Artrocker Magazine’s Single Reviews for the week commencing 22nd February

Cloud Control
Gold Canary
(The Passport Label)

Despite my hatred of over-repeated, pseudo-profound song lyrics, I can forgive Cloud Control the opening words of Gold Canary. Easily. The monotone chanting adds depth to the strong percussive beats, and as harmony builds on harmony, you can ignore the meaningless repetitions.
Sure, I wish they’d had better words in the first half of the song, but only because it would make a good song a great one – and because the latter half of the track shows that Cloud Control are perfectly capable of writing decent lyrics. B-side ‘Vintage Books’ gives a much better idea of their potential, and the two tracks together show a highly competent band with range, depth and ambition. One to watch.
Shan Vahidy


Archie Bronson Outfit
Shark's Tooth
(Domino)

Imagine a seething, ranting monkey that can't stop scratching at it's own imaginary fleas. Now give that monkey a kazoo and tell it to write a pop song. The results will be upsetting no doubt, yes - but also fascinating. If you haven't already guessed, this is the mental image I've inherited from the Archie Bronson Outfit's new single (and preview of their third album Coconut).
The band deserve a gold sheriff's badge for having the balls to pull this off: the underwater vocals, Arabian beats and hyperactive trumpets make for a distinctly Flaming Lips-esque experiment.
Cindy Suzuki


Wolfmother
White Feather
(Modular Records)

Wolfmother have been slated. They've been cussed. Prodded like abnormal freaks. And quite rightly so.
Barely has 'White Feather' established itself as an utterly pants Led Zeppelin rip-off before it cowers under a "classic rock solo" and scuttles off into the caves of evil, never to be heard from again. But we know you’re down there, Wolfmother. Oh yes… and you will be slain!
Ric Rawlins


Alphabeat
Hole In My Heart
(Polydor)

I hated Alphabeat. Then I saw them at Glastonbury 2008 and I loved them. And now I think I hate them again. Meh!
To be fair, 'hate' is not the right word; this new single goes for a fashionable electro edge which just doesn't suit them - the record is heartfelt but strangely repetitive and numbing. It's as if they've released a dodgy remix of the proper single by accident. What a crock.
Cindy Suzuki


Owl City
Fireflies
(Island Records)

I feel like such a killjoy. Owl City’s Adam Young is the ultimate small-town boy done good, a grass-roots success story, a triumph of fans instead of record labels, another YouTube fairy-tale.
And he has undeniably made my life a worse place. Fake 80s nostalgia and banal lyrics have bored their way into my head like a cannibal dog whelk: ‘Fireflies’ sweeps all the Western World before it, despite being painfully twee, unrelentingly twinkly and really not very good. Owl City have earned a grudgingly-given one star for remorselessly grating away the protective outer layer of my mind and successfully implanting tiny sparkly synths into my cerebral cortex. And for conning absolutely everyone into thinking this is a good song. Respect.
Shan Vahidy


Frightened Rabbit
Nothing Like You
(Fat Cat Recordings)

Hints of early Idlewild here – if a somewhat more melodic Idlewild. Also hints of an over-reliance on a rhyming dictionary - “Look, two lovers, covered in covers” is not exactly evidence of lyrical genius.
However, ‘Nothing Like You’ is redeemed by a very catchy chorus, and a tight set of musicians. There is certainly potential here, but nothing that would make you sit up, take notice and seek out the band.
Shan Vahidy


Chapel Club
O Maybe I
(East City)

This single has gusto for sure, and features the pleasant sound of guitars clanging together like heavy cables smashing into church bells, mesmerising, while an atmosphere of reverb-sodden dismay establishes itself. Herein lies the problem though; it’s probably impossible to sing a melodic song with good pronunciation without having the horrible pigeonholing of ‘sounding like Morrissey’ hanging over your head. The swine has limited the perception of English frontmen across the world, like the musical equivalent of Hugh Grant in the acting world. Chapel Club fall victim to this, but at least the vocals occasionally push that bit further than bumbling nicety, adding a gravity that twists with the music.
Jonathan Falcone