New Kaiser Chiefs Sounds Like Coldplay...God Help Us All

For such a particularly aural medium, the language of the video to go with the pop song has almost as many defaults, tropes, and clichés in its images.

One of the traditional forms is the ‘band on the road’ travelogue – actually made easier these days as everybody has a camera in their pocket. And for their offering to the canon, Violent Soho do it fairly – except perhaps for the questionable use of a Volvo station wagon as their chosen band conveyance. There’s the Australian flavour of country pie shops and kangaroo road kill to So Sentimental (I Oh You) among the usual stops at abandoned farmhouses, disused railway lines, and the odd compunction for a band to set up and mime in an open field – anybody got two kilometres of electrical lead? As far as the song goes, it’s got a bit of ‘90s Billy Corganity to it and the usual ‘Strayan solidity to what they do.

Slightly less redeemable is what happens when you knot together the perhaps unlikely mix of Banks & Steelz – the former being Paul of that surname from Interpol, the latter the Wu-Tang Clan’s RZA – who present Love + War (Warner). After a blast of mariachi trumpets to open, it grinds and rolls with the usual grumpy threats and talk of cribs and gangsters, with Ghostface Killah getting a guest spot between Banks intoning the vocal hook extremely whitely. The clip is a sadly typical - and typically gratuitous – bit of loyalty and torture with added blood, which makes it all seem like it’s trying a bit hard on a number of levels. 

Oh, you want moody angst in your visuals? So, for starters that means the clip has to be in black and white. Occasional wind-bent trees fading to a negative image, check. Smoke machines, flashes of childhood trauma, dark river waters, even some shadowy lady boobies. But this clenched self-absorption seems at odds with a band that’s recently renamed itself, claiming a worry about commercial considerations ‘the feelings of others’. So, The Viet Cong have become Preoccupations but the ideally named Anxiety (Jagjaguwar) is of their classic post-punk model of a band who’d want the job as support to Joy Division or Gang Of Four in 1980. 

There’s also a lot less money in video budget these days – unless you’re The Avalanches, apparently – but there are few things more timelessly Australian than bands using milk crates for a variety of purposes, whether that be stage building, as keyboard stands, or just as that place to put that two kilometres of extension cord mentioned earlier. They are also suitable as platforms for a dance troupe of you and your mates, and equally eminently suitable for the kitchen table synth-pop electronica that Shag Planet offer. Sweetly ramshackle in that DIY alternative-to-the-alternative way, Too Many Babes Too Little Time (Listen Records) is full of glitter, a self-described ‘cosmic banger’ that might have a bit more feeling of grown-up dread than the title may suggest.

With a dance company of even more tender years – but who have obviously had the joy of watching those Sia clips with her resident eccentric dancer – Nocturnal Tapes also have that collection of analogue synths saved from the hard rubbish night, with Pattern (Independent) nervously insistent and oddly funky at once. And there’s always bonus points for having a man in a bunny suit – unless you’re appearing in a commercial for one of those high-interest short-term loan companies. 

Then there’s always the question of how much a band can change and remain themselves. Parachute (Fiction) is the first sample of the ‘new’ Kaiser Chiefs. Putting together some possibly disturbing background:
a). Lead singer Ricky Wilson has latterly been a judge on the UK version of The Voice.
b).Their new album has been produced by Brian Higgins – one of the guys responsible for the autotuned sound of things like Cher’s Believe, and Gabriella Cilmi’s Sweet About Me among other things.
c). Some people say this sounds like Coldplay.
d). God help us all.
So, let’s call this dad-rock dance-pop Kaiser Chiefs. It’s ‘nice’. And ‘safe’. And ‘commercial’. And performs only slightly better than their hometown Leeds’ football and rugby league teams are at the moment. But that’s not saying much.

Also coming from slightly different influences than the ones to which you may be used, Stonefield. You gotta reckon the Findlay sisters’ folks had a helluva record collection. Changes (Wunderkind) has a few minor ones to it. The guitar hooks are still big, but it’s the voices and harmonies – with a slightly unexpected near-psychedelic outbreak two-third through – that drive its numerous good qualities. It’s still of their classic rock flavoured model, but maybe with a bit more Heart and Jefferson Airplane to it than the more regular nods to Led Zep. If those latter names mean nothing to you –although they should - ask your parents. Or possibly your grandparents. Some relative will know.    

Or you can just take the Skegss view: yesterday was a shitter, today might be marginally better, if I can be arsed coming out from under this doona. Ah, slacker punk fits so well with this country’s ‘can do, if I could be bothered’ ethos. My Face (Ratbag) buzzes at you irritably, like that mosquito that won’t let you get to sleep. But there is a little enthusiasm and encouragement to go and face the day, as there might be a surf, skate, or a couple of beers in it later in the day. Modest aims at least means you’ve got a chance at little victories. Goes alright.