2DO Before I Die

'Tuning In' Goes Live - Tim's Band Fink Makes It To The Radio

This fortnight's edition of Tuning In comes to you live - via a tremendously complicated hotel wi-fi system - from Lausanne, Switzerland, to which I have been whisked for a gig with my musical muckers, Fink. The outrageously trendy Swiss francophone youth-culture radio station Couleur 3 foolishly invited us to christen their new studio by letting us rock up, make a mess of their sound desk, constantly badger their engineer for more mid-end reverb (maaan), tangle all their cables and reward them for the privilege by drinking all their wine and eating lots of their very strange vol-au-vents-which-were-actually-pork-pies.

We also, of course, played them some music. Fink live, for the uninitiated, consists largely of huskily-voiced singer Fin Greenall banging out his startlingly accomplished alt/blues/folk songs on a long-suffering Spanish guitar while myself and bassist Guy Whittaker indulge in twin fantasies (perhaps that should read dual fantasies; twin fantasies sounds like something, erm, different) of being reincarnated as The Police's Stewart Copeland and Metallica's late-great Cliff Burton.

That we are often flown to other countries and paid for this happy shambles is a miracle that frequently sends Guy and me into helpless fits of insanely grateful giggles as we cheerfully reach for our ninth free can of Kronenbourg.

To add compliment to already-sizeable luxury, you can still smoke indoors in Switzerland (meaning I was able to enjoy an entire drink without being left on my own, or forced to jump up and accompany my puffing pals to some rain-sodden outside doorway every five minutes) and - amazingness of all amazingnesses - our record was played on the radio as we were driven from the airport to the hotel.

If you're someone who resides in the ample space between those who have once spent five minutes contemplating making their own music and Bono, you can probably empathise with how cool this is. (continues)

Turbopotamus, Entre Rios and Kashmir...

In the fullness of time, the statement "CSS showed us that South America knows how to rock" may prove to be as laughable as saying "those Opus dudes, with their toothsome 1985 hit ‘Live Is Life’, really put Austrian pop on the map", but who knows. Then again, I'm sure the 400 million inhabitants of South America just love all being lumped into the same cultural bracket (similar to saying, I guess, "Kraftwerk? They did wonderful things for Greek electronica"), although I like to think sweeping geographical generalisation is one of the few things this column does rather well, so what the hey.

All this is a rather laboured introduction to a couple of bands from the world's fourth-largest continent that I’ve recently been instructed by South-Americanophile friends to examine. Now here’s the funny thing about being British, and a bit arrogant, and know-it-all, and a so-called musician to boot: when someone tells you to check out a band from overseas you automatically assume they’re going to be incredible. A little like the knee-jerk assumption that all films with subtitles will be classics. Only, of course, there are exceptions.

Buenos Aires’ Entre Rios, for all their benign tunefulness and nifty trick of sampling the Walker Brothers, are one such exception. I was expecting something dirty, sexy and at the very least energetic, having read a description of them as a “highly influential electronic soundcrash”, but via some creaky samples, drippy acoustic guitar and the aforementioned Walker Brothers sample, they sound less “crash” and more “ran out of petrol” while oddly recalling a Sugababes demo tape. I did try to say something nice. Honest.
(continues)

Funny Old World - Global Music Superstars We Haven't Heard Of...

Funny old world, innit. Excuse me for sounding like a London taxi driver. Billions of people, so many similarities, yet so many dramatic differences. Many are the things which demonstrate this: holidays, foreign exchange programmes, wars, Benetton adverts. But the good news for you, dear reader, is that I’m going to stick to the example of pop music. So many bands, singers, musicians, from so many different countries, and only a relatively small number of them popular everywhere on the globe.

Blur’s Alex James recently pondered why his band – hugely successful virtually everywhere else in Europe – can’t so much as get arrested in Belgium. I’ve always liked the story of British grungers Bush headlining a massive festival in America, then coming home to play the half-full back room of a pub in Birmingham.

There are numerous reasons for this phenomenon: timing, national trends, language barriers, the PR department in a certain country simply being a bit rubbish… but even so, as Michael Ogden recently remarked, it’s amazing that an artist can sell, for example, seven million albums in Japan, and still have trouble convincing EMI in London they’re anyone other than someone from Accounts who does a passable Green Day song on the karaoke machine.

Take HIKARU UTADA, as convenient coincidence would have it. She does a passable Green Day song (see it here - 844,000 views!) and she looks like she works in Accounts. She’s also sold over twenty million albums. The Japanese Dido, I hear you belch? You could be right. So why isn’t she big elsewhere? Could it be because she writes songs with lines like “you smiled at me and said, ‘don’t get me wrong, I love you, but does that mean I have to meet your father?’ ” (A perfectly reasonable sentiment, one might conclude.)

Mind you, “why isn’t she big elsewhere?” is exactly the sort of daft question a blinkered, retro-colonial moron like me would ask, before investigating the proper situation. Which is, of course, that she is big elsewhere. She’s bloody huge. In Taiwan, China, Hong Kong, Singapore, South Korea and Thailand. And they’re just the six additional countries listed on her Wikipedia discography. All in all, she’s probably not crying that she can walk down Kilburn High Road unrecognised, or that her records aren’t sold in Omaha’s branch of Borders. (continues)

"Like Arctic Monkeys After A Large Joint and an Art Degree"

Hello everyone. It’s my second entry, so I figure it’s time to throw my weight around a little bit, despite Mike’n’Chris’s suggestions that I “be nice”. I’ve also had less sleep than an insomniac Dalek on account of our new fortnight-old offspring (who is already a massive Nick Cave fan), so if my tone seems a trifle short, remember that old Dutch adage tekort kweekt grote planten en smakelijke kaas ('shortness breeds large plants and flavoursome cheese') – and all will be well with the world.

Firstly we’re off to New Zealand for the jolly sound of Die!Die!Die! who, one hopes, are named after a psycho-alliterationary reaction to a Wet Wet Wet record. They certainly sound as angry as I’d be if forced to listen to “Love Is All Around” on repeat without earplugs, and choose to direct their bile via energetically spanked early-nineties guitar racket and bonkers-sounding lyrics (I’m sure he’s saying “It’s just so hard to stay chi” at some point; I know how he feels) – a little like Arctic Monkeys after a large joint and an art degree.

I like the fact they ignore any temptation to write a proper chorus; I appreciate the way they pay homage to their influences (Wire, Gang Of Four, Fugazi) by opening for them on tour rather than making carbon copies of their records; I especially admire a song they’ve named “Sideways Here We Come”, which conjures up the heartwarming image of Morrissey going on a Santa Barbara wine tour. Can’t think why.

Next up: Glasvegas. Oh dear. Oh dear, dear, dear. Come back Royworld, all is forgiven. Jesus, get back on your Mary Chain. They’re probably going to scream down the M6 Motorway from Scotland to lynch me for saying this, but this quartet – who NME have recently given the tired old title of Best New Band In Britain – play quite possibly the most dreary, tuneless bilge I’ve heard limping out of a pair of speakers since Embrace’s last record.

Maybe if you’re listening to this while standing on a bridge over the river Clyde in the rain on a Sunday in February with only a small mongrel called Greavsie for company, it all makes sudden, dramatic sense – but for me on a Wednesday afternoon in Whitechapel, London I find my empathy tap runneth dry. Oh, and I think their name is silly. I know it’s meant to be silly, but what next? A band from Gloucester calling themselves Glos Angeles? Bah, humbug.   

Tim Has A Baby

It’s Friday, and that can only mean one thing – It’s time for Tim Thornton’s weekly column, 'Tuning In’!...

Except that earlier this week, Tim’s wife gave birth to their first child! - a lovely daughter to be precise.

Chiara Thornton weighed in at 7lb 3oz and we’re very glad to say that both mother and baby are now safely back home with the proud, disorientated dad.

Our genuine, heartiest congratulations to Tim and family – hope you all enjoy the first, unforgettable, wobbly steps of parenthood...

But good news -- Tim should be back in two weeks from today with his regular music column. In the meantime, we have a 'Breaking In' story about the music business that we will be posting later...quite possibly Sunday...(and if you would like to leave a congratulations note to Tim, please do so in the Comments below. Thanks.

and TOMORROW – Chris Day explains the difference between what he says and what he does in “2DOODLES”... His own weekly injection of graphic-heavy bathos...

"So, What Do You Think of Those Pumping Bishops?" - 5th of this week's new columnists

I’m finding myself ridiculously out of touch with what’s happening right now in the world of rockular music. Ironic, really, considering I am what could be laughingly described as a professional musician and need, as you might expect, to keep abreast of what the enemy’s doing, and all that. But there are SO many new bands/acts/singers/genres these days, it frequently brings on a rather middle-aged sort of backache. Not a day passes without someone saying brightly “what d’you think of those Pumping Bishops, eh?” or “how about that new Civil Fuelstar track, then?” – prompting me to retort with “what the blazes are you talking about, you silly person.”

So my mission, from now on, will be to discover two or three new acts per week and get to the bottom of them, or at the very least halfway down. What are they like? Why do they exist? Are they any good? Will they be big? So, instead of 2Listen2beforeIdie, it’ll be 2DiscoverBeforeIfinallybecomeAnOldFart.

In order to do this, though, I need YOUR suggestions. Using the “comments” button below, gimme the names. Heard them on the wireless – sorry, radio – and want to know more? Tell me. Seen their name in the paper and need to impress your teenage child with your impeccable knowledge of their musical output? I can help. The first three are mine – and I’m sorry to say, we’re not starting with a whole lot of good news…
(Tim’s reviews continue at the link below)