Thom Yorke – A Brain in a Bottle
Given the unrelenting nature of the internet, writing about the new Thom Yorke album could be considered about as relevant as posting about the dangers of file-sharing site Napster. This is the indie blog, however, and everything Yorke does is automatically noteworthy, given that he is single-handedly responsible for the demise of the genre itself. (It’s my theory that after listening to Aphex Twin, Yorke realised he hated his “fucking electric guitar”, wrote Kid A and as a result, corrupted a generation of young bands who all attempted to do the same for the next 15 years.) Anyway, as I am sure you are already aware (downloads of his BitTorrent bundle are 2m and counting), Yorke launched his new solo album, Tomorrow’s Modern Boxes, a few weeks ago. So far it’s received a lot of criticism, mainly for not being earth-shatteringly inventive, but personally I have always thought of Yorke’s solo ventures as passion projects for a man expected to be a continual stoic genius. As a solo artist, he can indulge in his desires to become a pioneer of digital experimentation, and try out some new ideas before he rejoins Radiohead for the vast task that is recording another groundbreaking, definitive album.
Pix
Pix, real name Hannah Rodgers, is the kind of free spirit you normally stumble across at festivals, leaving you perplexed at how she operates in modern life. Does she ride the tube? What does she think of Tinder? Has she even heard of Joey Essex? A patchwork dungaree-wearing hippy, Rodgers formerly operated under her real name and in a vaguely folksy guise, but this new song teases out a haunting, celestial wash of sounds conjured by producer Simon Byrt. The gothic-inspired video below showcases Pix as a modern-day version of those the bindi-sporting 90s female indie artists (think Echobelly’s Sonya Madan) or – niche reference alert – Kelli Ali of the Sneaker Pimps. I love Pix.
Jim Noir – The Broadway Jets
I should probably be writing about the release of Johnny Marr’s new album this month, but unfortunately for Johnny Marr, who I am certain is reading this, I’d rather listen to the oft overlooked indie oddball Jim Noir – a man named in tribute to Vic Reeves’ real name Jim Moir – who released his fourth album a few weeks ago. You may remember his single Key of C – which didn’t exactly win any Grammys, much less make it into the charts – but it definitely made a number of the bowler-hat-wearing indie community incredibly happy for many months. The Broadway Jets was recorded in a studio under the grey Manchester skies. It’s an experiment in sad yet sunny 60s British pop music, heavy on the tambourine and layered vocals.
Twin Peaks – I Found a New Way
It feels appropriate, given the big news this week that David Lynch’s show will return in 2016 to celebrate the 25th anniversary of its cancellation, to praise the work of lo-fi power pop quartet Twin Peaks. Hailing from Chicago – home of the similarly inclined Smith Westerns and the Orwells, not to mention Chance the Rapper, with whom some of the band went to school with – I Found a New Way is a raucous rock track from their second album Wild Onion that swaggers with the gobby arrogance of youth.
Sun Kil Moon – War on Drugs: Suck My Cock
As it’s Friday, I’ll leave you with this cheery little ditty to chew on. Call it an act of comedy or spite, depending on which side of the Mark Kozelek camp you fall on, but ultimately, War On Drugs: Suck My Cock is a great track. Besides, it’s a far more creative form of public feud between two bands than a 140-character Twitter spat (for some context, visit here).
