Chicory Tip - Son of My Father [1972]


Chicory Tip was a British pop group from Maidstone, Kent, comprising; vocalist Peter Hewson (born 1 September 1950, in Gillingham), guitarist Rick Foster, bass guitarist (born Richard Foster, in 1946) Barry Mayger (born 1 June 1946, in Maidstone), drummer Brian Shearer (born 4 May 1951, in Lewisham, South East London) and lead guitarist, keyboard player Rod Cloutt (born Roderick Cloutt, 26 January 1949, in Gillingham). The band formed in 1967, their name having been chosen by Peter Hewson who saw a coffee bottle that reminded him of chicory and they were signed to CBS Records. The first few singles flopped, although "Excuse Me Baby" in 1971 secured the band its first appearance on the BBC Television pop music programme, Top of the Pops. The group's finest moment came after studio manager Roger Easterby came across an advance copy of "Son of my Father", a song written by Giorgio Moroder and Pete Bellotte. Convinced of its potential, he secured the option to rush record the group's own cover version in competition with the original. The result was a Number One hit in the UK Singles Chart for three weeks in February 1972. it was one of the first hit singles prominently to feature a Moog synthesizer (in this case played by studio engineer and record producer, Chris Thomas). Two further Top 20 hits in similar vein followed, "What's Your Name", and "Good Grief Christina". Another release, "Cigarettes, Women and Wine" was heavily played on Radio Luxembourg but failed to chart, probably owing to a BBC Radio 1 ban because of its references to smoking. The group released one album, also entitled Son Of My Father.

4.5

Chicory Tip - Son of My Father [1972]

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Biffy Clyro - Puzzle [2007]

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Sugarcult - Lights Out [2006]


For numerous pop-punk bands, there seems to be somewhat of a standard progression of albums. There are exceptions, of course, but for many, album number one is the hook-blasted, immediate satisfaction one. Album number two takes stabs at maturity with an oft-darker vibe. And then album number three rolls around and it's a crapshoot. By now (and often depending on the current label situation) the band has either gone off the deep end, been totally mainstream spit-shined, or managed to successfully combine elements of both earlier albums into a more focused record. Sugarcult have basically followed that progression and, thankfully, were able to end up in the last part of that sentence with their third offering and V2 debut, Lights Out. The quartet has now almost fully embraced the power pop/rock aspect of its sound, which has always been more American Hi-Fi than Green Day anyway. The songs are more gravel-coated than sugar-smacked, though, and vocalist Tim Pagnotta's voice is more weathered-sounding this time around to augment to the record's overall seasoned, somewhat disillusioned feel. Because regardless of the record's unfailing singalongability (check out the stirring power choruses of "Hiatus" and "Do It Alone"), there's just something about Lights Out that emanates band cynicism — not that this is a bad thing, since the music remains fun and catchy nonetheless. Both love and the music scene have left the guys confused and fed up, yet defiant, and tracks like the murky desire of "Los Angeles," the meditative sway of "Shaking," and the bitterly attitude-laced "Dead Living" ("Beauty lies in the ignorant/With the sound of selling out to the innocent") wade through these feelings well. Nothing on the album is quite as immediate as most of Sugarcult's past work, but that hardly matters; Lights Out has successfully balanced rock, grit, power, and pop, to leave the band sounding stronger than ever before.

4

Sugarcult - Lights Out [2006]

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Panic at the Disco - Pretty. Odd [2008]


Tempting as it may be, don't read the dropping of the exclamation point from Panic at the Disco's name as a sign that the emo quartet is in a rush to be taken seriously. Don't even take their blatant aping of Sgt. Pepper's on Pretty. Odd as indication that Panic at the Disco wants to be taken seriously. There doesn't seem to be a serious bone within the bodies of any of the four members, but the wondrous thing about Pretty. Odd is that it's impossible to discern what silliness is intentional and what is accidental, the product of a band discovering the Beatles long after their 2005 debut A Fever You Can't Sweat Out turned into a hit. There's a startling naïveté to PATD's sudden immersion in symphonic psychedelic pop; the band is either too young or dumb to not realize that they're putting together familiar elements wrong, or that they shouldn't be attempting the baroque ballads and vaudeville shuffles that pepper this album...but they're smart enough to send-up the opening of Pepper's, twisting the Beatles' declaration that they were now Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band around, claiming that they're they same band they always were. Of course this is a bald-faced lie, as the only clear remnants from PATD's debut are the overly complicated song titles and fussy lyrics, but few will complain as the group retain their theatrical ridiculousness while unveiling a newfound panache for pop, all derived from their desire to pattern themselves after the Beatles. Panic at the Disco are hardly the first modern rock band to slavishly follow the example of their peers — My Chemical Romance copied every one of Queen's exaggerated moves for The Black Parade, while the Killers treated Sam's Town as if it was a Springsteen coloring book — but PATD's clueless, audacious thievery of the Beatles pays back far greater dividends, partially because stealing from the Fab Four guarantees an emphasis on melody over style, but also because PATD shows far more humor than MCR or the Killers. That humor — and it's possible to laugh at and laugh along with the band in equal measure here — makes Pretty. Odd a giddy absurdity, as Panic at the Disco is determined to have it both ways: to make grand, pompous music while retaining their identity as pranksters. The album is so out of control, it's hard to tell whether the group planned Pretty. Odd to be a kaleidoscopic mess, or if occurred by happenstance, but that raggedness will appeal to the teens who loved A Fever You Can't Sweat Out, but this bafflingly blurred Brit-pop could hook in older listeners, too, either through its genuine tunefulness or through pop junkies who will marvel at how "Folkin' Around" comes startlingly close to re-creating the sound of the Byrds circa Sweetheart of the Rodeo, or how "Do You Know What I'm Seeing" is equal parts Morrissey parody and homage. It all adds up to a pretty and odd record and it erases no suspicions that the band aren't quite sure of what they're doing, but the glorious thing about Pretty. Odd is that the album works in spite of this...or perhaps because of it. Either way, this is a deliriously jumbled, left-field delight.

4

Panic at the Disco - Pretty. Odd [2008]

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Less Than Jake - Losing Streak [1996]

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