Celebrating a band who are almost forty years old is not something that can and is taken lightly. In fact there are very few groups who have a) lasted as long, b) stand the sight of each other after so long, c) have a career that justifies such a celebration and d) still has the captivation of the paying public. But that is exactly what AC/DC have done in the form of AC/DC: Scotland’s Family Jewels.

Arriving on the cusp of the world infamous Scottish Winter, the exhibition comes to an end this weekend, February 12^th. But rather than a review, M&B will take a look at the evocative nature and tribute of the exhibition that, like the band themselves, came and conquered quietly without hype or fuss.

Featuring everything from ticket stubs to glossy photographs. Rare LP covers to cardboard cutouts and beyond, the exhibition, aptly titles Scotland’s Family Jewels is a no nonsense, balls to the wall effort that has become synonymous with the group since their initial success right through to their world domination. Charting the rise and rise of the band from humble beginning through an intricate web of photos, letters and paraphernalia, viewers are given access all areas to exhibits in an approachable and hands on fashion.

Of course the exhibition is Bon Scott intensive. As fitting a tribute as any could be made to one of the most instantly recognizable, sadly missed figures in rock and roll. Few have embedded themselves more within the rock collective consciousness than Scott did in the short time we got to know him but of that there is a wealth of enjoyment and pleasure to be found.

Making up the majority of sampled work on display are private letters to family members, postcards, clothing and previously unreleased photographs of the singer. Touching messages to his sister and others reveal what has always been known about Bon. That he was a caring, conscious and genuine human being who lived and loved the way he wanted, when he wanted and with who he wanted. That the world saw the brash and bold, charismatic lout who loved all things sleazy and down right rotten was an epitome of what he was as a person. As has been written many, many times both before and since his untimely death in 1980, Bon was a man people could not help but like and love. As comfortable in front of ten people down the pub as he was before 10,000 at Wembley Stadium through this unique insight, fans get the opportunity to be vindicated in the adulation and praise.

However, there is a darker side to this glorification. When walking through the gallery’s aptly dark, dingy and overtly branded exhibit halls, the pictures of Bon and co stare back with all the guile and sheen of record label produced gloss. The personal objects of Bon’s, his jacket, sweater, private photographs and his passport are tokens of the other side of the fence that hit home he was just another man like those who worship at his alter.

To be given a look at the personal items that belonged to a man dead 32 years has a strangely prophetic and almost eerie quality. Suddenly the boldness and machismo are gone and the day-to-day hum drummery of a larger than life character is laid bare in a Perspex cabinet. Suddenly the toll of his death becomes that little bit more real and the stark honesty and bitterness of what might have been become all together apparent. To see his items, his handwriting, a window into his thoughts makes the loss altogether more tragic and terrifying.

Journalism and endless tributes can only conjure up as good an image as their creator to describe the man but his possessions make for a grim but sobering reality. It is therefore any wonder that the rest of the band are able to speak about his passing and further compliments their creative driving force that continued. The exhibition brings a whole new appreciation to Back in Black the album designed and conceived as a tribute to him and further promotes how brilliant a job Brian Johnson did in, as he would always say, “filling in” for the irreplaceable.

As maudlin as all this may be, the exhibition is, if nothing else an extraordinarily thorough shrine to the exalted masters of rock. Comprising of multiple projector screens throughout the exhibit that feature rare concert footage along with more recognized gigs such as the Monster of Rock 1991 headline and the Black Ice World Tour. A myriad of posters, album covers, collectables, backstage passes, Angus Bucks and guitars, the exhibition offers hardcore fans of the group an intriguing insight beyond the blazing cannons and inflatable women but also offers more casual listeners and viewers a genuinely inviting chance to see the amassed work of one of the most instantly recognizable bands and brands on the planet.

From Glasgow the exhibition moves on to Seattle, Washington where North American fans will be able to ogle until their hearts are content.

Jonathan Whitelaw

Not an HD toy

The quality of digital music is a relative hot potato within the industry. Veteran rocker Neil Young has claimed Steve Jobs wanted on increasing the quality of digital music before his untimely death.

Speaking at the All Things D conference 2012, the mutton chopped Young effectively criticized and defamed a whole generation’s work in the digital music field. His main point of argument was the quality listeners are forced to hear from modern MP3 files. Just 5% of the original data is present in a standard MP3 file and Mr. Young says there should be an option for those who wish it to listen to the other 95%.

However, as is often the case with ivory towered celebrity thinking, there are some important issues that Young failed to understand. The logistics of creating a device culpable of playing the supposed missing 95% would be severely hampered by essentially all of the things that make an iPod and digital music so popular.

Firstly, convenience. In order to have the quality that Neil Young demands, upwards of thirty minute download times for single tracks would be a very real possibility. Caused by the high resolution and gargantuan file size this would create, there are very few, if any, things that the average music listener or computer user will wait thirty minutes to download. In the modern world as a whole, there are very few things anybody would wait thirty minutes for.

Putting this into perspective and based on these hypothetical figures, Neil Young’s Harvest would take over six and half hours to download. Bizarrely, this would take longer than getting to the nearest record store, buying the album, getting home and listening to it in full back in 1972, the year of the album’s release. To ask users to wait thirty minutes per track seems like an almost impossibly futile, retrospective throwback to an age that has long gone.

The practicalities of such a venture would also be almost futile. The iPod classic has a maximum capacity of 160 Gigabytes. This equates to 40,000 tracks, 4000 albums on average, based on the current sound resolutions of most MP3 files. To transport songs of a higher resolution, as high as Neil Young wants, would result in the same iPod only storing thirty albums. This massive leap in sheer quantity alone would be more than enough to put off even the hardest core of audiophiles, who are more likely to own over thirty albums.

Unfortunately the numbers, statistics and practicalities do not add up. However, there is method to the madness in many respects. In the first decade of the 21^st Century, society has become obsessed with bettering all that it has. It is no longer acceptable to have a television with a cathode ray tube or even five standard channels to watch on it.

Food, clothing, news and even relationships can now be bought at the click of a track pad and keyboard. If your not digitized your not anything in the world of tomorrow, which conveniently is now today. The digital age has also afforded mass consumption of better quality good and luxury to the masses, so to speak, unlike any other time in civilization. So why, then, do listeners have to make do with only 5% of the audio quality of their music.

Neil Young has a valid point to make in that the digital option should be made available. However, this may be yet another classic case of thinking beyond our means. Young’s arguments may be flawed in other ways, most notably his overkill estimations of resolution speeds and potential improvements. However, had Steve Jobs’ untimely death not occurred, who knows what we’d be listening to or how we’d listen to it.

Ultimately, music comes down to the music itself. There is no point in high quality audio files if the lyrics and musicianship are sub standard. Despite change sin formatting, branding and accessibility, talent is still the watermark by which an artist and consumer are judged.

Jonathan Whitelaw

The year is not a month old yet but already the music community is in mourning. The very sad news that Etta James, the First Lady of Blues and Soul, has died aged 73. Having battled through leukemia and dementia towards the end of her life, James’ contributions to 20^th and 21^st Century popular music will stand as a lasting tribute to one of the very finest performers of her generation.

Born Jamesetta Hawkins in Los Angeles, California, young Etta began her musical career at the tender age of 14, singing with local bands. A move to San Francisco would ultimately lead to a recording contract with Chess Records in 1960 and what would go on to be one of the most recognisable and successful careers in music.

Famous for her grinding vocals, monumental longevity and a style that made every lyric feel like a flaming knife stabbing listeners in the heart, Etta James was, for many, the epitome of the popular blues and soul movement. Indeed, for fans and casual listeners alike, she was the definitive figure in a world dominated by smoke choked men, rasping their way over 4 bar blues guitar and being mimicked by modern rock legends.

Her signature tracks “At Last,” and “I’d rather go Blind” are regular features on the greatest tracks lists across all genres of music. James also racked up a number of honours that would not look entirely out of place amongst the MTV Generation’s glittering trophy cabinets. Inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1993, the Blues Hall of Fame in 2001 and the Grammy Hall of Fame to name but three of her illustrious awards, James’ lasting legacy will be her own longevity.

As a recognisable face, style and sound of an entire genre, her later years provided the luxury that artists of her caliber can enjoy in their twilight, variance. Johnny Cash and more recently Lou Reid have all made successful leaps into the worlds of hard rock, heavy metal and beyond and with her 2011 album The Dreamer, the ever venerable James, suffering badly from her illnesses, took the successful steps into country, pop and hard rock. Highlights include a brilliant cover of Little Big Town’s “Boondocks” and Guns’ N Roses “Welcome to the Jungle,” the latter a wonderfully crafted soul rendition of an excitable classic that still retains its brooding malice and tribute to all things debauched.

The passing of Etta James is both a sad and mournful occasion but one that should be interpreted in the best possible way. With over five decades of work to choose from and a back catalog that is sure to cater to anybody’s tastes, this time should be spent celebrating one of the very best recording artists who has ever lived.

Jonathan Whitelaw

After a long day at the track, The Stig resorted to making mass, generic hip hop

Some would argue this has been a long time coming. Others have said it has been a long established fact. Realistically, however, there is a simple truth behind all of the hype. Rock and roll has died and it is one of its longest serving champions who has driven the final stake through its heart.

As bold and perhaps unashamedly over dramatic as this headline is, the fact of the matter still exists that rock music is in decline. When this writer first started with Moon & Back Music back in 2009 there was a case to be made that rock music would, could and should never die. At that time, however, the music industry was a different place.

The top earners in global events and gigs were all traditional rock acts. AC/DC, U2, The Eagles, Rolling Stones, Bon Jovi, it was an eternal list of the glitterati who have lit up stereos and music systems the world over for the past five decades. January 2012, however is a very different and bleaker outlook.

Causing this is one particular track. The hugely popular William James Adams, Jr, aka will.i.am is the sometimes eponymous “singer” of the even more popular Black Eyed Peas. For those readers who are unfamiliar with this group’s work, they are the hip hop act who appeal to those discerning and music conscious consumers who do not wish their hip hop to be dangerous, threatening or indeed hip hop in any way shape or form. He is also a producer, rapper, actor, songwriter, dancer and creative director, managing to balance all of these talents along with being the single softest person in music.

With his latest offering now gaining widespread recognition from a baying public, he has systematically brought about the final death knell for rock music and its widespread popularity. It is, as usual, the typical air brushed, photo shopped, auto tuned out of it’s tiny little mind, nonsense we have all come to expect from Mr Adams Jr. Entitled, “The Hardest Ever” said artiste stumbles through four mind numbingly dull minutes hopping from trains to trucks to helicopters to fighter jets and eventually into a space ship fleeing from an as yet unrevealed foe, possibly speakers one hundred feet tall blasting out his “greatest hits”

As with any master criminal, he has an accomplice, somebody in which to turn to for undying support when the question “is this bad enough yet” crosses his Botox filled lips. Where Bonnie had Clyde, Adams Jr has Jennifer Lopez, once again airbrushed and crammed into clothes perhaps better suited for a woman not in her 60s. Her collaboration is limited, thankfully, to a rehashed vox pop that could not have taken any longer than five minutes to record, indeed a fraction of the time it must have taken her to scrub up for her appearance in the video.

But is with great pity, shame, horror and regret that we reach the final offender on the list. Yes, as hard as it is to believe that such a throw away piece of forgettable populous nonsense could take three recording artists to produce, the last name on this venerable hit list is none other than Sir Michael Jagger. Shock, gasp, save the children, the Knight of the Realm appears at the end of an elaborated graphic sequence in which will.i.am has traveled through a Clarke/Kubrick 2001: Space Odyssey esque star gate flooded with more multicolored J-Los than Ben Affleck’s worst acid trip.

For what purpose this serves in the overall narrative of the video and song is anybody’s best guess. In the movie/novel this was seen as a watershed movement towards a higher place of evolution for the human race. The first five callers to get the answer correct for this interpretation will win tickets to King Crimson. Fans will be glad to know there is no homicidal on board computer, only the million screaming voices of terror as the track is unleashed on the universe.

Jagger’s appearance at the end of this sequence, in what can only be described as a blathering, incoherent rap/rant, symbolizes a transitional moment in music. As sales figures and general consensus grow that, in the UK at least, rock music has been replaced as the public’s first choice in buying music. The overall growth in so called “bedroom producers” and the ability in which to self distribute, publish and sell music on a much more personal level has also taken a toll on the rock scene, if not from a local level then certainly a mainstream success level.

It would be spurious to say that this appearance of the Rolling Stone in such a different, unabashedly commercial hit has been the final moment to solidify rock’s relegation. Maroon 5, serial offenders in the defamation of rock’s mainstream profile, have their “hit” “Moves like Jagger” and Cheryl Cole’s more talented clone Cher Lloyd’s “Swagger Jagger” have brought the veteran rocker’s profile up in the past few months. Never one to shirk making money, it could be argued that Mick is merely riding the cash cow and banking on this new found obsession modern artists seem to have with his sags and wrinkles.

Regardless, the frankly laughable “The Hardest Ever” is here to stay and will no doubt set dance floors alight and make multiple millions for all of those involved. One good to come from it, however, is that “Dancing in the Street,” is now no longer Jagger’s worst collaborated work. Mr Bowie, you may rest easy.

Jonathan Whitelaw

No sooner has the last drops of champagne mixed with hydrochloric acid been left on the pavement of a city centre and the last resolution broken before the new year is twenty four hours old, the prospect of another year of musical fantasy is upon us. Whether we like it or not.

With this new advent and the fall of Christmas trees and decorations all over the world, it would appear that the general population of planet Earth can return to normality, or as close to it as is possible, long winded editorial similes and hackneyed metaphors included.

So down to business. What follows is a small selection of prime cuts that are expected to be amongst the highlights of the upcoming musical year. Of course it would be silly and naive, if not down right ignorant, to place all hopeful eggs in the one basket, some of the best music and best tracks are often heralded without much hype and decorum. However, with some exhaustively huge names promising material in 2012, its best to get in at the ground floor.

Starting off is the incredibly long winded 19^th studios album from venerable hard and prog rock legends Rush. Clockwork Angels the first since 2009’s ill received Snakes & Arrows, many positive things have been spoken about this latest offering. Rush are still considered major players amongst the rock journalism and fandom worlds, perhaps due to their impressive, genre busting back catalogue. However, without a solid album in over ten years and a seemingly endless stream of delays in the release of this one, expectations are high from Neil Peart et al.

The Smashing Pumpkins provide a new album, Billy Corgan and his mismatched, alternative rock behemoths deliver what should be a fine tribute to the band, and image’s, roots in alternative, melancholy roots. Oceania will for part of the ongoing, tentatively titled “concept album” started with Teargarden by Kaleidyscope and lasts for forty-four, lavishly lazy tracks.

Veteran arena rockers Aerosmith, Van Halen and KISS offer more material to their beying fans later in the year. After the very public spat between lead singer Steven Tyler and Joe Perry have put their differences aside, over a nice cup of chamomile tea, Aerosmith deliver their as of yet untitled new album this coming May.

Van Halen’s first album with singer “Diamond” David Lee Roth since the brilliant 1984, is still shrouded in mystery, despite a tentative release date of “early 2012.” This could prove to be VH’s triumphant return after the darkness of the Van Hagar debacles and reassert one of the best hard rock, musically sound bands of their generation.

KISS’ curiously titled MONSTER has all the makings of the classic creature feature KISS albums of the late 70s and 80s, the prime and pick of their live material to date. Capitalizing on the surprisingly entertaining and toe curlingly enjoyable Sonic Boom, look out for subsequent tours, t-shirts, tattoos, toilet seats and tantilisingly tasteful Kondoms to flood every market imaginable after launch.

Along with these giants come a series of interesting releases that will remain under the popular radar but may prove to be enjoyable additions to already stacked back catalogs. UFO release Seven Deadly which could prove to be one of the albums of the year this time in twelve months time, Phil Mogg and the rest of the gang long overdue a wider recognition of over forty years of hard rocking, stone washed denim anthems.

They are joined by the veteran Wilson sisters, Ann and Nancy of Heart. Although “Barracuda” is now relegated to the doldrums of Adam Sandler movies and, what is knocking on the door, Glee specials, the as yet untitled project is their fourteenth studio album. Red Velvet Car was a surprise hit in the US the back in 2010.

Finally and by no means the least, 2012 will see a positive renaissance in the big hitters of heavy metal as two of the founding fathers, should that be grandfathers now? Go head to head this summer. Judas Priest are going back to basics with their late 2012 release, what will be their first offering since the untimely retirement of guitarist K.K. Downing.

They will be joined, goaded and battled all the way in the cataclysmic metal domination by the recently reformed, in everyway possible, Black Sabbath. The original lineup of Toni Iommi, Geezer Butler, Bill Ward and John “Ozzy” Osbourne, announced their triumphant return in as dramatic a fashion as can be expected by this lot. On the 11^th of November, 2011 at eleven minutes past eleven, there’s a Spinal Tap joke in there somewhere, the announcement was made that a tour and new album would be on the cards for 2012. Metal gurus everywhere had to change their underwear.

More questions than answered are sure to arise form this small selection of upcoming musical machinations from some of the best-known acts in music. But let this list be the tip of the iceberg and here is to the unsigned, mysterious bedroom producers who are out there cutting their teeth in an industry that is as unforgiving as the weather we have here in the UK. For those who continue to rock… we’ll salute you in 2012.

Jonathan Whitelaw

Today it’s the turn of, Moon & Back Deputy Editor, Jonathan Whitelaw.

5. Nerina Pallot – Year Of The Wolf

This sneaks onto the top 5 purely from the standpoint that it was a pleasant little album. Easy on the ear as Nerina is on the eye, Year of the Wolf was an inoffensive pleasure to listen to.

4. Rival Sons – Pressure & Time

The Rival Sons’ second studio album served up the biggest surprise and welcomed slice of blues-rock. Not overly saturated like Joe Bonamassa’s twenty four albums released this year, the heavy riffs and floral vocals brought stinging tears to the eyes, like the old smoky rock clubs of yesteryear.

3. Black Spiders – Sons Of The North

Hard rock that gargles with motor oil and eats girders and rivets for breakfast. The debut album from the Doncaster boys celebrated all things excessive with a great artistic flair. ‘KISS Tried to Kill Me’ should have been the track of the summer.

2. Def Leppard – Mirrorball

Released with a DVD and all kinds of tie in malarkey with the subsequent tour and Download headlining, this was actually a really good catalogue of the band’s 30 something year career. State of the art production and an overall glossy sound even bring some of the cheesier synths of a Def Leppard set into the future with aplomb.

1. The Treatment – This Might Hurt

Coming from seemingly nowhere is The Treatment. Tipped to be the next very big thing, this young, vibrant, potential ladened band have announced their intentions. Their rise so quick highlighted by the fact they don’t have a Wikipedia page. Now that’s power you just can’t buy.

Bonafide - Something's Dripping © Black Lodge

Bar-room lyrics, check. Catchy, riff based songs, check. Long hair, acres of denim and a love of late nights and even later women, almost definitely. This is a list that, to some, may seem an imposing, clichéd inventory needed to write a stereotypical rock band comedy/mockumentary. But rock n roll isn’t anything complicated and this list has stood the test of time, like those who have adhered to it. And so do Bonafide, the latest champions of the down and dirty to come from Sweden’s Nordic shores.

When Sweden is mentioned, most here in the UK would automatically and rather imperialistically think of Volvo and, unfortunately, ABBA. So it is with great relief and pleasure that the latest in a long line of young pretenders to the blood stained, amp shaped throne of hard rock champions comes in the form of Bonafide. Having paid their dues all over Europe and a subsequent UK tour in December, Bonafide bring with them a back catalogue of proven song writing ability, excellent sound and a dedication to an art form that has seen a relative renaissance in the past half decade.

Their 2009 album Something’s Dripping, a wonderfully graphic and balls to the wall title, is a standout combination of a group who are plying their trade in what could be mildly described as a hostile environment. Indeed, it would seem that the fun and lavish rock and roll excesses of the past half century have been long forgotten since 2000 rolled around and the music industry became a place of factory (definitely not Factory Records) produced starlets hell bent on fifteen seconds of fame.

Thus with an album like Something’s Dripping, Bonafide and their contemporaries bring a much needed injection of light heartedness and relaxed throw back into a scene dominated by innocuous glitter and pre-fab. There is nothing more gut-bustingly wonderful than tracks titled like “A Shot of You,” “Butt You Up” and “Fill Your Head with Rock.” All of these songs incidentally are not only excellent hard rock but perfect examples of the musicianship, song writing and top tier production that Bonafide have behind them.

The lyrics, “You think you’re God almighty, like you own the show/ I’m gonna be there laughing at you, you’re Dirt Bound,” taken from the album’s opening track “Dirt Bound” more than exemplify this band’s intentions. Following the hard rock formula of simple riff, throaty vocals and an unrelenting percussion, “Dirt Bound” has the makings of crowd pleasing anthem but also carries with it the grandeur and statement of intent of the band and their sound as a whole.

This is a group of rockers, plain and simple, no frills, toe tapping blues-based music that feels refreshingly new and familiar all at once. The theme of us Vs them is concurrent throughout the whole album, Something’s Dripping’s tracks slipping seamlessly together, one high paced track after the other in a rapid, machine gun paced trip of eleven tracks designed as a protest and assault on anything else you’ve heard this year.

Rebellion is what rock music is all about and this is the finest form. There are no hidden messages, no complicated sub themes or parable like analogies to set fire to message boards across the Internet. You will not be able to play the album in concurrence with classic movies like The Wizard of Oz or Blade Runner because there is nothing needlessly complicated or self indulgently artistic and ambiguous about this music. It’s hard working, hard sounding, excellent rock and roll that everybody can enjoy.

With an array of recent bands trying their hand at this style of music, Airbourne, The Answer, The Treatment and Rival Sons to name four, it seems there is still a contingency of musicians out there willing to make music that echoes a golden age of recent memory. As the world continues to become progressively digital and the medium of music is more accessible, high hopes rest on Bonafide, and the others, to keep us rocking all night and partying every day.

Jonathan Whitelaw

Florence+The Machine - Ceremonials © Island

2009 was year that Florence Welch will never forget. With a monumental and almost instantaneous rise from obscure indie pop vocalist to one of the biggest selling and popular artists of recent memory. With a string of awards and media praise including the prestigious BBC Introducing, respected cultural South Bank Show award, a BRIT award and MTV Music Video Award amongst her haulage for breakthrough album Lungs, Miss Welch and her band Florence + The Machine return with the hotly anticipated and always trialling follow up album Ceremonials.

There have been very few bands in recent memory that have stormed the mainstream music scene and had such a powerful influence across the complete spectrum of consumer appreciation and economic bankability. From tweener school kids wishing to seem more mature in their music taste to the young professional still gripping tightly to their aging days of youth. They are joined by the middle class suburbanites and beyond in their appreciation for Florence + The Machine’s alternative, soul infused indie rock sound that feels it should be performed in airy, 17^th century cathedrals than the glitzy, confetti strewn stages of the O2 arena.

So it is with a relative pleasure that the new album Ceremonials arrives on the shelves for the baying public’s ravenous consumption. Once more cantered as the focal point of the group and its commercial appeal, front woman Florence Welch lends her voice, that which is rather liberally described as “somewhere between rock and soul”, to an album that almost writes its own cheques, merely at its mention.

Launched with the preceding singles “What the Water Gave Me,” a techno funk, artistically indulgent anthem that, if popularity continues to escalate as it does, will no doubt be the festival anthem of next summer’s inevitable tour by the band. The second, of three, singles; “Shake it Out” returns Florence + The Machine to their grandeur and crowd mimicking anthem status they last experienced with their cover of Candi Staton and The Source’s “You’ve Got the Love.” More nightclub throbbing, drunken, happy memories sure to be made in the same vein as its immensely popular predecessor.

With additional tracks such as “Seven Devils,” “Spectrum,” and “Leave me Body,” Ceremonials stands as a substantial piece of work that is a fair reflection of the band and their music. Standing at twelve tracks long, twenty for the inevitable Deluxe edition which includes various demos and acoustic versions, fans and casual listeners alike will be more than pleased and satisfied.

However, this fact alone could well prove to be the final nail in the coffin of Florence + The Machine, the overused, clichéd term “More of the same” an all too fitting an epitaph. Where Lungs was embraced because of its relative originality and refreshingly bold, orchestral and musically intelligent driving force that is all too redundant in the popular music field. The album and songs spoke across the multigenerational, quasi spectrum of multiple listeners because of its word-a-mouth popularity and enjoyable music not heard for twenty years for some and not heard at all for others.

Ceremonials however feels more like a re-hash of the previous album, not so much a new piece of work but more Lungs.2. undeniably talented and blessed with one of the more unique, fabulous and hauntingly infatuating voices in pop, Florence Welch and the rest of the band, as they have become dubbed, quite literally by their own admission and band name, have produced an album here that stays safe.

And what is wrong with that? Well nothing, nothing at all. AC/DC have produced the same album, once again by the own admission, fifteen times since 1973 and are one of the wealthiest, most respected pioneers within their genre, if not music. So have countless other groups and artists, who is really to say there is any difference between “Dead or Alive” and “Young Gun” by Bon Jovi? It is a formula that works and all credit to be due for those who exploit it.

But with Florence + The Machine, there seems to be a rather acrid taste left in the listener’s mouth about the whole experience. Here was a group of talented, young musicians who were seemingly stumbled upon as a genuine hope for the future of genuinely good music who had importantly captured the imaginations of the wider public. Instead Ceremonials takes the safe, money in the bank option of sticking to the formulae that has allowed them the luxury of making the album so closely that the end product is nothing shy of the same material in a different sleeve.

Where those who are obvious inspirations to the band, see Annie Lennox and Kate Bush for starters, continually pushed the boundaries of their own images and styles whilst still retaining their fan base, Florence + The Machine have regressed. A pity but no great surprise and nothing that they should be ashamed of in the current climate of musical austerity.

Jonathan Whitelaw

This is Hell are a Long Island, NY based band who are stretching their burning, hell infused, black nail polished fingers across the states and globally having played gigs in the US and Canada as recently as October of this year. With a refreshingly upbeat and enthusiastic attitude, something that can sadly be a amiss in artists following this genre of music, the work ethic and effort of This is Hell can not be questioned.

The album itself, Black Mass, released via Rise Records, is the first since 2010’s Past Present is as furious and ear drum blasting as could ever be expected from a band and album title such as this. With competent guitar work from Rick Jiminez and his accompanying percussion section of Pieter van den Berg on bass and Mike Sciulara, the musical composition on tracks such as “Acid Rain”, “Black History” and the less than creative, every cliché in the book thrown in at once if that’s at all possible titles “Black Mass,” are fine examples of the musicians at their best. Vocals by Travis Reilly again are more than competent and is more than in keeping with the traditions of the past thrash masters of old, from James Hetfield to Joey Belladonna.

But there is something amiss as an overall sound. It is perhaps not fair to lay the blame at the foot of This is Hell as they are merely the catalyst for this thought provocation. There is something distinctly old fashioned and out of date about this type of music. Where as at the beginning of the 21^st century, when Nu Metal was at its peak, Green Day were on the cusp of selling out and it seemed like every youth the country over was skateboarding, wearing baggy jeans and Nirvana hoodies, as sad as it is to admit for certain circles of society, those days are long gone now.

And with their departure it seems that the market has vanished too. This of course is no great surprise, in the music industry, demand and popularity translate into pounds and dollars easier than “et tu Brute?” It is a results driven industry and it would seem that Thrash metal, hardcore crossover bands have missed the boat by about ten years.
This is not to say that there is not a scene available for those who are just coming into this music or those who remember the glory days and wish to relive their youth. There are plenty of bands, This is Hell being one of them, who still produce good music, albeit aimed at such a tight, close knit market it hardly seems to register on any big scale, even in the seemingly tireless world of endless social media. Is it fair that a band such as This is Hell have just over 12,000 likes on Facebook when “Saying ‘okay’ a million times just to get you parents to stop talking” has more than ten times that many. Maybe or maybe not but it is still the reality.
It would seem now that in the advent of pop music’s domination, bedroom DJs and producers, Thrash metal and all of its subsidiaries have been left behind in the dark, cold, 2000s with only their lengthening, greying hair and sharp edged guitars for company. But with a little enthusiasm and dedication to their cause, success and its varying degrees can still be found for bands like This is Hell and their kin.
Jonathan Whitelaw

Random Hand are a rare breed. Mixing more influences, genres and cultures into the one band more than anybody else in recent memory, their sound is one of a complex tapestry of ska infused punk and metal, this is Madness gone mad.

With their latest release Seething is Believing, this four piece Yorkshire, punk subculture outfit bring with them a fresh, angry, politically charged album, their first since 2010’s Inhale/Exhale. It is with this cleaner, ripened produced album, however that Random Hand excel themselves as one of the leaders of the underground punk scene here in the UK.

The ferocious drumming, traditional ska guitar and bass combined with the bemoaning lyrics and vocals from the band are the stuff of enjoyment. “Sons of Robots” and “Not a Number” are two tracks of particular note, the latter an enjoyable ska funk romp with just the slightest dash of ominous punk/metal, enough to make a sinister, looming, distinctly evil ambiance that perfectly compliments the lyrics and subject matter.

“Bones,” the first single released from the album is yet another distinctive track that amply displays the musical and vocal talents of the band. Indeed, it may have been almost thirty five years since Ska first emerged on the British scene, pioneers such as Madness and The Specials bringing their punk lite protest to the shores of Blighty. Times and circumstances have changed, and, as such, the industry and music must change along with it.

Random Hand are the modern pioneers of their forefathers’ hard work and toil amongst the black and white checkered floors of 80s Britain. With a fresh and highly polished sound, Random Hand are on the cusp of recognizable success, perhaps themselves tipped for greatness like their heroes of days long ago.

Jonathan Whitelaw