Latest releases reviewed
VARIOUS
The New Generation - Future's Burning V2/Nude
**
Ostensibly, collections such as these offer an aural snapshot of what's happening, what's cutting the edges of pop culture, what the kids are listening to. Well, it seems that what the kids are listening to is what their parents listened to 20 years ago, as this lot (which include Franz Ferdinand, The Libertines, The Duke Spirit, Razorlight, Kaiser Chiefs, 22-20s, The Others, Hope of the States and The Ordinary Boys) are so much in thrall to punk/post-punk '80s rock, it's like Kylie never happened. The exception to the skinny-boys-with-guitars rule is Welsh novelty (c)rap outfit, Goldie Lookin' Chain, who at least approach what they do with a sense of humour. The rest seem mired in the bland dourness of whitebread rock music, limited in approach but occasionally interesting (Kaiser Chiefs, Bloc Party, Razorlight, The Departure). 2005 had better throw up something better. More damp squib than bright spark. Tony Clayton-Lea
MOCRAC
Cash is King Mocrac
***
Everybody knows that tingle of pleasure and annoyance when you can't get a tune out of your head. With Maurice Ferriter, recording under the name Mocrac, it's a challenge to get a single tune to stay in. This may be the consequence of the light touch of Mocrac's unassuming mélange of electronica, acoustica and sylph-like vocalists, otherwise known as chillout. Widescreen strings drift past loping basslines and whispered, breathy nothings. Occasionally - on a springy Inspire or the trip-hop wit of Goodbye Fender Rhodes - the effect is more coiled and purposeful. Often Mocrac deliberately references other groups and genres: quoting from Whipping Boy, riding on country strings or allowing the lingua-pack French lyrics of best track, Waldorf, to let in a little Air. For all that, however, this is music aiming for the background; asking to be overheard, not listened to. Peter Crawley
ADAM GREEN
Gemstones Rough Trade
***
Jacques Brel wrote bawdy ballads about gay Paree, but imagine Scott Walker's snotty lil' bro' writing debauched country-disco tunes about Manhattan low-life, and making it crystal meth clear that he's happy to be one of them. As one half of The Moldy Peaches, Green relied on rabbit-suited sidekick Kimya Dawson; on his own, Green comes on like an X-rated Jonathan Richman, dishing out pithy, pornographic lyrics on such songs as Over The Sunrise, Crackhouse Blues, Carolina, Who's Your Boyfriend and Choke On A Cock. The syncopated organs and frogmarching drums fall somewhere between a Berlin cabaret club and a Southern honky-tonk, and Green's booming delivery adds a dramatic edge to each sordid sexual act. Who needs the rabbit suit? www.adamgreen.net Kevin Courtney
