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Icy Demons
Miami Ice (Leaf)
 Take one child of Cuban/Irish and African American parentage, mix in teenage stints in punk, jazz, hip hop bands and the city youth orchestra, stir in a fondness for Krautrock, electronica funk and early Brit-prog and what do you get? Hard to explain really but it’s as likely to have a Latin rhythm as a squelchy synth stab or a spastik lurch as a motorik beat. One minute this sounds like The Strokes filtered through the Tom Tom Club the next it lurches into The Mothers meets Animal Collective territory, basically the rule book’s been ripped up, shredded and then lobbed out of the window of a low flying aircraft.
Ruby Palmer
buy
this album
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Iron Maiden
Death On The Road (EMI)
 Fresh
from their spat with the self proclaimed queen of all things metal
(and increasingly sad self-publicist) Sharon Osbourne, Iron Maiden
weigh in with yet another live album – which to be fair tends to be
where they’re at their best. Never the hippest, most influential or
indeed sonically inventive of the legendary metal bands to spew forth
from the UK they have nonetheless become something of a legend amongst
their, frankly bloody enormous, fan-base due to the thunderous,
non-nonsense, heads down, pile-driving, metal racket which powers
their live sets. Can’t imagine this will convert the unconverted,
but then that ain’t who this is aimed at
buy
this album
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Idlewild
Warnings/Promises (Parlophone)
 Long
term fans who first checked in around the Captain era (a mini-album
of fearsome hardcore noise), may find this latest incarnation of
Idlewild almost unrecognisable, but as with the band they are compared
to most nowadays (REM), Idlewild see little point in recycling the
same ideas as this natural progression from 100 Broken Windows finds
Roddy Woomble and Co. turning the big racket down another notch,
and the catchy melody up another notch. Hopefully this will be the
album that finally sees the band moving out of the indie also-ran
margins and into the big boys and girls league.
Buy
this album
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In The Country
This Was The Place Of My Heartbeat (Rune Grammafon)
 Jaga
Jazzist continue to ‘poot forth’ (as Frank Zappa was prone to say)
interesting and experimental players, the latest being pianist
Morten Qvenild, an ivory stroker rather than an ivory basher
Qvenild deals as much with the space around the notes as he does
the notes themselves (although he’s not particularly averse to hammering buggery
out of his instrument on occasion). Zappa also once opined ‘jazz
is not dead it just smells funny’ but, loathe as we are to gainsay
the great man, on this evidence it is in
fact alive and well, albeit in very uneasy listening form, and it’s
highly unlikely to convert any Kenny Ball fans
buy
this album
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