Despite being the accepted standard for radio play etc., sometimes there’s something unsatisfactory about the three-to-four minute pop song. It can, on occasion, feel like one idea has been dragged out a bit longer than it should have been, with superfluous guitar solos, incongruous bridges and unnecessary third verses, simply because it’s deemed that anything below this length is unacceptable. The best musicians, though, have the confidence and self awareness to keep things brief if they can say all they need to say in one or two minutes (or even less). Such tracks can easily be mistaken for throwaways, but…
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Ahh… 2005. There was something so visceral and pure about the music that we’ll be damned if there’s ever been a stronger year for indie twee pop music ever since. Where the hell have Jens Lekman, Doves and Broken Social Scene gone to? The latter being such gargantuan heavyweights constantly jostling for indie superiority against Arcade Fire. And don’t you dare get us started on Scout Niblett! It was the year of the fey fringe and foppish cardigan combo, when having a beard made you the odd man out since Conor Oberst was the ultimate indie boy de jour. Everyone you met in the smoking area…
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It’s 3.30 am and you’re sitting alone at the kitchen table in the house of friend. It’s deadly silent apart from an occasional snore from the living room where most of your friends passed out a few minutes ago. You’re surrounded by empty bottles of cider and are still cradling your last paper cup of wine. You had been excited about going out but it was average and the exact same as every other night out. The silence and the sickly yellow filter on everything in the room caused by overly harsh lighting and the smell of cigarettes and stale…