihy laments the loss of Jimi Lawrence ("I fell apart in January / But I fixed myself for everybody"). Along with memorable closer "The Church Choir", "January" never sounds as though it is attempting to imitate the swirling crescendos of its predecessor (as opposed to earlier songs "Left" and "Little Silver Birds"), but instead use those foundations on which to build something better.

Overall, Left finds Hope of the States in something of a middle ground. Some songs suggest a punkier progression ("Sing It Out", "Blood Meridian", "Industry"), whereas others stick to the post-rock formula that was previously used to such good effect ("Left", "The Church Choir"). Both sounds have their moments on the album, but it is where each theme is pushed to excess that the most success is achieved. For example, "Industry" and "The Church Choir" stand out immediately, whereas "Blood Meridian" and "Four" are muddled and hence tend to get lost in the mix. We know Hope of the States can never make another The Lost Riots, the worry with Left is that they may never make anything as good. Granted, it is a difficult task, but for a band with such grit and ambition it is certainly within reach. To sum up in Herlihy's own words - an underachiever but a true believer. 71

Games: Valve - Half-Life 2: Episode One

Valve
Half-Life 2: Episode One
[First-Person Shooter]





Chances are that if you play games you've played the original Half-Life and remember it as one of the greatest games of all time. The much hyped, much delayed Half-Life 2 continued Valve Software's impeccable reputation and now it has made artistic (and economic) sense for them to continue their series in episodic form. The first of these instalments, predictably named Half-Life 2: Episode One, attempts to continue the story established in its predecessor, and for the most part it is successful.

The story once again revolves around Gordon Freeman's attempts to thwart evil alien race the Combine and their totalitarian regime in the mysterious City 17, now in ruins following Gordon and sidekick Alyx's actions in the original. We begin our story with Alyx's popular robot buddy, Dog, rescuing Gordon from rubble outside the "citadel" - the Combine's base of operations - and the player is immediately reacquainted with Half-Life 2's main characters - the aforementioned Alyx and Dog, Alyx's father Eli Vance and crackpot scientist Professor Kleiner. It transpires that the only way for Gordon and Alyx to escape safely is to re-enter the citadel and prevent a meltdown by accessing the core, and so begins the third part of Gordon Freeman's adventures.

Understandably, Eli is not too happy with his daughter risking life and limb (despite the fact she has been battling for the city's resistance for a considerable time) and an emotionally charged debate between the two immediately highlights one of Episode One's graphical improvements over its predecessor - that of improved facial expressions in dialogue between characters. The two wince and gesture in surprising detail and it is obvious that Valve are keen to enhance their Source engine at every available opportunity. Other graphical improvements apparently include a higher pixel count for the character's faces to accompany the new expressions, improved lighting in dark spaces and greater use of HDR (High Dynamic Range) lighting hinted at in the Lost Coast demo. While none are as immediately obvious as the detailed expressions, it is clear that the Source engine is becoming more impressive with each release from Valve, and though not quite on par with Bethesda's recent efforts in Oblivion, it is clear than the plan is to enhance the engine gradually in order to avoid programming a new one from scratch, as that is what caused much of the delay with Half-Life 2's release in 2004.

The action may initially take place in the spiralling citadel but Alyx and Gordon also visit spooky underground locations submerged in darkness and the battered streets of City 17, helping to ensure the player never becomes bored with a specific location. I was initially disappointed with the return to what I felt was Half-Life 2's weakest section, however there are some interesting puzzles waiting to be tackled with the souped-up gravity gun, even if the action isn't in the least bit challenging with such a powerful weapon and the generous placement of suit chargers.

The underground section is a different matter, however, and offers perhaps the best action in the series since the unforgettable "Blast Pit" and "Questionable Ethics" chapters in 1998's Half-Life. Alyx often stays behind as Gordon seeks a way to restore power to the area in question, before the two are assaulted from all sides by a combination of zombies, ant lions, head crabs and the new "zombines" (faster and stronger zombies created when a Combine soldier is possessed by a head crab). Interestingly, the player goes through much of this section of the game without a firearm or ammo, and is required to light up enemies with the flashlight for Alyx to take down with her pistol. What could easily have become a frustratingly difficult and cumbersome section of Episode One is made hugely enjoyable by Alyx's impressive combat skills and the mechanism's flawless execution. Crucially, while this section is by no means easy, it is fair.

The final section of the game follows Alyx, Gordon and legendary security guard Barney Calhoun as the trio attempt to evacuate the remaining residents of City 17. Featuring thrilling urban squad combat and a particularly memorable battle with a Combine gunship, the final third of Episode One is certainly up to standard and continues the electric pace established by the underground chapter. While the extremely basic squad mechanics of Half-Life 2 are still in place, it is unreasonable to expect Valve to live up to games such as Freedom Fighters in this regard as it is such as minor section of a much bigger game. Gordon's resistance buddies can occasionally find themselves in the way, especially in tight corridors, and seem to draw little if any fire away from the player. Nevertheless, they fire accurately and provide the player with invaluable support (by way of ammo and med kits) in dense areas of Combine fortification.

The player spends much of the game in the company of Alyx, however this potentially disastrous game mechanic that all-too-often fails in other titles and becomes a chore rather than a pleasure is executed to perfection. Alyx rarely tells Gordon to get a move on and allows the game to played at the desired pace of the player. She cracks jokes and often exhibits dread, excitement and relief, giving her a real air of humanity, and thankfully stays well out of the way during puzzle sections. It remains to be seen whether this would work during a full-length game (according to Valve, Episode One's average completion time is a little over four hours), however Alyx acts as effective and, crucially, welcome support throughout the game.

Aside from the expected shortness of the game and the basic squad mechanics, it is a genuine challenge to find fault with Episode One. Granted, there are no new weapons, only a single new enemy and everything looks pretty much the same, but then what did you expect? One could argue that the citadel section is underwhelming and superseded by the later sections, yet to me this only highlights the quality of the underground and city areas rather than suggesting the game's opening hour is below par. As with the Lost Coast demo, commentary from the developers is available to explain various aspects of the game and comes highly recommended. Valve are clearly a company that thrives on its fans, and the way they claim to have tweaked the balance of gameplay as a result of playtesters' feedback is palpable. In fact, Valve admit to having removed chunks of Episode One because of a negative reaction from players; if only all developers applied this level of scrutiny we would have considerably better gaming experiences on offer. Imagine, for example, if Hideo Kojima had removed the pointless cut scenes of pseudo-philosophical bullshit from the end of Metal Gear Solid 2. Perhaps it is indicative of the believability of the Half-Life universe that it requires so little explanation.

Overall, Half-Life 2: Episode One delivers enjoyable co-operative gameplay, hugely entertaining AI battles, challenging puzzles and a few scares along the way. The teaser trailer for Episode Two, a reward for completion, further highlights how Valve are reshaping the landscape of first-person shooters. While the likes of Prey are doing exactly what the original Half-Life did nearly eight years ago, Valve are one of a handful of developers innovating rather than imitating, and Half-Life 2: Episode One, in almost all respects, could not be better proof of that. It's just over before you know it. 83