Under the Radar podcast #4

It may be old news now, but the ripples of record sales set in motion by the Mercury Music Prize are still being felt across the industry.

Following our editorial on the subject a couple of weeks ago, we discuss the outcome (or more accurately, Billy enters rant mode!), and we try to figure out whether the whole concept of music awards has any value at all.

As if that wasn't enough to tempt you to download/ press play/do whatever it is you do with a podcast, we also have a great selection of tuneage.

There's the new single from The Low Miffs' collaboration with former Orange Juice / Josef K legend Malcolm Ross, a fresh cut from Glasgow hardcore rockers Citizens, a taster of North Atlantic Oscillation's long-awaited debut album, as well as acts we've played host to on the blog in recent weeks: Tokyo Knife Attack, The Pineapple Chunks and The John Knox Sex Club.

Enjoy the show...

Play: Podcast #4


Subscribe on iTunes
Download as MP3
Subscribe with RSS

Running order:
00:12: Malcolm Ross and the Low Miffs - Cressida
04:34: Tokyo Knife Attack - Another One Falls
09:43: The Pineapple Chunks - The Horror The Horror
13:44: Mercury Music Prize chat
19:17: Errors - Salut France
22:42: North Atlantic Oscillation - 77 Hours
27:46: Citizens - Shit Whistler
32:20: The John Knox Sex Club - John the Revelator

Words and blether: Nick Mitchell, Billy Hamilton

Previous UtR podcasts

So who will be the next Scottish Mercury winner?

The odds of a Scottish act reclaiming the Mercury Music Prize would appear to be at an all-time low.

After handing the gong to a bunch of grizzly Northerners last year, the judges reverted to type and bestowed the £20K cheque upon the talented but hardly groundbreaking rapper Speech Debelle (above) last night.

And Glasvegas frontman James Allan couldn't even be bothered to show up.

But on the other hand, if the type of winner does really run in cycles, that could mean that a Scottish win is in the pipeline. First it was Primal Scream in 1992, then a long gap until Franz Ferdinand in 2004, but who will be our nation's next media dahlings?

UtR writers offer their tips...

We Were Promised Jetpacks - nominated by Aimi Gold

We Were Promised Jetpacks can multi-task.

Like rubbing your belly and patting your head at the same time, the Jetpacks have managed the tough task of tapping into the UK and American market simultaneously; making fans and selling albums on both sides of the Atlantic.

Their beautiful debut album These Four Walls gut-punches with emotionally driven lyrics and music that compliments, rich in dynamics and confident in delivery. Opening track 'Thunder and Lightning' is a statement that demands attention, with vocalist Adam Thompson's performance sung and shouted with obvious passion.

In quieter moments, such as 'This is my house, this is my home', the album shimmers with stunning melody and subtle guitar hooks.

Accessible without trying to be, We Were Promised Jetpacks should be given every accolade that raises their profile and ensures These Four Walls reaches every house in the country.

Play: Quiet Little Voices


Broken Records - nominated by Andrew Learmonth

Apart from great songs and great musicianship, what Broken Records have that makes them potential Mercury winners is commercial appeal.

Until The Earth Begins To Part (UTEBTP) is an album like Elbow's Mercury-winning Seldom Seen Kid. Those already aware of the band love them wholeheartedly, but UTEBTP is a record that can induce plenty of potential converts.

It's clever, affecting, complicated music they write, not introspective self indulgent nonsense. That doesn’t stop them being a band who would be equally at home on the playlist of Radio 1, 2 and 6, and there's probably some folky, world music show on Radio 3 that they could be shoe horned into.

The true test of any song on any album is how it would sound on the radio. ‘If The News Make You Sad...’ sounds amazing.

Play: If The News Makes You Sad Don't Watch It


Beerjacket - nominated by Elaine Liddle

Alongside the token jazz act of the year, the Mercury judges have often seen fit to shine a light on solo singer-songwriters. Granted, it's not since Badly Drawn Boy in 2000 that someone of this ilk has won, but take a look back at almost any year in the last decade and you'll spot one: Laura Marling in 2008, Fionn Regan in 2007, Seth Lakeman in 2005.

The styles might differ but the common thread is of solitary, guitar-strumming writers stringing their emotions into a well-crafted song. Beerjacket certainly has that in hand on latest album Animosity. Meanwhile his Springsteen-covering ways have brought Peter Kelly the attention of a wider audience in recent months, just the kind of buzz Mercury judges adore.

And can't you just picture Lauren Laverne smiling over 'Dancing in the Dark' during one of those awkward nominee interviews they show on BBC2 before the announcement is made?

Play: Drum


Maple Leaves - nominated by Clare Sinclair

Having adorned the T Break stage after just three months of being and armed with the sort of summery melodies and harmonies that leave you with no choice but to sing along to, who else could storm future Mercurys Award shows but Glasgow triad Maple Leaves?

Not every three-piece can make such a big, voluptuous sound, and it’s their sheer musicality that does it for me every time. Having been spotted so quickly in their careers, and with an eagerly anticipated EP due for release this autumn, this is a band capable of taking us back to the roots of music, much like Belle & Sebastian once did.

Play: Easy Speak


Meursault - nominated by Stevie Kearney

On sheer omnipresence alone, Meursault deserve an award. There is a credible rumour doing the rounds that the Edinburgh band have pioneered cloning technology and there are actually seven Meursaults – one for each day of the week.

Other than their ferocious schedule, there are lots of reasons to love this band. Last year’s Pissing on Bonfires, Kissing with Tongues was a superb mixture of structured songwriting and strange electronic noises, which may be just the right combination to appeal to the Mercury judging panel. The new material currently doing the rounds at their many gigs is, in a word, awesome.

With the backing of Song, by Toad records and plans afoot to tour a little further from home, next year should, if there is a God, see Meursault break into the mainstream both in the UK and abroad. Like a favoured son leaving home, Meursault need to be packed off into the big bad world. We’ll miss them when they’re gone.

Play: A Few Kind Words


Withered Hand - nominated by Lisa-Marie Ferla

Okay, I'll admit it: on first listen, the odds look steep. Scratchy vocals which could at best be described as eccentric, lo-fi production; lyrics which reference loneliness, depression, religious guilt and masturbation... Withered Hand is hardly a mass-market proposition.

A listen to debut album Good News however reveals an accomplished singer-songwriter in his Sunday best, face washed and long hair tucked behind ears. It's just as clever, just as raw - but laced with moments of sublime singalong harmony which couldn't help but raise a smile in the grumpiest of judging panels.

Every one of these lists needs a singer-songwriter, and you'd be hard placed to find a better one in Scotland than Dan Willson. Antony and the Johnsons' strangled frog vocals took the Mercury crown, Badly Drawn Boy strummed and hummed his way to the prize - if there was any justice, Withered Hand should too.

Play: No Cigarettes


Wounded Knee - nominated by Billy Hamilton

The roll call for this year’s Mercury Music Prize suggests the odds of Drew Wright (AKA Wounded Knee) one day emerging victorious with a cheque for £20K are fairly slim. But, think about it: is it really that preposterous?

Sure, his freeform expressionism is hardly in keeping with the mainstream-manicuring of the modern day; then again didn’t Talvin Singh (who?) encounter the same protestations?

Likewise, Wright’s indecipherable intone may seem too obscure for the MP3-attuned masses, but , let’s face it, Dizzee Rascal’s elocution left a lot to be desired.

And as for being from north of the border? Well, if a transvestite American can win it then, hell, surely a robe-adorning Scot with a penchant for hymnal skatting [keep it clean gents] is in with a chance?

In fact, the more I think about it the more it becomes clear: Wounded Knee is a shoe-in for the Mercury Music Prize.

Errors - nominated by Nick Mitchell

The precedents for an instrumental electronica Mercury winner are practically non-existent - unless you somehow squish Roni Size's hyper-speed D'n'B into that particular musical cookie cutter ... maybe not.

But that surely means that Errors' time is ripe for some breakthrough recognition.

Last year's ungrammatically-titled debut LP It's not something but it is like whatever - and indeed the How Clean is Your Acid House? EP that preceded it - were both thrilling portals into their unique sound world, lying somewhere on a weird continuum between Warp Records and Mogwai.

The Rock Action-signed Glasgow quartet are currently busying themselves with album number two, and you can bet they'll be pushing their abstract yet danceable crossover jams even further forward.

If Led Bib can make the shortlist this year, then why not Errors for 2010?

Play: Salut France



Do you have a future Mercury tip? Let's be hearing it...

Editorial: Is there any point in music awards?

So it’s Mercury Music Prize (or Barclaycard Mercury Prize, if you wish to be pedantic) time again and, as ever, expletive-riddled rants that usually begin with “I can’t believe..." and end with "...Glasvegas/Kasabian/La Roux?!!?!!?” are spooled out across the country.

But what’s been gnarling our bark here at UtR towers isn’t so much the line-up itself, as the whole damn point of music awards. On one hand they’re a ‘celebration of music’, a veritable banquet of the best tune-churners around. But on the other, well, all they do is reinforce the stranglehold of commercialism, forcing acts to play ball or die in a cocoon of uncooperative insularity.

So, with our feathers firmly ruffled, we put forward our arguments for and against the never dying beast that is the music awards ceremony...

---

"The Mercury at least registers a pulse of vitality"

FOR

By Nick Mitchell

The big gripe that’s always slung at the Mercury Music Prize is that it’s blatantly tokenistic in its cover-all-bases approach. If a contemporary jazz trio are nominated then that’s the ‘token jazz’ slot filled, and the same applies to the ‘token classical’ composer or the ‘token urban’ rapper.

But while the box-ticking nature of the shortlist comes across like the overtly liberal narcissism it undoubtedly is, I would argue that the Mercury winners, on the other hand, are refreshingly unpredictable.

How often do the bookies’ favourites actually triumph anyway? How often are you shocked, blind-sided or just baffled by the name that’s plucked from the envelope by a gurning Jools Holland? So this isn’t always a good thing: Roni Size (right) somehow won with his D’n’B breaks album New Forms in the same year that Radiohead were a shoe-in with OK Computer, an album often voted the best of the 1990s by critics and fans alike.

But no matter, because compared to the artistic flatline that runs through the sales-driven Brits, NMEs, MOBOs et al, the Mercury at least registers a pulse of vitality.

And to those who say the Mercury judging panel is too elitist, middle-class or London-centric, well you’re probably right on all three counts. They will comprise of the usual 40-something, self-congratulatory, media-savvy types we see cropping up on BBC4 music docs or in Observer picture bylines.

But while you might expect such a gaggle of chin-strokers to be insular or stuffy, and just plump for the last cool-sounding CD they heard at their friend’s dinner party in Primrose Hill, I actually think that Mercury panels have shown a remarkably open mind in years gone by.

The aforementioned genre diversity is one argument for this, and the southern bias claim is refuted by the fact that Scottish (or at least part-Scottish) bands have won twice: Primal Scream in 1992 and Franz Ferdinand in 2004.

In 2009 I'd argue the Mercury Prize has never been so important. We are in a recession. Record sales are in freefall and could sorely do with the boost. More importantly though, the endangered creature that is the British music journalist needs something to write about; a big, daft, glitzy party to make them feel important again, and unlimited free booze to consume. They’ll be out of their jobs this time next year, so who could deny them one last, all expenses paid blow-out?

On that note, perhaps someone should establish a Scottish version. And invite us.

---

"There’s no need for artists to tussle like leotard-wearing Neanderthals"

AGAINST

By Billy Hamilton

My gripe with music awards isn’t the mutual back-slapping that accompanies these gong bestowing jamborees. Nor is it the self-congratulatory high fives dispensed by industry executives who've craftily wheeled in a few more bucks during notoriously dry months. In fact, my rancour isn’t even concerned with ex-Kenickie wench Lauren Lavern (below) fronting almost every music ceremony in the UK like a cod-faced Jonathan Ross.

No, I’m afraid my pique is gunning for the concept itself.

Y’see, the notion of music as a competition is absurd; a complete abstraction that defies logic. Think of the most successful scenes of the last five years - Baltimore, Montreal, LA, Glasgow. All unmistakably different in both lifespan and ethos, but all founded on one common denominator: an industrious hub created by a core of interlocking bands. There was no rung-climbing aspirations, no overbearing hegemony that dictated the needy few; each was fashioned by a united collective progressing towards a single goal.

So why forge a competition from it?

There’s no need for artists to tussle like leotard-wearing Neanderthals pantomimically playing out a musical Royal Rumble. Challenge each other by all means, but to go mano-a-mano for an award that, ultimately, does nothing but dissipate credibility and alienate fans is beguiling at best, bilious at worst. And, before you ask, yes, these bands have to agree (and many times pay) to be nominated. Awards ceremonies are not the natural order of things.

Let’s be clear, I’m no naive young pup with a rouge-tinted view of the industry. I know money keeps the big four [EMI, Warner, Sony and Universal] on their pedestal; which in turn ensures bands like Glasvegas and Kasabian maintain their penchant for humdrum space filler; which then feeds the PR men, DJs, hacks and whoever else slavers after crumbs from the top table.

But when even the Mercury prize – an award once considered the leftfield better of the Brits’ archetypal bumchumming – nuzzles up with a former sponsor of England's premier football league, the aching reality of these self-serving reacharounds becomes all too clear. Tonight’s winners will be the music industry's Manchester United; a band gearing up for bigger battles at home and abroad. The rest? Well, we all know what happened to Newcastle United last season.


Music awards: good or bad? You tell us...

And if you're really bothered at all, join us on Twitter tonight for a good old moan as the result is announced. Follow @under_the_radar