A New Band A Day 2008-2018

Welcome to ANBAD, which celebrated ten years online in April 2018, and is now “resting.” (I’m still jabbering on about music on my radio show and discussing new bands like, oh, I dunno, The Chats, on Twitter.)

However, ANBAD also has over 1200 posts featuring about 1500 artists. Most are buried deeeeep in the blog, rarely seen by human eyes. This seemed a bit unfair, so I randomised the posts and the ones you see below are yanked arbitrarily from the archive for you to explore.

As with anything this old on the internet, some music plugins, hyperlinks, images, formatting – and, frankly, the writing itself – is broken. But even I will begrudgingly admit that randomly looking at ten years of once-new bands is a fascinating glimpse into a very specific time capsule.

I’m as surprised as anyone that this ridiculous and utterly niche music blog has stumbled around online for a decade, surviving all of my attempts to break it, render it defunct, or let it wither on the vine.  So scroll down and read on – and maybe you’ll find some long-forgotten band from 2009 that you’ll love.


 

Yanmolby; and Blur, Oasis, Trapezoids

Togetherness is good. Sharing is caring. It’s nice to be nice.

Look at the lengthy comments clustering around this opinion piece on live gigs from a few weeks ago, and wonder how much better off we’d all be if bands and audiences actually got together to chat.

Rather than eyeing each other suspiciously from opposite grimy corners of their local venue and sullenly exchanging trapezoidally mis-cut flyers as if they were at an anti-capitalist rally, what if they collaborated, shared and revealed?

Indie music has always been tribal, reaching its bowel-loosening nadir in 1995’s Oasis Vs Blur fiasco – and the only beneficiary has been the  industry coffers.

This is not just a shame, it’s a catastrophe of sorts: how many kids who determinedly identify themselves with Arctic Monkeys, say, would give Yanmolby the time of day?

Yanmolby // I’m A Blur

Two of Yanmolby ‘make the beats’. Another plays the bass. It sounds like the middle-class-attempt-to-be-cool from hell, but this assessment is miles wide of the mark. I’m A Blur is a sneakily brilliant assault on the dancefloor, the frontal lobe and your speed-freak heart.

All dance music is repetitive, insistent and driving, but there’s a razor-thin line between ‘drab looping noise’ and ‘delicate/thundering ingenuity’. Guess which side Yanmolby fall on?

www.myspace.com/yanmolby

>Today’s New Band – Now, Now Every Children

>Say what you like about Oasis’ Noel Gallagher – and it’s not uncommon for these opinions to be accompanied by rolling of eyes and/or heavy sighing – but the man gives good soundbite.

This article in UK right-wing red-top rag The Sun is further proof that Noel should unburden himself of the task of writing drab pub rock and become a full-time commentator on Liam Gallagher’s wellbeing.

Quotes like, “He’s the angriest man you’ll ever meet. He’s like a man with a fork in a world of soup,” are far too good to be interrupted by long sessions in the studio to produce more plodding MOR songs. (It’s also kind of cute that The Sun suddenly finds itself coy enough to use asterisks to censor such corrupting words like ‘arse’ and ‘knobhead’.)

Today’s New Band are a world away from middle aged rock bloat, but who knows – give them 20 years and maybe they’ll succumb too. In the meantime, enjoy Now, Now Every Children for their youth and vigour.

Everyone You Know is a barnstormer of a song, in turns luscious and rawkus, the vocals honey-sweet, the guitars acid and taut. Cars – stand down Numanoids, it’s not a Gary Numan cover – harshly beats a bare drum and slips almost accidentally into a noisy climax.

Now, Now Every Children are detached and distant but induce a strange and strong sense of intimacy. Their songs will always be theirs, no matter how hard you may try to make them your own. Maybe one day they’ll fire off endearingly crude witticisms about their siblings, but for now be happy just to listen to their songs, and hope it doesn’t happen.

>In The City Special: Ou Est Le Swimming Pool

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At a music convention like In The City, rumour and hype swirl together to form a noxious fog that can engulf even the most seasoned and cynical new band seeker. Avoiding bands surrounded by hype is one of the basic rules of following rock music, and yet I willingly traipsed along to see two of the main ‘buzz’ bands, drunk on a few begrudging words of encouragement from a middle aged A&R man.

The club was packed on both occasions. One of these bands was actually cheered onto stage before they had even played a note, and yet when their guitars were actually plugged in, they were disappointingly risk-free, and average at best. So when I found myself in another crush of haircuts and PR sweat, I expected little. Half an hour later, after Ou Est Le Swimming Pool had finished, I still wasn’t sure if they were the best or worst band I’d ever seen.

On reflection, I realised that this was the best reaction I could have hoped for. Even ignoring their linguistically challenged of-the-moment name, the band is crammed with weird, admirable anomalies.

The two keyboard players looked like a before-and-after picture of a Pet Shop Boy who’d drunk a pint of LSD. One was in a geography teacher’s grey suit, and the other sported a moustache, vomit-coloured shirt, and a vividly coloured scarf wrapped around his head. They both played thrillingly big music; stabbing chords and huge drumbeats.

Contrast them with the two singers who emerge from the shadows, one a Burberry-clad Simon Le Bon mini-me, the other a boyband escapee. They both sing with a sincerity and passion that jars hard against a band set-up that is so post-ironic it has become pre-irony, and thus sincerity. Clever.

The response from everyone who saw them was the same: bewilderment and then a creeping realisation that Ou Est Le Swimming Pool were the most memorable band of In The City.

I could describe the songs to you as usual, but for once, I don’t think words could do them justice. Listen for yourself and feel a band more polarised than a trucker’s Aviators.

>Today’s New Band – Dinosaur Pile-Up: DINOSAUR WEEK CONTINUES!

>Gimmick, Schmimmick. This dinosaur-theme is a goer, I tell you. The eagle-eyed of you will sport that this is the third consecutive dino-related band in a row, and while some may accuse us here at A.N.B.A.D. of mild idiocy, it turns out that there is method behind this Bronto-Madness. (NB: See previous posts, below, for the previous excursion into Dino-sounds)

That’s because the search for dino-bands – archeology, maybe – has unearthed yet another great band: Today’s New Band, Dinosaur Pile-Up. Firstly, let’s childishly focus again on how super the name is – anything that causes you to imagine a huge collision of freaking dinosaurs and the resulting pile-up is surely enough to make you as giddy as a 10 year old girl watching Hannah Montana – The 3D Movie.

Happily, Dinosaur Pile-up‘s music is great too. My Rock And Roll is a chunky, Pavement-y, Pixies-ish blast, singer Matt mumble-yelling “Since I was young, I always felt some sort of trouble.” It seems that writing great rock songs is outside of this trouble-sphere, as rock ‘n’ roll is a tough thing to get right, but Dinosaur Pile-Up can do it, seemingly without effort. My Rock and Roll is a fantastic song from a great-sounding band, who don’t seem to be slavishly following current musical trends. Fantastic – and apparently, unsigned. Crazy.

Check out their music at their Myspace page, here!

*No new band on Monday – it’s a Bank Holiday! So we’ll be sitting inside, sheltering from the rain, as usual.*

Tristram VS Nuclear Holocaust

Last night I met an old man called Yoshiro.  He’s from Nagasaki. He was 11 when it happened. He can remember the blinding flash of light, the furniture shooting across the room, the white heat.

He survived the A-Bomb, but he spend the following days watching his relatives die of radiation poisoning. He remembers the smell. Then, to support his remaining family, he worked from the age of 15 until he retired, aged 70. He’s had cancer twice. He now learns English from Audrey Hepburn movies. He’s pretty much super-human.

There only reason I relayed that story was to a) remind myself that jabbering about new bands every day is actually fairly inconsequential in, you know, the grand scheme of things, and b) simply to ramp up the pressure on Tristram.

Tristram – Dust Disturbed

One lucky member of Tristram had his name adopted as that of the bands’. I’d like to think that they drew lots, but I’m guessing that it’s just the name of the singer. That’s how a band hierarchy works.

Any potential moniker-related bickering was clearly put aside, otherwise a song as fragile and coltish as Dust Disturbed would never have been written. I suppose you could brand many songs ‘gentle and thoughtful’, but that description would rarely be as apt as it is when applied to this song.

Dust Disturbed is a delight, seemingly sprung from nowhere – born of nothing and wanting for just as little. It has exactly the self-contained beauty that most songs strive for, but never attain. Tristram, the man and the band, can be proud. Lovely, in every way.

myspace.com/tristramsongs

ANBAD’s Best Bands Of 2011 // Top Ten: 10 – 6

If you missed them, here’s Part 1 and Part 2 of the list of bands who didn’t quite make the Top Ten…

Sifting through the hundreds of bands who were splurged all over ANBAD is a task which is part edifying pleasure and part brutal exposure of this writer’s foibles at any one period throughout the year.

Not many bands have ‘aged’ badly in the months since they were first exposed in breathless terms (though some are there, if you’re inclined to find them). If anything, revisiting them has been affirmative: their songs still prickle the same nerve-endings as they did when first heard.

Thus, the following bands are the crème de la crème – the bands that didn’t just age well, but also surprised and charmed even more the second (or third, fourth, fifth) time around.

 #10 – The Parish Of Little Clifton: Exceptionally precise musicians often turn into tedious Phil Collinses, but TPOLC applies his precision in much less horrifying and much more gorgeously skylarking ways:


 ANBAD said: “entirely clear, precise music that ought to cut through mental fug like an industrial laser-beam.”

#9 – Petter Seander: Guess what overriding quality this Swedish songwriter has? BING! Correct – an alarmingly sharp grasp of pop melody, and songs that couldn’t be any more upbeat in execution if they tried. Oh, and they come with free tea. Tea!


ANBAD said: “when Petter croons, ‘nothing lasts forever,‘ the sentiment is met with a shrug and a dizzy shake of the head. Lovely, soaring, tinkling, jittering, perfect pop. Excellent.”

#8 – Petit Fantôme: While we’re making ludicrously unfair generalisations based on nationality, do you reckon that the French band Petit Fantôme has great, swooshing, 70’s synth-choruses or what? You’re right, of course. Excellent, unusual and brightly soft.

ANBAD said“icy but warm; inert but humane; calm but darting; born of technology but realised in the bosom of life’s irrevocable chaos.”

#7 – Tripwires: a band that might not be truly classed as new, with a song that might not truly be considered to belong to 2011. But ignore Tripwires’ Cinnamon at your peril, because it’s too beautifully dozy to be engulfed by such petty squabbles. Delicious.

ANBAD said:a miasmic swirl of hyper-echoed guitars, buried, frantic drumbeats and vocals that dissolve into the ether. Cinnamon might be a blunt instrument, or it might be a deft, monstrously delicate and gossamer-thin thing of beauty – you choose.”

#6 – The Lovely Eggs: here’s a band that generate goodwill. This is very hard to achieve. But The Lovely Eggs have it in spades, because their songs are not only funny, and smart, and knowing, and honest – but brilliant too.

ANBAD said: “Bands progress, and bands change: in the Lovely Eggs’ case, their progression within the space of one song is almost mind-boggling.

Because Allergies isn’t only a song, it’s a heavy-as-lead, psychedelic-lo-fi mini-masterpiece; the ‘Kashmir’ of winsome bedroom indie; the sound of a band shoving everything on red and then hitting ‘Record’.”

MIDWEEK MIXTAPE // 13th April 2011

The tabloid press has been getting hot under the collar this week about Britney and Rhianna collaborating on a song about S&M called, er, S&M.

Two pop stars yapping about whips and chains seems fairly innocuous, but all the same, ANBAD send Lt. Drebin to investigate further to see how much damage this song was doing to ‘our kids’. He returned with some nice stay-pressed shirts and a three-pack of comfortable underpants.

The Midweek Mixtape should clear flustered minds:

FIRST! Parties used to be known as **EDIT A Band Whose Name Has Been Removed By Request** So what happens when you shed two thirds of your name? Well apparently, you emerge as a leaner, sharper, more focussed, poppier unit, and start to play songs as infectious and breathless as Say Something. Ace.

SECOND! I’m not sure who Spring Offensive are trying to offend, or how,  as songs such as A Stutter And A Start are unlikely to rile anyone except those mortally aggrieved by craftily assembled pop songs, polyrhythms and chipper tales of young love. Nice.

THIRD! Crown Aruba’s Like She Said is exactly the kind of reedy Indie pop that wins over the hearts and minds of the fey and wan, time after time. For good reason too – songs like this connect on the exact opposite level to that which a U2 song does, for example. And that’s a good thing.

FOURTH! Fortunately for Stuart Anthony, his Long Lost Band was found just in time to record Play The Part under their usual guise of Stuart Anthony and His Long Lost Band. Phew. The song is a beaut, all sweet swoops of sound and soft jangle. Perhaps he should keep a closer eye on his bandmates.

LAST! Water Signs’ These Weapons sounds a bit like the band lost half their instruments and decided to replace them with children’s toy instruments which were then tweaked in the studio to sound like the grown-up versions. Everything just sounds a bit… removed. Good stuff.

LVLS; or Love Less; or Why Not Name Yourself After A Classic Album, Anyway?

Well, why not name yourself after an all-time classic, epoch-shaping album? It’s not as odd an idea as it initially might seem.

I’ve long thought that we’re reaching a critical mass of new band names; soon, all that’ll be left will be scientific terms and quadratic equations. (Not that the Hype Machine charts would look that much different if it was suddenly filled with band names full of symbols…)

Anyway: LVLS, or Love Less, a band who are now indelibly linked with My Bloody Valentine’s (only) brilliant album. I quite like the guile of a band naming themselves in this way. I dare – no, double-dare – anyone who is reading this to start a band called Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars.

 

Chapel Steps, which as far as I know is definitely not named after an album, is apparently work-in-progress. Hey, what art isn’t?

One trend that has been edging it’s way back into new music has been the slick epic-pop of the late 80’s/early-90’s. I can’t say I really want many bands to start sounding like late-middle-period U2, but there’s no point pissing in the wind.

LVLS make this kind of huge, widescreen, glossy pop really well. It’s rousing, and – for a musical style that is all about pretence – is surprisingly unironic, honest and – whoah – sincere.

MORE: soundcloud.com/wearetheloveless

>Inevitable End Of Year List #1, Part 1

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An outsider would think that music bloggers the world over conspire at the end of each calendar year to produce a myriad of list-based posts merely to confirm the suspicion that music bloggers are anal, facile and childish. These outsiders would be absolutely right.

A minutely-tinkered list tells two stories: one of care, fastidious attention and deep love – and one of too many lonely nights alphabetising a vast CD collection. ANBAD wishes to distance itself from both these personality traits, although they are as just as applicable, sadly.

So. If you want to read lots of gushing lists featuring The XX, Grizzly Bear and Phoenix (all of whom left me feeling curiously unsatisfied), try another blog. Unlike last year, ANBAD is producing two lists, and two alone.

Next week, as I finally succumb to Christmas and sink into a haze of Port, mince pies, awkward silences and watching all the Die Hard movies back-to-back-to-back-to-back, there will be the important one: The Top Ten New Bands of 2009. Keep frothing in anticipation, kids!

However, today, here is an equally important one:

The ANBAD Almost-Best And Definitely-Worst Of 2009 List, Part 1

The Biggest Drain On My And Any Other Human Being With Ears’ Time Award:

Spotify. Spotify, Spotify, Spotify. Yes, it’s been knocking around for a bit, but this year was when everyone started interrupting conversations in the pub with the words, “Wait – have you got Spotify yet? It’s incredible.” A three hour sermon would then be delivered on the benefits, which would include table-thumping, wildly joyful eyes, and barely-concealed astonishment at finding a Fall B-side they hadn’t heard for years.

If you’re still not convinced: Heathen! Get it here, and watch your jaw drop and your evening disappear.

The Death Of The Other Biggest Drain Of Time Award:

Goodbye Planet Sound. When 1980’s tech revolution, 00’s Internet-for-the-poor Teletext stopped working a week ago, it took with it not only blocky weather maps, Bamboozle and creepy singles ads, but the brilliant pre-blog-blog Planet Sound. Not only was it was essential early morning pyjama-and-peanut-butter-on-toast reading material, but it pushed tiny new bands to a huge audience, all from page 340. Sadly missed.

The Album Whose Brilliance Only Fully Emerged This Year:

Neon Neon‘s Stainless Style. No, I don’t know why I didn’t fully get it before, back in 2008. Perhaps it seemed a bit, oh I dunno, gimmicky – a faux-80’s synth album about John DeLauren , featuring Yo Majesty and Har Mar Superstar? But this year I couldn’t stop playing the damn thing, lost and swooning in the beauty of the sounds, the story and the execution. I’m a year late, I know. So sue me.

2009’s Song That Got Stuck In My Head AND WOULDN’T LEAVE NO MATTER WHAT:

Whiskey In The Jar, by Thin Bloody Lizzy. Thanks, Spotify.

Part two of this list is COMING SOON. Hold your breath…

MIDWEEK MIXTAPE // 9th March 2011

When does a celebrity breakdown step lightly across the line from ‘hilarious lunacy’ to ‘worrying mental illness’?

I’m not entirely sure, but you can rest soundly knowing that, as you read this, Charlie Sheen is figuring out that particular conundrum.

Here in ANBAD Towers, we have had advance warning of his next diabolically crazy project – one which we believe will be the proverbial straw that breaks the internet’s back.

It’s his upcoming cover-album-of-a-covers-album, Charlie Sheen’s Swing When You’re #Winning, in which he dabbles in the realm of the meta-cover by re-enacting Robbie Williams’ lowest point (apart from Rudebox). Drebin, as always, is on the case.

Nurse! The Mixtape, quick!

FIRST! Quakers and Mormons are another of the excellent My Awesome Mixtape’s guises, and New York Town is a thoroughly good tilt at lop-sided hip-hop grandeur. They modestly call it ‘an avant-garde masterpiece,‘ and they’re not too wrong, in all honesty. Great.

SECOND! Beat Connection sound like they ought to be a Ska covers band, but don’t worry, they’re not. Instead, they make the sort of song that doesn’t get made in this form too often – 80’s Pet Shop Boys-esque pop, all sheen (not Charlie), twangy synth bass and sincere vocals. Nice.

THIRD! William The Contractor has a pun in his name, so is automatically granted a spot on ANBAD. That’s how it works. Fortunately, W.T.C. is Swedish, which also means that his music is automatically 20 times more tuneful and 10 times more lovable than a song made by someone of a different nationality. Don’t complain, you know it’s true – just listen to the excellent Black Gold for proof.

FOURTH! FUR’s Friends might be just what Charlie Sheen needs right now. Solar Bear’s remix makes the song complex enough for his wired brain to stay occupied, but is so lilting, calm and otherworldly that every listener will slowly droop into soporific slumber. Delightful.