I’m Not Often Given To Hyperbole, But This Is The Best Thing Ever…

Got a few albums lately so I thought I’d share my meaningless opinions on them with you.

Firstly up is “Don’t Breathe What You Can’t See” by Jello Biafra and The Melvins.

Like most of Jello Biafras collaboration albums, this one leaves me craving the insane blend that was the Dead Kennedys; East Bay Ray’s psycho-surf guitar, DH Pelligro’s seat-of-the-pants-drumming and little Klaus Fluoride’s marathon bass lines.

But this is a very presentable record. The Melvins, with their punchy Sabbath meets Hawkwind style, compliment Biafra's scorching sarcasm perfectly.

The problem if you want to be really pedantic is that while Biafra’s lyrics are no less smart and caustic than they usually are, they don’t so much cover old ground as exist in old space. He’s been going at his targets pretty much the same way since 1978.

But then, why else would you buy it? It’s not as if that’s a secret. So, like I say, I’m being very picky. A must for Jello fans, a not-must if he’s not you’re cup of tea.

The same goes for Seig Howdy, a collection of covers, alternate versions and Dead Kennedys re-hashes by the same team. Given my guilty love of all things Alice Cooper, I was particularly jazzed by their cover of “Halo of Flies”.

Moving on.

To Aerial By Kate Bush, another guilty pleasure of mine. A weighty double album and her first since The Red Shoes in 1993, I was a desperate for this to be good.

And it isn’t, it’s magnificent. A life affirming, glorious treat. “Sunset” might be the best song she’s ever written. So if you in any way appreciate Kate, get it, get it, get it.

I have also been listening to the self titled first album of Antony and the Jonstons. And what a treat this is as well. I have the new(ish) album to listen to as well, so I’m also looking forward to that.

It’s not the kind of thing I tend to find myself listening to, but what a voice. Sort of like a slightly less warbley Bryan Ferry but his music lacks the aggression of early Roxy Music (though none of the poise or sophistication) and also thankfully lacks the smug smarm of Ferry’s later work.

Also, as far as I am aware, Antony doesn’t have a bam son liable to storm Parliament any time soon so he can continue to go ferreting.

So there you go, a selection of largely uplifting stuff.

Next on my list is a bunch of stuff recommended by my doom-loving Canadian colleague Graeme, which is far less likely to be pleasant in any way, shape or form.