The Guardian Indie

Latest news and features from, the world's leading liberal voice
  1. Lizzo scores eight nominations with Eilish and Lil Nas X on seven, but British artists largely snubbed in major categories

    The 17-year-old pop sensation Billie Eilish has become the youngest artist to be nominated in all four of the most prestigious Grammy award categories: record, album and song of the year, and best new artist.

    Her gothic, innovative single Bad Guy, which topped the US charts, is nominated in the song and record categories, while her similarly chart-topping album When We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go? is nominated for the album prize. She completed a sweep of the top categories with a best new artist nomination, and has six nominations in all. Her album engineers got a nod in the best engineered album category, including her brother and collaborator Finneas, who received three nominations.

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  2. (Fiction)

    Pumarosa have long called their sound “industrial spiritual”, but the London band’s second album takes it to a bracing new level, as they sack off the indie guitars of their 2017 debut The Witchand embrace obsidian synths. Its title might suggest despair but this is an album about overcoming, and of frontwoman Isabel Muñoz-Newsome confronting desire and her sexuality following her recovery from cervical cancer. It’s not bleak, it’s rather sensual, while musically there is a jagged line between the recent Sleater-Kinney album, its producer St Vincent and Vincent’s usual studio whiz, John Congleton, who is – stay with me – also on Devastation duties.

    And so, Fall Apart and Adam’s Song reach for drum’n’bass (echoes of Pendulum; Portishead), heady trance-pop and squelchy acid on Heaven (echoes of Smalltown Boy), while Lose Control, a galloping goth-pop song and easily their best, shows they’ve got the choruses if they want them (echoes of U2). For some, Pumarosa’s brand of brooding turbo-anguish went out with PVC trousers, but even though the tortured lyrics can feel a little cloying, Devastation is proof that it’s not just Trent Reznor who can play sexy machine-rave and sing about shagging.

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  3. The author of a book on the music forged in the UK’s industrial cities takes in Glasgow gigs, record shops and pubs, and the stories of the local bands he loves
    10 more music cities

    Whenever I’m in Glasgow, I usually buy a day ticket for the Subway, the circular underground system that links the north and south city. Affectionately known as the Clockwork Orange, on account of its colour scheme, it’s admirably simple: you can go clockwise or anti-clockwise.

    I have found it perfect for music tourism, which is essentially what I do in Glasgow: poking around record shops, hanging around bars and clubs and seeking out locations connected in some way to the Glasgow artists I love. Because for me Glasgow, more than anywhere else in the UK, is a music city.

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  4. From genre-spanning albums to collaborating with Brian Eno and Beyoncé, the band are far more radical than people give them credit for

    An early Coldplay photo did the rounds recently, and will surely do so again, because it is timelessly hilarious. Anorak, hoodie, voluminous brown cords, V-neck knitwear: they are enrobed in the profoundly lame wardrobe of that late-90s musical era when Travis and Starsailor threatened to drown rock’n’roll in their own anxiety sweat.

    For so many people, that lameness has never left Coldplay – and this is peculiar because, contrary to the beliefs of almost any self-proclaimed arbiter of good taste, Coldplay are A Good Band. They could have treated their euphoric breakthrough hit Yellow as the aberration that it is on their moody debut Parachutes. Instead it became their mantra, as they cast even their most synthetic music in warm natural light. That sense of adventure is a quality that bands are usually revered for, but because their adventure is a sort of positivist Haribo-fuelled romp, rather than questing into the minotaur’s labyrinth like Radiohead or the National, they aren’t taken seriously.

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  5. (City Slang)
    The band’s world is a compellingly strange, crepuscular place, into which some warmth is allowed to drip

    The oddest thing on Tindersticks’ 12th album is its longest track, See My Girls. Stuart Staples, a mannered singer anyway, sounds as if he has been studying Ron Moody playing Fagin in Oliver! And the lyric he delivers in that sly and insinuating voice is set in an unspecified past, in which cameras and newsstands are still everyday things. On the walls of his kiosk, the narrator has pinned the photos his girls have sent him from their travels – Paris, Rome, the Pyramids – via some very odd phrasing (“The tall buildings of the Americas / Skyscrapers as they are known.” Skyscrapers, you say? Really?). Eventually they end up at the scenes of death: Flanders, Birkenau, Cambodia, Yemen, Israel and Palestine. And then it’s back to turtles and dolphins and trees. It appears to be the blandest of all messages: well, the world’s a rum old place, eh? Musically it is so compelling – a twisting, droning, spidery piece – that it only makes the lyric seem odder.

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