Newcomer of The Year: And The Winner is . . .

Soul Kitchen Newcomer of The Year 2011: Miles Kane

First he was a Little Flame, a Rascal and then a Shadow Puppet. This year however, the Mersey's most bespoke Mod went solo. Quite predictably, he did it in some style.

Three years ago, Miles Kane was Alex Turner's mate, a Peacock strutting upstart playing sidekick to the Voice Of A Generation. How wrong this perception was. Fast forward three years and Kane has experienced the high of a Number One album and Mercury Prize nomination with The Last Shadow Puppets' Age of The Understatement and the lows of professional and personal break ups (with his band The Rascals and supermodel girlfriend Agyness Dean). Many would have floundered at the prospect of a solo jaunt after only ever experiencing the security blanket of a band. Kane though, has the frontman gene ingrained into his DNA.

From his first backing vocals with The Little Flames, Kane couldn't tear himself away from the mic stand. This unrelenting desire to follow in the swinging footsteps of his idols shines through on record and stage. Being a Merseyside mop top with a penchant for sharp suits and even sharper guitars will draw the Fab Four comparisons out in their droves. Yes, Kane cites John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band as his favourite album, 'Gimme Some Truth' as his favourite song AND even blatantly pilfers the Walrus' 'Cold Turkey' riff for Colour of The Trap track 'Better Left Invisible' but there's more to Miles Kane than being a mere modern day Lennon caricature.

Catch an interview with Kane and he regularly namedrops French connoisseurs of cool Serge Gainsbourg and Jacques Dutronc as heroes. The Gallic duo no doubt inspiring the filthy garage riffs of 'Inhaler' and 'Come Closer'. Dutronc's fingerprints are all over the video for single 'Rearrange' and Monsieur Kane recorded a cover of 'Le Responsable' (albeit an anglicized version) as the B Side for lead single 'Come Closer', which has now also become a rousing live set staple.

In fact, Kane consistently brims with unpredictability. Upon the release of Colour of The Trap in May of last year, many were expecting rehashed Rascals or perhaps sub par  Shadow Puppets. Contrarily, Kane rattles off scuzzy garage with aplomb on the aforementioned 'Come Closer' and 'Inhaler', flirtatiously duets with the bewitching Clemence Poesy on seductive slow burner 'Happenstance' before sailing effortlessly through the Style Council pop of 'Quicksand' and thundering out Middle Eastern cinematic soundscapes on the grandiose 'Kingcrawler'.

The fun doesn't stop there either. To see Kane play live is akin to witnessing a young Giggs, Gascoigne or Rooney take to the field for the first time. He's young, talented and absolutely fucking fearless. The Soul Kitchen was lucky enough to bear witness to Kane's mercurial live talents twice last year. The first time, in late October, was a headlining show at Manchester's HMV Ritz. The venue's infamous rubber dancefloor suitably bounced from start to finish as Kane did likewise, boomeranging around the stage like a Scouse Tazmanian Devil, complete with Taz's customary howls and some bonus kung fu kicks that stamped an exclamation point onto the end of every riff.

A month and a half later and he's supporting the rock and roll colossus that is Kasabian on the Manchester leg of their cretacious sci-fi Velociraptour. No easy task, with the vast confines of the Manchester Arena providing a much more ominous presence than the Ritz six weeks previous. However, despite being charged with the task of warming up Pizzorno, Meighan and co's baying masses, Kane takes to it like an impeccably coiffed duck to water. His boundless energy is soon matched by the 15,000 strong audience who begin to filter in with much more urgency as if this is the main event that they're potentially missing.

Closing with 'Inhaler' Kane hollers "Manchester, let's lose our fucking MINDS!" and amidst the traditional overpriced Carslberg downpour, they promptly do. The set finishes with Kane holding his guitar aloft, roaring his appreciation back at his new found devotees. You get the impression that if he had a few million more album sales to his name, he'd Pete Townshend the guitar through the nearest amp.

Then, much like the cocky young upstart who's netted a hat trick on his debut, Kane exits left, leaving behind an enraptured crowd who now impatiently await a repeat performance. If young Mr. Kane continues in the same vein as 2011, he'll soon be returning to the arenas as the main event.

Until next time,

Keep on Keepin' on,

Baia

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Album of The Year: And The Winner is . . .

The Black Keys - El Camino

Following the parting of the White siblings last year, the American Blues Rock market was crying out for a replacement duo. Fortunately, in Dan Auerbach and Patrick Carney, they had a ready made, Grammy Award winning tag team to fill the void.

Following Brothers' 2010 Grammy treble, The Black Keys finally shot to the attention of the mainstream. So it was with raised eyebrows that the follow up was announced a little over a year later. For recent American rock historians, it was a move that no doubt mirrored Kings of Leon's  quest for world stadium rock domination in 2008. Fortunately, the Keys newfound commercial fandom hasn't sent them all Followill and has instead resulted in the finest American rock and roll album since BRMC.

On face value, El Camino could be mistaken for a Crazy Heart esque trip down memory lane. All the nostalgic hallmarks are there. The band's old '94 Plymouth Grand Voyager graces the album cover, an ode to the penniless early days, trecking shoulder-to-shoulder for endless hours across country to play to audiences of 25 or less for $50 a pop. Then there's the lyrics about wicked women and lost love, "So you pull my heart out/and I don't mind bleeding" Auerbach hollers on opener and lead single 'Lonely Boy'.

Auerbach and Carney however, are too savvy to indulge themselves in any kind of authenticity nonsense. They once again allowed Danger Mouse to helm the production desk and, rather than aim for Brothers part deux, decided to unload the fuzz guitars and add a whole heap of glam shimmy and stomp to proceedings.

The aforementioned 'Lonely Boy' pulverises you head first into the thick of it. Sounding like a bastardised, scuzzy garage ZZ Top, it's a gloriously fun intro. The pace doesn't relent either, until the compact Led Zep offering of 'Little Black Submarines' in which Auerbach laments that "Everybody knows that a broken heart is blind".

Perhaps most impressively, at a time when the art of the album is becoming secondary in nature to having one or two catchy hit singles, is the fact that pretty much any one of the 11 offerings on El Camino could be a hit in the charts. None more so than the album highlight, 'Gold on the Ceiling'. Perhaps a song with an eye cocked towards the problems material success can bring ("They wanna get my/ Gold on the ceiling/ I ain't blind/ It's just a matter of time/ Before you steal it") it also possesses the finest use of the newly employed backing singers the Keys brought on board for the record. Very much a 'When in Rome' move following the relocation to Nashville for the recording of the album, the backing singers lend a 50's Sun Gospel texture to each track that wouldn't sound out of place supporting Elvis or Johnny Cash.

Given the ease in which hyperbole is tossed around for every flavour of the month nowadays, it's all the more impressive that the Black Keys have managed to produce a bona fide classic modern American rock album. Ok, so it's not pushed them into the bloated Kings of Leon stratosphere, but that's a good thing. El Camino could have so easily been the Keys' Only By The Night, yet they managed to both shun commercially pleasing anthems and smash the Billboard charts. Not bad for two guys with a van from Akron, Ohio.

Until next time,

Keep on Keepin' on,

Baia

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Compilation of The Year: And The Winner is . . .

Compilations can be dangerous fare. Haphazardly put together in time for Christmas or to bleed a few more pennies of profit from what remains of an artist's legacy. In these nostalgic, technologically advanced times though, no stone is being left unturned in the search for unearthed gems or cruelly forgotten classics. So step forward Soul Jazz Records who, in their quest to reignite the memory of the legendary Studio One Records brought us 2011's finest compilation.

It's been four years, four very long years since Soul Jazz released a Studio One collection, but upon first listening to Original Classic Recordings 1963-80, it's easy to hear why they fermented this beauty for so long. With such an embarrassment of riches to select from the Studio One vaults, putting together this collection was not a task that could be beaten out overnight like so many 'Best Of's' are nowadays.

The Maytals, The Skatalites and The Heptones are all here in all their raw, colourful glory. As are  Michigan & Smiley with their seven minute dancehall odyssey 'Rub a Dub Style'. Not to mention Marcia Griffiths, Willie Williams, Wailing Souls and well, you get the picture.

This still may not touch Joel Stones' Tropicalia phenomena Brazilian Guitar Fuzz Bananas from last year (but honestly, what will?) but with this latest release, Soul Jazz have delivered a collection of tunes that serve as an irresistably classic benchmark against which all other Reggae compilations must be measured. Sublime stuff.

Until next time,

Keep on Keepin' on,

Baia

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Bellend of The Year: And The Winner is . . .

Could this category have been christened 'Villain of The Year' in an attempt to salvage a shred of maturity from what is essentially an excuse to vent our anger at someone we can't stand? Possibly. But where's the fun in that? Besides, 'villain' isn't a strong enough word to describe the nominees we had in mind for this award. Nope, the seemingly endless list of politicians, TV and Radio personalities, gossip columnists and musicians we compiled for this prestigious award transcended villainy. They are utter bellends.

So step forward the Queen of the bellends, Ms. Jessie J.


With David Cameron and his Downing Street harem being too easy of a target for this award, it was going to take a monumental act of treachery to earn the coveted prize. The X Factor did its best to provide us with a winner. Be it middle class baby powder snorting Frankie 'appearing at a Student Union near you' Cocozza, shoestring budget Lady Gaga impersonator Kitty Brucknell, Kelly 'I'm a black American woman don't ya know?' Rowland or of course, Lois Walsh.

Yet somehow, this circus of cretins and wannabes failed to provide a moment of solid gold bellendery like our winner did. Oh no, this year, the BRIT endorsed Sound of 2011 winning Jessie J decided that not only would she inflict her migraine inducing excuse for music on us but she would also serve as Agony Aunt to amputees everywhere following the rupturing of several tendons in her left foot.

The injury, which took place at the Capital Radio Summertime Ball, left J in plaster for two months, leaving her throne bound for her live appearances during that time. A feeling all amputees can relate to, especially those who lost their legs to the horrors of war. Lest we forget it's a well known fact that people without legs often have to endure being paid millions of pounds to go on tours and sing in front of tens of thousands of people. What a chore. But why don't we leave it to the bellend herself to explain what was going through her head at the time of her life threatening tendon rupture;

“I have a different respect now for people who don't have legs. People think you go to a special hospital, get special casts and treatment. It's a lie - I'm the same as anyone else. And that was a moment when I had a proper good cry. Just after I broke my foot, I was in my living room and I put on Beyoncé's Save The Hero, like, 'If I'm not around, who saves the hero?' And it made me realise, like, I need someone now. You give so much as an artist, you give, you give, you give."

Bless. And people wonder why pop music's on it's arse. Jessie J, you are well and truly the biggest bellend of 2011. We're all praying you don't stub a toe or get a static shock off a hand railing this year.


P.S. All The Only Way Is Essex, Made In Chelsea and Desperate Scousewives cast members were disqualified from being nominated in this category as they are not bellends. They are cunts.

Until next time,

Keep on Keepin' on,

Baia

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Hero of The Year: And The Winner is . . .

 

"Whatever happened to all of the heroes?" sung The Stranglers in 1977.  Over 30 years later and these words still resonate with many as the modern world is consistently swamped with villains, whether political (Cameron) or musical (Cowell).

Even many of our heroes have been making things difficult for themselves this year. Morrissey trivialised Anders Behring Breivik's massacre in Oslo, Ryan Giggs destroyed his brother's marriage and Mick Jagger formed a band with Joss Stone. So it was with giddy, parka and Adidas Originals clad excitement that the news of the Stone Roses resurrecting was met with on Tuesday, October 18th.

With rumours of the Roses reforming becoming an annual tradition, the usual derisionary sneers were aimed in the direction of those reporters who suddenly began clamouring to be the first to break the news days before the Soho press conference took place. However, this time round, there seemed to actually be some weight behind the rumours. Ian had attended Mani's Mother's funeral earlier in the year, which began the ball rolling in the tabloids, although Mani was quick to vehemently hit out at those who had intruded on his mourning in an attempt to sell papers.

Disrespectful intrusions aside, Mani's denials did nothing to hush the Chinese whispers doing the rounds. Reni even got in on the act, with a cryptic message dropped into the NME offices reading, "Not before 9T will I wear the hat 4 the Roses again".

Finally, less than a week later,  messrs Brown, Squire, Mountfield and Wren filed into a Soho Hotel lobby to field questions, belittle Daily Mail writers and give millions of fans a reason to book the following Friday morning off work. The Roses would be returning to Manchester in June 2012, for two shows at Heaton Park.

Two quickly became three as the tickets came and went quicker than an X Factor contestant's career and hundreds of touts enjoyed the biggest payday of their careers. Ian Brown's response to this record breaking morning was suitably heroic as he declared "I intend to celebrate by jumping up and down for the rest of the day".

Of course, it was never just going to be three shows. Every festival from T In The Park to Fuji Rock and beyond struck deals to have the Roses include them in their historic, Lazarus like comeback.

Typically, some steadfast critics mumbled that the Roses were never very good live and that the shows would ultimately disappoint and so on and so forth. Funnily enough though, no one has ever seemed to mind that Ian Brown doesn't possess the vocality of Freddie Mercury, nor will anyone descending on Heaton Park on Friday 8th June be expecting anything revolutionary from the Roses. What they will get however, is a reunion actually worth caring about. A reunion of one of Britain's most important, beloved bands, back from the depths of their 1995 demise and with the old simian swagger still in tact.

Unlike so many heroes, the Roses aren't back simply to save the day, they're back to serve as a reminder of how there's always a game changer out there. The Beatles did it when guitar music was supposedly "on it's way out" in the early sixties, then came Bowie and after him The Pistols before the Roses did actually save the day in 1989. But now, most importantly, in their (forgive the pun) Second Coming the Roses can enjoy the happy ending they never had the first time round.

So, who's ready for June 8th? See you down the front at Heaton Park.

Until next time,

Keep on Keepin' on,

Baia

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And The Nominees Are: Film of The Year

If 1964 heralded the beginning of the British Invasion in American music, then 2011 was the year that Blighty conquered Hollywood.

The big budget blockbuster nonsense of the final Transformers and another Pirates of The Caribbean may have kept studio execs in golf courses and gold bullion, but were less well received by those of us who had to suffer through them. Throw in a couple of ho-hum superhero flicks, another eye gougingly horrid Twilight picture and more 3D than you could shake a shitty stick at, and it’s easy to see why the US had to rely on us, it’s cooler cousins from across the pond, to provide the show this year.

The Academy Awards may as well have been hosted at the Albert Hall to save most of the winners the journey as the King’s Speech cleaned up and the Best Actor and Supporting Actor gongs both went British (Colin Firth and Christian Bale respectively). Add to that the only Blockbuster to truly swing and hit was the spellbinding finale of the Harry Potter franchise, which just so happened to be bursting at the seams with a Ploughman’s platter of British talent.

And just a reminder, the highest grossing film of next year will be a largely British affair too. Tip top.

Anyway, onto the nominees;

The Guard

When a McDonagh brother teams with Brendan Gleeson, you’re guaranteed to be onto a winner. Following on from the success of his Brother Martin’s riotous 2008 black comedy In Bruges, John Michael McDonagh entrusts the ever reliable Gleeson with the role of Irish Garda Sergeant Gerry Boyle. Teamed with FBI Agent Everett (Don Cheadle) the pair form a hilarious dynamic duo tasked with taking down an international drug smuggling ring. Cue murder, prostitutes, the IRA and casual racism (more harmless Granddad and less John Terry) and it’s easy to see why this became the most successful independent Irish film of all time.

The Fighter

It’s been 26 long years since Rocky Balboa braved the perilous Iron Curtain to trade hurting bombs with the Apollo Creed slaying cyborg Ivan Drago. That’s too long to go without a classic boxing flick, but fortunately along came Mark Walhberg this year to bring us the story of ‘Irish’ Micky Ward. All the classic rags to riches hallmarks may be clichéd, but are dealt with admirably by a phenomenal cast.

 First there’s Wahlberg himself, a Massachusetts native, like Ward, whose dedication to the role shines through from bell to bell. Wahlberg is merely the tip of the iceberg though, as Melissa Leo and Amy Adams play the roles of overbearing mother and local sweetheart to a tee. Oh, and let us not forget the show stealing, knockout performance of Christian Bale, who scooped Best Supporting Actor at the Oscars for his portrayal of local boxing hero turned crack addict Dicky Englund.



Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy

The adaptation of a classic novel to the silver screen is always a project met with caution and suspicion. So often fanatics and critics alike will sharpen their knives in the hope that their mumblings of derision will be proved correct when the picture ultimately fails to meet their unreasonably lofty expectations. With Tinker Tailor . . .  Swedish director Thomas Alfredson (Let The Right One In) tasked himself with the unenviable job of condensing John Le Carre’s 1974 classic, itself already serialised in a seven part series on the BBC in 1979, into an incredibly complex two hours and hope that by the end, everyone had some semblance of what had just happened.

 Luckily, Alfredson managed to assemble an outrageous cast, spearheaded by the sublimely cool Gary Oldman (whose performance as Smiley surely has him Oscar bound) and more than ably supported by Brit stalwarts John Hurt and Colin Firth, the increasingly impressive Benedict Cumberbatch and superstar in the making Tom Hardy. All of whom succeed in making this ‘Circus’ the greatest show on Earth.

Submarine

The Inbetweeners wasn’t the only ‘coming of age’ film this year, as IT Crowd nerd do well Richard Ayoade made his directorial debut with Submarine. It’s a film that could quite have easily been either a debauched teen sex comedy or a quirky twee indie flick in the nauseating vein of Juno. Fortunately, it’s neither and in fact serves as the most charming film of the year, highlighting an innocence of youth rarely so well portrayed nowadays. Rookie pair Craig Roberts and Yasmin Paige handle their characters effortlessly well while Britain’s favourite cult hero Paddy Considine yet again proves why he’s the best actor outside of Hollywood. Oh, and Alex Turner provides the soundtrack.

George Harrison: Living In The Material World

Ok, so technically, Martin Scorsese’s sprawling biopic of the coolest Beatle received one night at cinemas, yet to not include this undeniable work of genius in our list would be tantamount to treason. Whether a Beatle fan or not, Living In The Material World’s meticulous attention to detail makes for essential viewing. Scorsese, as is his custom, leaves no stone unturned, wheeling out the big guns in McCartney, Ringo and Clapton etc and combining their contributions with reams of unseen footage and interviews to reveal sides to Harrison that even the most ardent Beatlemaniac would have no idea about. A true triumph in filmmaking.

Remember to swing by tomorrow when our nominees for Compilation of The Year are announced.

Until then,

Keep on Keepin’ on,

Baia

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And The Nominees Are: Best Newcomer Award

In the increasingly fickle world of popular music, the role of the newcomer is one to be treated with the utmost caution. One minute you’re topping the NME’s painfully irrelevant ‘Cool List’ and being championed as the voice of a generation. The next minute your sophomore album is being panned and you’re venturing into the wilderness to join Razorlight and The Kaiser Chiefs. Grim times indeed.

That the ‘Best Newcomer’ category only contains four nominees isn’t a pretentious damning of modern music, but rather a digression from the outrageous hyperbole so often thrust upon debutants as they spring forth into the limelight.

The four nominees here are simply the ones we’ve enjoyed the most over the past 12 months. Mercury Prize nominees in the ilk of James Blake and Ghostpoet they may not be, nor are there any indie poster boys ala The Vaccines to be found here. However, the amount of time these artists have occupied on our speakers this year at the expense of the aforementioned darlings of the musical media is testament enough to their talents and also a reassuring sign that their best is yet to come.

Ready?

Miles Kane

Not a newcomer Per sae, but riding solo has finally brought the best out of young Mr. Kane. No longer meandering in The Rascals or playing understudy to Alex Turner in the Last Shadow Puppets, Kane peacock strutted his way into singledom with the release of Colour of The Trap in May. His evolution into a lone wolf has undoubtedly been aided by friends in high places (Turner co-wrote half of Colour of The Trap while Noel Gallagher and actress Clemence Poesy also make guest appearances) but one glimpse of Kane in a live surrounding and it’s plain to see that he’s a born rock ‘n’ roll entertainer.

Not content with having an already impressive catalogue of catchy psych pop nuggets in his repertoire, Kane screams, leaps, bounds and high kicks around the stage looking like Paul McCartney’s immaculately cool long lost lovechild. The real acid test for Kane will come when he has a little less help from his friends.

The Carpels

This Midlands quintet first sprung to The Kitchen’s attention back in July in the basement of The Queen of Hoxton during a This Feeling club night. Their fresh faced innocence was offset by their splicing of post punk with ominous electro synths. Ian Curtis-a-like frontman Dylan Williams and towering lead guitarist Michael Darby make for a fine double act who perform beyond their years despite retaining a frenetic youth in their music. Charlatan Jon Brookes wasted no time in making his interest known when he signed them up to his One Beat record label. If handled correctly, The Carpels should be able to take the current synth laden indie scene by the balls and not let go until they say so.

The Black Belles

Imagine if The Munsters had an all-female house band that was managed by Jack White. Configured that image in your brain? Chances are its The Black Belles. Fusing scuzzy 60’s garage with more than a touch of Tim Burton’s Corpse Bride, The Belles are 40 years behind their time while still feeling strangely refreshing and original. Their debut self titled LP was produced by the multi-band troubadour White himself on his Third Man Records label and saw the light of day last month to a whirlwind of acclaim and even an unlikely collaboration with US satire extraordinaire Stephen Colbert. In typically Gothic fashion, their debut LP was also released on limited edition absinthe vinyl that glows in the dark. Perfect if you’re thinking of inviting Syd Barrett and Roky Erickson round for a knees up.

The Sand Band

Arriving in February with All Through The Night, Liverpool’s The Sand Band brought with them the melancholic Merseyside pop that has served The Coral so well over the past decade. Whereas Skelly and co tend to channel Jim Morrison in their tunes, David McDonnell’s gang tug at the heartstrings in a way much akin to Richard Hawley. Lead single ‘Set Me Free’ is as delightful a song as you’ll hear this year, with its touching folk simplicity and yearning vocals. So not quite the ‘Psychedelic Alt Folk Space Rock Ballads’ that their Facebook page suggests. Still, space ballads or not, yet another outfit that proves Liverpool’s uncanny knack for churning out fantastic guitar bands.

Stay tuned this week as the nominees for Best Film, Best Album and Best Compilation are also revealed!

Until then,

Keep on Keepin’ on,

Baia

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And The Nominees Are: Best Video of The Year

Continuing on with The Soul Kitchen End of Year Awards, or as they've now been dubbed, 'The Soulies', we've reached the nominees for Best Video of The Year award. Sadly we live in an age where the  art of the music video is often neglected by many artists in exchange for tasteless advertising (Cough Lady Gaga Cough) or mundane live performance montages. Or, at the very worst, slut and jock ridden house parties.

Thankfully though, there are still some artists who hold dear the integrity of the music video and give us reason to tune into one of MTV's endless stream of sub genre channels. And here we were thinking the Followills chasing children around in 'Radioactive' had killed the music video forever.

Anyway, the nominees . . .

The Black Keys - Lonely Boy

There may not be a cooler duo in rock 'n' roll right now than The Black Keys. Want proof? Rather than sit on their hands after the success of last year's barnstorming Brothers, Dan Auerbach and Patrick Carney rock up at the 11th hour in December , just when every music writer and their mother is compiling their annual awards lists, and drop El Camino on us all. On top of that, they go ahead and deliver lead single 'Lonely Boy' accompanied by a video of the greatest dance routine since Fatboy Slim's 'Praise You'. Oh, and the vinyl release of the song plays from the inside out.

The Beastie Boys - Make Some Noise
From the above referenced, ground breaking 'Fight For Your Right' video, through cop show parody in 'Sabotage', Japanese Kaiju in 'Intergalactic' and Star Trek in 'Ch-Check It Out', The Beasties have always been top of the food chain when it comes to music videos. It's no surprise given they came along slap bang in the middle of the MTV boom in the mid to late 80's. Now, we see Ad-Rock, MCA and Mike D coming full circle in a video that has been dubbed 'Fight For Your Right. . . Revisited'. The above video is in fact five minutes of a half hour mini-epic, and so the big guns had to well and truly be brought out. Step forward Seth Rogen, Elijah Wood, Danny 'Kenny Fuckin Powers' McBride, Will Ferrell, John C. Reilly, Jack Black, Ted fucking Danson, Steve Buscemi and a glorious cameo from Will Arnett, channelling his inner Gob Bluth. COME ON!!!

Arctic Monkeys - Suck It and See

Luckily for the Arctics, despite the fact that both their music and live performances have stuttered to a simmer rather than the boiling hot to bubbling over days of 2006-2007, they still know how to turn a simple music video into an unmissable mini-movie. And, as Matt Helders leather pants prove, they've not lost their sense of humour either.

The Go! Team - T.O.R.N.A.D.O
Featured on our Jukebox a few weeks back, we described this tune as BOMBASTIC and well, it's got a BOMBASTIC video to match. Think The Avalanches meeting Daft Punk in the mind of an A.D.D sufferer in the 80's and you're sort of close to where this video is coming from.

DC Fontana - Abbesses

The Kingdom of Mercia's finest Mod octuplets are firm believers in 'Art and Soul' and nowhere is this more evident than in their series of promotional films. Taken from latest album La Contessa, the instrumental 'Abbesses' may not showcase lead singer Karla Milton's phenomenal singing talents, but it does showcase how well she and leading Parisian burlesque dancer Mimi De Montmarte can fill out a pair of catsuits while Kung Fu'ing everyone in their path. C'est fantastique.

Tomorrow we unveil the nominees for Newcomer of The Year and Film of The Year. Keep 'em peeled.

Until then,

Keep on Keepin' on,

Baia

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And The Winner is . . . . . . .

As is tradition with the finishing stretch of another 12 months, the general public will go apeshit for industrial size boxes of chocolates, offensively garish knitwear, drinking before noon because "it's Christmas" and the seminal Christmas motion picture, Jingle All The Way with Arnold Schwarzenegger.

Magazine writers, bloggers and musos however, use this time to collate their 'End of Year Awards', and The Soul Kitchen is no different. Categories and nominees have been compiled into neat little lists and will be rolled out for your reading pleasure over the next couple of weeks. The winners will be festively revealed during the week commencing Boxing Day. Although none will be revealed on Boxing Day itself, as it's historically the day where we pay tribute to George Best and Oliver Reed and paste our livers into oblivion.

The categories are as follows: Album of The Year, Song of The Year, Video of The Year, Compilation of The Year, Newcomer of The Year, Film of The Year, Hero of The Year and of course, the prestigious Bell end of The Year Award.

So without further adieu, here are the nominees for Song of The Year;

The Strokes - Machu Picchu

A decade ago Mr. Casablancas and co gifted us one of the finest indie albums ever made with Is This It, but since then, have largely swung and missed. Room on Fire was a disappointingly safe sophomore effort while First Impressions of Earth promised much with the pulsating 'Heart In a Cage' and the immensely fun 'Juicebox' but again, ultimately fell short. So while Angles may not be the long awaited majestic return to form that we were all hoping for, it still features this, the New Yorkers' best single in 10 years. More reggae than indie and with a riff lifted from Michael Jackson's 'Wanna Be Starting Something' of all places, 'Machu Picchu' proves that when they want to, The Strokes can knock out classic singles like this in their effortlessly cool sleep.

Miles Kane - Come Closer
There must be something in the water in the River Mersey. Put a guitar and a good haircut on a Scouser and they'll give you magic in return. From Beatlemania through Echo and The Bunnymen, onwards to The La's and The Coral, we've been spoiled rotten with hit single after hit single. Now it's the turn of strutting Mod peacock Miles Kane. 'Come Closer' oozes cool from the addictively crunching riff through to the immense call and response "Whoa oah oah/Ah ah ah" chorus. So while young Miles may yet have to hone his craft as a lyricist and rely less on his friends on his future albums, there's no denying that 'Come Closer' is a bona fide pop gem.

Lana Del Ray - Video Games

The sigh of relief that breathed through The Soul Kitchen upon hearing this beauty was palpable. You hear the words 'female American pop song' nowadays and it's enough to make you pour cement in your ears. With the recent monopolisation of the charts by talentless behemouths Gaga, Perry, Rihanna and (throws up in mouth) Ke$ha, 'Video Games' is comparable to hearing 'Dancing In The Street' for the first time. It's a beautiful slice of soulful Americana pop that's already seen Kasabian and Bombay Bicycle Club give it the cover treatment and has the masses clamouring for the release of debut LP Born To Die. The most refreshing pop song in years.

Aloe Blacc - I Need a Dollar

With soul music in desperately short supply in the mainstream, we should be thankful for Aloe Blacc's decision to turn his back on rapping and focus more on tunes like this. Ok, so it's not quite a dancefloor filler from Hitsville USA, but 'I Need a Dollar', like many great soul tunes, provides a relatable social commentary, in much the same vein as Marvin Gaye did with What's Going on in 1971. Also provided a much needed highlight to a Bono and Chris Martin dominated Glastonbury this Summer.

Noel Gallagher - AKA . . . What A Life

By plundering the house music section of his record collection rather than the section composed by Lennon and McCartney, Gallagher senior has put those cynics expecting 'Wonderwall' rehashes firmly in their place. '. . . What A Life' evokes memories of the Hacienda through the influence of Rhythim is Rhythim's 'Strings of Life'. Thankfully it steers just clear of being the disco track that Gallagher initially 'felt dirty' about making and instead steers slap bang into psych dance euphoria, in much the same way he did with The Chemical Brothers on the colossal 'Let Forever Be' in '99.

Next time, we'll be profiling the best videos of the year.

Until then,

Keep on Keepin' on,

Baia

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