Arcade Fire - Neon Bible

I'm making a conscious decision to cover more music that I actually like. Unfortunately, it doesn't really make for very good reading, because I'm better at being angry than I am at being enthusiastic. This is because I've had more practice at the former because so much stuff's shit.

Arcade Fire aren't shit. They're good. See, there's the problem in a nutshell. The word 'shit' is far more interesting than 'good'. Go further than 'good' and you start sounding like some pseudo-intellectual cheerleader or like the band's official press release or something.

Several people who didn't make the mistake of sounding like Arcade Fire's official press release were those reviewing the album for BBC2's Newsnight Review last Friday. Most of them hated it. They were pseud-ing it up to a frightening degree in their criticisms, which was ironic, because most of their problems with Arcade Fire revolved around the band's supposed pseud-ishness.

Arcade Fire aren't pseud-y. They're good. As their only defendant on Newsnight Review pointed out, the others clearly hadn't listened to the album. Or maybe they just hadn't been able to hear it over their own overly-poetic, yet bizarrely light-on-substance criticisms that had kicked in after the first two crotchets.

The people on Newsnight Review were dicks. You should buy this album, because everything they say is wrong. They'd be wrong about which way is 'up' and which way is 'down'.

Grinderman - Grinderman

The good records theme continues. Maybe it's just a lucky week. Here is a list of reasons why Grinderman should be bought:

Grinderman is Nick Cave and some of The Bad Seeds. Almost everything they do pisses on other rock music like alcoholic Irish giant, Charles Byrne 'breaking the seal' with his first wazz of the day (and pissing over a load of rock bands).

Grinderman is Nick Cave and some of The Bad Seeds being even more rock. The only bad thing about Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds (other than the word 'bad' and some of their evil thoughts) is that occasionally they do a ballad that's a bit wispy musically.

Grinderman is an exceptional name for anything or anyone.

There's a monkey on the cover. He's green.

Track two: 'No Pussy Blues' - probably the best song title of the year and we've still got nine months to go.

All the band members have grown nineteenth century, wild west town moustaches and facial hair.

Finally, Nick Cave is on guitar, despite not really being able to play the guitar.

Buy it, buy it, buy it, buy it, buy it, buy it.

36 Crazy Fists - Rest Inside The Flames

No! Don't rest inside the flames! Flee! Flee! Rest outside the reach of the flames, where you won't get burnt. Rest at a safe distance.

Is this what passes for advice these days? It's ludicrously irresponsible. Maybe the band really ARE 18 mentalists, keen to give you a pummelling. You'd never get that kind of behaviour from Jim Reeves or Teddy Pendergrass. Now there were some crooners you could set your watch by. I trusted them nearly as much as the Green Cross Code man.

Track two: 'Felt Through a Phone Line'. Either this is a reference to the Brass Eye paedophile episode, where Phillippa Forrester claimed that paedophiles could feel children up via the internet, using a 'special glove'. Either that or it's about phoning for fuzzy felt. We've all done it. Phoned for fuzzy felt, I mean.

Justin Timberlake

I know what you're wondering: If this album were a song by Carter USM, which would it be? The answer, of course, is 'Lenny and Terence'.

And I know what else you're wondering: Is Justin Timberlake still stalking you? The answer, of course, is yes.

I got up this morning and who should I find slumped against my front door, but the squeaky-voiced popster himself. His pleas that he'd been out with The Neptunes and that he thought that this was Chad Hugo's house fell on deaf ears and I sent him on his way.

Earlier in the week I'd been idly wondering whether it was time to prune my Buddleja in the back garden, when he'd appeared over the back fence. He then strung a load of his own song titles together in a bid to impress me. He said:

"'What You Got' 'Last Night' is 'Still On My Brain'. 'Rock Your Body'. 'Take Me Now', 'Take It From Here' 'Like I Love You'."

I replied in kind:

"'Cry Me A River'. 'Nothin' Else'."

At which point I retrieved my pilfered secateurs from his limp grip and told him to fuck off.

Oasis - Stop The Clocks

Stop the CD! Stop the CD!

For those that don't know 'repeat until funny' is a mainstay of my humour. Some might say it's the only facet, but they'd be neglecting 'pedantry' and 'pointing out what a dork I am'. Perhaps the former falls into the category of the latter. Perhaps the latter is subjected to the 'repeat until funny' mantra.

So, Oasis then. As you might imagine, most of this 'best of' features their early stuff, when they weren't garbage. Of eighteen tracks, five are off their first album, five off their second and two are B-sides that bridge the gap between those two albums.

I've done a bit of statistical analysis and I've concluded that a percentage like that means you may as well just buy the first two albums. Then you can just download the other songs off the internet and send Noel Gallagher three quid in the post in order to offset your guilt.

Alternatively, buy the more recent albums and then download all the good Oasis songs for free in order to offset Noel Gallagher's guilt that he feels for making money from such dross.

The Fray - How To Save A Life

What? Sorry? Come again? No, sorry, you'll have to repeat that. What did you say? Huh? Are you having a laugh? Just what are you trying to tell me?

Now I've no problem with indecipherable lyrics, but The Fray are pushing it. No. The Fray have pushed it. The Fray have taken a big, long run-up and pushed and pushed and pushed until their little hearts have burst. Then they've gone down to the hospital, had transplants and returned for another bout of pushing.

I don't understand ONE WORD that this guy says on their super-smash, mega-selling, ultra-number-one single, 'How To Save A Life'. I presume that at least part of it is the words 'how to save a life' but I can't spot when it happens.

I actually thought they were Croatian or Lithuanian or something and were singing in their mother tongue. They're not. The Fray are from Colorado.

The Fray have produced the worst keyboard rock since Toploader did 'Dancing In The Moonlight'. If you're after a recommendation for How To Save A Life, that's the best I can come up with: The vocals aren't as annoying as the Toploader bloke's on 'Dancing In The Moonlight'.

Take That - Beautiful World

Suddenly everyone my age likes Take That. It's possibly in an ironic kind of way, which is still no excuse.

When Take That were first around they were all over the media like a particularly virulent and irritating rash. They were in every magazine. They were on every TV show. They topped the charts with every single. It felt like it would never end.

Now they've returned and for some reason they're being treated with some sort of reverential, nostalgic good humour. Sure, each of them seems all right. Even Gary (pronounced 'Galley') Barlow doesn't seem like as much of a gimp as he used to. But STILL that's no excuse.

They make bland music. The old stuff's only memorable because you were force-fed it virtually every waking hour. I hate nostalgia. I hate how shit stuff can become seemingly worthy simply through the passage of time. It's still shit. All you're doing is giving it a second bout of unwarranted exposure.

'Reach Out', 'Patience', 'Beautiful World', 'Hold On', 'Like I Never Loved You At All', 'Shine', 'I'd Wait For Life', 'Ain't No Sense In Love', 'What You Believe In'. These are song titles finely calibrated to offend NO-ONE and therefore lose NO-ONE as a potential customer.

The only song title of merit is 'Mancunian Way' although I'm 90 percent certain that this is a play on words. If it were actually about Manchester's inner ring road, I'd be far, far happier.

Joss Stone - Introducing Joss Stone

Introducing Joss Stone is Joss Stone's third studio album. That title again: Introducing Joss Stone.

Maybe she wasn't around when she was on TV and radio all those times and thinks that she still needs an introduction. Maybe she wasn't around when she recorded the first two albums. Maybe she's demented. Maybe she couldn't think of an album title. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Let's move to some facts.

Joss Stone's speaking voice is monumentally irritating. If you were being generous, you'd say it was understated. You'd be wrong. It's wispy, voiceless and affected. It's also posh. Unforgivably so.

This album has a song called 'Tell Me What We're Gonna Do Now'. It features the rapper, Common. If Common were true to his name, he'd tell Joss Stone that they were gonna do now. He'd say: 'I'm gonna mock your ridiculous speaking voice. You can do as you please,' because commoners always have that against the posh of this world.

Then he'd break her croquet mallet over his knee and brandish it in her face, saying: 'How about we restructure society so that we, the masses, have access to the same opportunities granted you and all of your sickening ilk?'

Joss Stone would then answer, to which Common would say: 'Speak up.'

Update: I'm reliably informed that Joss Stone has now affected a cod-American or 'transatlantic' accent. This is, unbelievably, an even worse crime. It's probably one of the worst crimes there is - not far below genocide.

Killswitch Engage - The End Of Heartache

Track one: 'Bid Farewell'.

What kind of an amateur makes a mistake like that? 'Farewell' is a form of goodbye. What dullard starts with that? I'm surprised they don't inadvertently garrotte themselves on their guitar strings, they're so in need of supervision.

If I were in charge of Killswitch Engage (and they'd be a better band for it), I'd start the album with a song called 'Meet Teddy'. Track two would be 'Get To Know Teddy'. Track three would be 'Teddy Decides To Go For A Walk'.

Tracks four to 11 would relate to different characters that Teddy bumped into during his adventures. Track 12 - because there should never be more than 12 tracks on an album - would be entitled 'Teddy Arrives Home - The End'.

You'd know where you were then, if you were listening on 'random' or 'shuffle'. If Teddy were talking to a giraffe who'd lost his shoes, you'd know you were in the thick of the adventure. If Teddy were saying 'hello', you're at the start.

A bit of organisation. That's all that's needed. Where are you with 'Rose of Sharyn'? Who knows? Who cares?

Aerosmith - The Very Best Of

Just what does Aerosmith actually mean? Let's do a bit of a breakdown. A smith is someone associated with the creation and shaping of items. An Aero is a type of chocolate bar that's predominantly air. So there you have it: These guys make delicious, sweet snacks with bubbles in.

Steven Tyler looks like he could eat about eighty Aeros in one mouthful. Go on! Cram 'em in, Steve! You show the world that the reticulated python isn't the only thing that can swallow a cow in one go.

All of Aerosmith's songs are masterpieces, working on multiple levels. They're like post-modern fables with overdriven guitar. Behold the evidence:

Pink - This is about all sorts of things that are pink.
Love In An Elevator - This is about love in a lift. Aerosmith try and conceal this by cleverly using the word 'elevator', but we're all so worldly-wise and well-read these days that we can see through their subtle wordsmithery.
Walk This Way - This is about walking a certain way. Steve Tyler confusingly demonstrates an entirely different walk to co-singers Run DMC. If you're torn between the two, let's just say that Run DMC's walk is the easier of the two.
Don't Want To Miss A Thing - This perfectly encapsulates that ill-defined emotion when you don't want to miss something and are worried that you might.
Devil's Got A New Disguise - For many bands, this would be about the way we're sometimes seduced into doing things we ought not to. Aerosmith, however, see the world with greater perspective. It's about the devil wearing Groucho Marx-style glasses, moustache and false nose.
Dude (Looks Like A Lady) - This is about a dude who has the appearance of being female.

Mika - Life In Cartoon Motion

This is how much of a bad idea it is for me to write this site: I saw the cover of Life In Cartoon Motion and thought that I'd review it. Then I realised that I didn't know what Mika was, man, woman or band. Then I saw him on telly or something and realised he was a chap. Following my usual extensive research, I also learnt that his record had been number one.

The problem is that I don't really pay much attention to anything. I'm pretty much certain that I've heard a few of his songs, but I can't bring them to mind. It's not that I'm ill-informed. Just that I'm a bit unreceptive to new information.

Mika was born in Beirut. I'm a bit sick of this. Why does everyone have to be interesting these days? Everyone's all multicultural and has exotic upbringings. Ah, well if everyone's like that, surely you're the unusual one, you say? Well no, because I was exaggerating. In truth there are still just enough people like me that I can be classed as part of the crowd or the masses or whatever.

Pick ANY facet of life and ask me about it. I'll have an answer that bores you to tears with its predictability.

Track 10: 'Happy Ending/Over My Shoulder'. There are 11 tracks. I suppose it's exotic to not have 'Happy Ending' as the ending. Bastard.

Emma Bunton - Life In Mono

Almost every single track on Life In Mono is labelled 'album version'. Click the picture on the right and see for yourself.

It's a frigging album. What other version would it be? The answer seems to be a 'single version', because that's what version of 'Downtown' appears. So if the 'single version' appears on the album and we presume that the single also features this version, what other version is there? Surely it's just 'Downtown', full stop. Or 'Downtown (the version)' if you really, absolutely have to specify.

Track three on Life In Mono is called 'Mischievous'. I don't know why, but I reckon that Emma Bunton pronounces it 'mischievious' - to rhyme with 'devious'. She just has that look about her. You know: Stupid.

She's wearing one of those pervy outfits on the cover, where you can see lots of the top of her leg, but nothing from the knee down. There's also a song called 'Undressing You' on the album. All this should add up to something, but somehow it doesn't. Maybe it's as a result of being branded Baby Spice in her younger days. I don't know. She's about as appealing as a game of Roshambo anyway.

Some people will disagree, but they're wrong. In my book, she's unappealing and my book's called The Book Of Unarguable Facts.

2Pac - Pac's Life

I've just had a bit of a read about 2Pac and unfortunately there are too many shootings for me to glean any useful information.

I can't remember which shooting's which, they're so frequent. He was only 25 when he died. How did he fit it all in? Do you know how many shootings I've been involved in? None - and I'm 28.

The only factual nugget that stuck in my head was that he was convicted of "sexual abuse (forcibly touching the buttocks)". That's a quote. It was more sinister than that sounds though, so you probably shouldn't laugh.

Another vaguely funny 2Pac related fact with a sinister pay-off is the name of his godfather - Elmer 'Geronimo' Pratt. Elmer 'Geronimo' Pratt murdered a schoolteacher during a bank robbery.

Pac's Life is 2Pac's sixth posthumous album. This means that he has now released more records as a dead man than as a live one. Death's no longer the barrier to success that it once was.

I'm a bit bored with mocking hip hop song titles at the minute. Let's just say that there are altogether too many Zs in the track listing and too few Ss.

His first album was called 2Pacalypse Now. I'd have something to say about that title, if I were reviewing it. It's a work of bad-play-on-words genius.

Bowling For Soup - The Great Burrito Extortion Case

Do I detect the stomach-turning stench of quirkiness? I think I do.

Let's consider the evidence. First, there's the band's name: Bowling For Soup. Then there's the album's name: The Great Burrito Extortion Case. If any of the song titles could be described as 'zany' or 'off the wall' then it's an open and shut case.

Track three: Val Kilmer. Track four: I'm Gay. Track eight: Love Sick Stomach Ache (Sugar Coated Accident).

There's been worse. But this evidence, allied to the fact that Bowling For Soup are American, means that we have to conclude that this album is rubbish. Quirkiness from Americans is not on.

British people can be quirky. Americans are quirky in a self-conscious way that proves they don't get the concept of quirkiness. A quirky British person, or band, are quirky because that's the way they are. With equally quirky American counterparts, you wonder why. Why are they being quirky? What are they trying to achieve?

Almost inevitably, the answer is that they're trying to make loads of money by appealing to a niche - a quirky niche. This negates the quirkiness, because unchecked yearning for wealth isn't particularly quirky, particularly from Americans.

Anyway, I'm off to do backflips in a top hat and monocle in the hope that some people give me some folding money.

Bayside - The Walking Wounded

I'll level with you: The only reason I'm reviewing this album is because of one song title. I'll give you a choice of three. See if you can guess which one caught my eye.

(1) Duality
(2) Thankfully
(3) Pop Ular SciencE

That's right. The answer was (4) 'They're Not Horses, They're Unicorns'.

What kind of moron can't spot a unicorn? It's got a massive great horn coming out of the middle of it's frigging head. Unlike horses. There's no hope for some people.

Fall Out Boy - Infinity On High

I'm pretty sure that this band should be called Fallout Boy rather than Fall Out Boy. It's their band, of course and they can call it what they like, but I still think I'm right.

There's the small matter of the vast weight of evidence proving their backwards English, you see.

Track four: 'I'm Like A Lawyer With The Way I'm Always Trying To Get You Off (Me And You)'. Now that's a bad pun, a bit childish and overlong to boot.

Track seven: 'Thnks Fr Th Mmrs'. No vowels. Vowels are good. Vowels are what separate us from donkeys and satanists (satanists who don't use vowels, that is).

Track eight: 'The (After) Life of the Party'. We're not stupid. We know another shit play on words when we see one. You don't need to use parentheses. Those brackets just act like a beacon for your own mental ineptitude.

Track nine: 'The Carpal Tunnel of Love'. No brackets, but an even more moronic linguistic twist.

Track ten: 'Bang the Doldrums'. Three in a row. A frigging hat trick of song titles written before the songs themselves.

Track 12: 'You’re Crashing, but You’re No Wave'. A quick breather for track 11 and on with the fun and games.

Track 13: 'I’ve Got All This Ringing in my Ears and One on my Finger'. The worst yet. You don't put a 'ringing' on your finger, you put a 'ring' on it. Words fail me.

Track 15: 'G.I.N.A.S.F.S'. Does anyone, anyone at all, want to know what that stands for? It's a UK bonus track. Why do we have to suffer?

Belinda Carlisle - Voila

Belinda Carlisle's got a record out! In French!

I just don't know what to say. For one thing, how the hell do I categorise it? It's Belinda Carlisle, but it's not pop. And it's French songs. French songs fit no clearly identifiable genre except 'French music' and there's no way I'm taking the trouble to add that. Just how many French records am I likely to be reviewing?

Someone - some philosopher - once said that even if a Lion could speak English, you wouldn't understand it. His point being that your worlds are so far apart, you'd have no common ground. Your values and reference points bear such little relation to each other that you'd be mutually incomprehensible, despite speaking the same language.

It's the same with the French. For all that I admire their food and their sniffy attitude to the US, at the end of the day, just what do they spend their time listening to and why? Belinda Carlisle seems to think that she knows, but she doesn't. Rest assured, behind her back, the French are going: "She has it all wrong. She takes no pleasure in the misery and she doesn't do enough ambiguous shrugs".

Killswitch Engage - As Daylight Dies

"Engage the killswitch!"
"I... I can't find the killswitch."
"It's there... over there... next to that lever..."
"Wha... Oh... What this?"
"Yes, that. Engage it... Engage it!... Engage the killswitch."

Lord knows what Killswitch Engage means. I know what they're about though. They're about looking serious and playing guitars and never EVER being happy.

Track one: 'Daylight Dies'. Why? Why does daylight have to die? The sun's life-giving rays are what permits life on this planet. Without daylight there's nothing.

Track three: 'Arms of Sorrow'. How miserable do you have to be to feel it in your arms. Arms should be used for waving and positioning hands so that people can see you're giving them the thumbs up.

Track 11: 'Reject Yourself'. That's not a 'can-do' attitude.

The campaign for more songs about teddy bears having adventures continues.

Ghostface Killah - Fishscale

I know what you're wondering: If this album were a Carter USM song, which would it be? The answer, of course, is 'The Only Living Boy In New Cross'.

I've got to get myself a cool G name. Ghostface Killah's a cracker. You could easily go wrong with the [something]face bit. You don't want to go around with a name like knobface or cockface or prickface or penisface. Ghostface is pretty cool though. Clever.

Then there's the 'Killah' bit. It's basically 'killer' but he's changed the ending. Again, he's got this right. He could easily have gone for 'Killog' or 'Killen'. I mean the latter's a real surname. Wouldn't that have been embarrassing down at the squash club, when it was pointed out to him by a fellow rapper/racquet sport enthusiast?

There are some good song titles too. 'Return of Clyde Smith' - this song alludes to the little-known period immediately following the time when Clyde Smith went away. 'Shakey Dog' - this is about a dog that does a mean impression of Shakin' Stevens.

Other classics include, 'Ragu', the baffling '9 Milli Bros', 'Jellyfish' and 'Ironman take over'.

Roxy Music - Best Of

I'm not entirely 100% certain why I'm doing Roxy Music. I don't particularly like them. They haven't got a record out and I don't believe in Best Ofs. Not that I don't credit their existence - I just think they're a bad idea.

Bryan Ferry's dad looked after pit ponies up in Washington, Tyne-and-Wear. He was not, as you might imagine, the fourteenth Earl of Winchester, indulgent of his young son's high society, playboy lifestyle; at once suave and debonair, yet aware of his family's rich heritage.

It's Bryan Ferry's fault you think that, because he always swanned around with models, sipping Martini and wearing cravates. He spent his studio time crooning away from the sanctity of his chaise longue with a flunky popping olives into his mouth during the middle-eight.

Weirdly, prior to this, Roxy Music were a rock band. An actual, real-life, make-a-bit-of-noise rock band - albeit quite an experimental one, which actually makes them better still. This was primarily down to Brian Eno. He's bald and a sort of rock-boffin.

We've just read this back and we're none-the-wiser as to why we decided to 'do' Roxy Music today.

Bloc Party - A Weekend In The City

Bloc Party once said that the absence of a 'k' from 'Block' was purely for aesthetic reasons. Well, you know what? You don't get to make the sole judgement on the aesthetics of the word bloc/block. It's my turn and I think it looks shit. I think it looks much better with the 'k' on, which is how it's supposed to be. Don't reinvent the wheel, Bloc Party. 'Block' works. Stick with it.

I think that Bloc Party are supposed to be all modern and broad-minded, but I get the opposite impression. They seem to inhabit the same world as the London music press and no-one else is much bothered. They all go to the same venues and listen to the same music. The press tell us that they're revolutionary, but everyone else is fairly ambivalent.

Being 'quite good' isn't normally the path to greatness. Nor is being better than a handful of other bands who are quite similar. Singing 'East London is a vampire' is quite insular. Writing a whole album about the capital, more so. 'Waiting For The 7.18' is a song about commuting on the underground. Most people don't do this, including, lest we forget, Bloc Party.

If you commute to your record industry job on the underground, maybe this is the album for you. For everyone else, get Captain Beefheart's Safe As Milk for an album you can really identify with.

Britney Spears - Greatest Hits: My Prerogative

Okay. I'll level with you. I think all good reviewers should reveal whatever affiliations and prejudices they hold at the start of any related reviews.

I am prejudiced against Britney Spears because she's got one eye on the side of her head and the other slap bang in the middle of her forehead. She looks like Sloth from the Goonies. Only Sloth's more appealing because he offers fleeting glimpses of the capacity for rational thought.

This view is backed up by track 18 on this album 'I'm Not A Girl, Not Yet A Woman'. So what are you then Britney? What foul beasts copulated to create so abhorrent a monster? My guess would be that she received the eye-on-side-of-head genes from some weird bird, like an osprey or an emu and the front eye genes from one of those fish that trawls the sea bed waiting for things to float into its non-closing mouth.

The other day Britney was photographed wearing no pants. Why wasn't she wearing pants? Call me Joe Uncool, the dorkiest man to like staying in writing things on the internet more than parties, but pants serve a purpose. Pants are a must. Pants are mandatory. Particularly if you're a girl and you're wearing a really short skirt.

It's almost as if she did it on purpose. I'll have to form that into a new prejudice. It's a form of irresponsibility, I reckon. There could be children perving over celebrities on the internet. It's not right to expose them to such things.

Get Cape Wear Cape Fly - Chronicles Of A Bohemian Teenager

Now you're talking: Get Cape, Wear Cape, Fly. There's a name for a band.

Who cares what it sounds like. This fella's clearly got at least a rudimentary grasp of what's good and what's shite. 'Chronicles Of A Bohemian Teenager' isn't good, mind, but that's more than outweighed by Get Cape, Wear Cape, Fly.

Then there's track 11: 'If I Had A Pound For Every Stale Song Title I'd Be 30 Short Of Getting Out Of This Mess'. I'm not making this up. Don't be fooled, because it is just the kind of thing that I do make up. It's a genuine song title.

I'm particularly enamoured with the 'mess' bit of that. It's not enough to have a song title that refers to shit song titles and it's not enough to have a song title that's ludicrously lengthy. He's also alluded to how miserable everyone is all of the time.

There's no sensible category for this, but adding 'Nu-Folk' would pretty much devalue the entire site, so I'm going to shoe-horn it into inappropriate genres like I normally do.