McKay
McKay

I'm sure Otis Redding fans probably thought Barry White was utter bollocks back in the 70s so it'd be stupid to go off on some "music was so much better in my day" rant, but all the trashy bump-n-grinding, bling-blinging, and featuring-Jay-Z-ing going on in mainstream R&B these days is enough to make an old soul boy weep. But as I'm not ready to move into the VH-1 Home For Retired Music Fans just yet I keep my ears open for good new stuff which, while it may be getting rarer than clothing on Christina Aguilera, is thankfully still out there in the shape of albums like this. (Stephanie) McKay hails from the Bronx but for her debut album she traveled to exotic Bristol to work with Geoff Barrow of Portishead and this collision of cultures has produced a stunning album that tips its hat to classic R&B but keeps it's feet heading to the future with chunky Noo Yoik grooves mashed up with moody English textures and samples that crackle like cooking fat to give the album the scratchy warmth of old vinyl. Great though Barrow's production is, the real heart of this album is Miss McKay and her spine-tingling voice, she cites Anne Peebles and Lynn Collins as influences and you can hear them in the no-bullshit way she fills ballads like "Sadder Day" with emotion without resorting to phony baloney vocal gymnastics and struts like a real soul sister through upbeat groovers like "Thinking Of You" and "Take Me Over" (which is built round a sample from the ska classic "Double Barrel"). It's a bloody shame but, as if to prove that contemporary R&B doesn't know it's booty from it's elbow, this hasn't even been released in the US yet. But until it is, it's well worth not paying the phone bill this month to buy an import copy of this gem. [Official site]

The Beginning Stages Of...
The Polyphonic Spree

The sight of 20-odd people in white robes, sporting beatific smiles and chanting dippy songs about the sun might make you think you were in the presence of some New Age cult, but The Polyphonic Spree call themselves a "symphonic pop choir" and make a big, smiley-face sound like a dozen Mamas and Papas overdosing on good vibes. As the title implies the album is really an early days demo of the band and has a ramshackle feel that suggests they hadn't quite figured out which end of the trumpet to blow into yet. U.S. versions of the album come with a free EP of more polished renditions of these songs and they sound a whole lot better to my ears (guess I'm just not indie enough) but two dozen people cooing "Hey, it's the sun!" is still an acquired taste no matter how well it's dressed up. They do produce some sparkling "Penny Lane"-ish moments of sunny, dandelion-blowing pop wonderment, but more often than not their peppy amateurism makes them sound like the kids from the Langley Schools Project album performing "Jesus Christ Superstar." Guiding this merry band of shiny happy people is lead singer Tim Laughner whose fragile voice teeters on the edge of being in tune and when the band start stomping on a song like "La La" it sounds like a cat being attacked with a rubber mallet – thankfully most of the time he's drowned out by the rest of the choir. It's hard to know what to make of the final track, a 30-minute white noise drone that will either enable you attain the blissful state of nirvana or make you throw the stereo out of the window, like the rest of the album I guess it all depends on what drugs you've been taking. [Official site]