PICK OF THE WEEK
Pulled Apart By Horses
High Five, Swan Dive, Nose Dive (Transgressive)
A structureless blast of lunatic energy, the second single from this Leeds quartet's durr-core debut features loud things falling into other, louder, things, and a bit that sounds like the bit in Hulk where Hulk punches that lorry. "I'll make you dance with my balls of fire!" shrieks Tom Hudson in the typhoon generated by combustible DRUMMING, Mudhoney-dipped GUITARS and other less identifiable though equally unnerving NOISES. He will, you know.
ALSO OUT THIS WEEK
Justin Bieber
U Smile (Mercury)
"I'll wait on you forever and a day," wibbles/threatens Bieber on this, the latest step in his owners' masterplan to scrawl his name in buttercream on the world's heart in 1540pt OMG SO CUTE font. Sadly there isn't enough space in which to muse on where the trade winds might buffet the child next, or on the true intentions of the Kardashians and Ushers that circle his tiny skull, and so we'll merely note that U Smile is a perfectly serviceable wisp of tween balladry, albeit one whose sadface credentials are tempered by an overwhelming sense of impending doom.
Grinderman
Heathen Child (Mute)
As a receptacle into which Nick Cave pours the stuff that's too unpleasant even for the Bad Seeds, Grinderman is less diversionary Tupperware lunchbox, more a Hellmouth on fire with lions in it. The first single from their second album, Heathen Child is swampy dimbulb primitivism in excelsis. In the video, Cave, 53, fires thunderbolts from his crotch, his nostrils so round and flared his nose looks like a set of binoculars. It's amazing.
Alesha
Drummer Boy (Atlantic)
Yo Alesha Dixon! With your dazzling TV portfolio and your disproportionately small head! You is well fit, innit. You is also not terribly good at this singles lark, is you, what with your cast-off Rihannaisms and magnolia emulsion voice and euphemisms that are sexy in the way that tracker mortgages are sexy. This one is about penises. Or rather, "drummers", whose "sticks" A-Dix demands be used to "bang" her "drum" forthwith. In the video, repeated shots of the singer's gusset add to the concomitant air of empowerment/mortification.
Linkin Park
The Catalyst (Warners)
In which the Californians stuff their nu-metal bunions into electronic espadrilles and their aged torsos into the pleather blouson of flagrant bandwagoneering. Lyrically, it smells a bit like singed hair. "We're a broken people living under loaded gun," barks Chester Bennington, a man whose name will never not sound like a range of reasonably priced outdoor furniture. Musically? Sort of like Utah Saints but less now-y. Result? It's Dude, Where's My Retirement Plan? It's Linkin Park Bench.
