Subtle harmonic and textural touches lift this well above the ordinarily beautiful. It's varied and lasts nearly 6 minutes, building gradually, and keeps getting better until just before the end. You can tell at times that he's listened to "Ripples" and some of the good bits on "Wind and Wuthering", but this has its own space. The vocal is by a former Genesis roadie.

Johnny Marr once said that he wanted to write a song with an unforgettable guitar intro, like Eric Clapton's "Layla". He was, at the time, talking about the penning of the Smiths' "How Soon is Now?" The Chameleons' "Swamp Thing" does everything still that "How Soon is Now?" did for me when I was 16. Difference is, I haven't popped in a Smiths mixtape since I was 20.

There's somthing very romantic about this song. I've never really paid too much attention to the lyrics of this particular Chameleons track, although Mark Burgess' oddly peotic songwriting skills on other tracks have haunted my mind years after I had heard them. This tune is led and driven by the chord structure more than just the delayed, jangly guitar, or the powerfully precise drumming. Midway into the tune, the song goes from minor chord structure to major chord structure, even though the lyrics remain as bleak as a Manchester weather report.

Whenever I hear this song, one word always pops into my head, "pretty". That's what this song is. Pretty.

To me, Everything But The Girl are one of the most memorable bands of the 80s and 90s. What always strikes me is how their sound evolved from jangly, jazzy-pop in the beginning to polished, rather slick sophisti-pop in the late 80s/early 90s to sample-heavy, drum & bass/trip-hop influenced, house-embracing electronica at the end of their recording history in the mid/late 90s. Despite the change in sound they always managed to capture a consistency in the feel of the music, always revolving around the same themes over the years, dripping with melancholia, unrequited love, self-pity, romantic disillusionment etc. "Two Star" is a delicate, yet emotionally bleak ballad. Acoustic in sound, with piano, double bass and a wonderful string arrangement by Harry Robinson plus some cor anglais embellishments by Kate St. John.

A spoken word splurge of bile and vitriol over a deceptive soft funk backing,Calrke,s menacing sardonic tone berates the effects of Thatcherism on the very bottom of the pile ,the picture painted is grim and at times horrific but always compelling ,it would be misleading to give a taste of it here it needs to be heard mainly for entertainment but secondly as a concise social document of the UK at this bleak time .

The magical Mr Foxx begins to allow some warmth into his sound after the detached ,sometimes clinical feel of his early Ultravox records and alienated classic "Metamatic".The voice is still remote and the lyrics open to a vaugue interpretation but this sublime piece of post punk pop benefits from Spanish guitar and an almost Abba-esque piano motif .This new found warmth adds a feel of hope and optimism to a previously bleak musical landscape .

From one of the great rock'n'roll albums. The lyrics make this track a standout with the closing denouement of "your mommie's on one scary ride.... and it's all because your daddy lied". Trash culture of the highest level.

A technically astonishing piece of Egyptian-influenced death metal by a bunch of Americans from the swamps of Florida. For those not initiated in the relentless grind of thrashing guitars, double-bass tub-thumping and unholy growling vocals this is about as subtle as a horse's cock. And about as appealing as well. Make no mistake, this is brutal but in a market dominated by tedious and unchallenging MTV-friendly nu-metal, that any band can try and succeed in pulling this off is two welcome fingers in the face of Fred Durst and his pals.

Quite unlike most of Nina Simone�s work the beautifully smooth jazz of �please don�t let me be misunderstood� and sometimes slightly sleazy orchestral numbers �feeling good�, �I put a spell on you�.

For me, Sinnerman� is out on its own, a 10+ minute opus, based around a rolling piano and double bass and often frantic cymbal accompanying Nina�s rueful voice tinged with desperation as she recounts the tale. Searching for somewhere to hide, from what is not explained, a man first runs to the rocks, the river, and the Lord, who all refuse him, the music booming louder and with more urgency following each rejection. The Lord even tells him to go to the waiting Devil, and the situation looks bleak, until the rhythm running alongside him suddenly clatters into a tree, and the sinner throws himself before the Lord once more, �Don�t you see me prayin�?� he cries, �Not nearly enough� replies the Lord, until the chasing evil presumably sniffs him out, the drums and bass pick themselves up and we�re off and running again, into the sunset together.

Memory's a funny thing. Especially romantic memory.
The first time I heard this song was two days after the first time I fell in love. Everywhere I went, I sang its earnest chorus "And you are always on my mind" in my head, thinking about the one I was in love with. In the shower staring at a bottle of hair conditioner, I sang, "You are always on my mind". On the subway, trying to ignore a potential fistfight about to break out, I sang, "You are always on my mind". In the supermarket produce section, holding the perfect shape of a lemon in my hand, I sang, "You are always on my mind". I was giddy and happy and the song understood. "Hey!" the song said, "Hey!" Will Oldman sang, "I got a new partner now!"
But jacket weather set in and things grew colder and we broke up and I was miserable and I stored the CD away on a top shelf with other memorabilia of that love who's happy power was really freakin' painful for me to think about now.
Things weren't always so bleak and I got me a new love and some years later, when I listened to the song again, I noticed something about the lyrics I hadn't before. See, in reality, the song isn't joyous at all. Will Oldman is singing about a past love, a love who is always on his mind when all the time he is seeing another girl, a different girl from the one always on his mind. He can't be with that girl. He has a new partner now. What I thought was a song about new joy was a song about nostalgic loss.
I didn't see how it was possible that I had suppressed that true meaning for as long as I had, considering how often I sang the song and how much it meant to me at the time. I knew the lyrics like the back of my hand and when I listen to music I dredge up all I can get from the lyrics like I'm a devout scribe interpreting the bible.
One of the beauties of pop songs is that they take on the flavour of your life at the time you listened to them and carry that flavour on to whenever you listen to the song again, while meanwhile you're morphing and changing and discarding what songs you don't want to remember that you loved and making mixed Cd's for long cartrips of the songs you do you do want to remember. This song is weird in that IT seemed to be the one that was morphing the next time I heard it and not me, like it was a person that had changed over time that I was encountering again.
Besides which, what a fucking lovely song it is.

Starting off with the haunting echoing of steel string suspended minor chords, and quickly moving into the feeling of darkness, Floods reigns as one of the greatest metal balladry songs of all time. With a time of 6:59 (minutes and seconds), Floods deals with the internal struggle, elements of corruption, and dissolution of troubles (wash away man/ take him with the floods), that is not dismissed or watered down into a three-minute wad of sound. Pantera's pervasive composing abilities are seen not only in the length of this track, but it its bridges and structured solo set ups. Phil Anselmo delivers this song on the back of Dimebag Darrell's mighty 'steel' guitar effect, and of course the trademark bass drums and top-hat kicks of Vinnie Paul that have made Pantera so famous. The bridge perhaps extracts the greatest meaning from the song; it epitomizes itself on the power chord riff solos and Anselmo's godly muttering of "floods" (in which we can picture a Goliath or force of destruction coming in to obliterate all existence), which echoes throughout the solo. A rather dark song, Floods is characterized by its catchy guitar work (which contains a spectrum of minor and suspended shapes), and staircase wit/reflective backdrop mumbling vocals about the cold, harsh realities of life. Recommended to anyone who doubts this band's ability to do other than scream and wax metallic, Floods will not be a disappointing track. The bleak acceptance of moving onto new horizons or ways of life, leaving the old and dead behind and walking on down the road, is embodied in the ending solo, with the subtle sound of rainfall calming the listener in the end. 5 out of 5 stars for its genre.

Don't go to Shinedown for a pure fluffy pep song, but this is a really good song. Among my favourites of Shinedown, along with 'What A Shame', 'I Own You', and 'No More Love'.

"Mirage" was the first single taken from Siouxsie & the Banshees' first album, 1978's The Scream, and while it's not as uncharacteristically poppy as the group's debut 7", "Hong Kong Garden," it's still about as close to accessible as the group got in the early days. A tightly wound song built on John McKay's slashing, distorted guitar and a pounding, prominent drumbeat (the sort of near-tribal galloping beat that Kenny Morris' replacement, Budgie, would do much better on later singles like "Spellbound" and "Fireworks"; Morris simply wasn't good enough a drummer to impart the kind of urgency this song requires), "Mirage" builds a forward momentum underneath Siouxsie Sioux's yowling vocals, which obscure bassist Steve Severin's lyrics to the point that only occasional words and phrases are decipherable.
(AMG)

If you ask any industry bigwig right now what�s gonna be the next big thing, they�ll all say the same, �Sea Shanties�. Every one of them. You think I�m joking? Well listen up ignorami because I�m not.

You might have noticed ripples rolling in from the Indie scene on both shores of the Atlantic, as The Coral, The Decemberists, and others, have romanticised the plight of the seafarer, but now Shanties are due to hit the mainstream, and hard. As I write this Richard X is in his London studio working on the final mix of �Salty Seadog�, an explosive slab of �neo-shant� purred over seductively by Rachel Stevens. Cathy Dennis, my old pal from our days changing skates at Norwich Rollerama, told me yesterday that she�s just sold three �Shanties� to some �top name artists�. For legal reasons I�m not allowed to say who, but let me assure you these are white hot names. The kind of names that kids get on their knees and pray to. So, you see, Shanties are big business. I�ve also heard that Jennifer Lopez, J-Lo, �Loopy� Lopez, Jell-O, whatever, never one to miss a passing fad, is rumoured to be changing her name to One-Eyed-Jenny. Make of that what you will, might just be street talk. Now what concerns me is the forthcoming release from Britney Spears. This you may have heard about. It�s called, �Wingin�, Blingin� and Not!�, and it�s a �fresh� adaptation of the 19th century poem/song, �Winkin�, Blinkin� and Nod� by Eugene Field. I know this song from the glorious version by Cass Elliot�s pre-fame folk trio, The Big Three. It�s less a shanty than a bewitching lullaby, intended to lull a child into restful slumber, as Winkin� and gang sailed not in rusting trawler through the bleak North Sea, but, �in a wooden shoe/off on a river of crystal light/into a sea of dew.� And it contains some of the most hauntingly beautiful oooh ooohs and aahh ahhs ever waxed, as Tim Rose and Mama Cass harmonise the rolling waves of slumber. Nevertheless because of it�s sea-faring theme (�we�re going fishing for the herring fish/that live in the beautiful sea�), it�ll probably get caught up in the nets of the inevitable �Sea Shanty Fever� cash-in compilations that will soon litter our shores like syringes and floor tiling. I wanted to draw your attention to it now before it gets beaten blue and bloody by the Spears, and rattles out over supermarket tannoys the world over.

We had a good time in the eighties,we really did.Unemployment,strikes,kids inculcated with the Thatcher mantra of making money which has depoliticized the youth of today.Fortunately the hypocrisy of Blair has encouraged a few students to tear themselves away from their business studies and take to the streets.Revolution revives art;it happened in the late 50's and 60's when teenagers rebelled against the staidness of post war England,
and again in the bleak mid 70's when youth rebelled against the poor prospects on offer.Fashion,music and literature are never healthier than when faced with intransigence.
In 1981 the post punk landscape was a glorious directionless quagmire.Record labels littered the nation,some only managing a few releases.Lowther International was home to the Vital Disorders who were angry but not too angry to write a great tune.
The Prams EP contains three slices of political pop,domestic and general.Prams is a scream of feminist outrage,of how women have their dreams ruptured,trapped by the drudgery of daily life,the omnipotent cry of the tyrannical baby squashing their ambitions.

"Lets talk about prams and washing machines,
Lets talk about the end of childhood dreams".

That is the chorus,sung with increasing vitriol as the song progresses,until you can almost feel the phlegm hit your face,as Tina Pilchards spits out those words one final time.Sizzling.