Detour.

Just to inform any readers that either stumble across the site from an old link, or anyone who regularly checks the blog (thanks to you if you do) I have decided to move The Only Thing I Know For Sure over to Wordpress, mainly due to technical reasons and the limitations of the Blogger platform.

So, if you're wondering why there doesn't seem to have been any updates recently, it's because they are now all at http://www.theonlythingiknowforsure.wordpress.com.

Thanks for reading.

Mike.

Review: ASHES dIVIDE - Keep Telling Myself It's Alright

Perhaps most known for his work with Maynard James Keenan of Tool fame in poppy proggy combination band ‘A Perfect Circle’, Billy Howerdel has decided to jump the shark and take on a solo project of his own, maybe inspired by his friend Maynard’s recent foray into the world of solo musicianship, Puscifer.

First things first – ASHES dIVIDE is a terrible name for a project, and is made even worse when you decide to go against the rules of grammar and spell it with extreme capital letters. Add to this the fact that the album title, ‘Keep Telling Myself It’s Alright’ sounds like My Chemical Romance’s next release and the warning bells are immediately ringing louder than a fire alarm in Camden.

One thing is for sure – Howerdel really was the creative force of A Perfect Circle. Each song has that same almost ethereal atmosphere that APC managed to pull off on their two original albums (let’s not talk about that abhorrent cover album – as far as I’m concerned it doesn’t exist) with a labyrinth of meddling guitars and simple drumming that, despite being pretty quiet, manages to pierce through the soundscapes like a hoard of stampeding goats. That’s assuming that goats do stampede.

What is even more interesting to hear is Howerdel’s singing. Despite being looked upon as a guitarist, he does a bloody good job of carrying some interesting and haunting melodies with his voice, without falling into the trap of sounding too whingy or too quiet. He doesn’t quite have the same vocal ability as Maynard, but it came as a pleasant surprise to hear him sing, to the point where I almost took a double take thinking Maynard might have slipped in a cheeky guest appearance.

Despite being a 'solo' album, Howerdel also enlists the help of some other musicians, including Maynards son Devo playing the cello.

The first single off the album, ‘The Stone’ is the closest thing to that APC sound that Howerdel can’t seem to completely escape from. It’s rocky, there’s a little guitar solo thrown in and a hypnotic chorus that stands out from the airy vocals used throughout the verses and it all eventually builds to a repeated crescendo which see’s the song end in a rather cliché guitar riff and drum bangs. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it was probably the justification for the sheer unoriginality in this track.

The album itself breezes past you in a flurry of four to five minute songs that successfully becomes blander than a white wall. At least with APC you had a mix of heavy and light tracks to keep you aware that you were listening to an album and not the sound of a light breeze. Furthermore, closer track ‘Sword’ does one of the few things that completely infuriates me. During the previous ten tracks things have been fast and digestiable, which is absolutely fine. But, Howerdel, like the majority of rock bands these days, has seemingly tacked on a longer song with a piano for the sake of closing on an epic. It’s just such a tired idea that only seems to suggest that he himself found the sound of the album all a bit dull, and decided to change things for the finale so as to avoid any bitter tastes left in the listener’s ears.

Howerdel has proven here that he is a very talented musician. He played pretty much everything which is no mean feat, but listening to the album just makes it all sound like a poor man’s A Perfect Circle, and even they were a poor man’s Tool. It’s bland, and gets a little bit boring towards the end, only really livened up by a couple of select tracks near the end. Of all the emotions I’m left feeling, it’s one of disappointment – I feel Howerdel can do much better than this, if he just moved away from the sound of his previous work. Perhaps even, dare I say it, take a risk.

Ears to the Skies Episode Two

Just to inform any readers out there, my other project, Ears to the Skies, had its second episode released today, and is available to download. Here's the summary:

"We have a pretty meaty lineup for this week’s episode of Ears to the Skies, which includes reviews of new albums from The Sword, The Courteeners, The Kooks and the only person without a fashionable ‘The’ in front of his name, Frank Turner.

We also have another look back at a classic album from years gone by with our gentleman friend Jacob Williams, whose soothing voice will send you into a comatose state.

We’re also introducing a new personality onto the show - Romanian gypsy lover Paul Banica, whose section ‘Paul’s Antisocial Music Section’ will be guaranteed to wake you up from aforementioned coma.

This week’s Mass Debate has us looking at the issue of musicians behaviour - are they setting a bad example to younger audiences, and should they learn how to behave? Or are they entitled to a bit of leeway given the amount of pressure they come under?

We also have an interview with This Will Destroy You, taken just after they performed in support of Devil Sold His Soul, and lulled the crowd into a dreamworld of sweeping, melodic compositions from their new self titled."

As I said, please do check it out. There will be another episode up in a weeks time!

Thanks,

Mike

Heard It Yet?: SikTh - The Trees Are Dead and Dried Out, Wait for Something Wild

When I first heard this album round a friends house, he warned me to prepare myself for one of oddest things I was about to listen to. Back then a lot of my music taste was pretty tame, and when opening track ‘Scent of the Obscene’ began I was absolutely overwhelmed, and if I’m honest somewhat terrified.

What sounded like a man with a chicken’s vocal chords squawked down the microphone, whilst bloodthirsty guitar hooks were bouncing all over the place like an undiagnosed ADD child. For the first time in a very long while I was overwhelmed by the music. I didn’t know what to say after hearing it, and felt confused and exhausted.

But most importantly I was intrigued. I took their name, went out and immediately brought the album and listened to it non stop, in an attempt to understand it. It seems funny to look back on that day, especially considering how my music palette has changed so dramatically in such a short time.

SikTh are, or were, if the rumors of their permanent split are true, a thrilling six piece from the UK which uniquely featured two vocalists, Mikee Goodman, practically an embodiment of an epileptic fit, and Justin Hill who balanced out Goodman’s bizarre shrieking with a deep roar and soaring vocals. Combined, the two created a completely obscure sound that was completely fresh and frantic.

The two vocalists have now left the band after the release of their second album, and no-one really knows if the group are set to continue.

Despite being a pretty heavy album, there are moments of respite where the insanity is toned down. The two parts of Emerson are simple piano pieces that help to tone down the pace of the album. However, even these are infused with a sense of bafflement, with the added sounds of children’s laughter convincing enough to make you look out for the little shits.

Furthermore, the band aren’t afraid to casually stroll into metal ballad territory, with the spectacular ‘Peep Show’ which tears itself at the seams with emotion. I appreciate that the term ‘metal ballad’ could sound like a terrible idea, but the song is such an anthem that comes completely out of the blue amongst the madcap ideas of the rest of the album.

Live, the band were an incredible experience, usually ending in people tearing the shit out of eachother.

They say variety is the spice of life, and this album is certainly one to prove that theory. The tail end of the album includes a delightful song relishing the existence of a girl who’s legs are open longer than a 24 hour garage (lyrics to highlight would include ‘Everybody here comes in your face/You’re wanting everybody looking on in your direction/Have you looked at your skin complexion/How could I ever put my dick in you?’) and also includes a deeply disconcerting cover of ‘Tupelo’, originally a Nick Cave tune.

The album closes with Mikee summing up the themes of the album (the damaging of the environment being a focus) by reading a poem in his own delightful way. Shrills and squeaks, roars and pants all come from one man who must be breathing the same oxygen as Mike Patton with his unlimited range of cartoon sound effects which leaves you questioning just what you’ve experienced.

The band's second album is slightly easier to get into, but definitely takes a step back from the sheer insanity of the debut.

There hasn’t been very many albums that have left such a remarkable impression on me upon continued listening, but this genuinely is a recording that gets more interesting with every listen, as you slowly begin to settle into the strange, strange world of SikTh.

Review: Frank Turner - Love, Ire & Song

I have to admit, I have a certain fondness for this gentleman. It’s rare that you find an artist who is so passionate and open about his beliefs, and still find a human being underneath. I’ve been looking forward to his new album (most of which was written whilst relentlessly touring) since it was announced a while ago. I was almost in two minds whether to listen to it or not – Sleep is for the Week was a great debut, and I remain a massive fan of Million Dead, so there’s an irrepressible fear that eventually, one day, Frank Turner will run out of ideas.

Don’t fret though – I did listen to it. And then I listened to it again. And again. Some of the stuff was familiar, at least to those keeping track of Turner’s radio performances and a few of his live ones, such as 'Photosynthesis' which has been sitting on his Myspace for quite a while now. It’s perfect single material – a catchy, sing-along chorus that is completely adept to his enthusiasm for the audience joining in at a gig, witty lyrics that questions why some people chose to photosynthesize instead of living and that familiar punky, hoarse voice that can come only from Turner.

In fact, on first listen there are quite a few tracks that immediately stand out. Opener ‘I Knew Prufrock Before He Got Famous’ is another testament to his onlooker personality, standing amongst the people who he is performing for.

Turner is playing a slew of live dates, which can be found on his Myspace.

The title track sums him up perfectly, whimsically rhyming, “Well we've been a good few hours drinking/So I'm going to say what everyone's thinking/If we're stuck on this ship and it's sinking/Then we might as well have a parade.” Proof that, despite swapping a microphone and screams for an acoustic guitar, his punk and hardcore attitude still shines through in his words.

However, Turner uses his album to get a few issues close to his heart off his chest, and I’m not talking about politics here. Some of the best tracks on his previous effort were where he poured his heart out into his music, writing honest lyrics about his personal struggles with relationships, or the lack thereof. And once again, the highlight for me on this album is where he strips any ego or persona and writes a heart wrenching song about an event which has rocked his emotional world. ‘Long Live the Queen’ is this song, a succinct three and a half minute long testimony to Lex, a friend of his who sadly lost her battle with cancer. What is most touching about the song is the refusal to hide behind metaphors and clever language tricks, which Frank is more than capable of. He remembers the events, and tells it as it is, which makes it all the more poignant.

Perhaps his greatest talent is his ability to connect to a crowd as a normal human being, struggling through life the same way we all do.

For all his talent, there are a few tracks that struggle to find their place in the album. ‘To Take You Home’ is full of Irish spirit, but it seems to just pass you by as it reaches its plodding conclusion and closer ‘Jet Lag’ is a bit of a disappointment, Turner choosing to go solo on a piano. It all ends on quite a down note, unlike the uplifting end of ‘Sleep is for the Week’ which filled you with a sense of kinsmanship with this one man and his guitar. However, you can't say that he isn't trying something different, and if you are in the right mood the closer is a touching reflection on the woes of being away all the time.

This is a really good second effort from Turner, who has been capable of writing clever lyrics for a very long time. However, it almost seems a matter of the best tracks on here putting the others to shame. He is teeming with talent, and with ‘Love, Ire & Song’ Turner has proven that there is still a rich seam still to be mined for the future, and being not one to hang about, he’s surely writing the third album on the tour right at this very moment.