Pop Culture Thumbs-Up 21/10/2009

   The Quietus interviews Florence Welch of the vacuously flouncy Florence and the Machine. And it is truly refreshing to read an interviewer so unrestrainedly spiking her subject, so much so, that the interview itself comprises 30% of the overall feature. As someone who's only sweet on the outside and considers House, M.D. and its rational, brutally honest title character to be the best creations in modern television, I feel very happy indulging in the vituperative, scathing and insightful snark unleashed on Ms. Welch, who reminds me very much of every other female art student I've ever met in London (Writer's note for art students: put it this way - if we're buds or if I've ever been polite to you, I'm obviously not alluding to you)

  In the comments box, one reader notes, "good singers don't always make good conversationalists. and more often than not, good conversationalists make terrible singers. Two different forms of expression. it doesn't mean that she's stupid." He's not wrong. But leaving aside his obvious fandom, he's wrong to excuse her conversational abilities on the supposed merits of her talent because aside from the fact that her public persona generally belies the metaphorical knots around her tongue, someone who allegedly bursts with ideas should have even the most basic things to intone on regarding their craft, some small details to reveal regarding its intricacies or the work put in or how a particular burst of inspiration took matters to a logical and enjoyable conclusion. And that isn't what I just read, nor will my hopes be approaching the high setting any year soon

   Rumours of the death of America's favourite jackass (straight from the President himself), Kanye West, comprised the top Twitter trend this morning. I'd be interested to know what the fake cause was - "crushed under the weight of his own ego/hubris/chutzpah" seems far too mundane a death for him. Where would the funny be?

   Oh, and I finally sent a new piece in to Men's Flair, regarding the Hong Kong based tailors, W.W. Chan, who will be in residence at the London Park Lane Hilton tomorrow and Friday. I like them because they are far over half the price of your entry level Savile Row two piece and nearly as impressive. And frankly, not many other tailors do such an intuitive job of creating an aesthetic that marries exquisite classicism to natural progression. When I can afford them, I'm pretty sure crazy things will happen

Cornelius and Ryuichi Sakamoto - 'Turn Turn' (2008)

   'Turn Turn' is one of the songs that I listen to precisely because of how it plays with my head. Most folk unlucky enough to be aware of my aural relaxation proclivities would decry this revelation as just another footnote in my ongoing adoration of Cornelius. They're probably right

   A cover of a song by the Japanese band Sketch Show, it was originally written by electropop legend Haruomi Hosono, who is also a core member of the trailblazing Yellow Magic Orchestra (for the kids - J-Lo sampled 'Firecracker' for 'I'm Real'; the version without Ja Rule, that is) with his Sketch Show partner Yukihiro Takahashi. The cover features on the album Tribute to Haruomi Hosono, which leads to the involvement of Academy Award-winning composer (for The Last Emperor) and third of the YMO trio, Ryuichi Sakamoto, as well as the pictured international EP by Cornelius. Keigo 'Cornelius' Oyamada? He's merely a longtime fan who got to play guitar on 2007/8's live performances by the trio and has maintained a successful, eclectic and evolving musical career since his start in whimsical pop band Flipper's Guitar in the late 1980s that includes international releases for his last 3 albums and headlining sets at The Budokan

   The original 'Turn Turn' is the kind of song one would expect of modern YMO - it's a touch awkward, a little bonkers, lackadaisically funky and it's so synthesised and - in spite of its light melodic touches - oddly atonal that the result is somewhat alien, albeit trippily so. The cover is even odder for managing to achieve what sounds like a meditation on mild insanity. Many of the present Cornelius techniques are in force, including the 3D-like stereo panning of half the instruments per song that makes his music an audiophile's delight in triplicate (God knows how he does it, but it's a technique so subtle - especially compared to his contemporaries and challengers - that it tends to mesmerise the listener without inducing insanity. Unless it's one of the songs where he's actively trying to drive one insane). And the contemplative mantra of the chorus - "You must come full circle to find the truth/We must come full circle to find the truth" - offers an ideal premise for this thoughtful duo, who employ a bare bones approach of bass, guitar, light-but-whipcracking snares, goofy effects and good old Japanese exoticism. These elements then lightly intersect with each other underneath the synchronised vocals of Oyamada and Sakamoto, who sing with a soothing detachment

   The general mood is of calm until somewhere between a DJ cutting on turntables and a spinning top, there's the crazed tape effect in the breakdown as androids chant a synthesised "Turn" with ever increasing urgency until the effect releases itself across the speakers and a long synth note washes over the rest of the song. Chimes tinkle, a gong rings and the music ends in the exact same way it began: a faded note skipping across stereo channels, signaling a mood of reflection, quiet and strange contemplation

   Yes, it has that kind of effect on me

A live performance of this version of 'Turn Turn', also featuring Takahashi (without the crazed breakdown)

Neil & Iraiza - New School (2002)

   For context, please note that this was written prior to the Sugababes review. This is most apparent in the opening paragraphs:

   I started around 7am. The insomnia is working mondo overtime, as I'm so very fond of saying, though it bears pointing out that the saying sits loftily on my monument of "Turns of Phrase I Wish I Had Devised". For as long as my sleep has been disordered, I've wished for it to amount to something - anything - productive instead of procrastination or zombification or trying to roll my eyes into the back of my head (purely experimental)

   Bearing in mind that this started far back around my 14th year, I recalled sometime after 2am this morning that I used to have a wider variety of coping methods beyond fatalism and rubbing my temples in what I hoped was a hypnotic rhythm. Such as music. And there was something "productive" to be followed, for there was a promise I made to myself and, by extension, the 3 people who peruse this journal on a regular basis regarding what used to be on my iPod, as well as what might be on a future model. To specify, little missives about what I consider to be among the best records of the past 9 years

   New School is rather easily one of the top 5

Via Last FM: l-r: Hirohisa Horie ('Iraiza') and Gakuji Matsuda ('Neil'). I'm planning to acquire sunglasses like Horie-san imminently

   This is, as far as anyone's aware, the final long playing collaboration between the abovementioned band members, who have maintained stalwart status in Tokyo's alternative music corners since the dearly departed King of Pop was onto his sixth new face in the mid 1990s. Matsuda, aka DJ Chabe, is best known under his Cubismo Grafico alias, tying together lounge, classical strings, Brazilian pop, French House, reggae, electronic exotica and a dab of Philly disco to almost unimpeachable effect over multiple albums, EPs and singles, all impeccably produced and played. And he sang too

   Horie is even more disgustingly talented - a multi-instrumentalist who flies the world with former Shibuya-kei figurehead and lauded sonic maestro Cornelius as his live bassist (which means that I've seen him in person twice), and has an almost inexhaustible gift for honing psychedelic rock experimentation into unforgettable melodic hooks and uncontrived arrangements, using his cheerfully wistful and whimsical persona to imbue a winning warmth in his writing (he's also a frequent collaborator of pop star Hideki Kaji, whose recent unfortunate assault was reported a few months ago - their 1999 Tokyo Tapes EP as Dots and Borders is worth five LPs put together). Given the close-knit nature of the scene, his list of collaborators is naturally extensive and, up until N&I's first releases, more used to taking center stage

   On the face of it, it's Eclectic Dance Producer meets Ecelectic Indie Pop Lifer, but the common thread between the two men - unabashed FM radio adoration - makes them entirely an entirely natural pairing. Over two EPs and the first album, charmingly titled Johnny Marr?, as well as New School, the division of labour runs thus: the duo split lyricwriting duties, Horie handles anything with a keyboard, leads on vocals and creates the bulk of the guitar work, arrangements and ultimately, the majority of the music. Matsuda handles choruses, secondary vocals and keys, and an array of percussive instruments including the occasional drum. Friends play parts N&I believe to be better served by other talents. And naturally, Horie and Matsuda produce everything

New School's sole (Japanese) single, 'Wasted Times'. It scores highly with me for the callback to early song 'Five Idle Days', amongst other things

   In my own way, the first adjective I use to describe the album is "consummate." There seems to be an utter lack of limit to the deft touches the two artists leave on the 12 songs. Although their earlier work had a certain ramshackle charm that was nevertheless in tandem with the breadth of their skill, the songs of New School are full bodied, tightly arranged and winningly melodic; hook filled enough that English indie label Ochre Records, released tracks 4 and 11, 'This is Not a Love Song' and 'Oracle Noises' as a 7" in 2003 as a way to increase their cult profile. As an international introduction, the single captures the sunny, charming FM pop side of the duo, who create the most perfect country-inspired jangle pop record of the decade in a little over 2 minutes on side A and then delves into their effects-led psychedelic introspections on the flip, thereby providing a snapshot of the entire album

   I adore every single cut, but aside from the delights of the aforementioned selections, there are many great tricks performed successfully here. Take 'Human Dust Bin' - silly title, sillier risk in leading with beats, keys and sax that resemble mid-1980s synth soul and r'n'b (or Simply Red, if you're feeling mean) and in a possible moment of self consciousness, Horie even sings "Out of my head, that makes no sense, you know" in the middle, but it's an undeniably charming concoction of songwriting and melody that soon papers over the desire to sneer and might even move one to reconsider the source genre. 'Our Housing' is another excercise in such near-3D thought - if the reference to Madness in the title isn't immediately obvious, then the opening soon reveals the extent to which 'Our House' influences the song - the bassline, the horns, the famous guitar lines and the chorus harmony are all present and correct, but it's nevertheless a different entity in rhythm, arrangement,and lyrics, dipping through all the wistfulness and emotion that accompanies nostalgic reflections on a childhood home and providing a strong example of inspiration made good where other efforts are cynical and poor (Christina Aguilera's 'Make Over' of Sugababes' 'Overload') or simply accidental (The Flaming Lips' 'Fight Test' and Cat Stevens' 'Father and Son')

   'Wednesday' is a spirited dash of Kinksian whimsy that manages to seem original through the strength of the melodies and playing, the unexpected soft pop/light reggae collision of 'Hello Young Lovers' is soothing and oddly moving (blame it on Horie's cooing choral lead-out), while the energetic instrumental (save for a whistled lead tune), 'Fez', gallops through lighthearted 60s freakbeat and 70s keyboard wizardry but avoids total antiquity through the  detail and clarity of its production

Via Maniadb.com

   Special mention goes to 'Supreme Day', a superficially simplistic drum-pounding jaunt, upon which all manner of instruments and hooks surmount, most prominently a recorder. And then there's 'Mall Rats', possibly my favourite contender for rock'n'roll song of the decade. It's exuberant, confident and practically viral in its memorableness, from its opening riff to its cute, child's-view-of-consumerism-and-defiance lyrics to its slightly dizzying, percussively danceable finish. Best part? It's the second song on the album, and, therefore, the strongest assurance that the record to follow will be one that remains in the memory

   It pulls off the best trick of much of Shibuya-Kei - making the past sound like the present and/or the future - but the childish whims and viewpoints of many of their peers are made more adult  and refined in the hands of Horie and Matsuda. And as an album from the final days of "old" Shibuya-Kei, New School is very much the capstone that the movement deserved

Shibuya-Kei: A Brief Primer

 Whilst finishing off my next 2000s musical review - technically the first until real world events dictated otherwise - I noticed that a genre overview might be needed for those who lack my particular proclivities for musical geekery. So the following is extracted from said review, a classic from Japan's old alternative pop scene, Shibuya-Kei:

The now-dead - and resurrected - scene they contributed prolifically to, Shibuya-kei, deserves its own article or, better still, a link to a better overview and dissection than I could hope to manage, lack of rest or no. Suffice to say, it centred around an auspiciously fashionable and lively area of Tokyo - the titular Shibuya - and its harmonic proponents became known for recombinant, idiosyncratic, heavily detailed and often exuberant and kitschy forms of Western pop history. It was the 1990s incarnation of the DIY spirit of punk and golden age hip hop, yet almost everything had a whispy voiced Japanese femme on vocals and it all sounded like it was created on an unlimited budget, even when it wasn't

   And those links are the preserve and insights of Japanese-but-actually-American alternative/blender pop artist, journalist and cultural disinterrer Marxy, as detailed in six parts. The Legacy of Shibuya-Kei is a vital and excellent read, examining and championing well over a decade of a landscape changed by reinterpreting and reshaping Western music into something familiar but utterly new. And sometimes far more interesting:

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

   Give Marxy's songs a try. I'll be returning to his output in the near or distant future

Sugababes - One Touch (2000)

   I had an entirely different, and, some might argue, more "sophisticated" record review to address the Broken iPod Blues I've been feeling. But then the news broke that Sugababes had finally become utterly akin to Menudo, Morning Musume and Trigger's Broom, so this response is wholly dictated by the fickle whims of current events. An easy mark for Pop Culture Thumbs-Down News of the Month if I ever saw one. Good times

   It's strange to settle in with their first, and best, album and note that in spite of the considerable charm, ranges and talents of the three founding - and now utterly departed - girls, Mutya, Siobhan and Keisha, that it was not immediately apparent that this was Britain's most successful female pop act in the making. At least, if you analysed the sales figures instead of scrutinising the music. But then the marketing for the group's introductory period demanded an appreciation of the little differences between themselves and their peers. They had a cutesy name but were not being promoted on the basis of their looks (though it's worth noting, now that the girls are in their early 20s, that those looks are more highly rated than popular myth might have it); they were 16 but neither cute like The Jackson 5 nor disquietingly sexualised like Miley; they were a girl group but instead of an abundance of plastic exuberance moulded as Spice Girls in waiting, the public were presented with a youthful, contemporary British pop band pitched somewhere in the hinterland between All Saints and En Vogue. And they could sing

   Quite the curious beastie, pop singing. To the average person, it's an area wherein if the voice conveying the lyrics doesn't make one reach for a rusty cleaver with which to pay personal tribute to Van Gogh then it's fine. Unless there is a panel of at least 3 overly self-satisfied judges on hand to make repeated complimentary remarks about a nascent singer's voice and the transformative effect it's had on their lives, sex lives, rheumatic problems and bank balances on live television or the vocalist on the radio or television is widely recognised as a diva, then no one cares how well the girl(s) in question performs. Especially if she has a face made for posters in a supermarket

   So, Sugababes at the start were different. No smiles, no sex, all 16, all sass. The music and the singing had to be front and centre, and it was rather helped by, as well as hinged on, the fact that the performers all seemed older than their years. Indeed, when they sang such a line in 'New Year', perhaps the least nauseating Christmas song in over two decades, it actually seemed plausible, the way that little Michael projecting age old heartache about the lover he spurned moving on from him did. The album's thematic elements are generally uncontrived - the usual hazards and happy times with boys and girls are mingled with deftly handled singalongs about teenage angst, musical escapism, breakdowns in communication and social alienation, much like a teenager's diary (thank you, Popjustice message board). Alongside this, the production was utterly different to their various peers - sparse, oft-times downbeat, barely melodic in most places and more in the mould of trip hop's pop excursions than the post-Spice World environment

   And these girls could not only sing but harmonise. Unexpected multi-part vocals are a particular highlight in 'Look At Me' and 'Promises', wherein the girls' voices cascade across each other without overwhelming themselves or the listener, while the vocal interplay, while not necessarily unconventional, strives to be interesting, whether through all 3 girls singing the second verse of still memorable debut single 'Overload' or ending an ensemble-sung bridge with a couple of solo lines. The combination of vocals is also a strong selling point, mixing as it does Keisha Buchanan's slightly tremulous r'n'b stylings, Siobhan Donaghy's sweet melodies and somewhat detached delivery, and Mutya Buena's strong range and interesting mix of honey and husk. Emerging as the band's best singer over 3 subsequent albums before resigning, Mutya gives the album moments of added punch, even managing to sound as if she's making little effort at the same time. This becomes particularly evident in the title track, which makes a 15 year old calling her beau "my dear" the most natural statement of declaration for a young 'un whose adulthood is still a few years away (by all accounts, the girl also makes for an excellent mother)

   The most interesting aspect of the line-up changes is how it reveals how each of the founders have shaped their particular tenures, notably in hindsight. Sugababes Mark 2 was filled with fuzzy basslines and grit and spikes in a way that particularly suited Mutya, who moved on to take the majority of first verses and leads on choruses, as well as typifying the "non-traditional" image of the band with her offbeat dress sense, tattoos and piercings. The recently ended Mark 3 focused on Keisha's enthusiasm for American r'n'b, more facile pop and high energy numbers. And so, Mark 1 seems to match the rather indie Siobhan the most through its heart on sleeve-approach, minor keys and utilisation of sunny and plangent strumming. And while this is the record of theirs that I'm most fond of, it does them no end of credit that amongst all the changes, there's still something to enjoy. I only hope that Mark 4 can keep it up

Broken iPod Blues

Image: Loot Ninja

   My iPod joined the list of the newly dead this month. I must admit, it had some serious stamina for an early Apple mp3 player that usually held a charge for up to half of the advertised 12 hours, given that it was bonded to me for 4 and a half years. It also possessed serious cachet as a design classic, considering it was the U2-branded version, though I had the good fortune not to inherit a drive full of the band's music, barring 'Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me'; one of the 5 or so tracks of theirs I like

   Suffice to say, this is an issue. Less of its pressing nature is linked to the days-worth of classic rock and soul that's eating up gigabytes on my laptop. The problem is that I've been re-exposed to contemporary pop and dance offerings via today's digital music-focused channels, which I'd managed to stave off via simple misanthropy, a staunch belief that music releases are becoming less interesting with the passing of the weeks, and an addictive habit that already prompted me to fill up a 20GB music player with over 4800 songs from different time periods, countries, genres, somehow managing to listen to every single one at least once in my iPod's lifetime

   I need a new 'Pod like I need a new camera like I need a new job. But the 'Pod has elicited the most interesting considerations for me (if I'm capable of interesting considerations, that is) - the camera requires a more diverse lifestyle to make its acquisition truly worth it, while the joblessness just makes me disappointed

   The loss of music on demand has truly awakened me to the fact that I spent most of this decade ignoring the bulk of its sonic selections, unless they had anything to do with Timbaland, Britney, Japan (the country, not the defunct pop group) or a film score. It was not total ignorance, for indeed, I spent a stint as a music journalist for a time (link below), as well as a stalwart member of I Love Music for 3 years, but I tired of being "on-trend," and it became clear to me around the time I stopped paying attention that I sure as hell was not missing much

   Nevertheless, it's late 2009 - to my shock - and everything is sounding rather 2006 at best. Or further back. And when the only hot new release that I find remotely enticing is the new Shakira single (utterly enhanced by watching the video, even though the song itself is so redolent of 1977, not that I was alive then), it's time to do what I've always done when music hits a dry patch - turn backwards and dig deep

   So, I'll be intermittently wasting time with a chart of sorts featuring what I was listening to this decade as we hurtle towards 2010. Singles, albums, the odd EP and my preferred listening material from past times when the world enveloping me would proclaim the Arcade Fire to be the future

   This column needs a little more diversity. So I may as well make the effort

Behold: My past life as a pop scribe

Pop Culture Tick-Offs - 07/04/09

   Things that have not made me happy of late include the untimely death of Angel alumni Andy Hallett at 33 last week. It was a sad piece of news made even more surreal and sad because earlier in the day I viewed him during a rewatch of the final episode to feature series lynchpin Charisma Carpenter, in which she and David Boreanaz genuinely cried during their final scene together. But then the show was stuffed with the talents of professionals who loved and knew what they were doing, and it's an apt and special body of work that Mr Hallett has left behind him

   It's somewhat ridiculous, given the circumstances, to say that this next story left a bad taste in my mouth, but one of my favourite Japanese indie-pop stalwarts, Hideki Kaji, was beaten up in Sweden on a video shoot while dressed as a pineapple. Ridiculous, but rather uncool nonetheless. Here's a video of Mr Kaji dressed as a rotating head on a yellow background and note that this assault is driving up his video comments on YouTube

   And finally, I'm predictably unimpressed that House M.D. is now short one main cast member, if only because I'm sceptical that the show is going to do justice to the fallout. But the actor did a great job bouncing off the rest of the cast and I cannot wait for the next season (not that this season is done yet)

   B

Song Obsession: Timothy Victor - 'Ass2Ass' (A Requiem For a Universal Dream)

   I make no claims on being a classy man, so when I state that I unironically watched most episodes of the third series of e4's Skins, a paean to the teenage angst that apparently runs through the souls of Bristolians aged 13 - 19 with the unrelentingness of a six foot long hose through one's lower intestine*, it's because it's the truth. I was curious, I really had little better to do, and if my love for symphonic orchestra performances at the Royal Festival Hall cannot coexist with my appetite for lowbrow televisual delights or chart music, then why live? And that brings me to 'Ass2Ass'

   There was pretty much one real highlight of the recently concluded series - two, if you count the performance of angsty-but-coping Kathryn Prescott aka "Gay Twin" Emily, who gets props for possessing better taste in music than her sister Megan. While I'm certain that the trials of tribulations of a teenage lesbian in love have been blessed with better portrayals (based on no research whatsoever), Emily benefited from having a hateful, controlling, shallow and possibly homophobic twin sister in Katie that resulted in her looking better by comparison, but Prescott was consistent in her characterisation and performance, distinguishing herself with strength of character to belie her vulnerabilities and fears and being one of the very few of the show's personalities to lack a core of narcissism. Her ability to give and receive kindness was distinct from most of the rest because Prescott made it believable that she was a girl worth cherishing. She probably had the happiest ending of all the main story threads - until next year

   Allow me to drift back to the point. 'Ass2Ass', from the 4th episode, is the centrepiece at a series of satirical shots of reality pop competition shows, with the blatant cod-soft porn antics of girl group Da Sexxbombz only one element. Boasting Popstars: The Rivals and Girls Aloud runner-up, failed solo singer (but for a euphoric collaboration with Richard X) and infamous home-wrecker Javine Hylton in an oh-so-meta appearance, the group was on the hunt for a new member and their schtick, as portrayed onscreen, owes far more to the Prince-directed frolics of Vanity 6 - lingerie, innuendo, sex songs - than the generally implied sexuality of the contemporary scene. Gratefully, rather than solely make obvious cracks about the superficiality and exploitation of such entertainment, supporting character and contestant Karen was relatively complicit, using her tale of a dead mother to further her voter base. Focusing on the media-friendly backstory element all such contestants seem to possess in our world gave the episode more of a unique slant and gave consideration to how all encompassing a desire to be famous can be used to dishonour a memory (even Karen's father had no qualms about this vulgar invocation of his dead wife)

   Anyway, 'Ass2Ass' is just another piece of the referential whole (incidentally, other Da Sexxbombz tracks include 'Rim Licking' and 'Juicing Down'). It's musically based on Britney's 'Piece of Me' (a song that's unapologetically about the tabloid antics of its world famous performer, gossip fixture and singer of the good clean fun of 'If You See(k) Amy'), right down to the vocoder, minimal synth bass and sampled ecstatic moans, and in performance, the bodypopping, crop haired "backing singer" is straight out of the video to Fedde Le Grand's 'Let Me Think About It'. And taking its title from a pivotal scene of a movie that got the juices of a million film students flowing does make an extra effort to layer the shout-outs. The song works because it has one thing going for it - it was clearly written with the mind of a schoolboy for the minds of actual schoolboys (and overgrown ones, in my case) - and this one thing leads to other things - catchiness, infectious glee, knowing winks and, in the episode, better dancing than Vanity 6 ever managed. And they even went to the effort of a full-length, ready for pirate radio production

   Get it here (yes, I went there)

* Also stolen from a television show - my favourite, in fact. If you know which one, I have an opening for a new BFF. And that's another rephrasing in the making

Live ReView: Q-Tip Rocks The Roundhouse

or, "My Failed Career in Concert Photography"

   Whilst I feel that one can't always put a price on seeing their heroes take the stage, it speaks oh-so-highly of my own awareness that I paid a tout's fare to get to see A Tribe Called Quest's golden voice live because I didn't hear about the gig until the last minute. And just to reinforce the severity of my error, eBay, Gumtree and Seatwave had absolutely nothing to get me up to speed. I do think you can put a price on talent, but thankfully, this was a fee I'll happily live with. Because, quite simple and plain, Q-Tip put on the best hip hop live show I've seen in 5 years

   The Camden Roundhouse is the perfect setting for a large scale indoor performance - a little reminiscent of the Globe. Since my friends and I weren't in the market for most of the DJs that heralded the first London performance in around 14 years for the world's most charismatic rapper, we only spent half an hour rumpshaking to the best that 90's hip hop had to offer; the songs that we rapped along to in our bedrooms and our cars and our showers, the anthems that made fans and DJs and dancers and musicians out of so many, the classics that earned the iconic Parental Advisory label one hundred times over. And their presence not only underscored one key component of Q-Tip's appeal - rarely bettered party hip hop - but imbued nostalgic joy in the faithful. So when the man finally came on, the head nodding in the crowd was at whiplash levels and not about to settle down

   Tip worked the crowd in approximately 0.5 seconds, even before the obligatory "What's up, London?" introductions and the hands-in-the-air incitations. With the kind of charm that only gets better with age, his brand of charisma - a rare blend of worldly wisdom, youthful exuberance and the insight and Trust-Me appeal that only President Obama (sampled in speech before Tip took the stage) and few others share - had the attending singing along to the new jams of latest LP The Renaissance - 'Move' (sampling one of the Jackson 5's greatest moments, 'Dancing Machine'), a vastly expanded version of 'You', 'Gettin' Up' and the anthemic finale 'Life Is Better', for which he disappeared into the crowd to rhyme - as they did to the A Tribe Called Quest classics that prompted the sellout ticket sales. Although the obvious classic 'Can I Kick It?' failed to appear, the back catalogue was (appropriately for its performer) thoughtfully utilised to mesh best with the soul exhortations of the new record, and as such, most of the classics were from Tribe's defining 1993 record, Midnight Marauders. 'Award Tour' (the night's largest jumping moment), 'Electric Relaxation', 'Sucka Nigga' were the sorts of songs we'd all come to hear and see, but there were outings for other seminal tracks to keep us satisfied

   Perhaps aware that he couldn't omit two signature songs, 'Bonita Applebum' appeared with an intro humourously interpolated from The Brady Bunch themesong, as did early solo hit 'Vivrant Thing', along with a few from my favourite Tribe record, The Low End Theory - 'Check The Rhime' and 'Scenario', still bringing dancefloors to their collective knees. And the band earned every single kudos and dollar they were given to back up their leader. The rapport Q-Tip shared with its members was reminiscent of so many stars of other genres who know that live renderings of their music is worthless without the contributions of other talent, and it was a joy to see him entice his bassist into a jam and dance atop the speakers as if in celebration of their energy and skill

   There's absolutely nothing abstract about the man's magnetism - this is the MC whose half assed freestyle led to one of the Beastie Boys's best singles after all - but if he was to leave it another 14 years... I don't think it would dent his appeal at all. And he'd have the time to work on his singing