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Rip Off Your Labels : More Angular Product (Angular Recording Corporation)

Hurrah! Look what’s come in the post. And look! Some light-fingered git in my block has decided to help themselves to the contents of the Angular jiffy-bag. And then decided against it. Thieving scum with no taste – yep, that’s my neighbourhood.

So, here we have a second heaping helping of scabby artnoise with occasional prettiness compiled by The Angular Recording Corporation who seem to be finding themselves in demand at the moment, what with their last compilation selling out faster than the Huggy Jesus doll. (It’s a thing I found on the internet, the name made me laugh, ok). ‘Record labels need you more than you need them.’ they tell us. Quite so. Ya Boo Sucks to the man and his stinky old record label. Hurrah for doin’ it for yerself.
As before, the ‘heady’ days of the eighties are conjured up on more than one occasion. Having been through that decade once, I find this quite weird, but not necessarily in a bad way. Curiously, C86ness (if you take into account what the original compilation collected together, rather than flowery dresses and picnics) is mixed into the swirl of new-wave art-pop.

The Vichy Government : I Control Disease Features a two fingered (in both senses of the phrase) keyboard playing and the kind of frenetic drumbeat that would slot in nicely behind the Shop Assistants, whilst yer man blethers over the top. Like a street-corner Neil Tennant.

The Violets : Stealer Delicious staccato lady-pop with Elastica phrasing. Punk delicate that invites us to do that new-wavey me-so-mental arms by yr sides pogo whilst looking from side to side. You do know what I mean.

Art Brut & Friends : Top Of The Pops Continuing in the same vein as ‘We Formed A Band’ by taking the line that if you shout about it enough it’ll happen. So here we have a cheery, bleary ramshackle bundle of Angular types screechily name-checking their bands. Altogether now, ‘Art Brut…Top Of The Pops!, Luxemborg…Top Of The Pops!, Sweetie…Top Of The Pops!’ Hey this is fun. Kitten Painting…Top Of The Pops! Old Lady Next Door…Top Of The Pops!

The Fucks : Argos Lene Lovitch commenting on consumer culcha and a cack-handed keyboard tumble into a gorgeous swoony chorus, ‘I don’t care ‘cos I’m just here with you’.

The Long Blondes : Autonomy Boy Choppy guitars roll on a sea of monotone bass whilst powering female vocals stride ahead kicking things out the way.

Showboys : Factory Noirish (is that a cello I hear?) creep through the back streets via the Banshees ‘Metal Postcard’.

The Swear : Advert Boy More strident vocals in a Siouxsie stylee against rumbling, tumbling we-just-picked-up-our-instruments gtr/bass/drums. You can smell the rehearsal room damp on this snuffly punkster riposte to FHMs ‘Top 100 Hotties’ (Oh God can’t you feel the life draining out of you). Fab.

The Boyfriends : No Tomorrow Delicious chiming guitars make for classic early 80s indie sounds. Janice Long is playing The Chameleons as I kick my heels and poke at some geog. homework.

Sweetie : Fall For Your Lies Sounds like she’s singing to you through the buildings ancient plumbing system (like in ‘Delicatessen’ innit?). Woozy, curious and disarming.

Elizabeth Harper : Trouble in The Palace Like a lady pushed in and effortlessly fronted The Smiths. Ms Harper’s swoopily delightful vocals languorously charm yer pants off.

Gifthorse : Happy Daggers ‘An ode to being thrown out of libraries’ Libraries being close to my heart, I listen carefully. Heartbeat bass, handclap drums and smouldering guitars summon up Suede with a lighter touch, but Suede when they were intriguing…remember then?

Lovers Of Today : A Short Nasty Shock Early Banshees rattle topped with spiky girl vocals. Then it ends. Like it says.

Luxembourg : Let Us Have It Scary squeaky Miami Vice keyboard sound squiggles under and over scrabbly guitars as a suave man declaims ‘We’ve taken your cities and we’ve got designs on your countryside.’ You stay away from my countryside you pop fop reprobates.

The Rocks : We Got It (Galen Remix) The freakiest what-is-that-singing? vocals since that Pebbles track that sounds like it’s being sung by Cousin It (no, I can’t remember the name off hand). They scritch and scratch unhingedly as an itchy funk vibetastic backing stops, starts and chugs alluringly.

RRRG: Affected storm-tossed degenerates

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