Lost AT E Minor

The Dodos’ Visiter

Like a packet of perfectly seasoned pistachio nuts, I can’t put this album down until it’s well and truly finished: until every last morsel of taut, snappy percussion and hypnotic vocals have been digested. Read more

Joy Division DVD

Thanks to our friends at Madman, we have five copies of the Kurt Cobain documentary, About A Son, to give away to randomly selected Lost At E Minor subscribers. Read more

Wild Beasts

Originally hailing from Kendal, Cumbria and now based in Leeds, the Wild Beasts foursome are the next hopefuls for Domino Records, who sent the group out to Sweden to record their first album, Limbo, Panto, released on June the 16th. The new single — The Devil’s Crayon — shimmers in wide-screen around a sense of location, melody and wonder at the scale of things. Indeed, it sounds like the theme song to a new kind of very English road movie.

Chairman Mao waving arm watch

There’s ethnic tat, and there’s ethnic tat. On your first round-the-world trip, you’ll buy up the standard drapes, masks, bongs, drums, and so on. You’ll come back the proud bearer of rare and previously unseen items, before realising the exact same products are being sold in your local fairtrade shop. So on your next trip you’ll branch out a bit, and scoop up some lotions and spices you’re sure the organic market in town doesn’t sell. But it’s only when you mature to a higher level of foresight and gall that you’ll chance upon the pinnacle of ethnic tat: the Chairman Mao watch. On the last check it was still only available in China (or via mail order, but who wants that?), and therefore guarantees a genuine look of surprise and admiration upon unpacking your bags, for you must have traversed the mystical heights of the Himalayas and dodged the all-seeing eyes of the Communist Party to bring something of the other world back with you.

Brett Dennen

We asked Oakdale, California singer-songwriter Brett Dennen, who has one of the finest voices in contemporary pop-folk, about the humour whuch swirls amidst the brutal honesty of his lyrics, and whether he was generally a positive person by nature: ‘I’m weird. I can be laid back, and I can be stressed. I can be positive, and I can be cynical. I think generally, I am like everyone else. I want to love, and I want to be loved. I want to be happy and healthy, and I care about people. I care about the world. I want to be known for putting out a positive message I want to be a singer who inspires people to make the world better for everyone’. Some musicians stay strictly out of politics - you clearly beg to differ. Should those in the public eye be using their status to influence change? It’s really their choice. I think everyone who is in the public eye should use their status for something other than themselves, but it is their choice. I think the problem is that it is hard to speak your mind and heart. You write about politics, and people criticize you for it. It’s happened to me. You get put in a category. They call you a protest singer. Then you are stuck in a category. You may even get criticized for being too optimistic. I’d rather be criticized for being too optimistic, than being criticized for making bad music’.

Dr John’s The City That Care Forgot

Concept albums have always been a hit or miss affair, all too often to be taken with a pinch of salt. Some work brilliantly; many fall flat on their esoteric face. Dr John’s response to Hurricane Katrina is an intriguing album. Some is rousing, some depressing: it’s littered with political statements, perhaps too much at times but given it’s purpose the over-saturation isn’t surprising. In it, he teams up with ambassadors of blues such as Eric Clapton and Willie Nelson — artists who in the past have leant their name to issue-based music. You do get the feeling however that the collaborations are done for commercial appeal: there is something lacking from the original and distinctive Dr John. Regardless, its well worth a listen — there are very touching moments and solid protest songs to re-ignite in the world what three and a half years of other catastrophes may have covered up.