Kele Fights His Way Onto The Solo Scene - The Boxer

So, following the trend set by the likes of Brendon Flowers, Slash, Fyfe Dangerfield, Kele Okereke, of Bloc Party stardom, has upped, left, and gone solo. This, on the one hand, is a cause for disappointment, sadness, and even weeping among Bloc Party fans everywhere. Bloc Party are one of those bands who seemed to spring from no-where, coming from the dark depths of musical abyss to our ears. They stormed into consciousness with indie-brit-pop single ‘Banquet’, and have since released three records, maturing and developing their sound between each.

Silent Alarm was a London indie band’s first album, complete with high-gain guitars, impressive and untypical drum patterns and Kele Okereke’s unmistakably distinct vocals. ‘A Weekend in the City’ was a step forward for the East London quartet, as they took produced a record with a tighter production, some topical lyrics and a matured sound. Intimacy, the most recent record, saw the band move again in a new direction, this time towards drum machines, a multitude of studio effects and looped sounds, and a more electro-meets-indie, experimental album. Then came the news that Kele Okereke had done the inevitable, and taken the step that is becoming ever-more predictable: he jumped ship. The ultimate question: Is this good news?

On one hand: no. Bloc Party fans everywhere will separate quickly, on one side: those who love Kele’s debut solo effort, and on the other: those who hate it. The album then, is symbolically a large dollop of Marmite. Occasionally, the tracks are hit and miss, with some drum loops which just seem too annoying to listen to for more than thirty seconds, or an odd use of synth-effects that just doesn’t quite fit, and on some tracks, Kele’s lyrical prowess is lost in the mountains and mountains of studio mixing, synthesizers and window rattling bass.

On the other hand, and overall, the answer is a very definite ‘Yes’. Despite any scepticism, raised eyebrows or mutterings, The Boxer is a tour de force from Kele, with tracks that will make you throw yourself onto a dance floor with more enthusiasm than your dad at a wedding, juxtaposed with a softer, pop-meets-indie-meets-electro kind of thing, complete with Kele’s Bloc Party-esque lyrics; melodically sung, topical and topical. Bloc Party’s appeal not only came from their inventive use of the two guitars they had, and the effects they used, but also the ease with which you could bellow your guts out to the music (‘Are you hoping for a miraaaacle?!’ – Helicopter). You could sing and feel all smart and mysterious whilst belting out the confusingly cryptic lyrics Okereke could only have written on a coffee cup in coffee shops and East London bars, just to be obscure. Kele’s lyrical brilliance continues in his solo work, especially on the slower, calmer tracks such as ‘Unholy Thoughts’ or ‘All the Things I Could Never Say’. These are the tracks where Kele’s talent for song-writing is obvious, as he strings together tracks which combine drum machines, staccato guitars, synth loops and xylophones to create a sort of melodic, electronic, indie, pop.

Some track’s move from this kind of down tempo, melodic indie-dance to complete, unreserved dancefloor anthems, and then those (such as ‘Tenderoni’) which begin by introducing the hook, and leading into fully fledged club, dance, house anthem. These songs are the kind of tunes Kele simply could not have released in his Bloc Party confines. But then, this isn’t Bloc Party. This is something new. This is something completely different. Kele has spent so long drawing attention to his vocals and lyrics, his old band’s indie style and rhythmic brilliance, that at first it seems easy to get lost in solo album ‘The Boxer’.

Despite the initial confusion, which lasts as long as your expectations to hear another Bloc Party record, is a masterpiece of musical engineering. Listening to ‘Intimacy’, it was easy to hear a straining to move away from the typical indie-band-101. Listening to ‘The Boxer’, it is easy to hear that Kele has managed to take this desire and plunge into a new world of synthesizers, drum machines and lots and lots of reverb. The album throws together mellow, electronic indie and complete, head-pounding club anthems to create a brilliant album. Perhaps the term ‘anthems’ sounds a little too enthusiastic, and yet this is exactly what they sound like. The Boxer is an exciting new diversion from one indie rock’s most successful front-men.
The album is definitely food for thought, and tunes from ‘The Boxer’ to ‘Unholy Thoughts’ will leave you wanting to bounce around the dance floor as though someone has set fire to your brand new Lacoste trainers. Kele’s solo project, then, is an interesting mix of his East London roots, his thoughts, outlooks and primarily, musical styles. At times it is a hard hitting, punchy, bouncy, dance-floor mix of loops and beats, and at times a more mellow amalgamation of pop, indie and club-land drum machines and syncopation.

Definitely worth a listen, and definitely a success for Kele. The problem will be a successful follow up. The Boxer was a triumph, but it sounds too much like it might be the only good solo record Kele has in him. Following some amazing UK gigs, and a brilliant reception, however, it seems as though Kele's solo career is taking off. The new, buffed up Kele sounds like a man who has finally found himself, and his musical niche. A return to Bloc Party doesn't seem likely, but maybe, just maybe, this is for the best.

Kate Nash: My Best Friend is You

The irrelevant and inconsequential ramblings of a teenage girl set to catchy music. Kate Nash’s first album, Made of Bricks, was an interesting debut. The music was catchy, and the image was in tune with the times, but lyrically it was appalling. Mouthwash and Foundations, the singles released to promo the album, were seemingly what kept Nash around for any longer than the necessary fifteen minutes. So has her second album seen a huge transformation in the London singer? Has she miraculously matured? Has she dropped the Landan-talking, drop-the-T’s-and-forget-the-grammar singing style?

The opening track on My Best Friend Is You bursts through the speakers with unexpected amounts of energy. Nash’s staccato piano style is still there, but the melodies have changed. They’re more upbeat, more carefully ornamented with xylophones and trumpets and the like... it just sounds more mature. Even Nash’s teenage-girl-whining has sort of stopped, and has been replaced with a genuine effort at some heartfelt pop vocals. It’s a fantastic start to the album, which continues in a similar vein. Tracks like Don’t You Want to Share the Guilt? and Take Me to a Higher Plane are more musically developed, and sound much more like pop songs that Nash’s previous tinkering-around-with-a-piano style pop.

This isn’t in any way saying that Nash has lost her style entirely. There’s still that little something that makes her music hers. It comes through in the lyrics and vocal style that she still means business, and she’s still the same girl we always knew, she’s just a matured version, with a better voice and some more profound things to sing about. Only the final track, I Hate Seagulls (or as Nash sings it, I Hate Seaguws), that has a touch of the self indulgent, whiney old style about it – ‘I hate burning my fingers on the toaster and I hate nits’ – and yet set against the rest of the album, it doesn’t sound as immature as it could, and instead ends up as a nice, calm song to finish the record.

All round then, the album is a success as a pop record. It’s an energetic, matured improvement on her former back-bedroom style. There will still be plenty who find Nash as annoying as a wasp at a picnic, but all things considered, My Best Friend is You is definitely worth a listen with a fresh ear. And anyway, at least we can all be thankful she hasn’t ‘gone dance’.

Sex, Drugs and Arrogance

Rock ‘n’ Roll: sex, drugs, and arrogance. For as long as rock stars have been snorting cocaine and spending more on booze than they were paid for a gig, there have been some crucial ingredients to the typical rock and roll personality. It was all about the cool, the seemingly god-like persona that came with the worshipping fans. It was a part of the music itself: rock and roll was cool, it was awesome, it was sticking devil horns in the air and fighting the system. The thing was; you couldn’t stand atop a stage in front of thousands, and represent that kind of anti-establishment, hardcore, rock and roll ideal if you were modest.

Arrogance was the key. It was all about the idea that you were better than everyone and anyone else; that you could throw as many televisions from hotel windows as you felt necessary, and no-one could stop you. The most recent example of such refined rock-star behaviour has to be that of Liam Gallagher; renowned for informing people exactly where they could stick it, that he was better than sliced bread, and that he couldn’t give a monkeys what anyone else thought either way. As part of the world’s biggest British band, of course, it’s possible to see why he might have thought this. But the theme continues: Towers of London front-man Donny Tourette demonstrated in his 2007 appearance on Never Mind the Buzzcocks, as he acted up, smoked, and threw a tantrum on losing the show. Axl Rose, front-man of American rock legends, was too busy wiggling his hips in hot-pants to keep his own band together.

The arrogance, then, created part of the magic rock and roll: it placed the stars on a plinth, gave them the soap-box they needed to stand on and proclaim revolution to the masses. The question is: are those days gone? Is it still cool to be arrogant? Recently, the answer seems to be more and more: yes. Donny Tourette, following his Buzzcocks appearance, was branded ‘as punk as Enya.’ Liam Gallagher’s appearance at the 2010 Brit Awards saw him shout profanities at his audience and throw the microphone crowd-ward... and it struck an odd chord with people. It wasn’t cool. It wasn’t in the spirit of music today. U2 are headlining Glastonbury this year, and have been given control of their supporting acts: Dizzee Rascal is only allowed on because Bono and his pointless orange sunglasses have deemed him worthy. And though this is arrogance in a different sense, it’s still struck the same hollow chord. Glastonbury is an event for the people that pay, the fans that dedicate their time to watch their favourite artists, and even the starry-eyed party goers who are simply up for a good time. What right do Bono and his band of smug Irishmen have to control their support acts at a festival like Glasto? Rock and Roll arrogance has become like wearing sun-glasses inside: it’s just not cool anymore.

The other side of things, however, can’t be ignored. Arrogance does bring the magic to rock ‘n’ roll. The scene wouldn’t be what it is today without rock icons of the past strutting about as though Jesus was their warm-up act. In some ways, it may be that arrogance is a lost part of Rock music, forgotten in the past, in the days when Alice Cooper was ramming swords through his own legs, and Mick Jagger couldn’t tell you what he did yesterday. Or the day before. Or the day before. Despite this, however, Rock music wouldn’t be what it is today without rock-gods like G‘n’R, The Rolling Stones, Alice Cooper, AC/DC, Led Zeppelin and so many more bringing rock music to the people as though it was something other-worldy, this anti-establishment, loud, sex-drugs-and-tear-the-roof-off music. The arrogance is what made rock and roll, rock and roll; it made it more than music; it made it a lifestyle, an attitude, a culture.

So maybe today the arrogance is gone from rock and roll, but maybe that’s not a bad thing. Times have changed, and moved on, and music today is about the entertainment and the commercialism, instead of the cultures and the revolutions that it used to be. But this makes looking back at the past all the more magical. Those were the days when music had a meaning, had a purpose, had a message. And to try and bring that kind of spirit into music today would be like putting Noel Edmunds in a suitcase in order to send him somewhere far far away: you might really really want to... but it just isn’t going to fit.

Spoiler Alert?

Imagine the scene, if you will. Evening. A quiet bar in Oxford. Pints on the bar. Some dated decor and old knotted wood beams. The kind of place that would have been smoky had there not been a law against it. The rain is steadily falling in the night air beyond the steamy windows, and the bar stool I now perch on has become my resting place. It is, all things considered, a nice evening. And that’s when it happened. It made my breath catch in my throat and sent my beer spraying across the bar. He said it. I quote: ‘I’d be more than happy if the Chilli’s broke up.’

So, we’re talking the Red Hot Chilli Peppers. They’ve been going strong since 1983, and have pretty much built up their own style of alternative-funky-pop-rock over the years. We’ve heard their sound gradually change from album to album, heard the musicianship becoming tighter, more crisp and technical – we’ve seen Anthony Keidis change his hair style as many times. And I don’t mean that flippantly – we really have watched things like Keidis’ haircuts, and Flea’s fickle wardrobe changes (to T-shirt or not to T-shirt?). My point here is that the Chilli’s are a huge band. Known internationally with lyrics lurking in a part of your brain, they’ve got songs that you’ll know, whether you’ve heard of them or not. They’ve got songs that’ll get the same reaction as Mr Brightside does these days – unrestrained singing and head-bobbing/ dancing. They’re just generally accepted. Which is why this man, in a bar, in Oxford, telling me he didn’t want to hear any more from the Chilli’s, took me rather by surprise.

Did he mean he’d by happy for them to disband (no pun intended) out of fear? Was he scared that their future albums might not live up to the classics? In a way this seemed to be it. Old singles such as Scar Tissue, Californiacation, and Can’t Stop were amazing. They combined amazing bass lines, funky guitar, tight and interesting drum beats and vocals that rode the music like a bird on air currents. The trouble came with Stadium Arcadium. It was no secret that there were a few spats in the making of the latest album – guitarist John Frusciante and Bassist Michael ‘Flea’ Balzary wanted to take the music in two different directions, which (rumour has it) lead to the two disk album, with a division between the bass-based tracks and the more melodic guitar-based tracks. The album was not as well received as previous records, but that in no way at all means it was terrible. Singles such as Charlie were melodic, funky and very sing-along-able, and Dani California was an instant hit, making every radio playlist within days, inspiring hundreds of air guitarists across the western world. So was Stadium Arcadium a reason to completely abandon the Chilli Peppers? Not for a second.

So should we be worried about future albums? Again: not for a second. Following Frusciante’s departure from the band, Keidis, Smith and Flea began work on their next album, complete with new guitarist Josh Klinghoffer. New guitarist, new sound? Most likely, especially with a band such as the Chilli’s, where the music produced is so obviously a result of a contribution from every member of the band. Chad Smith, the Chilli’s drum man, is quoted as stating that there would be a different sound, from Stadium Arcadium at least, with a new guitarist. Something to look forward to? On one hand, yes. On the other hand, as my dull Oxford acquaintance suggested, have the Chilli’s run their course? Have they come to the end of their time in the spotlight? To an extent, I think I might have to regretfully say yes. There comes a time with a lot of artists when you just want to say... ‘Ok, that’s enough now. Don’t ruin it.’ And in a way that time is now for the Chilli’s. Music itself seems to be heading in an entirely new direction, where the mainstream is a land of simple guitar riffs and indie singers (skinny jeans: compulsory). It’s hard to imagine the Chilli’s fitting in anymore, even if the music is still awesome.

Whether you like the Chilli’s or not, however, there’s no denying that as individuals, the musicianship involved in the Chillis is brilliant. It takes just a few clicks onto YouTube to watch Flea and Smith at their best, and another few onto Spotify to hear some of Frusciante’s solo work. They’re the kind of players that young aspiring musicians have watched and learnt from; played their riffs, mastered their techniques. As a band, their discography is a long list, their songs (for the most part) instantly memorable, and their style, effortless. So whether the Chilli’s stick around or not, it could never be said that they didn’t matter.

As it goes, I don’t think it’s time to say goodbye to the Chilli’s just yet. Their music reaches too far into the media-players of far too many people for that to happen. The new Chilli Pepper’s album, due late 2010- early 2011, will sell millions of copies, and that’s for a reason. The music these Californian superstars are producing appeals to a vast number of people, and that, again, is for a reason: it’s good stuff. So to you, Oxford-Acquaintance, I’m afraid we must disagree. The Chilli Peppers should not go just yet. There might, sometime in the future, be a time for it... but it isn’t yet.

'Another Reading Headline'

Festival mania hits us again. The rumour-mills are in overdrive producing prospective line-ups, telling us Hayley Williams is pregnant (again) and that ‘legendary band x are reforming’ just for the occasion. The rumours, on one hand, are terribly annoying. On another, they seem to have become a part of the festivals themselves.

Festivals, in a way, have become a little like Christmas; the build up is equally as important as the actual weekend. And, come the weekend, each act onstage is a little like a present; the anticipation, the excitement, the bated breath, the occasional disappointment, and, more often than not, something for everyone! But, moving swiftly away from this dreadful metaphor, and towards something more relevant, shall we talk about Reading and Leeds?

It is, of course, Reading and Leeds festival on the horizon. The line up was announced this week, dispelling the circulating rumours, and bringing it with it some eyebrow raising news. The first thing that struck me as I gazed excitedly at the line-up like a child at his Christmas presents (apologies, metaphor now banned), was Friday’s headline act at Reading: Guns ‘n’ Roses. This is not good news. Don’t get me wrong, I love Guns ‘n’ Roses. They’re the band that continued to define ‘Rock ‘n’ Roll’ into the nineties. They pretty much defined ‘sex drugs and rock ‘n’ roll’ for a new generation. ‘Appetite for Destruction’ was a landmark album, an influential piece of work. Slash remains a guitar legend, an icon of rock ‘n’ roll stardom... and he’s about the only man around who can actually look good in a hat like that. So why is it such bad news that GnR are back? Quite simply: they’re not Guns ‘n’ Roses.

I’m referring of course to the monumental bust-up and reunion of ’94-98. The band grew tired of each other, and of (mainly) Axl Rose’s antics, and one by one left the band. Following a previous argument in which Axl threatened to quit the band should he not get his own way, he now owned 100% of the rights to the ‘Guns ‘n’ Roses’ name, and could therefore bring in other musicians and continue as though nothing had happened, using the same band-brand to carry on lining his pockets. So the Guns ‘n’ Roses hitting the stage this year are not the band we knew. They’re not the band that brought us ‘Welcome to the Jungle’, ‘Sweet Child of Mine’ or ‘Paradise City’, they’re not the band that sold out arenas across the US and England, causing riots as they went, they’re not the band who threw TV’s from hotel windows, and taught us what to dream of when we pictured rock ‘n’ roll stardom. Quite simply: they’re not Guns ‘n’ Roses.

This isn’t to say that the new line-up is all bad... (Duff McKagen was replaced by Tommy Stinson, originally of ‘The Replacements’, enough at least for a wry smile?) If the new line-up don’t sound terrible then so-be-it. But the fact remains that the band are not Guns ‘n’ Roses. Imagine flocking to see The Who and discovering you’d turned up to a Jack Johnson concert. No, the musical metaphors don’t quite translate, but the idea stands: it’s still good music, but it’s not what you wanted.
Anyway, enough about Axl Rose and his band of merry crack addicts, for there are other entries on the line-up this year definitely worth noting. Carrying on the trend of discussing headline acts, we’ll try moving on to Arcade Fire.

Arcade Fire are an odd sort of blip on the music-radar. Arcade Fire have won numerous awards for various albums; 2008’s Neon Bible won the Grammy for Best Alternative Album, for example, and now they sit at the top of the line-up for Reading and Leeds 2010. Despite this, it’s been a long while since I heard Arcade Fire on the radio, or hitting any mainstream music channels. In fact, it’s hard to imagine much Arcade Fire material hitting the mainstream media; it says something that the awards they have won have all been for the ‘Alternative Album’ category. So it might seem like Arcade Fire are an odd choice to headline Reading and Leeds, and yet there are some substantial facts drifting about the pop-ether that deserve to be taken into consideration. Mainly, the fact that 2008’s Neon Bible album sent Arcade Fire on an international tour, covering 122 shows (including 33 Festivals), 75 cities and 19 countries. Mind-blowing stuff.

So perhaps it’s just me who’s somehow missed the international fame of Arcade Fire; just me who looked a little perplexed when he saw their name was the biggest on the line-up; just me who remembers that the last time he saw Arcade Fire they were performing a few songs on ‘Later with Jools Holland’, and that was a while ago at that... I suppose time will tell; come the festival weekend Arcade Fire will stand tall in front of the crowd for the world to judge. And I can’t wait to see how it turns out.

Moving, again, swiftly on then, we turn to one of the biggest names in pop-punk music: Blink-182. The trio of Californian punk-ers are back. The announcement that Blink would reform again received mixed reaction. There were the inevitable cries that they were only in it for the money. There were the forlorn faces of those who thought that their latest album (Blink 182) was too much of a different sound for the band; the songs weren’t about masturbation and getting drunk anymore, and the music went beyond repeated power-chord-progressions. For some this was just too much. For others, however, it was fantastic news: the pop-punk band that had defined their teenage years had returned.

But what made Blink 182 such icons in the first place? I suppose we can put it down to being in the right place at the right time. Three awkward Californian kids just happened to show up at the right time in the right place with some un-restrained, simple guitar parts and some unadulterated lyrics and they effortlessly fell into the hearts of teenagers everywhere. They seemed to capture the unpredictable emotional rollercoaster of adolescent life, and made it OK to be awkward, OK to be a misfit, and OK to feel like a bit of a social outcast. Blink came along and appealed to teenagers everywhere with a simple but subtle message: There’s nothing wrong with who you are, and you’re not alone. Whether this was intentional or not is another matter, but in any case, this was the result.

From then on it was a simple (ish) rise to global stardom, a bumpy hiatus-come-break-up, some unsuccessful side projects (Angels and Airways, +44) and an eventual reformation in time for this year’s festival. Blink’s last album, the self-titled ‘Blink 182’, was a new direction for the band, as they made the leap from songs about teen-angst and knock-down-ginger to relationship troubles and social politics – the same leap was made by Green Day when it came to ‘American Idiot’. Blink took a more experimental angle, focussing tracks around Barker’s drumming prowess and DeLonge’s fascination with simple guitar patterns layered with digital effects. It received a mixed response, possibly alienating the skateboarding, pierced, tattooed fan-base they had acquired over the years. The question now is whether they’ll play much of it at Reading and Leeds, especially taking into account their enormous back catalogue of hits and the gargantuan mountain of excitement, expectation and anticipation that comes with their return.

Either way, whatever their motivation, Blink 182 are taking the stages by storm this year. It’s going to be interesting to watch, seeing the band together, how they play and react off each other, and whether they’ll still fool around. Something about the latest album and their experiences since suggests there’ll be a more serious approach to music now... but how will this fit with old classics like ‘What’s My Age Again?’ Another reason to anticipate Reading and Leeds!

Other acts set to appear comprise of the newly reformed Libertines, as Docherty rounds up his band of merry men for another go at raking in a few quid to pay next week’s bail charges. The Gaslight Anthem are on too – definitely ones to watch. Rumoured to be Bruce Springsteen’s favourite band, The Gaslight Anthem produce a sort of raw, American-indie sound that works amazingly well... keep an eye on the Gaslight Anthem. Paramore are about, promoting latest album ‘Brand New Eyes’, Limp Bizkit are back – we haven’t heard anything in a while, but they should still cause a riot with old classics such as ‘Rollin’’ and ‘My Generation’. There’s some home grown talent heading your way this year too. The Macabees are making an appearance following a year of rising fame, along with The Klaxons and the amazing and underrated Frank Turner.

All in all, this year’s Reading and Leeds is set to be a good one. A brilliant line up, a brilliant weekend. There are a few names that seem to missing for one reason or another. Bloc Party? Maybe. Kasabian? Definitely. Either way, this year’s festival is one to look forward to. At any rate, the Reading and Leeds highlights might just be the only thing on TV this year that Alan Carr didn’t present, and that’s good enough for me...

Make 'Later...' Now

'There's nothing on the same scale... There's nothing that has as many bands who're actually playing live. It's a really good idea, it's always worked because the diversity of the artists is always really interesting... So if you tune in to watch one band you end up seeing bands sometimes that you'd never dreamed of watching that you actually really get into.' - Robert Smith, The Cure



Later with Jools Holland has been running (without a break) since 1992 now. That's eighteen glorious years of what is possibly the best music entertainment show on air today. An eclectic and diverse mix of music from all genres and countries, always interesting, always enjoyable, and always presented by the most charming man in music entertainment.

Why the sudden fascination in Later, then? I'll admit, if I were announcing mind-blowing news about amazing line-ups for new shows, it would be fantastic. If I were announcing the show was disappearing from our screens for good, it would be an emotional farewell to a show that has wormed its way into my heart and made a nice little home there, as something to sit in front of with a cup of tea, a cigarette, and relax. Alas, it is neither of these things. In fact, the real reason is much more mundane. Yesterday, whilst perusing the DVDs in the campus CD/DVD store (the name for one of these escapes me) I happened to pass the Later with Jools Holland DVDs. Upon picking it up, reading the line-up of artists, nodding my head in great approval, I turned to my friend and articulated my view that this was an awesome DVD; another great Jools Holland show. Her response? 'I've never heard of it.'

Now, this obviously floored me then and there, and I was only to sink lower into my pit of disbelief, and my jaw was only to drop lower as more and more people professed their ignorance of Jools. They had to be educated. But there was no way to immediately implant the idea in their heads of such a long running, diverse, entertaining, relaxing, intriguing, foot-tapping, head-bobbing, smile-drawing show like Later. this is because Later is more than a simple television show. It is a weekly roller coaster of musical styles, artists, feelings, rhythms, melodies and music. The show itself seems to have a kind of atmosphere about it. Jools himself seems to draw you in with his charmingly toothy grin and staccato sentences, and the artists take turns to show you just what they're about, taking their five minutes of fame to create an event; a demonstration of their genre, their music, themselves.

So I think it's fair to say I'm fond of the show. Originally a spin of of The Late Show, Later hit the tube in '92, as Nirvana's Nevermind hit number one in the US Billboard 200 chart, Prince, Billy Idol and David Bowie were all hitting the headlines with court cases and marriages, and Madness re-formed. There was no shortage of musical talent around, and Later found a new and unique format in which to showcase acts both old and new.

Today, however, our screens are washed out with talent shows, with Simon Cowell making us all feel nauseous and Andrew Lloyd Webber crooning over how great he is, with the latest sob-stories of contestants who need to make a headline in The Sun every day in order to ensure they don't have to return to singing badly on a cruise ship for old age pensioners who probably can't hear them anyway (and sometimes it's just as well). But with Jools you get something different. You get something that seems rather rare in music entertainment these days... honesty. You get sincere, genuine artists playing music for the sake of playing music, trying to be nothing more than they are. Each performance is not subjected to the opinion of three or more 'celebrities' who we'd all like to shoot anyway, and we're let off hearing raucous crowds scream at the stage as though they were chimps at a football match. Instead, we get a true sense of gratitude, some applause, perhaps a short interview with an iconic musician, and on we go. It's brilliant. Pure bliss. I don't feel like flicking my cigarette butts at the screen. I don't feel like punching my television. I don't despair at the state of humanity. If anything, Later is the kind of show that gives me hope in humanity.

So perhaps I've glorified good ole' Jools' show a little. But hey, no one ever got far with moderation. Good ole' Jools has a show to be proud of, an eighteen-year-old weekly festival of music. It showcases and celebrates the best talent around, new and old, loud and quiet, fast and slow, hard and soft, good and... always good. So if you have yet to become a fan of Later, in the interest of your ears, I implore you to give it a try. The DVDs are out there, the TV repeats are too, and once a year Jools' Annual Hootenanny brings in the new year.

Later with Jools Holland: an under-rated institution of a show.

Parachute: Losing Sleep

Parachute: coming to a radio-station near you. Or at least, they should be. Losing Sleep is Parachute’s debut album, and it’s an album that pretty much ticks all the boxes. It’s an album that wouldn’t find itself out of place on a One Tree Hill soundtrack, but this isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Parachute’s combination of pop beats and pianos - with rockier guitars bringing up the rear - makes for a record full of irresistibly catchy riffs and bouncy rhythms; never before has an album given such meaning to the phrase ‘foot-tappingly good’.

The sound is an eclectic mix of artists such as Matt Wertz, Delirious?, Gavin DeGraw, The Hush Sound, Maroon 5, Andrew McMahon – a style of mature pop; it is piano-based pop-rock at its best. Tracks such as All That I Am and Words Meet Heartbeats are liable to have even the most cynical of listeners jigging up and down in their chair, air-drumming, or running to find someone to bounce around and share a smile with. The lively, up-tempo songs will inspire energy in even the most lethargic of people. Other tracks such as The Mess I Made and She Is Love are slow, melodic ballads, guaranteed to find a memory in your heart the music can fit to; they’re the songs you needed dealing with your first heart-break.

Parachute seem to have jumped out of nowhere with Losing Sleep; an American quintet from Charlottesville, Virginia, the band’s members only graduated from college a short two years ago (2008), and have since been touring to promote their debut album. Soon after their graduation they found themselves headlining their own tours, as well as supporting big names such as The Script and Kelly Clarkson.

Following an impressive beginning on the music scene, one sceptical question lurks over Parachute; will they be able to conjure up an equally impressive second album? Or will they fall into a genre of textbook American teen-pop? Despite a debut album with more catchy songs than a Michael Jackson box set, there just doesn’t seem enough to push Parachute into a league of their own. Will the future see them mature and find a more original sound, or will they simply become a lost pop-rock band in the mires of the HMV ‘Rock and Pop’ section?

All this remains to be seen, but for now, whether you’re looking for chill-out music, inspirational music, bouncy music, pop music, rock music, back-ground music, fore-ground music, music to cuddle to, music to cry to, music to smile to... this is the album for you. Parachute: coming to a radio station near you. Or at least, they should be.