The Single Life: Lorde, Queen, Mariachi El Bronx & More

2 October 2014 | 1:44 pm | Ross Clelland

Did Lorde give your heart that 'Yellow Flicker Beat' this week?

In terms of the band, the loss of Tumbleweed’s Jay is probably the just about opposite to the title of Drop In The Ocean (Shock) would suggest. But in its typically surf-tumble/weed-smoky way, it’ll stand as a fitting testimonial to the man down, and the suggestion that the upcoming reformation tour may well go all right, on its own terms.

From genuine raw tribute to one skirting perhaps dangerously close to wringing blood - and a few dollars - from an albeit well-loved stone, Queen offer a ‘new’ version of Love Kills (Virgin), an alternate take in ballad-esque format, which again shows the melodrama the mercurial Freddie could wring out of a song. Indeed, the old dear sure could sing. Adam Lambert will look on admiringly.

And these days, it’s all about cross-promotion. Of course, the troubled thoughtfulness of Lorde is perfect fit for the Hunger Games movies. The cold, electronic pose of Yellow Flicker Beat (Lava) builds to sweeping vistas of synthetic strings and eventual triumph of will, only undercut by knowing there’s probably about another three sequels in the works.

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Of an even more synthetically minimal nature, but carried on a voice that just gives the listener a strange feeling of melancholy in its natural sigh, Montgomery’s Piñata (I Oh You) has a longing that stays with you, and makes you want hear more.

The newest Husky thing is the big romantic harmonies of St. Joan (Liberation). For you enthusiasts of religious trivia, she be the patron saint of hopeless causes. But on current form, the often hopeless cause of seeking radio airplay is not one with which the local combo need to concern themselves – it’ll be all over certain national youth network airwaves by the time you read this.

Altogether more hyperactive and yelling like they’ve got something to say, ScotDrakula manage to be scruffy and frayed, but know a pop songs needs several million hooks, a brilliant stupidly simple guitar wigout, and handclaps - there’s never enough handclaps – to make O’Clock (Future Popes) your favourite thing, for at least the next three minutes.

TV On The Radio probably realise their initial novelty of black guys playing alternative rock probably wore off with their second album, but you probably still need a gimmick when the songs have become pretty generic. However, as gimmicks go, having Karen Gillan happily cavort through Happy Idiot (Harvest) guarantees at least every Dr Who geek will watch it on repeat. This marketing plan has worked admirably on me. Even if I’ve then had to explain who Pee-Wee Herman is (or was), as he’s in it too.

 

Similarly, an adequate LA punk band added Mexican trumpets and became Mariachi El Bronx. They’ve now got around to third album in that guise, and realise that trick – while unquestionably a good one – now needs a bit more. So, they drag out a couple of old synths out from behind the mower in the garage to add to the brass, and make Wildfires (White Drugs/Cooking Vinyl). Clever, and pretty good with it.

Given some of her chemical and romantic life history, it could be considered a bit of a miracle Marianne Faithfull is still around at all. Now, who to write a song for that voice that always sounds like it has experienced maybe that bit too much? Nick Cave, of course. Even the title of Late Victorian Holocaust (Easy Sounds) seems right.

Again looking for the right singer for the right song, the next snippet from the upcoming Paul McCartney epic tribute opus out for Christmas – how many limited edition coloured vinyl discs and Hofner bass flashdrives do you need? – has Alice Cooper going surprisingly orthodox on Eleanor Rigby (Arctic Poppies). Overblown and silly? Sure. And Beatles trainspotters are already queuing up with their credit cards at the ready.