There is nothing quite like a powerful ballad, telling an emotional story or inviting us on a personal voyage, to open our eyes. Music has the amazing ability to move us, broaden our perspectives, and show us things through other people’s lives. That’s why I love ballads.

Generally, the best balladeers are seen as Bob Dylan, Bruce Springsteen, Neil Young and Jim Steinman (for Meatloaf, amongst others.) However, I enjoy looking at the lesser known, but by no means lesser talented, craftsmen.

Colin Hay – The frontman of Men at Work, who went on to have an excellent, if somewhat unpublicized, solo career. A man of simple tastes, he wrote from the heart and expressed his voice on issues that concerned him amongst other people. His themes include the loss of somebody special; waiting to see what the future brings; and the love of his adopted Australia (he was born in Scotland.)

Some of my personal favourite lyrics from his songs include: ‘What am I to do?/ How can I live with only memories of you?’ from ‘Maggie.’ This is the epitome of isolation we all have experience of at the end of a relationship. Another beautiful and insightful lyric is ‘Down this beaten path, and up this cobbled lane/ I’m walking in my old footsteps again’ from ‘I’m Waiting For My Real Life To Begin.’ This song is about restlessness and the search for something better, when perhaps the best thing is right before his eyes. Essential Listening: ‘Overkill’

Train- This is an alternative rock group from San Francisco. Arguably, the most beautiful is the poignant ‘Drops of Jupiter’ written by the lead singer after his late mother. There is a hollow sense of loss, mixed with an almost childlike belief that she is up in space. As the song progresses, there is a heightened sense of acceptance, which is tinged with a worry that she forget about him. The sweetest lines, in my opinion, are ‘And did you miss me/ while you were searching for yourself out there.’ Then, there is the verse where he lists some of his mother’s favourite things, before adding an emotional plea- ‘The best soy latte that you ever had, and me?’

This is a personal favourite of mine, and one I continue to sing with pride at karaoke. However, the thing I enjoy most about Train is the surreal tone to the more upbeat lyrics. This is clearly evident in ‘Is this love?’ Where the singer’s idea to woo his girlfriend is slightly unorthodox- ‘Took a loan on a house I own/can’t be a queen bee without a bee throne.’ Their ability to change so flawlessly from heartfelt lyrics to, let’s face it, quite surreal ones, is the main reason I adore them. Essential Listening: ‘Drops of Jupiter’

Elbow- There is one stand out song for me, which I am surprised wasn’t more commercially successful- ‘The Bones of You.’ This is a very real song, documenting a couple’s decline from being deeply in love, to separating and being ‘Five years ago, and three thousand miles away.’ The male in the couple, which is no more, is filled with remorse as he knows it is his fault.

He is forever stuck with the knowledge that it was his burden that split them up- he was obsessed with work. For five years he is deep in regret, but knows he will never escape his memories- ‘The sickened hits, I can work ‘til I break/ But I love the bones of you that I will never escape.’ He reveals that he attempted unsuccessfully to rid himself of the remorse- ‘I took a hammer to every memento/ But image on image like beads on a rosary/ Pulled through my head.’

However, the most poignant, in my opinion, is in the second last verse. He relives the memories of how they were once so close. It is an image that most of us will be familiar with. That is why I think it is so mesmerising and beautiful- ‘I can’t move my arm/ For fear that you will wake.’ Essential Listening- ‘The Bones of You’

Ballads tell an amazing story, and move us in ways we never felt were possible. That is why I love them so much.

Lennon & McCartney. Dylan. Brian Wilson. Stevie Wonder. Jagger. Joni Mitchell. Ray Davies. Elvis Costello. Bowie. Neil Young. Strummer. Robert Plant. Leonard Cohen. David Byrne. Tom Waits. Thom Yorke. Morrissey. Nick Cave. Ian Curtis. Bruce Springsteen. Van Morrison. Paul Simon.

Above is a list of some of the greatest songwriters of all time. I could have continued to add the likes of Elliott Smith, Beck and more to it, though the startling realisation as I typed the names was the lack of a modern inclusion. Thom Yorke is the most recent name on the list and, as is the case for many on the list who are still working, much of the best of his song writing is behind him.

Is the modern era lacking a poetic voice? Song-writing is a tremendously difficult art – ask near anyone who has ever tried to put words to melody. There is a very thin line between poetry and utter self-indulgence, one that even the masters of the art have struggled to distinguish at times.

Morrissey, for example, has been responsible for the staggering body of work that is the Smiths and, to an extent, his solo offerings, though he, too, is responsible for “Your boyfriend he / Went down on one knee / Well could it be/ He’s only got one knee?” in ‘King Leer.’ Morrissey die-hards tell me the song was intentionally simple, though it still remains true to say that Morrissey’s offerings in recent decades pale in comparison to his decade defining work of the 1980s.

Springsteen is another – a poet who chronicled the working class in the United States, The Boss speaks to millions. The music is accessible on the most basic of levels, yet it is also eternally hopeful – it often has the simple theme of overcoming barriers. However, while ‘The River’ remains to be one of the pinnacles of Bruce’s work, prior to 2001/2002, he had clearly lost his touch. America was booming and it seemed that they no longer needed Springsteen until the atrocities of one September day.

But, what of now? Who are the best in modern song-writing? I have narrowed my list down to just a few – John Grant, Laura Marling and Charlie Fink (Noah & the Whale). In the past few years, the trio have become well known for the soul-baring records they have released.

Grant was once the frontman of American alt-rock outsiders the Czars. Despite a steady fanbase throughout their time as a unit, they never achieved the success yearned for by Grant and the band ultimately imploded. At the same time, Grant was coming to the end of a long relationship and his abuse of alcohol and drugs was spiralling out of control. Long story short, Grant managed to make it out the other side (he is clean since August 1^st 2004) and was eventually coaxed back to a studio by Texas rockers Midlake.

The result was last year’s instant classic, The Queen of Denmark. The album touches Grant’s drug abuse, but the heart of the album is obsessed with his struggle of his homosexuality and his childhood and family life. Coming from a deeply religious home, his realisation that he was gay was a very difficult thing for him to manage.

However, despite the clearly dark and damaging subject matter, The Queen of Denmark is a surprisingly touching and, quite often, funny album. Lyrically the album is sublime, Grant acting in complete confessional mode: “I wanted to change the world, but I could not even change my underwear/and when this shit got really out of hand, I had it all the way up to my hairline.”

The album’s darkest moments deal with suicide: “I can’t believe that I considered taking my own life, because I believed the lies about me were the truth” comes from the brutal ‘Jesus Hates Faggots’ – a song that chronicles his father’s rejection of him due to his sexual orientation. Ultimately, Grant comes out the far end the stronger, hoping that his father’s “blind eyes will open and [he’ll] see.”

Eager to avoid plunging into the depths of self-indulgence, Grant deals with many of the tragedies of his life in a comic manner, referencing Winona Ryder, Sigourney Weaver and Keanu Reaves – “I feel just like Sigourney Weaver, when she had to kill those aliens…” or “I feel just like Winona Ryder, in that movie about vampires. She just couldn’t get that accent right, neither could that other guy.”

The brash honesty of the lyrics is reminiscent of Clifford T. Ward or Bruce Springsteen, to an extent, though the comic undertones are indistinguishable from Morrissey. The lyrics on the latter’s ‘Girlfriend in a Coma’ are poignant, yet darkly humorous – you simply don’t know whether to laugh or cry, a trend that continuous throughout the spectacular Queen of Denmark. Luckily for us, Grant has opted to laugh at his troubles, not cry.

From there, we travel back to this side of the Atlantic and, in particular, the so called ‘nu-folk’ scene that has gripped London over the last few years. Mumford & Sons have been the primary beneficiaries of this, with Grammy nominations and festival headline slots to boot. However, the groundwork was undertaken by Noah & the Whale in the years prior to Marcus Mumford’s ascension to folk darling, with the majority of the Mumfords having actually performed on Noah & the Whale’s earlier work.

In their three albums (the third due for release at the end of the week), Noah & the Whale have traversed genres, unafraid to drop fans along the way. The throwaway pop sensibilities of their debut (including breakthrough hit ‘Five Years Time’) were often littered with a darkened undertone. While the aforementioned breakthrough single may have referenced “walking around the zoo, with the sun shining down over me and you…” in five years time, it isn’t long before Fink admits that “all of these moments are just in [my] head” – he is certain that the budding relationship is doomed, yet he hopefully leaves us with the plea that “[you] might just prove [me] wrong.”

Ultimately, the relationship was doomed – it was referring to the budding romance of Fink and folk songstress Laura Marling, who provided the backing vocals to the track. By the time Fink put pen to paper for the second album, it had ended and Marling had moved on from the band to pursue her solo work. The result of the break-up was the dark and brooding First Days of Spring, a concept album openly bearing Fink’s broken heart and his trouble moving on.

‘Stranger’ is a frank account of sleeping with someone else for the first time: “Last night I slept with a stranger, For the first time, since you’ve gone/Regretfully lying naked, I reflect on what I’ve done/Her leg still forced in between mine, sticking to my skin/Stroking my chest and my hair, head resting below my chin/I’m a fox trapped in the headlights and I’m waiting, for the tyres to spin over me.”

Fink takes us through his entire journey as he attempts to move on, including the wonderful ‘Blue Skies’ that swings between an effort to move on, and that indecisive tone that wants things to revert to how they once were. “This is the last that I write while still in love with you… I don’t think that it’s the end, but I know we can’t keep going.”

Finally, the album comes to the conclusion of The First Day of Spring. The song deals with Fink’s first steps into his new life, his ex confined to his past. Sadly, however, the song finishes on the desperate “For I’m still here, hoping, that one day you may come back…” For anyone who has experienced loss, the album is a startling truth.

In the period since, Fink’s comic undertone has come to the fore and on new track ‘L.I.F.E.G.O.E.S.O.N.’ he sings about “Little Lisa Looney Tunes” who “goes down, on almost anyone”, as well as a variety of other broken and desperate characters: Ray Davies or Elvis Costello territory as he strives to get inside people’s heads.

Finally, we come to Laura Marling. The folk darling can do no wrong on her two albums; the latter of which (last year’s I Speak Because I Can) dealt with her advent into womanhood. An unlikely sister album to The First Day of Spring, Marling refers to her broken relationship with Fink on ‘Blackberry Stone’, “I’d be sad that I never held your hand as you were lowered” (a direct reply to Fink’s track ‘Hold My Hand As I’m Lowered’), as well detailed the intricacies of her sexual exploits (‘Devil’s Spoke’): “Eye to eye, nose to nose, ripping off each other’s clothes in the most peculiar way!”

The most incredible aspect of Marling’s lyrics are her age: barely into her twenties she writes with the colourful maturity and poetic prose of someone who has crafted their art over several decades: a Joni Mitchell for the modern era, undoubtedly.

There are certainly other songwriters worthy of a mention here (Alex Turner, Pete Doherty, Guy Garvey), though the trio of Fink, Marling and Grant make for unlikely bed-fellows in the frank openness of the lyrics. Darkly comic in parts, the trio have detailed the darkest times in their lives with a refreshing honesty comparable to any of Morrissey, Costello, Simon, Springsteen and more. This lost art is not entirely gone on the current generation.

Formed from the remains of Cajun Dance Party, Yuck spent the best part of a year writing and recording their debut album, released in Ireland at the end of February. Needless to say, there’s been a bit of buzz surrounding them. After all – Cajun Dance Party was in nearly the same position a few years back but caved under the dizzying hype that had been piled up soon after the album was released. As a result, my expectations for Yuck were pretty low from the off.

What had dribbled out into interviews with the band sounded promising: frontman Daniel Blumberg seemed emphatic about the band, excited to be making new music rather than sitting about smoking pot and doing the bare minimum in the studio. Mind you I can’t find the quote but you get the idea. Another tit-bit was Blumberg talking about playing with Dinosaur Jnr. On some of their English tour dates and gushing over how cool it was to be playing with one of his childhood heroes, and a few mentions about J. Masacis’ influence on Yuck.

Influence is probably a massive understatement because quite frankly Yuck’s debut sounds like a bunch of studio outtakes from Dinosaur Junior’s: Bug or Sonic Youth’s Daydream Nation. The comparisons aren’t fleeting either, it’s so apparent that it’s hard to believe that Yuck aren’t paying royalties to half of Seattle.

The album opener Get Away amble’s through familiar 90’s guitar rock territory. Hazy guitar’s and dim fuzzed out guitar lead parts topped with mumbling lyrics about nothing in particular. ‘The Wall’ works from the same template. Blumberg’s vocals wander aimlessly over the top of the din of guitars mention something about “Making it through the wall, you could see me if you’re tall”. Maybe I’m not quite catching the significance of its resignation or maybe frustration at not being able to communicate with another human being. It still pangs of stiff boring nostalgia.

‘Holing Out’ does show some glimmer of hope. Poppy chorus, fuzzed guitars the same familiar lyrics about nothing in particular. Then again, like the rest of the album, it sounds like a lost track from that summer from the 90’s that never happened. Perhaps I would have enjoyed it more if I’d never listened to any guitar band from the 90’s or if I just closed my eyes and tried to expunge any memory of Dinosaur Junior, Sonic Youth, Sebadoh or The Lemon heads.

But what would be the point? Even in the sections of the album that Yuck move away from their 90’s nostalgia trip I think I might actually die of boredom. Tracks like ‘Sunday’ or ‘Suicide Policeman’ show off the bands acoustic side, making use of Blumberg‘s nose for dreary pop music and songs that you’re dam sure that you’ve h

YUCK – Album review.

Jack Broughan runs the rule over the debut album from hotly tipped Londoners Yuck.

Formed from the remains of Cajun Dance Party, Yuck spent the best part of a year writing and recording their debut album, released in Ireland at the end of February. Needless to say, there’s been a bit of buzz surrounding them. After all – Cajun Dance Party was in nearly the same position a few years back but caved under the dizzying hype that had been piled up soon after the album was released. As a result, my expectations for Yuck were pretty low from the off.

What had dribbled out into interviews with the band sounded promising: frontman Daniel Blumberg seemed emphatic about the band, excited to be making new music rather than sitting about smoking pot and doing the bare minimum in the studio. Mind you I can’t find the quote but you get the idea. Another tit-bit was Blumberg talking about playing with Dinosaur Jnr. On some of their English tour dates and gushing over how cool it was to be playing with one of his childhood heroes, and a few mentions about J. Masacis’ influence on Yuck.

Influence is probably a massive understatement because quite frankly Yuck’s debut sounds like a bunch of studio outtakes from Dinosaur Junior’s: Bug or Sonic Youth’s Daydream Nation. The comparisons aren’t fleeting either, it’s so apparent that it’s hard to believe that Yuck aren’t paying royalties to half of Seattle.

The album opener Get Away amble’s through familiar 90’s guitar rock territory. Hazy guitar’s and dim fuzzed out guitar lead parts topped with mumbling lyrics about nothing in particular. ‘The Wall’ works from the same template. Blumberg’s vocals wander aimlessly over the top of the din of guitars mention something about “Making it through the wall, you could see me if you’re tall”. Maybe I’m not quite catching the significance of its resignation or maybe frustration at not being able to communicate with another human being. It still pangs of stiff boring nostalgia.

‘Holing Out’ does show some glimmer of hope. Poppy chorus, fuzzed guitars the same familiar lyrics about nothing in particular. Then again, like the rest of the album, it sounds like a lost track from that summer from the 90’s that never happened. Perhaps I would have enjoyed it more if I’d never listened to any guitar band from the 90’s or if I just closed my eyes and tried to expunge any memory of Dinosaur Junior, Sonic Youth, Sebadoh or The Lemon heads.

But what would be the point? Even in the sections of the album that Yuck move away from their 90’s nostalgia trip I think I might actually die of boredom. Tracks like ‘Sunday’ or ‘Suicide Policeman’ show off the bands acoustic side, making use of Blumberg‘s nose for dreary pop music and songs that you’re dam sure that you’ve heard somewhere on the radio before.

While it’s a step away from the formulaic guitar tracks on the rest of the album it doesn’t change much, really only allowing you to listen more closely to Blumberg’s lyrics about some past relationship that’s so bloody boring it’s about as engaging as Enda Kenny’s Campaign speeches. In short don’t bother buying the album, pick up a Sonic Youth one instead.

eard somewhere on the radio before.

While it’s a step away from the formulaic guitar tracks on the rest of the album it doesn’t change much, really only allowing you to listen more closely to Blumberg’s lyrics about some past relationship that’s so bloody boring it’s about as engaging as Enda Kenny’s Campaign speeches. In short don’t bother buying the album, pick up a Sonic Youth one instead.

Music Editor

Or at least that’s what everyone from Lester Bangs in Cameron Crowe’s Almost Famous to recent blogs on the NME website would have you believe.

I’m doing my best to not adopt a faux-hippie accent when I claim that rock as an art form cannot die – it is not simply a genre: rock & roll is an ideal, a way of life. Man.

Traditional rock & roll music methods, however, are as close to death as they can ever get. Earlier this year, the White Stripes finally split. This was not the earth-shattering shock that major press publications made it out to be, more the inevitable final nail in the coffin of a long lingering elephant in the room.

What it did mean though, aside from countless new projects that Jack White will undoubtedly bring to the table, was that one of the final success stories to achieve such a level through traditional methods was no more. Alongside the Strokes, the White Stripes rebooted the down and out guitar genre around the turn of the century.

More impressive, in comparison to modern means at least, was the methods used to achieve this jolt: the Stripes’ did it the traditional way. The played gigs, they got their songs on the radio and their names into magazines – they grafted and it paid off.

Since then, their success has been eclipsed by any number of bands – Arcade Fire, Arctic Monkeys, Vampire Weekend, the xx – the list goes on. However, not one of these bands achieved the same level of success by the same means. The joke can often be heard in indie circles – what came first: Arcade Fire, or Pitchfork? Whichever is the case, Pitchfork’s online championing of the Canadians was crucial to the success of Butler, Chassagne and co. on both sides of the Atlantic.

Arctic Monkeys and Lily Allen can both lay claim to being the first “true” MySpace act to break – until, of course, somebody points out to Lily Allen that her signature to a major record label prior to using the site probably helped in some way. Arctic Monkeys were able to bring the frenetic, energetic ‘Fake Tales of San Francisco’ to thousands of bedrooms without the input of booking agents, press contacts or a record label. All through the magic of the internet…

The act featured on this week’s “Introducing…” section is Dublin group the Cast of Cheers, an act who brilliantly utilised the potential of the internet. They gave away debut album Chariot for absolutely nothing via Bandcamp – the result? Massive exposure on blogs and sites all over the country.

How many plays did the guys get on the radio prior to this bold move? Somewhere in the region of zero, one could suspect.

Rock & roll is alive and kicking, but the traditional aspects of “making it” have gone out the window: YouTube, Last.fm, Bandcamp and Facebook – what more could you possibly need? The means to reach millions in seconds: it is startling.

The industry wheels are spluttering, faltering in the face of the challenges that the internet has presented. Credit where it’s due, however, to Irish label the Richter Collective. Faced with the prospect of unmanageable illegal downloads, RC uploaded the entirety of its back catalogue (including Adebisi Shank, the Redneck Manifesto, Enemies and Not Squares) to Soundcloud for the free enjoyment of listeners.

Such innovative utilisation of the tools is what will make the difference – five years ago it was Arctic Monkeys with MySpace, this year it’s Richter Collective with Soundcloud. Rock & roll is not dead, ladies and gentlemen, but rather evolving. Move with it, or be left lamenting the death of a timeless friend that has, quite simply, moved on.

Sticking with the evolution theme, this week we have a look at the stuttering institution of music journalism, the best in modern song-writing, while we also run the rule over the new album from Radiohead, an act never afraid to evolve. Fashion editor Lynn Harding also moonlights over here to give us her input on the expanding Cork music scene, while there is plenty more to enjoy within these pages if you look closely.

“Dancing about architecture” is a term coined to describe the tenuous art of music writing. The quote has been attributed to any number of scorned musicians – Elvis Costello, Miles Davis, Frank Zappa…

And to read any modern day music publications you can see that the idea has become a reality, rather than something to be avoided. In the last decade or so, the journalism world has undergone a rapid and unforgiving evolution, the rise and demise of publications coming as regularly as the tides.

In Ireland, the landscape has been relatively unchanged. State Magazine appeared and disappeared in a flurry that went near unnoticed to anyone outside Jim Carroll’s head, the current incarnation as an online journal proving far more successful than the print version ever was.

Unfortunately for us, this has left the monopoly of Hot Press inflicting its medley of unresearched, badly written and simply inaccurate work. To claim that they never get anything right is unfair, but it is clear that the already diluted formula of Hot Press has been undergoing a continuous watering down in recent years.

In fact, this dilution of media is a problem that is evident on a wide scale. Q Magazine, once the pinnacle of music journalism, has become a running joke in media circles. Playing it safe became the name of the game in the late 1990s and the early 2000s (note the five star reviews given to the likes of Oasis’ Be Here Now and The Strokes’ Room on Fire, only for the magazine to later slate these very records once it became acceptable to do so.), though this has since given way to sheer tabloid sensationalism.

This policy has not gone unnoticed by artists either, with Alex Turner of Arctic Monkeys among the most outspoken critics of the publication. Upon Q’s honouring of Take That (pre-reunion) with an “Idol” award at the 2006 Q Awards, claiming that “even I know [they] were bollox.”

Q have fallen into the age old failing of a publication – the “safe” territory. Their top 100 countdowns (dime a dozen at this stage) are regularly littered with the same acts, the magazine afraid to push the boundaries even a little. Rather than champion a new act themselves, they wait until the plunge has been taken by another publication – see John Grant this year. Grant’s debut album was doused in plaudits by Mojo magazine upon its release and, despite near total ignorance at the time, it cropped up near the top of end of year lists for many publications, Q included.

On Sunday last I found myself with some rare free time and decided to pick up a copy of Q, based on the premise of articles on Noah & the Whale, John Grant and Beady Eye. An hour later, I was left reeling with the volume of irrelevant content littering the pages.

Both Noah & the Whale and John Grant crop up in this issue of the Express for their musical talent, in contrast to interviews in Q, both of which were characterised by tabloid-style frenzy. The writer seemed more concerned with Noah & the Whale front man Charlie Fink’s former relationship with Laura Marling and his feelings regarding the success of cohorts Mumford & Sons than the huge change in direction the band have undertaken on their forthcoming third album, while the discussion with “maverick” Grant obsessed over the intricacies of his drug abuse, not the startling and powerful album that emerged last year as a result of his problems.

As for the Beady Eye piece, I felt embarrassed for the writer. An article of its nature should never make it into the pages of the most amateur of publications, let alone an established name such as Q. The journalist (a term I use loosely) used every available opportunity to try and force a jibe about Liam’s brother and former Oasis bandmate, Noel Gallagher. Obviously a headline about the brothers’ falling out will shift much more than an article on the direction of the new band.

NME, too, has fallen into a tirade of tabloid style writing – note the daily gossip features on the website, and the inclusion of a “worst band” award at the NME Awards (the Jonas Brothers have won it on three occasions) – simply to remind everyone that NME are the cool kids on the block.

Despite their attempts to remain at the cutting edge of the musical world, NME have become a shambles. Year after year, they push the same class of new acts – this year it’s the Vaccines, in previous years they have supported everyone from Forward! Russia to Dogs. Don’t worry if the names mean very little to you, the same goes for all of us.

Both publications pride themselves on the discovery of new music, though neither has happened upon a new act in well over a decade. Take this month’s Q, once again – their introducing series focuses on the Joy Formidable, MNDR and Miles Kane, three acts with a well established following as is.

On the one hand, their outright refusal to open their eyes to emerging genres until they are fully established (see: dubstep) is the cause for this. Both magazines still pigeon-hole themselves very much in the same territory they have done for the best parts of their existence: Q sits in with the steady, safe English legends – from Dire Straits to Coldplay, it’s as inoffensive as possible. The NME, on the other hand, lives on the “cutting edge” of grungey guitar rock – the Libertines, the Strokes and every clone that has dropped since. Think they have moved on? In the last twelve months, the Libertines have been the NME cover stars on three occasions – not too shabby for a band who played just one reunion show.

On the other hand, however, it is the aforementioned dilution of content that has caused the problem. Q firmly established themselves as a rock publication – what business do Take That have winning an Idol Award at the Awards ceremony? Or Lady Gaga adorning the cover?

It’s tough to imagine Thom Yorke gracing the cover of Smash Hits, let me tell you that much…

The two have become institutionalised in their current state that a proper evolution is impossible. Q sits atop two and a half decades of misguided reviews, safe bets and half-hearted changes: you want to celebrate pop music? Then do it!

NME, on the other hand, has become obsessed with the notion of “cool” – they publication swerves in and out of the latest “hot” band (provided they have a substantial online following already), pausing only to release its annual “Cool List”, a petty and childish list that sums up the state of the New Musical Express better than anything else ever could.

This does ask the question, however, whether the abundance of blogs and sites have negated the need for music journalism. They can break music faster, they can break news faster – modern culture cannot be expected to wait a full month to hear the latest music news when it’s all just a click away.

The downside to this, of course, is the pressure on blogs to remain on the cutting edge – the very same pressure that dogged the NME since its inception. Scour the archives of any online publication for incorrect tips for that most dreaded “next big thing” – it’s staggering, it’s shameless. Aside from that, of course, bloggers run riot – their opinions go unchecked. The medium is flawed, to say the least.

So, has the onset of blog culture eliminated the need for printed musical press? I certainly hope not – there is still a place for well written, well researched work. The overwhelming impact of the online community, however, has been the release of a plethora of diluted quantity – rock magazines are littered with pop acts, tabloid writing and shoddy writing. Rather than sitting at the so-called “cutting edge”, the publications play it safe, backing the certain things and back-tracking once things have gone awry.

There is life in the medium yet, though it is contributing tremendously to its own demise. Stuttered attempts at evolution are more damaging than stagnation ever could be – embrace popular music, or live wholly within eclecticism: readers, quite simply, do not want both. And, luckily, due to the extensive online community, readers no longer have to tolerate both.

Such publications need to cast aside the petty notion of breaking the next big thing – building an institution on such shaky blocks is a recipe for disaster – and remember that they exist to bring the lofty and intangible stars to an accessible level through in-depth interviews, reviews and features.

The Qs and the NMEs are not, and should not be, renowned for tabloid headlines, petty spats and inaccurate, sensationalism comments, but, rather, for mastering the art of dancing about architecture.

This Saturday I had the privilege of catching Citizen Cope, Clarence Greenwood, on the last night of his European tour in the Academy 2. Much of Mr. Greenwood’s success can be attributed to the use of songs, such as ‘Sideways’ and ‘Hurricane Waters’, in popular USA hit series such as Scrubs, One Tree Hill and CSI: Miami, to name but a select few.

As a musician Mr. Greenwood is somewhat enigmatic. His style is almost impossible to describe. I have always found it to be a comfortable mix of R n’B, folk and the blues. In his collaborative work with artists such Santana and Dido, the variety of his musical abilities has shone. The ease with which he can vary the tonality of his voice has always made him stand out from the rest.

Despite having succeeded in achieving a loyal fan base, Citizen, as he prefers to be called, has not achieved commercial success in the mass market. Citizen was first signed by Capitol Records in 1998 but was later dropped without the release of his album. This disruptive and frayed relationship with record companies has continued right throughout his career.

One observation, which an onlooker cannot but admire, is Citizen’s seasoned understanding of what the crowd desires. This is hardly surprising given the fact that Citizen is no stranger to life on the road. Following the knocks which he suffered as a result of being dropped from major labels he returned to his roots, performing over 120 shows in North America in 2008 alone.

His current tour is in promotion of his latest album, The Rainwater LP, released through his own label, RainWater Recordings in February of last year. Perhaps, finally, 13 years on from his initial break Citizen has found a way of making the music he wants, in the style he wants.

On the night itself Mr. Greenwood did not disappoint, with three albums to his credit he gave a healthy mix of old and new material. The venue itself provided the perfect level of intimacy and set the tone quite nicely. The experienced acoustic guitarist mastered the crowd by giving a captivating performance, which had the unarguable effect of stunning the crowd into silence.

Citizen is well known for his truth-telling lyricism. It was hardly surprising that his words, which are so often filled with themes of tragedy and grief, fell softly upon the pricked ears of the crowd. They hung on his every utterance as he spoke of subject matters in manner that people are often unwilling or unable to do.

He intertwined the hip beats of songs such as ‘Son’s Gonna Rise’ with the sober melodies of ‘Salvation’ in a manner that only a true professional could.

On a personal level the song of the night for me would have to be the acoustic version of ‘Hurricane Waters’. The hushed echoing of the lyrics; “I will carry you through the Hurricane Waters”, from the crowd was simply breath taking.

The Rainwater LP is available on iTunes and all good record stores.

Two Door Cinema Club. Villagers. Snow Patrol. Ham Sandwich, Fight Like Apes, U2 and Fred. Duke Special, Gemma Hayes, Damien Rice and Wallis Bird. As a nation in economic crisis, we Irish need thankfully never worry about a cultural deficit, least of all where music is concerned.

Cork may be famed for what is often seen as a playfully obnoxious belief that what it has to offer is above and beyond the best of that produced anywhere else in the country. Now, I’m not stating whether or not this is a fair assumption to make…but let’s just say that I’ll allow the evidence to sing for itself.

Stomping its way on to the Cork scene at breakneck speed is new alternative rock band, Dead School. Formed just last summer by Cathal Maher (guitar/drums/keyboard), Ruairi Dale (bass), James McDonald (guitar/drums/vocals) and elder brother Donal McDonald (vocals/percussion), this group’s pure drive has seen them practically monopolise the typical gigging haunts of Cork city in recent months, with the aim, says Dale, of “going as far as we can” and injecting “life, ambition and a little charisma” into the circuit.

Influenced by Depeche Mode and Joy Division among others, their ‘80s inspirations are “both fashionable and powerfully uncool”; given the group’s definite image-awareness, it is reassuring to note that, although an unshakably self-assured bunch, they maintain that the most important thing to remember is to “take your music seriously, but not yourself”.

Past experience has firmly taught all four members that a love of music and a good work ethic isn’t enough to succeed in their chosen business, and this is reflected in their savvy employment of manager Eddie Kiely, promotions designer Blackship and photographer Samantha Hunt. These four know what they’re doing and it translates in their gigs, which are a lively affair: the band keeps their audience on its toes with McDonald the younger and Maher swapping positions throughout.

Dead School can next be caught in the Piper Inn, Clonmel, on March 12th – but, in a perfect world, they would play with “Manic Street Preachers at their most nihilistic, R.E.M. at their most mysterious and My Bloody Valentine at their most deafening, with Bono acting as Master of Ceremonies in his MacPhisto persona. The venue would be Sir Henry’s.”

And now for something completely different: John Blek and the Rats are quintessentially folk and make no apologies for it. Epitomising music as poetry set to melody, the band’s alternating line-up centres on the eponymous John O’Connor (lead vocals, guitar, banjo) and generally rotates around Aisling O’Riordan (vocals, guitar, banjo, mandolin), Niall Sreenan (percussion) and Luke Sheridan (bass). Influenced by Bob Dylan, Willie Nelson and Emmylou Harris, this group is easy listening with none of the accursed genericism that such a phrase usually implies.

Building a steady fanbase across Europe and the UK between touring and regular one-off gigs, John Blek and the Rats have been hailed by Hot Press as “a classy example of country rock with the odd Springsteen flourish to boot, [their music] finely played and sung with an admirable mix of gusto and heartfelt emotion”. For singer O’Riordan, playing with Bright Eyes or The Morning Benders would be a dream.

The most important thing to remember as one of the Rats, she says, is to “have the craic and give it your all, because the people who are there to see you have made the effort, so you should too!” With their third EP now available at Plug’d Records and gigs in the Pavilion (March 9^th) and Cyprus Avenue (May 28^th), failing to make an effort is certainly not something of which these musicians could be accused.

Fresh from recent gigs at Cork’s Réalt Dearg and Quad bars, Chris Somers (lead vocals, guitar), Muireann Levis (bass), Ruairi Dale (vocals, guitar) and Cormac Connolly (drums) are a tight-knit group of friends whose love of music was, inevitably, to lead to the formation of Agitate the Gravel. This foursome probably make up the most under-the-radar, yet by no means least experienced or talented, of this article’s featured bands. With two of the group currently studying music at University College Cork, it comes as no surprise that bassist Levis maintains “there isn’t a doubt in any of our minds that playing music is what we want to do with the rest of our lives…ultimately, it would be amazing if we got signed to a major record label.”

Influenced by “bits of everything”, including Weezer, Blur and My Bloody Valentine, their dream would be to headline with Adebisi Shank or BATS, with whom share the same philosophy with regard to music: namely, that energy and genuine passion are the driving force behind any authentic musicians. Like many, AtG feel that “a lot of bands are really caught up in the image side of things, and as a result the music scene has suffered. There are loads…that dress well and know how to look good holding a guitar, but not many whose music people really enjoy. It has to mean something to you”.

Although they may be aiming for that age-old temptress, the stratosphere, Levis is sincerely appreciative of the local help and friends that are so invaluable to a band like theirs. In particular, she is quick to mention Seán O’Neill and Áine Kelly, whose artwork has long gone hand-in-hand with the band’s music, and the hugely supportive Drop-d Promotions, which has afforded them “a forum where our music can reach the masses and is providing us with gigs”. It is, of course, handy to have a means of publicising any appearances locally – such as their next showing in The Quad, with Mersk and Versives, on March 3^rd.

And from there? “We’re not going to give up ‘til we’ve made it”. There you have it, amidst the dreariness and the doubt: Cork – a veritable goldmine of creativity, positivity and promise. This is our heyday, baby.

Browsing through the bargain bucket in a local music store lately (hey, I am a student) I came across a copy of 1995’s What’s The Story (Morning Glory) for €4. Half gobsmacked at the price and half angry that I paid about 3 times that price about 6 years ago, I couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to 90’s rock music.

For the vast majority of the student body here in UCC, the soundtrack to our childhoods was framed by the likes of Blur, Oasis, Supergrass, The La’s et al. The 1990s played host to its own musical era, popularly known as ‘Britpop’. Britain was hungry to relive its glory days of setting the world alight with its distinctive punk rock image, and for a fleeting period the familiar razor sharp riffs dressed with the eccentric British edge made a re-appearance. Gazing around the modern music scene, though, this particular genre seems deplorably absent.

I know when I look back at my early days all I can seem to remember musically is some kind of shaggy-haired, you-can-tell-by-looking-at-him-he’s-up-to-no-good hooligan manically gripping the mic stand, with his thick Manchester accent infiltrating even his most eloquent singing voice.

Yes, even from a young age I was brought up with this individual genre, and I even cherish my very own claim to Britpop royalty fame… my dad knows Liam and Noel Gallagher’s first cousin. Impressive, eh? Trust me, that one’s been coined over the years. Living in Yorkshire in the nineties, one has to get by somehow!

Upon first glance, it may seem like Britpop has vanished from our stereos for good. Long gone are the days when Friday evening’s Top of the Pops would present us with an alternative rock feast. However it might be erroneous to dispel it completely from the modern music scene. Blur, who coloured the nineties Britpop scene with their waging battle with Oasis and choppy, working class inspired lyrics, graced us with a brief comeback in 2009.

2001 had seen the collapse of the band, with lead singer Damon Albarn creating the hugely popular animated group the Gorillaz, and since they have made various limp efforts at reuniting. Of course, they hit familiar Britpop territory, i.e. the festival scene, with a bang, headlining Glastonbury and our very own Oxegen. But, instead of engaging in a fully-fledged comeback, they climbed back into their shell, giving us a brief glimpse at what it used to be like then snatching it away from us.

Lingering like a bad smell for the past decade and a half, the arguable kings of Britpop Oasis hung up their crown in 2009 in order to painfully hammer the last nail in the coffin. The most enduring product of the Britpop era and the most commercially successful across the Atlantic, they were, and probably still are, the most disliked band Britain has produced.

Hard to believe the guy that said “We’re not arrogant, we just believe we’re the best band in the world” is also responsible for the delicately vulnerable ‘Wonderwall’ and the grandfatherly ‘Stop Crying Your Heart Out’. I want to hate them, I really do. It’s just pretty funny to think of ruffian Noel Gallagher sitting down writing a gentle love song to his heart’s desire…

The Gallagher reign is far from over, however, as Liam has put together Beady Eye, his new band minus Noel. Liam was predominantly the voice of Oasis so it is hard to divorce their distinct sound when listening to Beady Eye but there is a definite Britpop sound about it, one that is more preppy and catchy than traditional Oasis.

Also on the radar these days is Pulp, led by Jarvis Cocker and famous for 1995’s ‘Common People’. They will be popular in several of this year’s festivals. Suede, too, has announced they will be releasing re-mastered versions of their most successful albums (and performing these live in Dublin, as well as the UK). They were major participants in the Britpop movement so their presence in the charts shall be a welcome entry.

I think I’ve succeeded in convincing myself (and hopefully you) that Britpop is still well and alive. It might not be as to the forefront as it once was, but its descendants can be seen in modern indie/alternative rock groups such as Kasabian and Elbow. I think it may be the one and only memory of the nineties that we cherish…

The Story So Far… The guys shot to fame last year (well… internet fame) when they decided to give away their debut album (Chariot) for free via their Bandcamp site. The release was picked up on by the likes of Nialler9, SwearImNotPaul and On The Record, ensuring that they rapidly became talk of the majority of Irish blogs. The rise has been fast, as has everything about the band. Forming in October 2009, the album was finished by the start of 2010 and had landed in thousands of inboxes by the summer. Since then, it’s been pretty regular touring in order to get the name out there, while they also fared very well at the recent Digital Socket Awards, picking up Best Indie, Best Newcomer and the RTE Award for Outstanding Contribution to Irish Music in 2010.

Sounds Like… One blogger likened the band to sounding like “Death From Above 1979 if they were trapped in a lift with Battles and Foals.” Parts of the album scream Bloc Party (on speed), while others sit them in perfectly alongside the mainstays of the Irish live scene such as Adebisi Shank, Jogging and Enemies.

Essential Tracks: ‘Goose’, ‘I Am Lion’, ‘Glitter’

What’s Next? A recent post on the band’s Facebook page claimed they were in the studio for their last day finishing vocals for album number two, while they are also set for to begin a tour previewing the record. The band’s last “Chariot-heavy” gig took place in Whelan’s on February 25^th, so keep your eyes peeled for a proposed Irish and UK tour as well as release dates for album number two. From there? Well it’s all pretty fast paced so I’m guessing a handful of Grammy’s, headline slots at Oxegen and Glastonbury and world domination thereafter.

• Liverpool FC’s poodle-haired Dutch international Dirk Kuyt has credited American bands Kings of Leon and the Killers with sparking the Reds’ resurgence in form. So there you have it – eating right, working hard and living well has nothing to do with it. The secret to being a successful professional footballer is some dodgy American rock & roll before kick-off.

• Gig news ahoy – guess what’s going to be happening in May when you’ve your head tucked into the books? Take your pick from: Queens of the Stone Age, Sufjan Stevens, Drive-By Truckers, John Grant, Noah & the Whale, Warpaint, Suede and Roger Waters… How desperate are you to pass the year..?

• Also, if you missed it, Mumford & Sons announced an Irish tour for this coming March including a stop in the Savoy in Cork. But it’s already sold out so it’s quite cruel me telling you this if it’s the first time you’re reading it.

• But, what you might think is even more cruel, is that I can break to you that it is almost guaranteed that Coldplay will be the final headliner for this year’s Oxegen festival. Debating whether or not to go? That should settle it for you…

• Better news, though, if you want to keep things a little closer to home this summer. Live at the Marquee has a pretty interesting mix announced so far – Fleet Foxes were recently added to the likes of the Frames, Grinderman and Imelda May. Rumours are persisting that the National may too play in Cork this summer – surely the Marquee is the only feasible option? Patti Smith has been confirmed as one of the headline acts for this year’s relaunched Cork X South West festival in Skibbereen. See – it’s not all bad.