Welcome all to 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗼𝗹𝗹𝘆’𝘀 𝗖𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗿, a series of weekly reviews by Charles Connolly – an artist in his own right. Here, Charles delves into the greatest brand new singles brought to you by the best unsigned artists on our electrifying and eclectic set of 𝙉𝙚𝙬 𝘼𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙎𝙥𝙤𝙩𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 playlists.
𝙋𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙘 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙆𝙞𝙩𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙣 (𝙒𝙝𝙞𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙑𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣) – 𝙁𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙠 𝙅𝙤𝙨𝙝𝙪𝙖, 𝙏𝙤𝙣𝙮 𝙒𝙝𝙞𝙩𝙚
Charles cooks up a hot mess…
Panic at the disco. Panic on the dancefloor. Panic in the streets. Panic. It’s such an urgent word. It conjures wide eyes, flailing arms and a general overtone of chaos. Not to mention a great deal of high-pitched squealing. So what better place for it than a room that frequently breathes fire. Yup, the kitchen. Let me start by telling you that I am not a cook. I cannot really cook. Let me rephrase that. I DON’T really cook. My lovely girlfriend handles that side of things so effortlessly, thank the lord. I realise this is rather old fashioned these days, but it doesn’t harm anyone and it’s just the way it is. All natural like. I’ve been told I would probably be a good cook; this is based on absolutely nothing. And yet, I am inclined to agree. It very well could be the case. But I don’t do it. I might, in time. But not yet. Mañana, mañana. Occasionally I will make the odd omelette or butter the odd piece of toast, but I am basically a culinary novice. A culinary mute. Let me give you an example of the other week…
I shoved a garlic bread in the oven. Quite proud of myself for choosing the correct appliance. I easily could have plucked for the fridge or the washing machine, but I opted for the oven. It was more of a garlic flatbread if I’m honest. This is important. It means that the garlic oil or butter or whatever it is, is free to flow all over the thing in pools, taking less than a minute to soak all the way through and hit the base of the oven. This in turn makes a great deal of smoke. I mean, like a chemistry experiment. Thick and wafty. You’re probably thinking this is the moment I start panicking. Well, you’d be absolutely right. But not because the smoke scares me, or because I can’t catch my breath. It is because I immediately get a heart thumping moment and rush for my earplugs. Loud smoke?? No. I am simply aware that at any moment, the bloody smoke alarm is going to go off. The bloody deafeningly loud smoke alarm that can probably be heard in North Wales. It is deeply painful, and I have to grab my earplugs before it inevitably does its thang. Picture this. There I am, all nonchalantly plonking a bit of bread in the oven, and just one minute later I am frantically plugging up my ears, turning the extractor fan on full blast, opening the windows and wafting the smoke with a chopping board, while blowing as hard as I can. What with the smoke and the blowing, I am out of breath and can barely breathe. But stick on top of that the fact that I am an asthmatic, I must look like I’ve been recovered from a burning building and am lucky to be alive. Oh yes. How lucky I feel. Ten minutes later, lunch time! And of course, the bastard thing tastes of ash. Oh, and still too much garlic. Not even sure if I like garlic bread. So yeah, that’s me cooking.
Can you imagine if I was ACTUALLY cooking??! Pick a recipe. Bastard book won’t stay open. Prop with pepper mill and sugar jar. Right. “Things you’ll need”. 30cm x 30cm baking tray. REALLY?? I have to hunt down my tape measure?? Can’t they just say small/medium/large?? Okay. Unsalted butter. Is salted okay? Chives. I don’t have chives. I don’t like chives. What is a chive, anyway? Okay, move on – I’d like to eat this year. Wine! Here we go. Open already! Wrong kind of wine, but I’m there. Chicken breasts. Finally, something of substance! Rosemary… Well, she’s not around anymore. Thyme. Mm, I could do with a bit more time. Dried chilli flakes. It’ll be too spicy but it says to use it so I’ll use it. Salt and pepper. The classic. This shouldn’t be too hard. Rub the butter into the chicken breast. This is horrible. I hate this. It feels like I’m either caressing it or torturing it. Salt and pepper. Right. No idea how much. There’s the salt. Bit over the left shoulder. Clean that up later. And pepper. Grab pepper, ah f-… The book snaps shut, knocking the sugar jar to the floor. More to clear up. Ah hell, it’ll be fine. I don’t need the book. Chuck on the herbs, chuck on the chilli. Too much chilli. It’ll be too hot. Bung it in the oven. How long? Don’t care. Just make sure it’s not raw and not black. So I start the clean up process. Go on Amazon to buy a new sugar jar. Hm! They sell a jar that dispenses just the right amount of sugar with one touch. It has an app. It’s variable! It’s £48. Think I’ll buy this £5 one. It has a lid. GAAAHHH!!!! EARPLUGS!!!! Christ, why are smoke alarms on the bloody ceiling??!!! Why am I so bloody small??!! Right, chair. I know the drill. Stand on chair, try not to fall off. Press button. Ah thank Christ. Do the whole asthmatic smoke process as above. Check chicken. Just as I thought. Half raw, yet burnt on top. Marvellous. Well, I’ll let it burn all the way through. Better to eat carbon than to get Salmonella. Right, that’s done. Very done. Let’s try this bugger. Yep, It’s inedible. And too spicy. There’s one ingredient I forgot to incinerate, thank God. At least I can now enjoy the wine.
What one needs after that kind of panic is rest. And what better way to rest than to stick on some music? Sorry, that’s rhetorical. There is no better way. I chose the brand new Panic in the Kitchen EP from Frank Joshua. Because he is ALWAYS good. Nay: great. Pressed play… Meh… It was like when I first tried mushrooms. Or olives. Or wine. It wasn’t for me. So I left it for a day. The thing is, I felt disappointed. And I was confused, because he is always so good. So I tried it again. Either I just wasn’t in the mood in the first place, or something clicked. I dunno. Could be like Bryan Cooper and his slow burners. I’m quite good at slow burners these days… I can slowly (and quickly) burn anything you can think of. But yeah, it’s rather strange when this happens to me. When music goes from “all right” to really rather special. I remember it happening to me with many of my favourite albums of all time. Take The Strokes’ first album, for example. When the world was going absolutely crazy for it, I finally decided to buy it. I say “buy it”, but I suppose I technically stole it. My schoolfriend (Orlando Weeks – of The Maccabees) copied the cd for me. Anyway. I was so disappointed. I only liked two of the songs. Just two. Until a few days later when I just GOT it. It seems quite common that the best music is not instant. I’ve also noticed that the instant songs CAN have a short shelf life. I’m not interested in that. I like my music like I like my milk and my eggs. Long-life and powdered. No, that’s not right or even true. I like stuff that lasts though. I’ve touched on this quite recently with music, how listeners need to give decent music more of a chance. It will probably become far more than decent over time. Frank Joshua is now my mushrooms. My olives. My wine. I love them all – it just took a while.
This EP is quite an unusual one, I must say. It’s 4 tracks, and that’s about all that’s normal. The title track is track 2. Yet the title track is also track 1, but a remix. Yes, the original version follows the remix. Track 3 is simply brilliant, and I very nearly reviewed it. And the final track is someone else’s (Tim Angrave’s) version of one of Frank’s songs. In fact, all 3 of these songs are originally from Frank Joshua’s 2022 album, Sense Life. Proving that is really is worth delving deeper into artists’ back catalogues. This time, Frank does it FOR us. BUT!! This time, Frank is not the main man. Tony White is. Those of you thinking you’re not familiar with the music of Tony White, you’re very much mistaken. Tony has been Frank’s longstanding producer for something like 15 years, I believe. In other words, although Frank is the writer of these fabulous songs, it is Tony who is behind the music. He does it all. And what with this Whitelight Version of Panic in the Kitchen being a “remix”, Tony had even more freedom than usual. The baby was passed over like a baton. A very cared for baton. A baton that felt like it needed a makeover. When it comes to remixes, I’m usually not a fan. They tend to be one of three things. Not as good, pointless, dum-tss-dum-tss. A remix tends to either force the song in a direction it never intended to venture, or it is almost the same and therefore completely pointless, or, “slap a beat over it”. It turned out though, that this song could travel in more than one direction. No Liam jokes – far too Payneful. I really like Frank’s original song, but I will be honest, as I always am. Tony White made it better. This is not a remix. This is an alternative version. My favourite version. I’m such a fan of producers. Takes one to know one. Is there such a thing as a ducer? Are they all automatically pro? I can tell you they’re not. But this one is. A true pro who just KNOWS. Of course, when you have the full song complete with melodies, chords and lyrics, it’s a lot easier to “clad” (apologies, Tony). But that’s what Frank gave him. Lucky Tony! But then, lucky Frank! They’re a great twosome, ya see.
We start with an unusually long intro. Normally this would annoy or frustrate me, but in this case I very much like it because it introduces the whole EP. It also builds rather beautifully, and gives Frank just enough time to put his face on before seducing the microphone with THAT voice. Immediately two singers spring to mind. One rather more famous than the other. The first is George Michael. And Frank only gets more George Michaely as the song progresses. The second, is a New Artist Spotlight member by the name of fábjáni (lowercase with accents). All 3 singers have such a delicate way of singing. They also all like larger-than-life reverb. The reason I think Frank sways more towards the voice of Georgie-boy, is the seduction, romance and hidden passion in his voice. The thing about fábjáni is the innocence and fragility. Equally good but different. But where’s Tony right now? He’s biding his time, waiting for the moment to be his. Specifically, 1:33 (1:37 on YouTube). The kitchen explodes with slo-mo colour (at least in MY mind). It is both exhilarating and so SO sad. I can’t explain it, really. It’s a music thing. Not a word thing. It’s so cool, yet so mature. Emotions all over the place. Not like a teenager lost in the new world, but more like a beautiful mid-life crisis. Only an artist could see a mid-life crisis as a thing of beauty. There is release and relief in the song. Neither artist alone could quite achieve this. This kitchen evidently needed two ovens.
I’m trying to clear up my kitchen and there seems to be some sort of racist argument going on. Something about the pot calling the kettle black.
Listen to 𝙋𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙘 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙆𝙞𝙩𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙣 (𝙒𝙝𝙞𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙑𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣) on the 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗼𝗹𝗹𝘆’𝘀 𝗖𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗿 Spotify playlist HERE!
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