I feel bad about disliking them – they’re fairly young, technically brilliant, and merely trying to achieve something that they’re probably passionate about. However, bands like this are dangerously inauthentic and Brighton is becoming flooded with them - think Hull, but with bad music replacing the water and no lives endangered.

No doubt they’ll be getting quite a bit of publicity soon - one look at their Myspace implies that they’ve got some backing - so a little bit of reserved vitriol probably isn’t going to do them too much harm.

So, first off, the music is underwhelming: a bitter tasting cocktail of diluted Steely Dan, mixed with <insert other generic soft-rock/funk fusion influence>, and the sans-testicle vocal tones of Maroon 5. The lyrics are banal and meander annoyingly, creating unforgettable, boyish, melody lines.

And at times the music develops into something akin to the grandiose rock opera of Queen, but with the genuine showmanship of said band replaced with the rehearsed professionalism of an X-Factor finalist.

Lastly, are these accents real? I apologise sincerely if any of these guys really are American, but there is a foul smell in the air, redolent of the eggy fart of a Marketing Man.

Maybe it’s all just a bit of fun but there are better bands out there that deserve your attention and it’ll be a shame if too many bands like this crowd them out. For a much better - and far more soulful - experience, go to the Vinyl’s next gig

There’s an excellent grasp of melody in the air – particularly in the blissful Lemonhead(y) harmonies of ‘We’re so Strong’, which is actually played twice in the set – this makes sense, it’s a good song, so why not play it once more?

However these guys are no submissive slaves to melody, and a classic, raw, bluesy soulfulness is abundant, conveyed by the extraordinary, gravel of Dans voice, which belies the fact that the band originate from the South of England, rather than the Deep South.

There’s a copious amount of rebellious energy here too - spasmodic episodes frequently erupt from the musical depths. Such movements can often be contrived and annoying, but here it seems genuine, looks real, and conventional jerk patterns are not followed.

The only real negative is a slight suspicion which develops. Have these guys sold their souls to some abyssal being, or even Satan himself at the Crossroads, am I about to be deviously coerced into a voodoo sacrifice by members of the band. Are these guys actually from Louisiana - having faked their own deaths like that Canoe man from Weymouth. He ended up in prison.

I’m looking forward to hearing the new songs…

Support comes from Sara Thor and On Safari – the former, sings songs of beauty through icy Scandinavian cool, but she’s now moved to Paris. Merde!

The latter blast Mark-E-Smith inspired rants over steady, menacing waves of song. There’s a particularly nice scream about sailing to heaven on a rickety boat. I like it a lot.

All considered; a very promising evening of musical entertainment.

www.myspace.com/now4thevinyls

When I listen, I am transported to a funky, post rock carnival, haunted by (hip and aloof) apparitions, with the band acting as the musical medium. Take a listen and you should partially understand this strange rhetoric…

When they start to play; the aforementioned apparitional vocals are juxtaposed with minimal, melodically cacophonous, guitar work and very danceable drums. My feet start moving (reservedly, that’s just me), and don’t stop for the entire gig. Great stuff!

My feet move especially rhythmically to House 1, which builds, builds, builds - to dangerous euphoric heights, and More Dogs, which infuses the mix with a bit more anger - or some kind of poltergeist.

Unfortunately, a few sound issues tarnish proceedings slightly. The drums are booming, and the vocals not quite piercing enough – this is the bane of any fledgling act. However, my familiarity with the tracks ensures that I still enjoy the set. The playing is as tight as ever.

Next gig is at the FreeButt on the 28th of October, and I strongly advise you to go. And dance.

www.myspace.com/revengeofshinobi

We got to the venue - Audio - a little late, and missed all but two songs of the first support act; The Lyre Birds. What I heard though, was fantastic. Heartfelt acoustic melodies with some excellent singing. What’s more, they are from Brighton. I really would like to check out more of their gigs in future. It was a good first impression, and I was looking forward to the other acts.

Next up were Heelscatchfire. The band was obviously quite musically talented, but their vocalist sounded a lot like Pete Doherty from the Libertines (and consquently, 1001 other indie copycat bands). Their lyrics were also quite dark. There were not very many people in Audio, and those in attendance were obviously interested in a bit of good-time northern indie, not the dark and emotional Heelscatchfire. So most people did not react well to the band. This was a bit of a shame because they all looked rather young and like they could have done with the encouragement. But the crowd was rather thin on enthusiasm, and were obviously waiting for..

..Hot Club de Paris. These northern lads started by entertaining the crowd with a few amusing words about the ‘pilled up’ inhabitents of the bar above Audio, while the drummer tracked down a spare cymbol for the show. The crowd really didn’t seem up for it however, even when they kicked off with some good-time indie tunes.

It left me thinking, what if good-time northern indie has run its course? What if the Libertines, the Arctic Monkeys, Maximo Park et al have bled the vein dry, and people are looking to more individual quirky groups - such as Does it Offend you, Yeah?, Late of the Pier - those who want to do something a little differently than what’s currently out there. I pondered this while absently tapping my foot along to Hot Club de Paris. Even their most popular track, “Sometimesitsbetter”, failed to move me, and the rest of the people there seemed a little.. bored.

Well, there you have it. My first negative review. I am now going to immerse my ears in a cleansing bath of crunchy electro, and forget that there is music out there that I do not always agree with.

If the endorphins of Daft Punk and Kraftwerk were combined with a psychogenic compound, the resultant mixture given to an imprisoned Pet-Shop-Boys, who were then forced to go and make music under controlled conditions, (subliminally) influenced by Fleetwod Mac records - Something akin to the music of Cut Copy might be produced - if you filtered out the expected anxiety and screams…

…and with ‘In Ghost Colours’ - I think they (Cut Copy, not the above) have created one of the albums of 2008. It’s a beamy, mix of melodies and tight harmonies, which helps to recreate a little bit of personal sunshine - especially handy in these Autumnal days of dark.

Live; the songs are slightly different in feel - this sometimes good, sometimes less so, but rarely anything more severe…

On the plus side, the hand claps, build ups, moments of release, erratic movements, and distinctive vocals are ace - but the backing tracks, marginalised guitars, and loss of (some) dynamic, are the less positive aspects of live translation

Some of the albums melancholic moments are also lost amidst the euphoric rushes - but given the heady production on the recordings, some of the above can be excused - the reproduction is generally faithful and impressive…

…When the new tracks arrive, it appears that a musical transition is afoot; euphoric electro-pop is saying hello, and hazy, uplifting indie is waving goodbye. The next album will reveal more.

On the whole, this was an enjoyable performance - if not quite as joyous as it could have been if I was more inebriated.

www.myspace.com/cutcopy

To say that Benj from Skindred stands out in the metal band scene - dominated by white faces, epic beards and hair grown for headbanging - would be an understatement. For a start, he’s black and has dreads.

As nu-metal is very dead, and post-hardcore bands just fail to interest me anymore, Skindred is a breath of fresh air. Their music is very unique, and the band really know how to get the crowd jumping. With most metal gigs, I judge my enjoyment by counting the number of bruises I get from the moshpit. On the basis of that, I’d say May’s gig was excellent. Others seemed to agree - the C2 was packed with black t-shirted metallers, and was as busy as I’ve ever seen it for a metal gig.

To those who prefer heavier guitar-based music, you have to check them out. See www.mypsace.com/skindred for some sample tracks, and www.brightonsound.com for upcoming gig listings - they usually play at least once a year at the C2.

A voice with power and soul enough to silence the quiet laments of Tim Smith and Ben Bridwell, 22-year-old front man Robin Pecknold first made heartbeats quicken and compassion blaze on February’s EP Sun Giant.

Now the band’s eponymous debut embraces all that enchants on Sun Giant’s stand-out track ‘Mykonos‘; with the spirit of 70s America so evident in tight group harmonies that many have pronounced a reincarnation of true country-era CSN.

Subtle, delicate acoustics, haunting baroque melodies and hymnal arrangements cushion lyrics that make it difficult to believe Fleet Foxes was born from cityscape rather than fantasy woodland: “Through the forest, down to your grave, where the birds wade and the tall grasses wave, they do not know you anymore,” Pecknold mourns in ‘Tiger Mountain Peasant Song’.

The surreal imagery wrapped in jovial camp-fire round ‘White Winter Hymnal’ –”scarves of red tied around their throats, to keep their little heads from falling in the snow,” – and echoing splendour that builds around the piercing piano riffs of ‘Blue Ridge Mountain’ are just two stand-out moments on an album of involving beauty and serenity.

An intricately well-crafted record, Fleet Foxes reverbs like a classic after a single listen.

4/5

Fleet Foxes - http://www.myspace.com/fleetfoxes

From the off, my heid is blasted with apocalyptic, electronic blasts, played with a visceral intensity. The live, rather than recorded drums, provide a pounding, tribal quality, whilst the combination of shite keyboards and pedals, lends proceedings a stylish, lo-fi gravitas.

The racket is loud and entropic, but still makes sense, always. At times I was sweating a substance that appeared to be liquid joy. Unfortunately I forgot to bottle it and sell it to the depressed. This is insensitive. I apologise.

These guys really do it live. Quite frankly, one of the best fucking gigs I’ve been to in recent years.

www.myspace.com/holyfuck