Boy George - Ordinary Alien: Review

To say it's been a bad few years for Boy George is something of an understatement. Ever since he was pictured - flaky skinned and bloated - doing community service in New York, the world has watched his downward spiral with the kind of fervour usually reserved for rubbernecking at the twisted wreckages of cars on the motorway.

Arrested for assault, imprisoned, forced to wear an electronic tag and even, it is rumoured, turned down for Celebrity Big Brother (what greater shame), it's safe to say that events in his private life have overshadowed his work as a musician. Sadly, Ordinary Alien, his first album for more than a decade, is unlikely to revive his fortunes.

A strange mixture of reggaeton, trance and house, the album sounds like it's been made by someone who doesn't know the party is over. In Boy George's head it's clearly the late '90s or early '00s, a place where Chicane and remixes of Bob Marley still rule and everyone lives in an ecstasy fuelled Club Reps style bubble. The places he draws inspiration from are a strange mix of old and new - electro, drum and bass, hard house, euphoric dance. None gel together in quite the way he thinks they do. It's music for being on ketamine to and, while there's no denying there are places for such soundscapes, it's largely intolerable to listen to as a piece of work from beginning to end.

Opener Turn To Dust, a cod reggae/dance mash-up full of regurgitated and dreary bits of psychological wisdom ("Hatred must turn to dust", "I will stand up tall" &C.) lacks the emotional punch it's aiming for and just seems rambling. So does Amazing Grace ("It was just another ordinary day/ How did you know your life was going to change?"). They make Ordinary Alien feel like a 12-step self-help programme being put to music. It's rather like having someone who has found God bending your ear for hours about their newly awakened spirituality. You want to grab Boy George and tell him to save it for his diary. The relentless Mr Motivator act is perhaps at its most cloying on Yes We Can, a squelchy electro pop pile of nonsense that samples Barack Obama in an attempt to give itself magnitude and then drags in a choir to ram home the message of hope, peace and love maaan. It is truly dire.

Worse is to come. Perhaps the most distressing moment on the album is a reworking (for want of a better word) of Fleetwood Mac's classic Go Your Own Way - done as a hands aloft rave anthem. It's so bonkers that it should work, but sadly it just comes off as cynical and depressing.

The truth is that fans of Boy George will stick by him no matter what. For them, Ordinary Alien will be received as a work of genius, and that's fair enough. The man has made such an effort to sort himself out that it feels wrong to kick him when he's trying to get back up. Except we know that he's better than this. Fans and casual listeners alike deserve more than this bargain bin offering. Maybe it's time for the flamboyant frontman to admit that his best days of music making are behind him.

London Landmarks - London Aquarium

Value: 3
Queues: 9
Shop: 5
Family-friendly: 9
Enjoyment: 6

Total: 32/50

The overall ambience of the London Aquarium is one of stillness and gloom. This is mainly because of the piped music which sounds like an Ibiza chill-out CD being funnelled through the blow hole of a whale. It's also because of the strange murky light that hangs over everything like a fog. It feels like you yourself are underwater and it makes everything strangely calming. Escaping the madness of the tube, the South Bank, the gawping tourists and their umbrellas, you genuinely do start to feel like you're floating along without a care.

In terms of the company it's a mixed bag. Fish have a largely mournful look as if they know something you don't, and this can be unnerving. They lurch towards you gasping for air, their eyes glazed with regrets like something out of a Wilfred Owen poem (“He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning”). Alternatively they float there slack-jawed and worried like they're suffering from shell shock. Dark things happen at the bottom of the ocean. Things you can't even imagine, and these guys have seen it all.

A lot of them though, are beautiful. Hues that you just don't get on the ground, bright sparkly bellies. There's one fish that's covered in glitter. Another is the kind of electric blue that you could never hope to replicate. The snake pipe fish, a pipe cleaner brought to life, is one of the oddest things you've ever seen and the mantis shrimp – half-shrimp, half-mantis – has got to be the biggest bad ass in the ocean. You also get to press your nose up against the glass and shriek as a shark glides past baring its gums. That never gets old. The day is pretty much made when I get the chance to stroke a starfish, which feels like a spongy emery board. It's not tempered by the fact I have to push a child aside in order to do this.

Be under no illusions though, dear reader, this was not purely a jolly. Admittedly I didn't arrive until lunchtime and I did get the day off work. But I took the whole affair very seriously. So seriously that I jotted down several fish-related facts. When global warming strikes properly, the whole of London is engulfed in 'The Day After Tomorrow' sized tidal waves and your new next door neighbour is a stingray, you're going to thank me.

1. Terrapins flirt with each other by waving their finger nails in each other's faces. The boy terrapin has longer fingernails 'cause he's all manly. They are fans of grapes.


2. Jellyfish are a bit like a one man Wizard of Oz production. They don't have a heart, blood, brain or gills. But they do have four horseshoe shaped gonads so every cloud...


3. The starfish is partial to shellfish and eats them by squeezing them until he crushes them. Then he lobs his stomach out of its body and begins digesting his prey. This can take several hours.


4. Blind cave fish have no eyes because where they live is so dark they've got no need for them. They navigate by using vibrations in the water.


5. A drop of water falling into the Thames will be drunk by 8 people before it reaches the sea.


6. The snowflake moray eel is the creepiest thing I've ever seen.




So, there we go. I learnt a lot, you learnt a lot, I got to handle a starfish and I generally felt pretty relaxed. You can't really ask for much more.

Thanks to Sophie Marchant for the photos!

The Vaselines @ XOYO

About five minutes into their set it becomes abundantly clear that Kurt Cobain's favourite band don't just use Vaseline for chapped lips. Despite the fact they're dressed like your parent's friends (Francis – all mumsy in floaty material, Eugene – jeans, waistcoat and smart shoes) middle age has not blunted their sex drives.

Throughout the night, the audience (a mixture of the usual hipsters and some paunchy older blokes who probably used 'Slushy' to win the hearts of their first wives) are treated to the kind of salty tales that you'd usually hear from a grizzled old sailor. Threesomes, STDs, how little Eugene has grown in size thanks to “five minutes of tugging a day”. It's like one of those Glamour sex quizzes brought to life. By the time Francis tells us she wanted their latest video to feature kinky nurses giving each other mouth to mouth, we're all pretty hot under the collar. Especially as the venue is rammed and we're all jammed up and sweaty. Sacré bleu.

Flanked by members of Belle and Sebastian, the Vaselines' live sound is meatier and less lo-fi than you'd expect. At one point during 'The Devil Inside Me' feedback is deployed deliberately to make what almost sounds like stoner rock. There are even some axe-grinding guitar solos – not exactly what you'd expect from a band more known for wearing grandma jumpers than starting moshpits.

Largely though the songs are cutesy and feelgood. Every single audience member is smiling contagiously and classics like 'Molly's Lips', 'Son of A Gun' and 'Jesus Doesn't Want Me For A Sunbeam' spread joy like a forest fire. The most twee moment of the night comes when the band admit that they've run out of CDs and an audience member calls out to ask if there are any vinyl left. Vaselines fans kick it old school.

New songs from the wryly named 'Sex With An X' are less well received than the old favourites but are still earworms. A lot of them are so simple and childlike that they almost sound like nursery rhymes and even those unacquainted begin singing. 'My God's Bigger Than Your God' and 'I Hate The '80s' stay just the right side of pastiche and show the band's sense of humour has only grown stronger after years in the indie wilderness. The mood is almost relentlessly fun. It's probably the most fun I've ever had at a gig. And, having watched Rod Stewart perform 'Hot Legs' in front of a twenty-foot inflatable pair of fish netted pins, that's no mean feat.

With just enough songs for an encore, the group bound back on stage after just a minute's break to tear through the blush-worthy 'You Think You're A Man' and bounce-inducing 'Dum Dum'. Everyone's garages have been well and truly rocked, but there's still time for the band to leave us with a lasting image to take home. A souvenir if you will. “That moment backstage was just enough time for me and Eugene to have sex,” grins Francis. “Twice,” says Eugene. See, kids? Premature ejaculation can be fun.

This man wants to buy you a burrito...

When Richard Fitzgerald won a year's supply of free burritos he decided to be generous (and a little bit amorous to boot) and use his Mexican stash to entice the laydeez. For 52 weeks he would take a different girl on a burrito date and then blog about his experience in the hope of finding true love (or maybe just someone hungry) I was date number 41. So how did our evening go? Here's my side....

18:55 Richard was standing outside and we shared a slightly uncomfortable hug and kiss on the cheek. Greeting people on a date is always a social minefield and we ended up being its first landmine victims. He was shorter than I'd pictured but he was cute and had a lovely smile. His Irish accent was also pretty dreamy.

18:57 He led me inside with a confidence that suggested Chilango had become a second home to him, and we ordered. He went for a pork burrito with all the trimmings except guacamole because he wanted to see what it would taste like. He later declared it to be lacking something. I went for a chicken burrito with guac, black beans, peppers, cheese, mild salsa and sour cream, washed down with an ice cold margarita. Richard had a beer. There were no seats inside and so we retired to the pavement which felt a bit conspicuous. And bloody cold.



19:02 One of his friends walked past and came over to say hello which was pretty awkward. I prayed that no one from work would stroll past. My face went a little red as I thought about it.

19:06 The usual questions followed one after another. University, life, jobs, families, where we were living. I've never been very good at this kind of stuff and while it wasn't uncomfortable, things didn't flow too well. I found myself babbling a bit about Spoonfed and how “it's so hard for bands to get their big break”. Halfway through I realised I sounded like a douche but I couldn't shut myself up.

19:09 Richard seemed distracted and admitted that he was under pressure at work. With me feeling anxious and him feeling knackered we weren't really clicking. The good news was that I didn't spill sour cream all over myself. In fact I managed to eat the burrito extremely neatly which was quite a feat. He seemed impressed and I was glad. Trying to be erudite with a face full of salsa is pretty hard.

19:25 Richard is originally from Ireland and works in a marketing company doing various social media things. He did German and economics at Uni and was really into art. He'd recently had an oil painting commissioned and he was trying to learn more about art history by wandering around galleries and listening to podcasts. He's a sporty guy who enjoys squash and has run marathons in the past. This made me feel a little uneasy. Eating the burrito had been workout enough for me. He claimed that he was not sick of burritos and that he could remember every date. He reeled off some and it was my turn to be impressed. He presented me with this neat t-shirt which lightened the mood.



19:35 Things picked up even more when we headed to the Camden Head for a drink. Formalities out of the way we were able to talk about more interesting things. We discussed dancing and films we'd seen. We both agreed that we wished we had more time to do things – learn languages, read the piles of books we'd accumulated, take up tango. He told me about his obsession with new media and showed me how to 'check in' on foursquare. We both made each other laugh and I, for one, felt more relaxed. He's clearly a guy who lives a lot of his life online and he bemoaned the fact that someone has 'checked in' to Chilangos more than him.

20:06 It started to drizzle. Once again we were outside, pushed from the pub by the assembled hoardes. I considered the possibility that we may well suffer frostbite and drunk quickly so that I could warm myself with alcohol.

20:25 Richard seemed tired and though the conversation had picked up, we hadn't planned anything else to do and, feeling cold, it felt natural that the date was beginning to wind down. I felt we had been a little rushed and it would have been nice to have a little more focus. Perhaps if we'd taken in a show or something there would have been more of a focal point to the night.

20:34 Another slightly awkward peck on the cheek and we went our separate ways – him on his bike to Shoreditch, me on the tube to London Bridge and eventually home.

20:39 On the tube I mused that it had been a very pleasant evening but had lacked spice. A bit like Richard's guacamole-bereft burrito, there was something missing and that something was the spark. Despite this Richard was a sweet and interesting guy and I would definitely meet him again without the pressure of a date. While I don't feel we're going to be eating a wedding buffet of burritos any time soon, it was nice to meet someone new. This could be the start of a beautiful friendship.

Read Richard's thoughts on our date (and request your own) at: www.52burritodates.com

Interview: The Vaccines

If you aren't acquainted with The Vaccines then you're probably a woodlouse. Or something else that lives under a rock. The hotly tipped surf rockers have been hailed left right and centre as the band of 2011 and are winning fans by bringing back guitars. In a rare moment of quiet, I talk to guitarist Freddie about classic rock, radiation and how nobody ever learnt anything about life listening to Ri-Ri...

How's Justin's throat? We heard you had to cancel some dates...

He's doing fine. He couldn't really speak for a couple of days but he got really good at communicating without talking. He'd be holding a bottle of water and cover over some of the letters to spell out what he wanted to say.

I read that Katherine Jenkins doesn't speak for 24 hours before a gig. Maybe he should try that?

Yeah. He could start being a proper diva and demanding hot water and lemon.

Do you feel it's a sign you've been pushing yourselves too hard?

It is tough because none of us have ever done this before. The good thing about being a guitarist is that you can play night after night, but when you're the singer and your instrument is your voice you do get worn out. It's not like it isn't fun though.

The hype from the music press must be putting a fair amount of pressure on you. NME have called you “the saviours of rock and roll”. How does that kind of thing make you feel?

Wow. I don't think I can answer that. I just know this hype isn't something that's come from us.

Would you say 'rock and roll' is a fair assessment of your sound then?

I'd say that rock and roll is something we identify more with than say, traditional rock music. Rock is stuff like Bon Jovi which has about as much relevance to my life as electro pop, but rock and roll like Elvis or The Smiths, that's really important. Those are the kind of bands that change people's lives. If you look at someone like Rihanna, she's very talented but nobody ever changed their outlook listening to her. On the other hand I went to see the Strokes when I was fifteen and everything changed. I'll be a fan forever.



Would you be happy to be part of the Top 40?

Absolutely. We're not actively marketing ourselves towards it but we wouldn't object. You want as many people to hear your record as possible.

Do you feel like you're measuring yourselves against other 'Class of 2011' musicians like Brother or James Blake?

Not at all. James Blake is really good. Really talented. But he has nothing to do with the music that we make.

I guess people are trying to put you in a 'new music' box...

It's odd because people over here seem obsessed by the newness of music. When we were listening to the radio out in America they'd be playing all this classic rock from the last 40 years – Pearl Jam, Black Crowes, Nirvana. It almost feels like there's too much new music.


So what are you guys listening to at the moment?

Tame Impala. A lot of Clash. I'm also really into the Undertones. Everyone knows the singles but they forget what great albums they made. I want to bring them back. I'm planning to start an Undertones revolution.



In the spirit of newness, tell us something we don't know about the Vaccines?

Justin used to be a straight-edge punk.

If the world does end in 2012, what would you have hoped to have achieved?

To have built a bomb shelter. I'd love to be the last person on earth and just to get out and have a wander around before the radiation melted me.

So you wouldn't invite anyone else?

Maybe my Mum. I think it would be more intense to be alone though. Also, I've never built anything in my life so I'd probably mess it up and I wouldn't want anyone to see that.

Funeral Party: The Golden Age Of Knowhere- Review

Picture the scene. You're down at the Horse and Morrissey, your local indie disco. The floors are sticky. The snakebites are flowing. Suddenly, there it is: Love Will Tear Us Apart. Sure, you're drunk. You have a little dance; you fling your arms around your friends and spill rum and coke all over your Converse. But part of you feels disappointed. Has nobody come up with an indie disco hit since 1980? Sure, there's Mr Brightside and Sex On Fire but they lack the punch and let's be honest, the cowbells.

Step forward Funeral Party. On the face of it the California natives don't look like the kind of guys who would get a party started. For one they're named after a wake (think about it), for two they're into metal. And thirdly, they throw mad ass warehouse parties attended by punks, skaters and reprobates. So how have they moved from punk to funk?

Firstly with the help of Mars Volta engineer Lars Stalford. Secondly with the help of the aforementioned cowbells. From the albums opening New York Moves To The Sound of LA the stage is set. The cowbells are being whacked so hard they make a sound like a farmyard run by the guy from Saw, the guitars are being thrashed and phasers are set to !!! via The Rapture. You'll be hard pressed not to start screaming "House Of! Jealous Lovers!" but even so the sound is so much fun that you can imagine it kicking off a thrashing flailing pit in a festival tent over the summer. Finale starts with the kind of circling guitars that mosh pits are made of and builds to a clattering funky-punky beat that sounds like James Brown is throwing himself over and over again into a drum kit. Meanwhile the shouty, echoey vocals sound like they should be being screamed through a megaphone "You are young so am I" is a refrain that's destined to be screamed from the bottom of festival goers' lungs into the balmy Reading/ Glasto/ Leeds night.

The problem is that much of the album lacks the same amount of thrust. Halfway through you realise that lead singer Chad Elliot has the same raspy voice as the Stereophonics' Kelly Jones. Once this has dawned on you every song begins to sound like the 'Phonics embracing a slightly more dancey sound (a bit like they did on Dakota) and this makes the album fall flat. Relics To Ruins is somewhat turgid as a result, and after a while starts to sound like The Script who no one wants to party with. It's like when you go to a really great rave, you're nice and pumped and then someone puts on a really rubbish tune and you suddenly deflate.

Some good moments then, but overall Funeral Party fail to keep the energy levels up. You get the sense that in a live arena they would blow all comers away, but on record there seems to be something missing. If this really was a party you'd probably make your excuses and call a cab early.

Interview: Sea of Bees

Sea of Bees is the moniker of Julie Baenziger a singer- songwriter from Sacramento who's a lot more interesting than that tag makes her sound. You can call her Julie Ann Bee if you like. Or Jules. She doesn't mind. She's just enjoying her new found freedom having escaped from Nowhereville, USA.

Discovered in a café playing one fingered bass in a band, Baenziger then started recording herself singing in the back room at the behest of the owner. The result is a debut that will make fans of alt country, Cat Power style folk and cute voices with a dark story to tell extremely chuffed.

I caught up with her to talk winning hearts, learning chords and harmonising with hot Christians...


Like a lot of singers, you got into music so you could impress a girl...

I thought she sang so beautifully when we were in church that I wanted to harmonise with her.

And that's why you taught yourself to play various instruments. That must have been challenging?

It was so frustrating, but I felt fulfilled when I managed to play a chord after a week. But yes, it killed me at the time.

Did you ever tell her how you felt?

Never. I sort of wish I had though just so I could have seen her face. It would probably have been too weird for her too even conceive. I don't think she would have let herself go and let a girl win her heart. People rarely reject what they know, even if they deny what they’re really feeling inside.

You grew up in a bit of a backwater. Did you have a strict upbringing?

I grew up in a very reserved and conservative place but my parents were really sweet and understanding. Sometimes I hate where I'm from, but sometimes I'm grateful for it, every experience makes you who you are.

You reckon that you'd never heard many of the people you're being compared to. Is it really true you hadn't listened to Joni Mitchell until you were 20?

That's true.

And you'd never heard of the Beatles or the Stones?

Yup, crazy stupid, huh?

What music were your parents playing in the house then?

Christian pop - I knew nothing else.

Have you revisited some of the 'classics' since? We heard your girlfriend was trying to get you into The Kinks...

Yes! And Neil Young!

What else were you doing other than listening to music? Were you creative in other ways?

I was, I would stay in my room and write songs, I kept a journal of all my thoughts and I liked to draw too. I thought of myself as an artist, but I kept it just to myself.

Is religious music or religion still a part of your life?

Both were a huge part of my life growing up, but not anymore. At the moment I'm listening to Bright Eyes, Jonsi, Feist and Beach House.

How do you write songs, can you read music or is it more by feel?

It’s more by feel, I hear a melody, then I start to sing what I feel.

What feelings have influenced the songs on your début album 'Songs for The Ravens' ?

Many things really. My mind takes all sorts of things; friends, loved ones, memories, even colours and shapes, and mashes them together.

Tell us a secret...

I wanna make out.