A post rock band new to the London scene, their debut, Nun, has been released on the Wupa Dupa label (a collective of new artists from London whose catalogue ranges from twee folk to post-rock). There appears to be nothing immediately interesting about Nun Of The Above upon first listen; however, progressing deeper into the album, you slowly become trapped into the hypnotic bass and cello lines. I feel the poignant beauty in vague discordance at a despondent state of life. The psychedelic influences are incredible, some Pink Floyd moments, also resemblances to bands such as the American Analog Set and Explosions in the Sky, artists who are certainly considered to be within the confines of the same genre. One of the most obvious and striking things about the album is that it builds and falls; tumultuous distortions seep upwards, drums roll underneath, chaos takes over, at which point the song drops into the sound of a pizzicato cello playing a bass line, all to be built up once more. One could say that many of the builds were put in just for their own sake, but that is irrelevant, because they certainly work well in my opinion.
Monthly Archives: March 2007
This week the Roaming Football Column is slumming it with a guesting from a self confessed football-wary-writer. Of course, I do really enjoy quality football; but this week the column will focus on England’s 2008 qualifying matches against Israel and Andorra, which, for all of you who have been living in a cave for the past week, was not typically in this vein of entertainment. For someone not so savvy to the simperings of the sports press, what I have found to have been overriding the play is the general bitching over newly ruined manager Steve McLaren . This drew to a climax of sorts at the end of the 0-0 draw against Israel, with chants of ‘What a load of rubbish’ from the national fans who had journeyed to Tel Aviv for the poor show. Then there is whole thing with Rooney, who is ‘off the chain’; although this might be part of the whole red top tabloid war on McLaren – both parties deny the rift which the rumour mills tell of… but then again, Rooney did have to be taken off in the second half of the Andorra game because of uncontrollable aggression, obviously to avoid a red card.
“Here’s another from James, Mark and Will”
Bonjour, wie gehts, and welcome to the first edition of the imaginatively titled ‘new music column’. Each week I will present several new, exciting and vaguely similar bands each week, all under the banner of what you might call ‘indie’.
A word from the editor concerning the current state of affairs: Well, it’s been a good week, but the Sauce is still notable by its absence. I call on everyone to nag, annoy and cajole Pascoe until he gets on with it; it seems he has reverted to his useless former self. But there’s been some good material in its place, beginning on Saturday, and how Jimmy would like to meet David Blue. Sunday saw our three part review of Four Tet (with Steve Reid) live at the Exeter Phoenix Centre:
“the absolute pleasure that was being found on that stage through music was imprinted on the audience in the manner of hypnosis” – JR
Very few prints have been made of the films we saw this week; probably because they were, for the most part, frankly, unwatchable. Projected for us off of actual film reels (courtesy of the BFI), they were also the most unique films this sometime columnist has yet seen, aside from the one in the Tate a few years back with the guy covering his bollocks in ketchup, but that was just shit.
I seem to remember that at the end of last week’s piece I mentioned that Jim Morrison would be the subject of this article; he won’t. I will, instead, be looking at a book that covers a rather topical talking point: slavery. The book is an extract from Olaudah Equiano’s autobiography ‘The Interesting Narrative’ (1789), called ‘Sold As A Slave’. The autobiography in question was a bestseller at the time, made a celebrity of its author, and gained the campaign for the abolition of the slave trade a lot of credence. Pretty impressive for a former slave.