Daveportivo's Cultural Evaluation Facility

Doves have to be this decade's unluckiest band; afterall no act has released as many sure fire hit singles as Doves, only to watch each and every one of their brilliant slices of pop poetry fail to make even the mildest imprints on the charts. Thankfully it's never seemed to get them down, they still push on, boldly producing an unbroken run of staggering albums despite the continued mainstream apathy. Doves simply aren't cool, I'm sure the Williams brothers were hardly surprised to see Kasabian, The Enemy, Oasis & Coldplay soaring to the top of the charts with their more simplistic brand of pop music but when The Seldom Seen Kid saw Elbow garner mainstream acceptance they must have given up the ghost. I mean how can Elbow be cool and Doves not be? Well whatever the reason it remains beyond my understanding as 2009's Kingdom Of Rust was a sublime series of infectious beautifully crafted pop tracks, that was not only subversive and inescapably infectious but also saw the Doves push the boundaries of their sound harder than ever before creating their most daring work to date. On the downbeat but addictive album opener Jetstream Doves experimented with slick electro beats with far greater success than anything Franz Ferdinand managed on Tonight, while on the refreshing urgent House Of Mirrors Doves managed more menace and bolsh than any Kasabain offering. Yet of course as is always the case it was the two singles Kingdom Of Rust and the spell binding Winter Hill that plucked at our collective heart strings and saw our jaws smacking harshly against the floor. So it would appear that world's continued loss is our gain as Doves continue to be one of this decades most consistently brilliant acts.

A Brief History Of Love almost took too long to arrive, I was bored of it before I'd even heard it, infact after hearing the staggering singles and leaks Dominos, Crystal Visions, Too Young To Love, At War With The Sun and of course the transcendent Velvet I'd effectively played the album to death before I'd even heard the albums final six tracks, I'd moved on, infact were it not for a kindly reminder from a certain Miss Allen's Twitter (I've got to mention her less) I wouldn't have even bought this album. Thankfully with some prodding from Lily I purchased A Brief History Of Love and haven't regretted that decision for a second. Those tracks that I'd long since abandoned grabbed me once more, when Crystal Visions first creeps and squelches through your speakers, your almost underwhelmed, another U2 & Eno influenced act *sigh*, and yet the track grows, becomes irresistible, suddenly it's as if Billy Corgan were fronting Ireland's finest; only that what the Big Pink had managed to create was somehow more epic than either of those Stadium sized superstars. By the time Too Young To Love winds its way onto the scene your already lost in the lush electronic grooves and thudding percussion, and as the track slithers with a Eastern glimmer you can almost imagine George Harrison smiling down from upon high with a tear in his eye. Surprisingly for an album layered with gorgeous grooves and walls of burbling electro noise it's the subtle and tender moments that are A Brief History...'s finest. The desolate desperation of the beautiful title track is powerfully affecting, and of course the album's true stand out and signature track Velvet still sends a shiver down my spine, and I have to admit I take a deep breathe every time that chilling first vocal emerges. The track has an unholy power it feels as though the spectres of a thousand lost loves are trapped in the ragged yet ethereal arrangement. While A Brief History Of Love could never match this level of emotional intensity across the other ten tracks, the Big Pink did manage to form one of the most powerful and most importantly fun debuts of this decade, well worth the wait.

Who would have thought back in 2000 when Nu-Metal seemed so thoroughly entrenched that by the end of the decade Progressive Metal of all thing would be cool? I mean it's been a rough old decade for Metal, it still seems like the whole genre is waiting for a giant kick up the arse, for the next Metallica to emerge, for Metal to have it's own Arctic Monkeys, but hell before it finds it's own Monkeys it'll need it's own version of the Strokes, but alas the world still waits. Thankfully while the mainstream has waved good bye to Metal, and Metal has waved good bye to Nu-Metal and Emo, a group of hard working, creative and most importantly hard rocking virtuosos have been blazing there own trail, France's Gojira showed that Death Metal was still relevant, and Dillenger Escape Plan and more importantly the brilliant Mastodon kept the good ship Prog sailing in the right direction. On Crack The Skye Mastodon seemed to have finally cracked it (sorry), combining a sense of the epic verging on OTT, with a respectful nods to metals past and a forward thinking creativity and technical wizardry to produce something that was as much food for thought as it was fuel for the world's mosh pits. The albums storming opener Oblivion reminded us of Ozzy Osborne's croon but the spiralling guitar work and the ability of the track to branch of from the beaten track set it in another galaxy all together from Sabbath. It was this ability to let tracks fly of the handle that made Crack The Skye an instant classic, Quintessance started with high pitched croons and subtly layer acoustic guitar work before exploding into an opened epic full of pummelling and full steam ahead bluster. The real trick to Mastodon's success was their ability to explore these gargantuan soundscapes creating mini metal operas without losing a central sense of urgency that tied together even the most pretentious elements of their work; this skill was best displayed in their three part epic and album centre piece The Czar a track that should sink under it's own pretensions but instead effortlessly soars above them (are you taking notes Coheed And Cambria?). All in all, Crack The Skye was a more complete, more artistic and down right more interesting album than either the excellent Leviathan or the then definitive Blood Mountain, a true triumph.

Toto were damn sure as hell not in Kansas anymore. That is the feeling I'm immediately struck by when I listen to Tarrot Sport it's a record that transports to instantly, like you've been beamed in Star Trek from your sturdy sleek utilitarian star ship to some ethereal plane. The landscape that surrounds you shimmers beautifully it almost blinds you as it's glow resonates around you, yet there's a constant threat and encroaching thud of precussion before your blinded and deafened by the scorching all encompassing noise. It all sounds like over the top hyperbole but there is a certain near religious experience to Tarrot Sport, as the Fuck Buttons explore sound, exchanging their trademark yelps and scratchiness for the almost heavenly neon glare of the synathizer they have forged a truly illuminating album. There is no other word for it, Tarrot Sport is hard to define upon traditional lines, and I've never proclaimed to be a great expert in the avante garde but their is such sheer beauty in this work that the one clear image in my mind is light. A sharp definite light a blinding glimmer, that may cause you to shield your eyes but in that brief second in which it catches you, you see everything albeit fleetingly in a different way, it's a perception of sound of image that you may never uncover again, and it's remarkably rewarding. Tarrot Sport has a similar effect to My Bloody Valentine's Loveless it's an album of undoubted beauty but you never really feel like listening to it twice, it's a moment in time, it's like a great piece of abstract art you see it, you perceive it, and you react to it. Many will find Tarrot Sport perplexing, abrasive and even hideous but that is the power of the work, when you surrounded you self in the monotonous shimmer of Space Mountain you will either reach your own emotional response or it will disgust you. In that sense Tarrot Sport suffers from over analysis, it's not an album to be discussed, you must simple experience it and react, the potential reward is more than worth the minimal risk of disappointment.

An important reminder to all those young bands out there who struggled with their début offering; the mighty Radiohead's first offering was not the earth shattering The Bends it was in fact the generic and flaccid Pablo Honey. The Horrors were obviously well aware of this fact, as after the near disaster of the painfully indebted and tragically underwhelming Strange House they collected themselves and set about evolving as musicians, because after all no matter how perfect you may look not all bands can arrive fully formed some get better with age. Luckily when The Horrors sophmore effort was released in 2009 the world still thought of them kindly and they were more than happily to fulfil all that they had previously promised. Everything about Primary Colours felt better, more considered and more often than not brilliant. Even the album artwork carried the air of the iconic. Bringing in Portishead's Geoff Barrow on production was clearly a shrewd move as Primary Colours sounds like a million bucks, it's slick, it's sharp but it's still as the dirty sicky garage groove that made the Horrors so captivating in the first place. The Horrors have clearly decided to trade in the shock rock of Birthday Party meets The Misfits and Television sound for the wonders of shoegaze. The results are surprisingly thrilling, as the album now becomes full of swirling hazy noise, on Three Decades it almost treds too close a pastiche were it not for Faris dazzling vocal performance, his voice is now less cartoonish, more fragile and surprisingly endearing, and unlike the My Bloody Valentine and Spaceman 3 The Horrors firmly have their feet on the pop pedal. Faris wheels off one gorgeous ghostly hook after another and it's hard to think of a more perfect pop song than Who Can Say in 2009, and could it have come from a more unlikely source? This combination of a soothing and addictive lyrical tongue with eternally intriguing musical arrangements is a clear winner. The Horrors show just how far they have come with the closing epic Sea Within A Sea a true musical journey that shows an continued evolution of sound that seemed beyond the Horrors just two years ago. They may still wear their influences on their sleeves but when you're making music this good who cares? NME may have got a little carried away but this album deserves all the praise that's been bestode upon it, after the heavy critical backlash the Horrors have more than earned it.