Dublin collective Michael Knight released their debut with a minimum of fanfare. They also appeared out of the blue from a country that is adept at uncovering troubadours yet has a slightly anaemic record in producing exciting new bands. That may be about to change, however, if Michael Knight achieve what their music ultimately deserves. With a Clap Your Hands Say Yeah net savvy they could soon be the sensations of the underground because hidden inside their shiny armoury are bundles of sonic joy. There are justifiable Belle & Sebastian comparisons but their influences also span the several degrees of separation between the Beach Boys and Burt Bacharach. With such a varied game plan it seems entirely appropriate that they decided to call themselves after a 1980’s TV character. What the bright red shorts wearing, million record selling crooner thinks of it all is another matter altogether.

It’s that early Belle & Sebastian energetic quirkiness that hits you first. ‘Waves To The Shore’ is a superb piece of affecting kitsch with attendant vintage keyboards, Richard Murphy’s warm vocals and glorious background harmonies from Edel Coffey and Lynn Millar. The piece is perfectly off-kilter yet exuberantly innocent. The bands most successful efforts are based around a lavish chorus where the boy/girl interplay is perfectly executed. ‘Leaving Town’ is a ravishing example; the piano interlude at the beginning barely reveals the sweetness about to be unveiled. There is a children’s daytime programme feel about the way Murphy delivers his lines, one half jolly the other fabulously silly. That’s not to detract from the joy of it but it’s only when the trio combine to furnish a multi-layered chorus that the magic occurs. The result is otherworldly, completely timeless, effortlessly dispatched yet utterly compelling. This is a certifiable modern day classic. The title track is almost as good, for once Patrick Freyne takes over the lead and his near santa like voice provides the perfectly foil to the gentle ahh’s of Richard and the girls. The music that sits in the foreground is playful, understated and the tinkling piano is the only thing that steals the limelight from the singers.

The quality is evenly spread throughout the album but some tracks take a bit more time to reveal themselves. ‘Bright Eye’ showboats quirky structures and unveils offbeat melody at every turn so it’s easy to overlook it initially. By letting it mature slowly, however, it grows into a multi-faceted pop entity. ‘The Lights Go On And Off’ is frenetic and as dispassionate as the record gets. Murphy pulls a note perfect Stuart Murdoch impression while the guitars sound like they have just returned from an enjoyable eastern escapade. ‘Lead Me Down’ is a lot gentler, the piano sounds comfortably familiar, the strumming is campfire friendly and the tiered vocals gel so seamlessly together you may find yourself singing along in an unrehearsed shower moment. ‘Crown Of Thorns’ has a Wilsonesque feel to it and even finds time to include a whistling solo into proceedings. What takes this fine debut out of the classic category is the presence of a couple of disappointing numbers. If they had been culled then we’d be looking at one of the most flawless introductions since Tigermilk. ‘Success!’ is inexplicably dour and out of sync with the rest of the happy go lucky fare. The vocals are tired, off key and the instrumentation would suit the moment the funeral cortege enters the graveyard. ‘No Second Best’ is slightly better yet slight nonetheless. Perhaps it could work ok as a b-side but it struggles to find any meaning throughout its stunted life. But, disappointments are certainly in the minority and a couple of seconds in the company of tracks like ‘Seasons’ draws a colourful crayon smile in your psyche. ‘Foals’ was the albums first single and is perfectly pitched indie folk that you can dance to. If Arthur Lee had had Richard Murphy’s voice this perfect ditty would have made it onto the ‘Forever Changes’ masterpiece without much ado. The guitars even have a country twang that is semi Morricone in nature.

In some ways ‘I Did It Biff’s Way’ is an altogether separate direction for the band but as a closing track there’s no denying its genius in capping a marvellous record. It reminds most of something that the underrated Swedish band South Ambulance can conjure. Right from the off the pulsating riffs set the momentum with Murphy’s vocal riding the entourage with graceful dexterity. You can picture the end of gig antics as the band decide its time to ditch the balanced harmonies in favour of a sublime feast of chugging noise. This is indie rock at its most ebullient and its greatest achievement is the way it reveals hidden nuances with repeated listens. The circular disposition is shattered toward the end when the roof blows to reveal the sun, moon and the stars. Michael Knight are quite likely the most essential thing to come out of Ireland since Damien Rice decided America was for him. Up to now their sales likely only run into the thousands but if there is justice Murphy et al will need to look for extra wall space to accommodate lots of round platinum things. ‘Youth Is Wasted On The Young’ is the only musical kitt you’ll need for your home, portable or, of course, your car stereo.

Rating: 8/10

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Outcasts in their hometown of Bergen in Norway where death metal is the only musical form, the Kings of Convenience are likely to be embraced everywhere else where their music is played. You see the Kings of Convenience produce little tuneful vignettes that are as quiet as a mouse but as powerful as weil's disease. Erlend Oye and Eirik Glambek Boe are often photographed in large duffel coats and schoolboy thick rimmed glasses. But before you start calling them the Scandinavian Proclaimers, check out the gentle intelligence of their melodies gloriously swathed in those crafty acoustic nuances. And not many albums get this acoustic. Save for a few slivers of electricity this is a closest thing you'll get to an eco party this side of the Green's summer picnic.

'Winning A Battle Losing The War' sets the scene from the outset. Guitars are gently conjoled, intermittedly uncovering a dazzling riff, to produce a wonderful fondue base for the sweet vocals. While the sense of acousticism is acute, there are a surprising number of instruments on show. 'Singing Softly To Me' for example has a lingering trumpet shadow that skirts in and out of attention, going some way to deflecting the utter tweeness of the vocals (nice thought they are). At the start of 'Toxic Girl' you almost expect Damon Albarn to damage his tonsils a la 'Song 2'. Thankfully the sultry whirl of 'Toxic Girl' has a lot more to offer. Erlend and Eirik don't exactly work themselves into a sweat but this tunes value comes forth from a combination of sweet harmonies, non-apologetic flights of lust and a fine fusion of meandering laid-back guitars.

At times you have to marvel at the ingenuity of it all. 'I Don't Know What I Can Save You From' uses the most basic of ingredients but somehow creates a tune that is close to shiver inducing. There's not a hint of a drum in sight yet the vocal driven melody is hugely powerful when it fuses with the melancholy of the trailing cello. This intensity continues unabated on the single 'Failure'. The music comes close to resembling the Badly Drawn Boy template but the vocals are nothing short of luxurious. Who needs electricity to power the instruments when it's hanging in the air like pollen. Things are toned down a little as the innocent joy of 'Weight Of My Words' floats feather like from the speakers. The delicate vocals are matched by a musical backdrop that is as light as a diet wafer. Confusing as this may sound, it packs a huge emotional punch. Just pity the elderly and hard of hearing for missing out on such a fragile thrill.

As Quiet Is The New Loud progresses you'll find yourself tilting up the volume as it seemingly drops into unconsciousness. This is of course intoned by the albums title but sadly as it gets quieter the level of quality diminishes slightly. The first half of the album is drenched in melody but in the latter stages the ideas seemed a little stretched. 'The Girl From Back Then' suffers in comparison to its close relative 'Singing Softly To Me'. A case of a morning bell getting one too many tolls. Half way through and there's only one moment of distraction. Its not bad but 'Passenger' sadly lives up to it's name. Devoid of any real inspiration, it plods along rather like a spluttering banger without a steering wheel.

The Kings of Convenience lack the lyrical expanse and fluidity of contemporaries Belle and Sebastian which is a shame because when music is played at such a low ebb the words tend to attain greater resonance. The duo are also prone to the odd whimsical flutter. 'Little Kids' for example borders on the inane, even when it's Simon and Garfunkel style points to something bigger and better. Thankfully there are also moments as precious as 'Summer On The Westhill' to erase any feelings of short changedness. Where the Kings of Convenience could easily slip into frivolity, they go and defy the odds by making something that is frighteningly quiet sound altogether more intriguing. The final salvo 'Parallel Lines' also sounds grand; the chopping chords display imagination while the vocals could easily be culled from a Nick Drake composition.

The Kings of Convenience have gilded 12 fragile tunes that will have fans of modern folk licking their lips. At times the Norwegian duo slip too much into acoustic melodrama, when raising the decibel level from time to time could have perhaps provided a more fertile option. 'Quiet Is The New Loud' is nonetheless an impressive debut. It is surely the perfect accompaniment for those lazy days spent swaying in a Mexican hammock while all around you the world struggles in vain to catch up with itself.

Rating: 6/10

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Take a bunch of anglophiles from Las Vegas, add a giant slab of retro cool, sprinkle a pinch of concentrated melody, boil under the midday sun and what is get is the sumptuous aural feast that is Hot Fuss. You should know them by now and even if you don’t recognise the name you’ve been whistling their tunes. This album certainly captures the zeitgeist, a band with influences clearly derived from the past adding their own spin and making it sound contemporary. Straight from the off the chords are big, forceful and while ‘Jenny Was A Friend Of Mine’ might not always hit the bullseye it colours itself in a neat Cure like embrace. ‘Smile You Mean It’ is similarly inclined with Brandon Flowers aping Robert Smith to great effect as the soaring keyboards reign supreme.

‘Somebody Told Me’ has been with us so long it almost seems as if it comes from a different age. Its underlying rhythm is hypnotic, the momentum quickly switching between frantic to downright epileptic. The production is raw often coming across as an energetic demo. ‘All The Things That I’ve Done’ is a lot more amenable to the casual listener. The riffs are round and welcoming and the chorus has an anthemic cigarette lighter in the air quality. It even boasts a line that could well be the Killers tag line ‘I got soul, but I'm not a soldier’. ‘Mr Brightside’ is as good as guitar driven pop gets. There is no faffing about as the song kicks off with the clearest of intentions. All the ingredients are present; the driving riff courtesy of David Keuning, the angular vocals and a chorus so wholesome you’ll feel like pinching its cheek. This is a modern classic that will be with us until we’re eating mashed bananas. ‘Everything Will Be Alright’ has the aforementioned goth’s angst in spades marking itself out as the only slow effort on the whole disc. Flowers vocals sound as if have been squeezed through a Korg after one too many pints of imported bitter.

There are so many highlights on ‘Hot Fuss’ it comes as a bit of a surprise to discover a fair sprinkle of clunkers along the way. ‘Andy, You’re A Star’ is one such, turgid guitars underpin a stop-start lyric delivery that should never have developed beyond the embryonic stage. ‘On Top’ is better but suffers under the weight of ordinary ideas. The Killers hold sway in the efficient delivery of a winning chorus but here a patient wait results in minimal reward. ‘Midnight Show’ also flatters to deceive, it blusters about, cutting an impressive silhouette but underneath the exterior beats a hollow yoke. Thankfully ‘Change Your Mind’ has none of these problems; this could pass for a winning Strokes effort. The guitars march persuasively, organs drone like well oiled engines and the clean beat tidies the package into a perfectly formed bundle of noise.

Hot Fuss is not a genetically cohesive unit, it falters from time to time but its working parts are practically superhuman. All in all it is a stellar debut spiked with several moments guaranteed to brighten up your day. There were better albums in 2004 but the Killers knack of knocking out drop dead gorgeous tunes has meant that this albums profile rose meteorically with each single release. Hot Fuss provides a good argument for downloader’s whose preference it is to pick-and-choose album tracks rather than buying the whole product.

Rating: 7/10

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Up to recently I had avoided solo artists like the plague reasoning that something was always going to be more interesting if it came from a group of people. This rather pathetic logic was turned on its head after I discovered Nick Drake, Badly Drawn Boy and Sparklehorse. So where once I would have treaded neatly around stuff released by artists like Matthew Jay, I now head straight for the nearest listening post. Draw does not disappoint; the production is lush, the ideas are creative and at intervals it is liable to leave you in various stages of exhilaration.

Matthew Jay was born in Wales (which ultimately led to lazy David Gray comparisons in the press) to a musical family. When his father lost his job as a coalminer, he turned his hand to making guitars. With his parent’s love of folk music and a ready supply of instruments available on his doorstep, Jay junior set about writing his own songs from a very young age. After much effort and on the point of jacking in all in Jay was eventually signed to Food Records (Blur). 'Let Your Shoulder Fall' was the first release from 'Draw' and became the single of the week on Mark and Lard's Radio One show. It's hard to argue with their decision because 'Let Your Shoulder Fall' is an upbeat jive with a classy guitar centrepiece. Matthew Jay's voice has a soft lilt but it manages to swoop and soar in a way that conjures up a happy Nick Drake (!). 'Four Minute Rebellion' is the quaint opener on the album, although the not so subtle swearing comes a little bit of a surprise.

There is an underlying nostalgic feel to a lot of 'Draw'. 'You're Always Going Too Soon' for example is a remarkably studied pop song delivered with style and panache that has an internal spirit that harks back to the summer of 1976. While Jay’s voice is timeless the music sounds like it has been beautifully preserved in a sealed casket for decades. What a double bill he and the Webb Brothers would make! 'Only Meant To Say' evokes some better Lightning Seeds moments (particularly 'Sense', although this makes more), happy music designed to make you smile. It starts out with some shimmering spacey guitars and a wandering vocal. Then, quite by surprise, the tune gets possessed by a fully fledged demon of a chorus. Quite simply a sunshine tune that bursts at the seams with gleeful attitude.

The guitars on 'Meteorology' sound rather close to something Noel Gallagher would cook up. Jay's delicately hushed vocals elevate proceedings while the distant strings add the necessary class. It is quite stirring and beautifully slows things down momentarily. 'Call My Name Out' had me thinking of the theme to Hill Street Blues (or was that Taxi?). The 'hey na na na na' bit sounds a little borrowed but the good vibes do help you overlook this minor quibble. Not for the first time Jay employs a double vocal that adds to his music's rich texture. 'Molasses' is this albums only instrumental (save for a light female hum) and could easily be a cut from Doves masterpiece, 'Lost Souls'. The acoustic riff and tick-tock electronic beats act as a subtle comedown and provide an opportunity to catch your breath from the preceding waves of aural candy. 'Please Don't Send Me Away' turns the spotlight on Jay's lean vocal deliveries again. While they hog the attention, the music that surrounds them is startlingly accomplished.

'Remember This Feeling' includes some input from ex Six By Seven (Nottingham noise meisters) member Sam Hempton. Hempton carves out wondrous sonics using a drumstick to play his guitar. The song is positively drenched in bygone signposts; 10cc are the closing influence that springs to mind. 'Become Yourself' is as exquisite a moment as finding a lemon tree in your back yard. The sense of joie de vivre that is expelled will paint rainbows in your mind and have you miming the great harmonica player you once dreamed you'd become. 'The Clearing' is unquestionably Beatles territory a la 'Lady Madonna' right down to the old style black and white vocal production. While it certainly is a blast it lacks some of the intense melody that the other tunes on 'Draw' exhibit. The piano laced 'A World Away' also has fab four leanings. Paul McCartney gets a wink of admiration and the mystique of the harmonies puts the perfect seal on a genuinely thrilling debut.

Matthew Jay's one and only album will draw you in straight away. It is rich in melody and semi-acoustic guitar riffs. Almost every song has true worth and the album is a powerful indictment of Jay's talent. Two years after recording this album Matthew Jay tragically died after a fall from his 7th floor apartment in Nottingham. He was only 24. ‘Draw’ is a fine legacy to his undisputed talent.

Rating: 6.5/10

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The cover of Ritual De Lo Habitual contains a paper mache threesome involved in quasi cross gender pollination. Harmless stuff but its ambiguity does warrant some attention. Jane's Addiction have an offbeat take on modern rock. Most of the tunes on this their most rounded album contains an uneven pattern that varies between quiet introspective and scattergun hectic moments. Perry Farrell's voice is unique but strangely enigmatic so it is easy to recognise his bands material. Part female, part adolescent his incessant outpourings are quite dramatic. On the classy far eastern mantra 'Of Course', his voice sounds totally at home amongst the acoustic violin and maracas infested vibes.

At times Jane's Addiction do wander into creative cul-de-sac's or so you think. 'Obvious' initially seems all bluster giving off the impression of a tune with surface value only. By giving it a chance though you'll see that there is a pretty good melody superbly camouflaged in the mix. 'Then She Did...' is a powerful indictment of Jane's Addiction song writing ability. It is genuinely innovative and its eight minutes duration hardly leaves you time to draw your breath. It took years for 'Been Caught Stealing' to win me over. I couldn't see what all the fuss was about. Having it play alongside Cannonball and Waterfall seemed inappropriate. But it finally clicked with me at an out of sorts night last year. As Perry Farrell crones with aplomb, those dog barks signal a bubbling entourage of offbeat guitars. From there its kooky confidence will work it's magic with your state of mind.

The album has a few weak tracks. The opener 'Stop' lacks bite, the guitar dynamics are too frenzied to be alluring and there is a distinct lack of melody. Although 'Ain't No Right' has some neat metal aspirations it blunders on too many occasions to be effective. Right in the middle 'Three Days' lives up to its name by sprawling over 10 minutes. With a bit of careful editing this could have been a much more enticing proposition. As it is 'Three Days', verges on epic bombast and that slash type solo has me blocking my ears every time. It's the good tracks that make 'Ritual De Lo Habitual' so periodically vital. 'Classic Girl' is certainly out of sync with its neighbours. Farrell for once subdues the dramatics, taking a laid-back stance and the guitars shimmer gloriously in the background. At various stages 'Classic Girl' shifts a gear to mould a two-part opus. The drumbeat/bass equation is unique and elevates the whole affair. 'Ritual De Lo Habitual' is probably more suited to the huge rock scene in the US. It certainly has plenty of memorable moments but remains a little short of being a great album. A little more 'Classic Girl' and a little less 'Three Days' and things could have been much better.

Rating: 7/10

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It was hard to understand the pious attitude towards James in the media. On the face of it here was a band that had the gifted knack of coining off the shelf airs full of energetic melody. On its release the critics scoffed ‘Seven’ at its supposed stadium oriention. That somehow James had forgotten their humble folk-rock beginnings and had turned into would-be rock gods. That's progress in my book and looking back ‘Seven’ is a monumental improvement on their previous efforts 'Stutter', ‘Strip Mine’ and 'Gold Mother' which lacked the finesse and imagination of the follow-up. There's an energy to the music that went some way in translating the spectacle that James concocted in concert. One such show was recorded by MTV around the same time ‘Seven’ was released. It remains a landmark film of a band at the peak of their powers, where cartoon flowers elegantly waltzed with an effortless montage of sound.

'Born of Frustration' is smothered in luscious trumpet sounds (supplied by the appropriately named Andy Diagram). Don't know what it is about that instrument but when it's used properly it gives me the shivers. The songs ingrained spirit is precocious and endearing. 'Ring the Bells' is as streamlined a pop tune as you're likely to hear and as Tim Booth hollers it's hard not to mimic his puppet dangling in the wind dance moves. 'Sound' has a similar theme that sees Booth once again successfully reprise his werewolf persona. When James sail close to the good ship U2 on 'Live a Love of Life', retribution would be forthcoming were it not for 'Don't Wait that Long' which is an exhaustive example of how a love song should be written. The song broods by way of a dalliance between Saul Davis’ fingers and the chords at his disposal. This is the sound of the human body straining to control too many wounded ventricles. ‘Next Lover’ showcases the aftermath and the knowing frayed playing subtly coaxes the required imagery from the words. The album engineers its way to the summit with a couple of James most notable achievements. 'Heavens' is as angelic as you'd expect and proves without doubt that Coldplay weren’t the first band to devise memorable piano riffs. It’s the title track, however, that encapsulates the essence of the piece. Shimmering above the strain of sweet guitar strings and classy brass sunsets Tim Booth pulls on his most affecting persona to steal the girl of his dreams.

We have a lot to thank James for. Their t-shirts alone kept me in fashionable tops for years. While these may be passé now, their music still sounds contemporary and vibrant. Later albums like ‘Laid’ and ‘Whiplash’ were accomplished affairs, which while never losing sight of the tune lacked the adrenalin rush that so propelled this album. ‘Seven’ is all the evidence that was ever needed to prove that James had the ammunition to be greats. Unfortunately in 1992 the sound of Seattle had swept all diversions aside so much so that ‘Seven’ never garnered the attention it warranted. What a shame then, that this great band will be remembered for a novelty hit. It’s enough to make you sit down in sympathy.

Rating: 7/10

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January’s vocalist Simon McLean has a hugely ambitious streak matched only by Sarah Peacock's lavish guitar strokes. Signed to Alan McGee’s Poptones label the bands influences are easy to pinpoint, splicing Teenage Fanclub's ear for melody with occasional My Bloody Valentine molten guitar assaults. Wherever you look on this album you'll be struck by the arch melody ingrained in January's music. It has a laid-back acoustic stance but is certainly not limited by this ambition. There are quite a few introspective moments liked 'Fused' and 'Invisible Lines' but the album exudes a sonic energy that belies it's somewhat minimalist approach. 'Invisible Lines' is a particularly absorbing, harmonious slice of shiver inducing pop. Just perfect for the moment you discover that elusive Thai beach.

'All Time' starts off so acoustically, it’s hard to pick up on the chords. Quite out of the blue then it attains the aura of an epic, the guitar layers fuse and play off each other perfectly. McLean sounds star struck yet powerful and the whole effect is uplifting even though its inspiration has its roots in melancholy. The final minutes contain some supremely ragged guitar effects that propels the whole affair. 'Sequence Start' has a fragmented feel to it with the jaunty guitars camouflaging the carnivorous riffs that lie ahead. Taking surreal pointers from the Kevin Shields handbook of hazy distortions is one thing but conjuring something that the great man would be proud of himself displays January's immense potential. 'Sequence Start' is one of the outstanding tracks in an album filled with highlights.

'Contact Light' has Peacock pulling the sweetest of guitar chord progressions this side of jangle city. Not for the first time the singer sports that familiar shoegazing vocal of old. It is wispy, ethereal and imbued with a heart breaking sadness. In the context of the most sublime of riffs, this is deeply affecting stuff. January remind me most of a Scottish band called Whiteout who were capable of writing little pop gems (and releasing them on the b-sides of their singles). 'Projections' has a crawling country chord. Its sweet harmonies are a constant feature of the album as a whole. 'Through Your Skies' has notions of 'Carnival of Light' period Ride with vocals that resemble Mark Gardner, while Sarah Peacock could easily be Andy Bell toiling with a slide guitar in the background. Elsewhere 'Eyes All Mine' has a neat repetitive bassline, sandwiched between gorgeous guitar slivers, moog dalliances and Mclean's weeping vocals. Live favourite 'Falling In' is like that track you normally uncover at the end of a truly great album where the band rawk out under a blaze of guitar fury. Thankfully this approach more or less succeeds even though it sounds curiously not of this time, in an ea rly Verve type of way.

I Heard Myself in You espouses a forever changing guise. It resembles a collection of songs taken from several different albums. While the music often takes centre stage it is hard not be taken in by Mclean's words. There are glimpses of January's influences on nearly all of the tunes but their sound is robust enough to stand proud as their unique creation. This band is supremely gifted and 'I Heard Myself In You' is a courageous album full of promise. Anyone with a soft spot for shimmering guitars and soft textured vocals will be blown away. It is surely only a matter of time before the world becomes entranced by their spellbinding music.

Rating: 7.5/10

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