'Aggressive Sunbathing' by Fat and Frantic

Wowsers. Here's a blast from the past, and no mistake. When I was about 11 years old, Fat and Frantic were the coolest band ever. Chances are, you won't have heard of them, but they were a Christian band who made various failed attempts to become mainstream. They were much beloved by members of church youth groups who were all a bit older than I was, and they broke up slightly before I would have had the chance to discover them for myself. Their music was, for many years, deleted, but can now be found on itunes for those who wish to go looking. My copy of this reached my mp3 player via a mini-disc copy of a tape cassette.

'Aggressive Sunbathing' was their second album, from the era when Fat and Frantic were a four piece. Recorded on what I can assume was a minimal budget, it sticks to a pretty simple arrangement of acoustic guitar, bass guitar, washboard and trumpet. Occasionally, a guest violinist makes an appearance - I can't work out at this point whether the violin is slightly out of tune, or whether that tape cassette was a little stretched when the digital copy was made. Either reason could be true, I suspect. Lead vocals alternate between three singers, all of whom sound slightly self-concious as they sing. Later live recordings would sound far more relaxed, and would also benefit from more vocal harmonies - I imagine overdubs were probably a luxury that 'Aggressive Sunbathing' couldn't afford. In fairness, despite the constraints, the arrangements are tighter than I remembered them being - I guess they made the most of what they had

Fat and Frantic always worked a balance between silly songs, sensible songs that sounded a bit silly, and heartfelt songs about their faith, or worldly issues. This tended to give their albums a slightly schizophrenic sense, and 'Aggressive Sunbathing' probably suffers from this more than any of their other albums. 'Freedom' and 'Uganda's Children' are wonderful songs, but their impact is lessoned slightly by their proximity to 'Uncle David' and 'Born To Be A Brownie'. 'Take Me Home' and 'Proud' are more successful in marrying the two sides of the band, though the latter's references to South Africa and El Salvador date the album as a whole pretty badly. 'Snog A Toff' and 'Dictator' show a keen eye for satire that works well.

To be frank, it would be easy to listen to this album 22 years past it's release and rip it to shreds - it has flaws and limitations a-plenty. But despite all of them, you can't help but enjoy listening to it, as it's still fun. You do wonder how much better it would have been had some money been spent on it, but perhaps that would have destroyed it's charm. We'll never know.

'Accelerate' by REM

REM have always been one of those bands that I've liked without ever being passionate about. Over the years, I've slowly accumalated a pretty decent number of albums, and I've liked most of them to varying degrees, without ever really being blown away by one.

This is there most recent, and I think it's one Tessa had a present. To be honest, my interest in the band had waned since the release of 'Reveal', which had been pretty disappointing. All the signs seemed to indicate that their glory days were long passed, and they were destined to drift into obscurity and irrelevance.

Perhaps they are, but if this is to be their fate, then 'Accelerate' will be, at least, a final burst of excellence. Perhaps aware that they were running out a chances, REM seriously raised their game with this record. Gone were the ambling acoustic fumblings of recent years, replaced with short sharp bursts of energy and tune. Few of the songs last much longer than 3 minutes - the whole album lasts for little more than half an hour, but it has real impact from the beginning.

It's not an album with particular stand-out tracks, but this works to its advantage - everything is good, and nothing pales in comparison to anything else. Only the final track, 'I'm Gonna DJ' is sub-standard - it's not terrible, but it's not as good as what comes before it. It doesn't matter - the album as a whole is more than good enough to make up for it.

Time will tell whether further REM albums will match this, or whether this will be a final gasp. Either way, it's something to be proud of.

'Absent Friends' by The Divine Comedy

‘Absent Friends’ was released during what must have been an unsettling time for Neil Hannon. Regeneration, the album for new label EMI, had sold an unspectacular number of copies, and he’d recently said goodbye to his entire band, some of whom had been around for a number of years. Little wonder, then, that ‘Absent Friends’ is a slightly melancholic album. Even upbeat songs, like the title track have something of a sting in the tale – “happy days, we thought that they would never end – but they always end.”

Because Hannon writes in character so often, it’s difficult to make assumptions, but there are plenty of clues throughout the album that Hannon is writing more personally on this record. ‘Absent Friends’ is surely a nod to the band members he’d recently lost, and it wouldn’t be unreasonable to suggest that ‘Sticks And Stones’ may be a comment on the fan reception of the previous album. ‘Leaving Today’ speaks for itself, as does ‘Charmed Life’. It’s unusual to see so much of Hannon himself in his work.

Musically, ‘Absent Friends’ gave Hannon the chance to spread his wings a little after the musical restrictions of ‘Regeneration’. The title track, and opener, revels in its orchestrations, as do the two songs that follow. ‘Sticks And Stones’ has a fantastic accordion line courtesy of Yann Tiersen, though the chorus lets it down a little. ‘Leaving Today’ and ‘Our Mutual Friend’ are as sumptuous as anything in his career. There are only a few simpler moments – ‘Come Home Billy Bird’ is a relatively straightforward indie-ish track, and ‘My Imaginary Friend’ is the most stripped back – and also the most light hearted.

As an album, it has real strengths, and however much I loved ‘Regeneration’, it was good to hear Hannon returning to form when it was released. However, it does lack the humour common in most of his other albums – understandable under the circumstances, but a shame never-the-less. As a result of this, ‘Absent Friends’ feels a little less than the sum of its parts, but as its parts are so good, it gets away with it.

'About A Boy' (soundtrack) by Badly Drawn Boy

When it was first announced that Badly Drawn Boy would be providing the soundtrack to 'About A Boy' it raised a lot of eyebrows. Critics found it inexplicable that a critically adored Mercury-Music-Prize-Winning maverick artist would want to ally himself to a major motion picture based on a Nick Hornby novel and starring Hugh Grant.

Well, they are all wrong. 'About A Boy' may only have been Badly Drawn Boy's second album, but it's his best. Written for a purpose, this album is more focused and less flabby than the albums released either side of this one. It has some fantastic singles - one very conventional, but great ('Something To Talk About'), and one slighlty more unusual, but still great ('Silent Sigh'). Most of the rest of the album is still song based - this isn't a collection of soundtrack friendly instrumental segments. 'A Peak You Reach' and 'Above You, Below Me' would have sounded perfectly at home on other albums, or even on their own, and tracks like 'File Me Away' and 'A Minor Incident', whilst quieter, are still good songs in their own right. The instrumental bits that are sprinkled through the album make musical references to the songs they are surrounded by, and help the album hang together extremely well. If only he'd kept it up!

'Abbey Road' by The Beatles

This is the most recently purchased album to be listened to so far. I was surprisingly late in coming to The Beatles - they were never really listened to at home when I was young, so I came to them the other traditional way, working backwards from later bands I came to love. I bought a couple of albums, but even my non-discerning ears could tell they were due for a remaster and a reissue, so I held off from buying more. I bought this last month when the reissues finally happened.

The last Beatles album, 'Abbey Road' is rarely less than fascinating. It shows them at their most creative, and their most uninspired, at their best, and at their not-so-best. It starts well. 'Come Together' is slick, tight and impressive. It's very Lennon, but it also demonstrates how well he and McCartney complemented each other, even at this late hate-filled stage - try imagining it without the bass part. It would be nothing. The comes 'Something'. It's a cliche to call it Harrison's best work, but it's a hard point to argue.

Much scorn has been poured on 'Maxwell's Silver Hammer'. All of it is deserved. You can overlook the sub-music-hall backing track if you put it down it ironic kitsch, but even then, you can't shake the fact that McCartney had already done this, better, with 'When I'm 64'. The lyrics, though - what was he thinking. If the rest of the band had seen any future to the band, maybe they'd have tried harder to block this. It's a shame they didn't. 'Oh Darling' is better, though it's incredibly hard to take seriously. It starts normally enough, but McCartney's howling voice is pure pastiche by then end. 'Octopus' Garden', by comparison, sounds perfectly reasonable. In fact, for what it is, 'Octopus' Garden' is a great little song - catchy, fun, well put together. It's infinitely better than Ringo's 'Don't Pass Me By', his previous writing contribution to the Beatles catalogue. In fact, it could be argued that it's better than 'Yellow Submarine', his most famous vocal moment - but since it vaguely shares the same subject matter, it'll be destined to forever remain its poor cousin.

Side 1 (and it's still easy to think of them as 'sides') finishes with 'I Want You (She's So Heavy)'. Stitched together from two different fragments, this is Lennon's turn to be excessive. It's really dull. Seriously - I'm sure lots of people would claim it to be a trail-blazing exercise in prog rock, but it's far too short on ideas to sustain its 7 and a half minutes. A couple of minutes of the faintly jazzy section, and a couple of minutes of dense noisy section would have made this an interesting diversion.

Side 2 begins with 'Here Comes The Sun'. Harrison may not have the largest writing contribution to this album, but he is most consistent - another hit. 'Because' is a lovely blend of harmonis, though it lacks for an ending. The rest of the side is a big medley of songs, which illustrates both strength (look what we can do) and weakness (we've run out of songs that are good enough to be done on their own). It's shot through with great moments: the transitions in 'You Never Give Me Your Money', the harmonies in verse 2 of 'Mean Mr Mustard', and the chorus of 'She Came In Through The Bathroom Window' to name but three. Any lesser bits are hidden by the format (which may well have been the idea). The end is wonderful. 'Golden Slumbers' is almost as over the top as 'Oh Darling' was on side 1, but the band are on a roll by now, so you don't care, and when the trumpets play the 'You Never Give Me Your Money' reprise, it makes you want to stand up and applause. The choral vocals of 'Carry That Weight' are both triumphant and desperately poigniant, and 'The End' is a fitting climax to the medley, the album, and the career as a band.

'Her Majesty' is the very definition of pointlessness. Bolting it onto the end of the medley damages the flow of the album just like this paragraph damages the flow of my review. Sometimes, things that are dropped from a tracklist should just stay dropped.

‘Abandoned Shopping Trolley Hotline’ by Gomez

Their third album in three years, ‘Abandoned Shopping Trolley Hotline’ isn’t really an album. It’s a round up of b-sides and alternate versions of singles with a couple of new tracks thrown in. As a result, it’s predictably patchy.

Of the new songs (and I can’t be sure I’m right about this, but I think I am), ‘Bring Your Loving Back Here’ would have comfortably made a single, ‘Buena Vista’ sounds lovely, but unfocused, ‘Wharf Me’ and ‘High On Liquid Skin’ are nice enough, but forgettable, and the delightfully titled ‘Shitbag’ and ‘Shitbag 9’ are as worthwhile as they sound.

As for the rest, they’re a bit of a mixed bag. Nothing dreadful, but most of the songs that began lives as b-sides did so because they deserved to be b-sides. ‘Flavours’ and ‘Rosemary’ are the exception, as both are strong enough to stand by themselves – the first, a gentle acoustic track, the latter, a brooding monster. Of the alternative versions, ’78 Stone Shuffle’ is a lot of fun – clearly the sound of a band having a good time. ‘We Haven’t Turned Around (X-Ray Mix)’ is a brave attempt to strip back a more sumptuous track to its bones. It’s interesting, but not great. The album finishes with the band’s version of the Beatles track ‘Getting Better’. It’s played fairly straight, adding only some slide acoustic guitar and an extended outro, and altering the backing vocal arrangements. It’s a good cover, and a strong ending, but it’s not their song when all’s said and done.

It’s fine – I’ve enjoyed listening to it, but by it’s nature, it was never going to be great. It does, however, make a good ending to chapter one of the Gomez story. And that’s a bit of a shame, as chapter two wasn’t as good.

'A Weekend In The City' by Bloc Party

Second album by Bloc Party, and almost the most recent release listened to so far. Like their first album, this is essentially a slightly awkward sounding mix of spiky guitars, fast drums, and studio effects, though the studio effects are up a little on this one, and the lyrics are a little angrier and more angsty.

'Song For Clay' starts quietly with keyboard chords and falsetto vocals before launching into a relentless drum beat and a selection of layered guitars and angry vocal harmonies. 'Hunting For Witches' starts with a fantastic sound collage of voices before turning into an angry sounding rant about alienation and racial exlusion. It's fast, crunchy, and generally brilliant. 'Waiting For The 7:18' pretends to be quiet and gentle at the beginning, but guess what - it soon becomes loud, and fast, and a bit angr... I may have said this already.

And so it goes on. Only 'On', 'Kreuzberg' and the closer 'SRXT' lower the tempo, and even then, only just, and they're still pretty intense. 'I Still Remember' is the only song on the album that isn't hard work. But despite all this, 'A Weekend In The City' is still a really good album. Demanding, even exhausting, but worth the effort, and I'm sure that's how it was meant to be. I reaching out from standard guitar-band-land and embracing more experimental sounds, they created something very successful.

‘A Short Album About Love’ by The Divine Comedy

Here’s an album I’ve not properly listened to for a long time. It’s only half an album, really, recorded with a budget-busting orchestra between Casanova and Fin de Siecle, so if I’ve wanted to listen to a Divine Comedy album throughout the years, this has tended to be very low down the list. That said, Divine Comedy fandom often rates this as a career high for Hannon, so it’s worthy of re-appraisal.

It starts magnificently, no question. ‘In Pursuit Of Happiness’ starts small but becomes huge as the Brunei Ensemble pour layer after layer of orchestration over what’s actually a pretty simple tune. Every time a new set of instruments plays, Hannon’s voice swells in grandeur and volume before eventually, the whole song crashes back down to a guitar-only ending. This leads into the far more conventional ‘Everybody Knows’, the albums only single. It’s a nice enough track, but it doesn’t make full use of the orchestration available. ‘Someone’ and ‘If…’ follow. They’re the dense core of the album, full of strings and horns, but a little lacking in joy. I know a lot of people rate ‘If…’ as their favourite Divine Comedy song, but I’ve personally never really taken to it. ‘If I Were You (I’d Be Through With Me)’ has a lighter touch which serves it well. ‘Timewatch’ is essentially a bigger replica of the version released on ‘Liberation’. The key has changed, it’s slowed down slightly, and the sting section is larger, but there are no radical differences. ‘I’m All You Need’ closes the album with the most upbeat track since the first two. It’s actually very simple in terms of structure and lyrics, but it’s soul-lifting stuff, especially the instrumental section. The part where the horns join the strings is one of the great moments in the Divine Comedy back catalogue.

It’s tempting to wonder what would have happened if a full album had been done like this. I imagine it could have filled out nicely, diluting the sombre air which the middle of the album has. The b-sides that were released alongside this album would indicate so – we’ll come to those another time. That said, it could have collapsed under its own weight. Certainly the next album, ‘Fin de Siecle’ threatened to do both of these things at the same time. This still isn’t my favourite Divine Comedy record by a long shot, but it’s worth listening to, and it has some great moments, and you can’t say that about every album.

‘A Rush Of Blood To The Head’ by Coldplay

Coldplay’s first album, ‘Parachutes’, was a big success. Lots of people bought it, and lots of people loved it, but there were some who didn’t. A number of critics dismissed the album, and the band as a whole as being a bit wet – too timid to achieve anything of note. ‘A Rush Of Blood To The Head’ seems tailor made to dispel that argument.

The first two tracks make a very strong opening. ‘Politik’ is loud, and more importantly, big. It has no particularly memorable tune, but it certainly creates an impression (and sets a bit of a template for ‘Square One’ on the next album). ‘In My Place’, the first single, is custom built for stadium sing-alongs, and while it may not be especially deep or meaningful, it soars regardless. In just two tracks, Coldplay demonstrate a new found sense of scale.

‘God Put A Smile Upon Your Face’ ups the tempo and throws in some spiky guitar work. ‘The Scientist’ is a slower track which would have sounded at home on ‘Parachutes’, but which would have been a stand-out on it. ‘Clocks’ is like a distillation of everything Coldplay so far. Both these tracks indicate the increased importance of Chris Martin’s piano to the band, something which would continue to develop over this album, and subsequent ones.

‘Daylight’, again, points forward with piano and guitar parts that swoop around each other creating a dense mix of sound that would characterise following albums. ‘Green Eyes’ provides a welcome contrast as a more straightforward acoustic strum-along. ‘Warning Sign’ is glorious, and the best showcase for Martin’s voice so far. ‘Whisper’ is the loudest and densest track on the album, but probably the least essential all in all.

The album ends as well as it opens. The title track is a brooding epic in what could be considered textbook Coldplay style – downbeat verses contrasting with big swells of sound for the chorus. ‘Amsterdam’ is played as a virtual solo piece from Martin most of the way through – piano and vocals backed only with some quiet wordless harmonies. Then the rest of the band appear for the final section, throwing everything they have into the last few bars. Coldplay would remember this trick – they do almost exactly the same thing on ‘Miss You’ during the next album – but the impact is fantastic.

As an album, this was a giant leap forward on its release. You could argue over whether it was bettered afterwards, although you could make a good case for saying that it wasn’t. What seems undeniable, though, is that this is where Coldplay really worked out what they wanted to be. ‘X&Y’ and ‘Viva La Vida’ would, at times, differ considerably from this album, but little hints of structure and style can be traced right back to it, and listening to it now, several years down the line, it doesn’t sound like an early piece of work. A textbook second album. Brilliant.

'A Reality Tour' by David Bowie

Another 'not an album' listen - this is the soundtrack to a DVD release, although it will be released on CD next year. Recorded live in Dublin on Bowie's last major tour (to date, though it's looking increasingly unlikely he'll ever do another), this presents 30 odd tracks spanning the whole of his career.

There's a mildly surprising emphasis on his more recent work - welcome, as it's good - which shows a real confidence in his latter albums, but they're balanced out with some major hits ('Rebel Rebel', 'Changes', 'Ashes To Ashes') and some more obscure stuff ('Fantastic Voyage', 'Be My Wife', and 'Sisiter Midnight', co-written with Iggy Pop). His band are talented and versatile enough to play the songs pretty much as they were. 'Rebel Rebel' gets a new intro, 'Loving The Alien' is acoustic, but everything else is much as it was originally. Only a few key changes demonstrate Bowie's increasing age - but then 'Life On Mars' must have been difficult to sing in 1973, let alone thirty years later.

If this is to be the final major live recording from Bowie, it's a good way to stop.

'A Promenade Companion' by The Divine Comedy

Again, not an album, but a four track EP that accompanies one. This EP came free with early copies of Promenade, though I think my copy was a download in the days when Napster ruled the internet. It's not an essential part of the back catalogue - all the songs appear elsewhere in different guises - but it's a nice addition.

Recorded live (by the sounds of it) by Neil Hannon, a cellist and a violinist, this EP contains one track from 'Promenade', the parent album, and three from the previous one, 'Liberation'.

'Don't Look Down' and 'Your Daddy's Car' are straightforward interpretations of their orginal versions, but with less instruments. 'Queen Of The South' is the highlight, re-imagining the original track as a far more emotional display. 'I Was Born Yesterday' is played somewhat oddly - as if Hannon has recieved a new voice for Christmas, and is learning how it works. Good stuff, though.

'A Pretty Fine Mess By This One Band' by Grandaddy

The first proper release from Grandaddy, this 7-track EP isn't something I really own, but the tracks were all included on a later compilation, 'The Broken Down Comforter Collection', so on my mp3 player, it's stitched back together.

It's an incredibly unfocused piece of work, but a very interesting one. 'Away Birdies With Special Sounds' is a rambling idea, rather than a song, 'Egg Hit And Jack Too' finishes the record with a big blast of noise, 'Peeano' is a fragment of muffled piano, and nothing else. The other tracks are little more conventional, but only 'Taster' really shows any sign that they would go on to create actual songs later on in their career. A good start, I guess, but not a piece of work that stands up to much repeated listening.

'A Night At The Opera' by Queen

Next time you have the opportunity, listen to ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’. Really listen to it, rather than letting it play in the background. If ever a song was dulled by over-familiarity, it’s this one. Listen carefully, and it’s an incredibly clever song. Imagine what it would have been like to hear when it was first written. It’s extravagant, silly, well crafted. It’s a microcosm of the album as a whole.

It kicks off with ‘Death On Two Legs’, a remarkable slice of vitriol directed at the band’s former manager, before sliding abruptly into ‘Lazing On A Sunday Afternoon’ which is a brief throw-away music-hall sounding number. Rarely has an album started with such a contrast. The third track, Roger Taylor’s ‘I’m In Love With My Car’ is a great illustration of Taylor’s limitations as a songwriter and vocalist. The opening couplet (‘The machine of a dream, such a clean machine’) is a good indication of what’s to follow, though he redeems himself later with the line ‘Told my girl, I had to forget her, rather buy me a new carburettor’. Genius or idiocy? You decide. John Deacons ‘You’re My Best Friend’, in contrast, is a sign of a serious songwriting talent hiding behind the bass guitar.

Brian May’s ‘39’ is a folky song about space exploration – a line which would sound strange discussing most albums. ‘Sweet Lady’, however, is a tiresome load of sub-heavy-metal which is the only boring track of the album. ‘Seaside Rendezvous’ ends the first half of the album, characterised by a vocalised brass section from Mercury and Taylor.

The second half starts with ‘Prophet Song’, an epic slice of prog that Muse would chew their arms off to have written. It’s eight minutes long on it’s own, then it segues into ‘Love Of My Life’ – another baffling juxtaposition that somehow works beautifully. ‘Good Company’ follows, and deserves a special mention for Brian May’s guitar work. Truly the man is a genius player. ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ brings the album to it’s climax, and then a suitably bombastic version of ‘God Save The Queen’ brings it to a close.

‘A Night At The Opera’ is not an album that would appeal to everyone – it is frequently daft, even ridiculous, but it’s sheer inventiveness is deserving of respect at very least. Queen would arguably never be this creative (or indeed, good) again.

'A Hundred Million Suns' by Snow Patrol

In an episode of Doctor Who a couple of years ago, the Doctor and his companions need to get close to the Master without him being aware of their presence. In order to do so, he creates a ‘perception filter’. This clever device prevented people from noticing them, even when they were being directly observed.

This album’s a bit like that. You can put it on, and try and listen to it carefully, then listen to it again afterwards, but when it’s finished, it’ll be like it was never there. ‘A Hundred Million Suns’ was Snow Patrol’s fifth album, and the third to make any commercial impression, following ‘The Final Straw’ and ‘Eyes Open’. It displays more confidence than the previous two records, but less memorable moments. And it’s difficult to say why.

Amongst the Snow Patrol standard guitar-bass-drums arrangements, there is some variety. ‘Lifeboats’ makes effective use of a swooping strings line. ‘The Golden Floor’ is an effective mix of acoustic guitar and jittering programmed drums. ‘Set Down Your Glass’ has a layered production of piano, finger picked guitar, strings and glockenspiel. But it’s not enough. The rest of the album just trudges on through a sea of mediocrity. Lead single ‘Take Back The City’ gives a burst of energy at the beginning, and ‘Disaster Button’ does the same at the end, but it’s too little too late. It’s as though they’ve distilled their essence down to the most basic and boring elements and made an album from them. If they continue in this trend, the next album may well consist of the chorus of ‘Run’ on repeat for an hour. It would be about as interesting.

‘A Christmas Gift You’ from Phil Spector

And so, to the letter ‘A’. And it’s Christmas, it would seem.

There will be a smattering of Christmas albums that appear on my list as I continue to work through the alphabet. This one, I think, will be the best of them. Released in 1963, when Phil Spector was seen as a bit of an eccentric genius, rather than a convicted murderer, this album set a benchmark for Christmas records that is unlikely to be beaten. It’s a set of Christmas standards, mostly, all enhanced by Spector’s wall of sound. Put it on, and you can almost feel the open fire and smell the roast potatoes.

‘White Christmas’ kicks of the album. A song which is often a bit soporific is transformed by sterling vocal from Darlene Love. It very much sets the tone of what’s to follow. ‘Frosty The Snowman’ by the Ronnettes is all vocal harmonies and clattering drums, and to be honest, by the end of the track, the template is set. It’s remarkable, really, that the album sounds so consistent in it’s approach, despite the number of different contributors. It’s a good illustration of the importance of the producer to a record. Spector keeps the energy, and the quality high without – only ‘I Saw Mummy Kissing Santa Claus’ doesn’t hit the same heights, and that’s because it’s a rubbish song – there’s not much anyone could have done about that.

Only at the end does the album pause for reflection, as Spector himself mumbles a Christmas greeting over the top of a ‘Silent Night’ singalong. It’s a self-indulgent way to finish an album, but it’s well earned. And it’s Christmas.

'9' by Damien Rice

It would be fair to say that Damien Rice had mixed feelings about the success of album number one. '9', the follow up, seems to be one long attempt to ensure that fame would pass him by. The opening track ('9 Crimes', also, inexplicably, the album's lead single) is a mournful piano track which doesn't even feature Rice's vocals until halfway in - it's left to long-term collaborator Lisa Hannigan to do the honours. The term 'slow burner' doesn't come close to doing it justice.

There are moments of beauty throughout '9'. Some, like 'Dogs' and 'Grey Room' are a gentle pleasure, some, notably 'Elephant' are howling wails of pain. 'Rootless Tree' is pretty much the only song that screams "single", but it's blessed with a chorus that no radio playlister could touch with a bargepole. Deviations from the acoustic-guitar-plus-a-couple-of-stringed-instruments formula have a mixed success rate. 'Animals', which builds from sparse beginnings into a grand orchestral swirl, is very good indeed. 'Me, My Yoke & I' isn't - too simple an idea for too long.

The end of the album is something of a disappointment. 'Accidental Babies' is long, but forgettable, and 'Sleep Don't Weep' is much the same. It's easy to imagine Rice deliberately finishing this way, allowing the album to limp to a close as a further way of sabotaging success.

So all in all, '9' is a mixed bag, but even when it misses the mark, Rice's genuine talent shows through. He may be miserable, but I'd choose his misery over the vast majority of other singer songwriters. Damien Rice, or James Blunt? Easy.

'3, 6, 9 Seconds Of Light' by Belle and Sebastian

Not an album, but EP's are listed on the mp3 player as albums, so why not. Released in the very early days of Belle & Sebastian, this shows promise. It's lyrics are strong, and the music is ambitious, but perhaps a little too much. The first two tracks seem muddled, as if too many instruments are playing at once with little idea of how to complement each other. The final two are clearer, and better for it, though Stuart Murdoch's voice is still rather fragile, and the comparative lack of arrangement leaves it more exposed than it should be. They would get better.

'20/20' by The Beach Boys

Ah, the Beach Boys. The Beach Boys are one of those bands I’ve loved since childhood in the most simplistic sense. Mum and Dad had a greatest hits album that was always a bit of a favourite, but it was only as a teenager that I did any further listening, discovering Pet Sounds, then working forwards and backwards through the back catalogue in a doomed effort to find something equally good.

The trouble with the Beach Boys is they did too much. I remain convinced that the number of great Beach Boys songs is equal to the number of great Beatles songs. Trouble is, they’re spread over about three times as many albums. To find a Beach Boys gem, you have to wade through a lot of dross.

20/20 is an album that sums up this situation in a little over half an hour. Released at the end of their first record deal (and following the breakdown of Brian Wilson), this was the 20th album they’d released in about six years. It’s no wonder they couldn’t maintain any consistent quality. It sounds very much like a contractual obligation, and that’s what it is – a round up of orphaned single tracks, and a rag-tag collection of songs that sound like leftovers from other albums, padded out to the end with Smile off-cuts. Presumably they weren’t contractually obliged to provide a decent title or cover.

The album starts with ‘Do It Again’, a track generally considered to be the last great Beach Boys single, but I’m not convinced by this description. There’s a fine line between an affectionate nostalgic gesture and a tired retread, and I think ‘Do It Again’ is, at best, sitting firmly on that line. ‘I Can Hear Music’ and ‘Bluebirds Over The Mountains’ follow – the first is a reasonably forgettable slice of Beach-Boys-lite, the latter is livened up by a muted horn section and a bizarrely over the top lead guitar line.

Dennis Wilson’s ‘Be With Me’ follows, and is the most interesting moment so far. Due to his mental health problems, Brian Wilson contributed virtually nothing to this album, so it was up to the rest of the band to fill in the gaps, and ‘Be With Me’ is a wonderful illustration of Dennis’ developing talent as a songwriter and singer. That said, ‘All I Want To Do’, also co-written by Dennis, and the next track, is a bit rubbish. It sounds like a leftover from ‘Wild Honey’, where it probably would have sat nicely, but it jars here. Side one finishes with ‘The Nearest Far Away Place’, an instrumental by touring-band-extra-turned-full-member-in-an-emergency, Bruce Johnston. It’s nice enough, but a bit cloying, a description which aptly fits pretty much all his writing contributions to the Beach Boys catalogue.

‘Cotton Fields’ starts the second half. It’s an attempt by Al Jardine to follow ‘Sloop John B’ in putting a Beach Boys stamp on an old American folk song. It’s moderately successful, but lacks the Wilson-touch production of ‘Sloop John B’. ‘I Went To Sleep’ and ‘Time To Get Alone’ follow, and would have both fitted nicely onto ‘Friends’, the band’s previous album. ‘Never Learn Not To Love’ is another Dennis track. Any musical interest it provides is hugely overshadowed by the fact that Charles Manson co-wrote the songs lyrics – in retrospect, probably not a career high point.

The album finishes with two tracks from the aborted ‘Smile’ sessions. ‘Our Prayer’ is a brief but utterly glorious blend of acapella harmony, and ‘Cabinessence’ is a fascinating, if bewildering piece of music. It must have been a bittersweet moment for fans at the time – the chance to hear these tracks must have been very exciting, but the realisation that nothing recorded since could quite match them must have put a bit of a downer on it.So on the whole? Very patchy, but plenty to enjoy if your expectations aren’t too high. Let’s face it, the Beach Boys back catalogue contains far greater horrors than this.

'1977' by Ash

Another day, another hit. It's been ages since I listened to this. Ash passed me by in 1996 when this was first release, so this was an album I bought retrospectively (and cheaply) several years afterwards. It's great.

The noteworthy thing about this album is its energy. It leaks youth out of the speakers with a simplistic charm that completely makes up for the fact that most of the songs sound pretty similar, and that Tim Wheeler's had yet to wrestle full control of his voice. The singles - 'Girl From Mars', 'Oh Yeah' and 'Goldfinger' are obvious highlights, but the rest of it matches up nicely.