Charles Connolly

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.

𝘼𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙁𝙖𝙞𝙡𝙪𝙧𝙚 – 𝙇𝙐𝘿𝙄𝙊𝙎𝙄𝙎

Charles is umming and erring…

Welcome to the wonderful world of Health and Safety. Where a nick or a scratch is a thing of the past. Well, thank GOODness. Why, a scratch is liable to get infected. Which could lead to sepsis. Which could lead to death! I’d better replace that dangerous blade back in its silicone sheath, pronto. Oh, but I must wash the knife first for fear of evil bacteria seeping throughout the country, creating the latest in widespread pandemics. But how then do I wash the inside of the sheath? Ya know, it might be best if I treat them as disposable – I’m sure there’s an automatic subscription plan on Amazon for such things. Yes, that’ll do it. But then again, this is very bad for the environment; that plastic waste will pile up underground, pushing us closer and closer to the sun. And don’t get me started on the dangers of the sun. All in all, it’s probably best if I cut these raw potatoes (dangerous in themselves) with a blunt spoon. I like to err on the side of caution.

It’s quite the phrase, don’t you think? “To err on the side of caution”. And it’s one that we use ad nauseam these days, be it in words or in definition. It runs alongside “Better safe than sorry”. These phrases slip off the tongue with rope and carabiner, so as to be safely rescued for future use. “Safety First” – there’s another one. It seems sensible to me that the first priority in life should be safety. I mean, none of us wants to die. But then again, it also seems rather peculiar. As if the meaning of life is simply to manage to get through it unscathed. “Look at me, I’ve done nothing, experienced zero, achieved zilch, and not a single broken bone!”… But then of course, there’s the cheeky classic: “Always wear protection”. Okay, so it keeps the population down. It calms parents of teenagers. It appeases whorey diseases. But…… “ALWAYS”?? If you heed this advice ad infinitum, you might never finally find out the wherecumfromence of babies. Besides, you could always err on the side of ‘bortion.

While bubble wrap has its uses, it should never be the only wearable. Besides, until Gore-Tex bubble wrap is invented, we’ll quickly sweat and suffocate. Risk is what got us where we are today. Trial and error is at the heart of everything. “If you don’t try, you won’t succeed”. Now, THERE’S a phrase I can cower behind! To err on the side of caution, is to curl up and give up. It’s also one of the main reasons that people are so inherently lazy these days. They’re well aware that if they try something new, they will probably fail – so they don’t try at all. Great. That’s one numb, dull, and frankly pointless population. It is not only great inventors, scientists and artists that should be striving and trying new things; it should be a mandate for every man, woman and child on the surface of this potentially great earth. And it is that vital word “potentially” that I wish for you to see. The potential is there in all of us. Well, to an extent, anyway. Most of us, then. If we keep on being content with an output and success rate of 50-60%, then we might never come close to that ideal 100%. A change will (potentially) do you good – thank you, Sheryl Crow. But a random ill-thought-out change could make things worse. A change will do you bad. I don’t mean for people to change for the sake of change (another common phrase); a random punt is indeed a waste of time, effort and energy. I mean a calculated risk. Calculated to the extent that the probability or likelihood is success rather than failure. We don’t WANT to fail, but sometimes failure is easier and less stressful than the potential of success.

And so, to guitars and all that. This week brings a relative newcomer on the scene; he only started releasing last year in 2025. Now, I know some of you might be thinking that’s a warning sign for HAL (A.I.), but we really can’t start thinking like this, or we’ll end up like old fogeys, moaning that you can’t trust anything new – or anyone young. Because, let’s face it, newness tends to come from the young. We NEED the young, and we’ve all got to start releasing at SOME point. This artist is also a relative newcomer in the community, having only joined at the very end of April. But from what I’ve seen so far, he ain’t one of those “I’ll just stay in the shadows until the end of time” types, but neither is he one of those “Look at me, look at me, I’m so bloody brilliant and I’m such a genius” types. He’s modest, he’s attentive, he’s got a brain, he’s extremely kind and supportive, but most all he’s genuine. He’s also got great taste; by which I mean he likes my music. And just so you know, we have not yet spoken a word to each other. Yet. His is a jib most styled. Please welcome LUDIOSIS, with his brand new shebang, ‘Addicted to Failure’! LUDIOSIS – aside from being yet another member of that ruthless UPPERCASE GANG – is actually an English lad named Daniel Frew. I can’t quite decide if he looks like a Dan or a Daniel. He’s probably fine with either, depending on who’s speaking, but I think I’ll stick with Dan. “Daniel’s the maniel who caniel” slips off the tongue quite without any rope or carabiner, falling face down on the carpet – no motion: it’s dead. So, Dan it is.

I have quietly been watching this artist for a while – God, that sounds creepy; as if I’m rubbing my thighs while drooling a little. Anyway. He has always been good, but I was waiting for him to truly come out of his shell with a bright pride. He’s done it. This chap ain’t addicted to failure. The thing is, it’s not quite failure we mean. No one can really be addicted to failure (except perhaps masochists). It’s more a borderline pass with no merit and certainly no distinction. A certain “that’ll do” attitude. I find this to be common in indie music. Hell, I find this to be common in mainstream music – at least when it comes to writing. But more to the point, I find this to be common in people in general. They’re not wanting to fail, but rather simply not wanting to improve, for fear that it all goes bosom skyward. It’s the risk that puts them off. And – I believe – it is THIS that Dan is portraying in ‘Addicted to Failure’; the inability to change one’s ways for the better. Or: the blindness in people, where they simply don’t see their own flaws.

The drummer hol- wait a sec. Dan does everything, so all that you hear is just this one man. I’ll start again. Standing tall (yes, standing), the drummer holds one stick aloft – pointing to the answer in Heaven – as the audience whoops and spills beer on purpose (despite the extortionate price) – YOLO. His other stick slams down repeatedly on the snare, interjecting occasionally with a hoof to the pedal to the skin of the kick drum. He sits, maintaining poise, energy, balance and rhythm, just as the first guitarist gets the spotlight, centre stage. It is Lennon’s ‘Revolution’ intro – I’m sure you know it well. Mono turns to stereo as double-tracked guitars (and bass) complete the ensemble, hard-panned left and right. It’s reminiscent of Franz Ferdinand and early Bloc Party, but with more “rock” and less 2004 trendy quirk. This is high energy stuff. At 0:45, things go a little more metal, before settling back into the initial vibe. Verse 1 starts at 0:57… That means that the first whole minute is instrumental. Does this mean the song is indeed instrumental? Or does this maybe mean that the song is approximately 43 years long? Nope and nope. The song is under 4 minutes. Meaning we get less than 3 minutes of actual song (excluding the ravishing intro) – which I love. Fast rock songs should generally be pretty short – it keeps the punch and the energy, while our full attention never wanes. I must say, the unusual very long intro is a fabulous choice and works perfectly. Verse 1: welcome to the voice of Dan. But also, welcome to a sound not too dissimilar to early Queens of the Stone Age. In fact, much of the song feels a little like a happier, more energetic take on Interpol and Queens of the Stone Age. Of course, plus many other influences, such as Blondie and even our very own Mal Fantôme and Unobliterated (Dan, you’re not Gary’s long lost brother, are you…?). As I must always say, though, despite all influences, there is that quintessential original LUDIOSIS sound. I absolutely adore the three-part harmony “oohs” running in and out of the piece – it gives things a slightly brighter pop feel with a smile. All in all, the drums are tight, the guitars and bass are supoyb, and Dan has one HECK of a voice. Exquisition incarnate!

Dan’s the man who can.

Do you only ever boil eggs – you don’t even particularly like boiled eggs – because you’re concerned that if you crack the shell, the yolk will split as soon it hits the skillet…? If at first you don’t succeed, fry, fry again.

Listen to 𝘼𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙁𝙖𝙞𝙡𝙪𝙧𝙚 on the 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗼𝗹𝗹𝘆’𝘀 𝗖𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗿 Spotify playlist HERE!

Listen to 𝘼𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙁𝙖𝙞𝙡𝙪𝙧𝙚 on the 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗼𝗹𝗹𝘆’𝘀 𝗖𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗿 Apple Music playlist HERE!

Watch 𝘼𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙁𝙖𝙞𝙡𝙪𝙧𝙚 on YouTube HERE!

Follow 𝙇𝙐𝘿𝙄𝙊𝙎𝙄𝙎 on Instagram HERE!

Follow 𝙇𝙐𝘿𝙄𝙊𝙎𝙄𝙎 on TwiX HERE!

Please share this post and let me know your thoughts in the comments below

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.

𝙎𝙬𝙖𝙣 𝙎𝙤𝙣𝙜 – 𝙑𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙧𝙮𝙖𝙣

Charles swans along…

Boyds. I’ve always been fascinated by boyds. “Boyds?? Who are THEY??” – ah sorry. Boyds, you know. Boyds of prey. Boyds of paradise. Boyds of a feather. This boyd has flown. I don’t mean William Boyd and Pattie Boyd. Boyds, YOU know! So yes, ever since I was about 11, boyds have very much been a part of my life. There they were, all around. Captivating and even intriguing, each in their own way. Little ones, curvy ones, ones of all different colours, shy ones, brash ones, elegant ones, and ones clamouring for attention. Of course, I had my favourites, but I enjoyed having them all around. Sometimes I would even try to speak to them. They rarely spoke back. Sometimes they would just give a flutter and turn away, only to disappear. But then as my teens started to really take hold, I became more determined. Then more so in my early twenties. I really became an avid boydwatcher. And it was then that I started to learn their language. They were not afraid of me anymore, although I could still discern a certain amount of caution on their part. Which is fair enough; how were they to know if I might pounce at any time like a puddy tat? That my friendliness wasn’t all a ruse in order to reach out and grab their plump breast? I would never be so brazen. I actually LOVE boyds.

As to the winged variety, I hadn’t really given them much thought at all until parakeets came to dwell not too long ago. Yes, I even wrote a song about them. But my boydal fascination was piqued by them. It made me pay more attention to ALL of them. And London is FULL of winged boyds. I couldn’t imagine living anywhere without being surrounded by my avian friends. And It’s not just pigeons, sparrows and (more recently) parakeets. Sparrows are now quite rare in London, sadly. But I have noticed far more geese, quacking through the air; not to mention the odd red kite! Magpies and crows continue to guard with suspicion, as if one day the gates of the Tower of London might be open to them – they won’t; it’s strictly ravens only. But they practise, nevertheless. I did experience one sad sight a few weeks ago, though. On a surprisingly green patch of grass, lay an unmoving black shape. I assumed at first that it was a black carrier bag, but the day was blustery and there was no flutter in said black shape. As I approached closer, I realised to my horror that it was a dead crow. Then I thought “Ha! It’s a murder of crows!” (Sorry, moyder) – which amused me no end, successfully diluting the trauma that filled me for the following five minutes.

But then there are London’s Royal Parks, of which there are eight. And frankly, they are splendid. I have never quite seen anything close in any other city or even country. Remember, these are parks, not nature reserves, woodlands or countryside. My particular favourites being Regent’s Park, St. James’s Park, Richmond Park and Kensington Gardens. There is such elegance and peace in all of these parks, to the extent that I often completely forget that I’m in busy-busy London. But there is one thing (aside from grass) that ties these Royal parks together. The most elegant creature resides there. The swan. I can watch swans for hours (okay, ten minutes), as they glide atop the shimmering glass, looking as though they have been crafted in the Murano glass factory in Venice. And when a little kid gets too close, the majestic flap of its wings is godly! The swan’s is even MORE impressive. The kid retreats and runs back to mummy. The swan scoops for thirst, and moves on in stoic, noble continuation. The sad truth is that, like everything, it doesn’t live forever. It will eventually feel its time ebbing towards a close. And this is when they sing the tune of angels: A-WARR-KWEK-KWEK, A-WARR-KWEK-KWEK!! Okay, so it ain’t no tune of angels. They may look like they’ve been sent by the heavens, but they sound like a cockney newspaper salesman from a hundred years ago. And so we experience the swan song.

A little boyd told me there’s a new song just released into the wild. Who dat little boyd? Valeryan. What dat new song? ‘Swan Song’. We’re going folkly. But foyst…! What exactly is a swan song? Traditionally, it means that final gasp of brilliance before their eternal sleep. For Freddie Mercury, it was ‘The Show Must Go On’. For Bowie, it was the album ‘Blackstar’. It is so touching, so moving, and very often solidifies their name in the annals of time. It can of course go wrong. Some might expect to receive rapturous applause for the genius within, but instead get lukewarm 3-out-of-5 star reviews, complete with a disappointed raised eyebrow. And then they drop off the planet without so much as an “our thoughts go out to the family”. Very sad, indeed. Usually, though, the swan song is valid proof that they really could achieve greatness right up to the end, and it’s therefore even more of a tragedy that they were taken from us before they sucked. But then again, maybe their demise was BECAUSE they put so much into that final fling. The art was just too much, its power too great, and the body could take no more. That’s possibly a thing. What Valeryan did was different. This is simply the title of her latest release. Up to a point, it is more literal than you might imagine…

She sings of boyds. Wild boyds flying free, to be precise. It is beautiful and frankly strangely refreshing in this world of “Gonna go to the club; take some pills; slit my wrists cos I’m so motherf**king depressed” – it gets a little grating and tiresome after a while… Sometimes I don’t want to be screamed at by some annoying little copycat attention seeker – call me old fashioned. So, boyds it is. Valeryan sings of the happy part of a bird’s life, but then she zones in on the swan. This swan having led a contented life – save the odd annoying little kid – sees that it is reaching its final days. It just knows, and it starts to croon. The other birds cry in apprehensive mourning as they wave their wings; a final goodbye. But although ‘Swan Song’ is literal at first, it then migrates for the winter, towards something closer to our own home. For we are not boyds. We are humen. Sorry, I pity the foreigners using Google Translate to read my articles. I mean Birds. I mean Humans. I just like to make my own woyds from toym to toym. The bridge of the song suggests that death is not always something that simply comes at the end of one’s life. It can sever life when in its prime, which can be brought on by human tampering. Malaria – sorry, I call her Malaria in private (long story), and was about to talk about diseases – Valeryan mentions bird flu, SARS and CoViD. All manmade meddling. This is the point where the song goes deeper, and there is fault involved. Suddenly it is a “nature vs man” theme. Always complicated.

So, the song begins as a neutral narrative with a somber undertone. Then we go full-on depression and blame. But finally we end up with a more positive outlook. “Sure, millions caught the bird flu, but millions more remain” – always look on the bright side of life. She then suggests that we shouldn’t worry that we might get ill and die, but instead that we should just make the most of life. I was lucky enough to hear the demo of ‘Swan Song’ and when I first latched on to “Sure, millions caught the bird flu”, I heard “John Williams caught the bird flu”, but that is neither here nor there. Musically speaking, the song is a joy. A sad joy, but a joy. Valeryan has a voice like no other. It has experience, grace, and yes, age. But age is not a thing of shame, but a thing of pride! This fine lady has lived through years that most of us have only read about or been told about – complete with all the exaggerated yarns. She has also experienced the many sides of the music biz through all its peaks and valleys – complete with the exaggerated yarns. But now, she lives a quiet life in the English countryside with its acres of land, complete with the exaggerated barns. Valeryan has a voice of wisdom. It drips with an age of long ago. A time of tales and rumour. Like the lyrics, her voice is refreshing but also genuine. She isn’t just copying artists from decades ago. Because she WAS one of those artists from decades ago. She was part of the first wave of 60s singer-songwriters. As to the music itself, it all just flows with refined satisfaction. You may be surprised what you manage to pick out from repeated listens.

Despite the song’s title I’m happy to report that this song is NOT the last from Valeryan, for I have heard that she is currently working on the next. I must admit, I was a tad concerned when I saw the title of the song, and bearing in mind that she is no spring chicken herself… But no. Life goes on, and so will the songs. We must ALL keep going and not lose faith. We must continue to make; to create. Even in the smallest ways. Otherwise there isn’t a great deal of point in being around.

The next time a bird poops on your head, make sure to mutter “fowl foul”. It might get you through the trauma.

Listen to 𝙎𝙬𝙖𝙣 𝙎𝙤𝙣𝙜 on the 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗼𝗹𝗹𝘆’𝘀 𝗖𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗿 Spotify playlist HERE!

Listen to 𝙎𝙬𝙖𝙣 𝙎𝙤𝙣𝙜 on the 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗼𝗹𝗹𝘆’𝘀 𝗖𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗿 Apple Music playlist HERE!

Listen to 𝙎𝙬𝙖𝙣 𝙎𝙤𝙣𝙜 on YouTube HERE!

Follow 𝙑𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙧𝙮𝙖𝙣 on Instagram HERE!

Follow 𝙑𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙧𝙮𝙖𝙣 on TwiX HERE!

Hire Charles to produce/mix/master your song HERE!

Please share this post and let me know your thoughts in the comments below

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.

𝘽𝙞𝙜 𝙏𝙞𝙢𝙚 – 𝘼𝙨𝙝𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙣𝙚

Charles celebrates his 300th article…

Can you explain what it means to have hit the big time? I mean, what exactly IS “the big time”…? Most people call it fame. Although there is certainly often an element of fame, it definitely isn’t the only factor. I think it’s much more. For example, someone fresh out of university will have high aspirations to be the best in their field; but of course, it doesn’t begin that way. We all start small (unless you got a lucky leg-up from daddy), and then over time we climb the ladder, promotion after promotion, pay rise after pay rise, always with that shiny goal in mind: the big time. The top! Some people don’t want the big time. Others tell themselves they don’t want the big time, because deep down inside they know they’re not good enough to ever hit the big time. Or they’re too lazy to attempt it. The big time is not for everyone. For some, the big time is more localised; more of a private affair. Like turning from a boy into a man. Or having a family. Or finally finishing War and Peace (now you can call yourself a well-read intellectual – you’re still not, by the way). I see “the big time” as a mission. One’s own mission…

Over the last six years, EYE have had my own little mission; and it’s certainly not what you might think… I like to think of it as a scheme. A perfectly choreographed scheme involving planning, research and one heck of a lot of patience. And it starts with an admission. Not an admission of guilt, for I feel none of it, but an admission nevertheless. The admission is this. I have been lying to you. Yes, each and every one of you has been lied to. I have been using my articles to gather your comments. Through your comments I have been given access to your accounts. Through these accounts I have snaked through to your personal computers and phones. Through your computers and phones I have managed to garner pretty much every piece of information about you. But most importantly, your bank account details. Yes, even those little digits on the back of the card that give me full access. And of course, your emails. Your precious emails and texts that allow me to see into your soul. Basically, unless you do as I say, I own you. THIS was my mission.

Huh. You think you know someone! I’m aware this might come as rather an uncomfortable shock, and for that I am truly sorry. The thing is, I’m lying. The extent of my hacking ability amounts to successfully logging into my own banking app. For me that’s an achievement in itself. So, just to be clear, everything in the previous paragraph was a complete lie. When it comes to data theft, I wouldn’t know where to start. But most importantly, I wouldn’t try, because I would never want to do this. Lying makes me feel sick – whether it’s me doing the lying or it’s me having been lied to. Even this brief little lie right now just to make you jump then release with relief, was uncomfortable for me. But hell, it was fun. I did have a genuine, quiet, unsaid mission though, and today this mission has finally been achieved…

My mission was to get to 300. Yes, 300 articles (let’s be real, they’re articles, not reviews). This mission was so subtle, that I hadn’t even thought about how long this would take me, despite it being a rather simple sum. About 50 in a year. About 6 years. For me it was simply “Can you get to 300?”… It was a completely arbitrary number – utterly without meaning or reason – but it felt doable. Just about… Bear in mind that I basically set aside an entire day every single week for writing these things, so that’s 300 days spent writing these things. God, think what else I could have been doing!! But the thing is, I don’t think anything I could have been doing would have been as fulfilling, satisfying, interesting, educational, enlightening, revealing, enriching and enjoyable as this. It has almost become my main art form (or creative compulsion) – which I do not actually like. I do not like that it has become what I am known for. I need to get back to making music. It’s supposed to be my raison d’être. So bloody well do it!! And I will, I will. But I don’t want to swap one for another. I want to do both. In the pre-fame days of The Beatles, they used to chant to each other, “What are we gonna be? Bigger than Elvis!”… It wasn’t long until they achieved this seemingly impossible feat. Did they then disband and choose another profession? Of COURSE not. They sought out more goals while maintaining all previous achievements. And they smashed every last one of them. I want to keep getting better. Once one mission is complete, we don’t want to just put it in a box and die. I will of course be continuing my weekly musings, but I will add to this. I will try to work out what my next mission is to be. 300, though… Cor! I feel quite shiny. I’m still slightly amazed that I managed to keep going every week for 6 years. There’s something about quantity that shows one’s quality is not short-lived, or even a fluke. The most important thing for me is standards. It always has been. And – I hope – always will be. I have never seen the point in doing less than one’s very best. “When you got a job to do, you gotta do it well” – thank you, Paul McCartney. He then sang “You gotta give the other fella hell”… Well, I feel I’ve done that too. Say live and let die!

A quick(ish) aside, because I can. I would like all of you to look at your own work, your own music, objectively. I would like you to be honest with yourselves. The song you’ve written, is it the kind of thing that you would like to listen to if given the choice of all the music in the world? Is it boring? Is it interesting? Does it do enough? How’s about your singing? CAN you sing? Are you giving it enough gusto? How’s your tone? How’s your tuning? When it comes to production, do you know what you’re doing, or are you just doing what you’ve always done? And was that ever quite right in the first place? How does that production compare with the rest of the music you’ve listened to? And finally, the sound… Does your sound completely fall off a cliff when put side by side with the rest of whatever music you’ve been enjoying your entire life? All of this is not meant to depress you. It is supposed to excite you. If you’ve been completely honest with yourself and you see nothing but excellence, then this alone is enough to excite. You have made it. You are brilliant. You have hit the big time! If, however, you are starting to see flaws and holes, look into the future. You can be better. You WILL be better. Strive and strive further. If you feel you’re out of your depth but you know it could be improved, allow me to drag you into the shallow end, wipe your brow and alleviate the burden. This is what I do for a living. I know all about this stuff. I can be of service to you. Before you hit the big time, “hit me up”! Yes, that’s a shameless plug, by hey – 300, baby!

Oh, and stop the HAL (A.I.) junk. It’s not interesting, it’s not fun, and it’s not you. I also suspect that even YOU are bored with it. And of COURSE you are. It’s a gimmick. It gives you zero sense of achievement, because you haven’t actually achieved a thing. But also, it’s a lie. And no one likes being lied to. 300, baby. 300. Phew!

For old times’ sake, let’s have a review. This week’s winner is someone who has never appeared here before, but it’s also someone who has wandered through my “maybe list” a total of 5 times. And had it not been for healthy competition from other brilliant artists, they would probably have appeared here several times. Who dat? It’s Australia’s Ashstone, with their latest single, ‘Big Time’. Ashstone isn’t a band, but just one man. I could call him Lester (for that is his name), but he seems to call himself Big Les. Entirely separate from 90s UK band (featuring Keith Allen, Damien Hirst and Blur’s Alex James), Fat Les. Let’s talk about Big Les, then. Well, I think that about wraps that up. I have no information except that he is from Canberra. But I don’t mind because he makes music. I have more experience in music than big Australians. When it comes to ‘Big Time’, its lyrical meaning is less what I explained above, and more simply a feeling. The feeling of freedom and happiness. Let’s face it, these days this more than constitutes the big time! Being able to breathe and smile simultaneously (neither through gritted teeth) is very much such an achievement. Or at least it certainly feels that way. And Big Les’ easy way of singing suggests he’s already hit his big time. Oh, by the way, don’t pay any attention to the lyrics on Apple Music: they seem to be erroneous, potentially being the words for another song entirely. Yes, it confused me too…

To describe Ashstone’s music is both easy and hard. Correction, it is relatively easy to describe the music, but hard to explain why I like it. The music itself is a kind of flowing soulful rocky poppy vibe of average tempo, with warm retro guitars and strong, calming bass. But ultimately that sounds a bit dull. And really, this music should be quite dull. There are however various artists and bands that I really go for, and I can’t quite explain why. I mean ones that I really LOVE. One band I have been listening to for 25 years, only in this past month have I really realised that I love their music. No, that’s not quite right. I have always really gone for them, but have never thought of them as being one of my favourite bands. I never really think of them at all, to be honest. I don’t really understand it. I love them and have known all their music intimately, but at the same time I have never really acknowledged that I have such a deep appreciation for them. That band is The Strokes. I was addicted to their first album – literally, I felt guilty for not playing it. Then I was obsessed with the second album. Then Juicebox changed my life. And they just never let me down. That is, until the absolutely horrific autotune used across the whole of the new album’s vocals (it literally sounds like an error in the mixing process) – thankfully, this community has never really been afflicted by autotune. But aside from this tuning blip, I now hold them as close as any of my other favourite bands. Like a load of teddy bears on my bed that I refuse to let go of. The thing is, I can’t quite explain WHY I like The Strokes so much. When listening to Ashstone – ‘Big Time’ or almost any other of his releases – I get exactly the same feeling. Something cosy and close, that’s soulful and old fashioned, but also bright and a little funky. It’s like it’s saying “everything’s okay, we’re with you, we’re just like you, everything will be all right, let’s just jam and forget about everything else”. Like The Strokes (those cheeky, stylish New York Italians), I feel I know Big Les. I also feel like I am being passed a joint by someone who never quite grew up. Making me regret having grown up (at the same time as wondering if I ever DID grow up). There’s something so unshowy about it all. So casual. So “sure, pull up a floor cushion and get groovy, man; I’ll make you some chai. Here, play with these chopsticks”.

Ashstone’s music should have quite a wide audience because of its welcoming quality. But it’s a warm welcome that manages to avoid tweeness or any kind of assumption that we’re age five and thwee kworters. The sad truth is that I don’t think many people have ever heard the music of Ashstone. As far as I am aware, Big Les has NEVER been on the NAS Top 20 chart, and I have NEVER heard anyone mention his music. I see this as the kind of music that no one is capable of disliking, no matter their preferred genre. I can see rock and pop fans liking it. I can see hip-hop and afro-beat fans liking it. I can see electronic and punk fans liking it. And yet, where is it…? Nowhere! This must be crushing for Big Les. Hence why I felt the need to do what I have been doing for many years: trying to get people’s names out there. In my eyes, anyone making great music deserves to be heard; deserves to be known about. And in my own little way, my Corner to a certain extent can provide that. But of course, I don’t talk about just any old music here, it has to be very good. Standards and all that.

Pay attention to the fullness of ‘Big Time’, despite the production’s lack of layers. It doesn’t need loads of bells and whistles. It’s all about the song, the vibe and the mixing. Proving that Les is more.

Mission complete! 300, baby.

Listen to 𝘽𝙞𝙜 𝙏𝙞𝙢𝙚 on the 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗼𝗹𝗹𝘆’𝘀 𝗖𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗿 Spotify playlist HERE!

Listen to 𝘽𝙞𝙜 𝙏𝙞𝙢𝙚 on the 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗼𝗹𝗹𝘆’𝘀 𝗖𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗿 Apple Music playlist HERE!

Listen to 𝘽𝙞𝙜 𝙏𝙞𝙢𝙚 on YouTube HERE!

As far as I can tell, Ashstone is not on Instagram or TwiX (unusual way of hitting the big time)

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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.

𝘾𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨 𝘾𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙙𝙚 – 𝘾𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙅𝙖𝙣𝙚

Charles adds one to another…

Lately, I’ve been thinking about collectives. How one thing plus another thing makes a completely new thing. It is so much more than multiples. It CAN be mere multiples of course; take the humble flageolet bean, for example. Add many more, and you simply end up with more beans. It’s nothing more than more. But so often the sum of its parts ends up as something else. A metamorphosis of sorts.

A tree is just a tree. A lovely tree, perhaps. An old and wise tree, but just a tree. When adding many more, you can’t see the trees for the forest. In that forest, a wandering man is lonely as ever. He comes across a wandering woman and they hit it off; a couple is born. As the Spice Girls neatly observed: when ‘2 Become 1’. But that couple is now just a couple. After much canoodling, a baby is born; turning that couple into a colourful family. The colour red is bold and brazen, if a little raw. It is also just red. But when red meets yellow – after much canoodling – a vibrant orange has taken the place of both primary colours. But an orange is – let’s be real – after all, just an orange. Toss a few more fruit into the mix and you end up with a fruit salad! The problem is – as Homer Simpson rightly once put it: “You don’t win friends with salad”. Just a salad. Stick a bit of meat with it, and suddenly you’re faced with a scrumptious meal! Apologies to all you vegetarians for that last thought. But I reiterate Homer’s thoughts… Now, now; why, it was only on Sunday that I had lunch with a vegan (or vee-GAN, as I like to say) – I cast no aspersions.

A brick is just a brick. It has very little purpose on its own. An ugly, modern paperweight, perhaps? If only we had some paper to weigh down… But let’s imagine (abandoning the paperweight idea) we manage get our hands on many bricks, then we stack them in a neat geometric pattern, with much goop in between each and every one. We haven’t just got lots of bricks, for they have unified into one. Instead we have a wall. But what good is a wall other than as a windbreaker or a shield from nosy neighbours…? Make four of them and stick a roof on it: you’ve just made a home. But one isolated house is simply isolating (or peaceful, depending on your preference or temperament). Build a row of terraced houses, and you’ve just made a street! But an isolated street is a road to nowhere… A small spaghetti of connecting streets thread together to form a whole town. A thread is little more than an irritation as you fail for the fifth time to poke it through the eye of a needle. That sixth time you get lucky. Eventually, many threads mesh together to form cloth. But cloth is only the beginning… When cloth is worked by a skilled tailor, a jacket is not only born but worn. But by completing the matching trousers, said tailor has turned a jacket into a suit. The card in that breast pocket is the ten of diamonds (quite the suit). What a pointless thing on its own. But when matched with the Jack, Queen, King and Ace of diamonds, you’ve got a Royal Flush! Sometimes it won’t go down after one royal flush – but then it does. When it repeatedly won’t go down, this makes for a happy plumber. But that’s quite enough of that shit.

Let’s talk music. This week we have yet another artist who has never before set foot in my Corner. She and I and the music: three sides collide to make a corner… Please welcome Corinna Jane with her brand new release, ‘Colours Collide’. Corinna (such a pretty name) is a tiny Australian. Neither of which you would believe after having heard her voice… While the song’s meaning might very well be something akin to what I wrote above, it might also be construed as sex. But so much can be construed as sex – Paul McCartney wrote ‘Why Don’t We Do It In The Road’ and, er, ‘Fixing a Hole’ – but I suspect ‘Colours Collide’ to be one of those “it means whatever you want it to mean” songs. Which I like. I do enjoy songs with lots of plausible meanings.

Corinna Jane’s influences apparently include Aretha Franklin and Janis Joplin… I know… These are two rather different voices… And I personally hear zero of either in Corinna’s voice or style of music. But hey-ho! I DO however hear various other vocal similarities. There are definite notes of Goldfrapp, Julie Hicklin, Kylie Minogue and Donna Summer. But also Summer Lee Carlson (what happened to her…?), Moloko (what happened to them…?), and Madonna (what ha- wait, my mistake). In style, this is electronic dance with a quite a touch of organic disco. But also in style, this is IN STYLE. It is truly stylish. Despite the many sophisticated secondary and tertiary colours, there is plenty of bold Technicolor blood red. Actually, it’s more like a seductive, glossy Marilyn lipstick. THAT’S the red. It kisses like you know it’s wrong but you can’t help but reciprocate. But she steps back as soon as you respond – with an “it could be you” smile. You may be happy (yellow), you may be sad (blue), but Corinna will leave you envious (green). Having said this, I somehow don’t think this song is about mixing paint colours.

You all know I’m a fan of “song” in terms of chords, melody, words and structure, but what pleases me equally is the coming together of all the parts. Corinna is evidently modest enough to admit not only her strengths but her weaknesses. She knows she’s a fabulous singer. She knows she’s a good writer. But she is aware that in order to make a great song, one needs more than this. She doesn’t depend on herself for everything. Aside from the stress and the pressure, she knows that there are people who can deal with certain sides better. Which is why she brought in co-writer Matthew Payne to get the bare bones of the song down, together. But with the kind of genre she has in mind, a certain kind of producer needs to be involved. Step this way, Adam Calaitzis. But then there’s sound… Corinna asked Sam Lowe (as mixing engineer) to glue things together in the best possible way – and he did so! Lastly, the record needs a final lacquer before it’s off to the presses – this was courtesy of mastering engineer, Joseph Carra. Without all these steps, the song as a whole would not have been as good, and I quite probably wouldn’t have reviewed it.

“But you haven’t actually reviewed it!”… Ahem. Good point. Firstly, Corinna is an extremely talented singer with a voice that suggests she was just born that way. Despite her slightness in stature, her voice is truly larger than life. The intro shows her pop sensibility, Madonna and Goldfrapp style with lush reverb, but the verse has more of a dry, kooky alternative vibe to it (think Moloko). Then as soon as the harmonies surround us, it is as though Summer Lee Carlson is in the room. I can say without hesitation that Corinna Jane has one of the best female voices in the current indie scene. I also ADORE her voice’s versatility, even within just one song. The urgency, breathiness, melodic range, dynamic range, allure, and control all meld together to make one heck of a performance. Writing-wise (the song), I wouldn’t change a thing. It has all the good bits of predictability (the pop edge) blended with loads of “I didn’t see THAT one coming”. Production is where things get really interesting. At first it really does seem to be an electronic dance track (only). The kick/hat duo with the synths give this impression. But the synths are not what we often hear on independent records. Because they sound like very expensive original hardware synths from the late 70s and early 80s. And then there’s the obvious exception of the compressed piano. Electronic tracks don’t usually have any truck with pianos or really ANY organic instruments (except maybe electric bass). Just those simple deep resonant piano stabs (not to mention the higher woody ones later on) are enough to bring this from the traditional electronic genre into a more alternative and altogether more modern era. Pair these with those full-fat synth stabs and it really does bring us back to Donna Summer-era disco (the only real disco era). What I find surprising about the whole piece is how modern it sounds. I think this is mainly down to the choice of blended instruments and sounds, and the mixing. Speaking of mixing (I include mastering here), the sound is just everything you want from a song. Separation, clarity, width, deep lows, airy highs, full mids, thump, thud, oomph and magic. Everything is glued together “like a record”, yet everything has its own space. The details in reverb and delay automation show the difference between an amateur mix and a pro mix. Just in case you were confused, this is of the pro variety.

Top marks, all of you!!

While having lunch with artist Emily Gray (the vee-GAN) on Sunday, she asked “What’s a smash burger?” – a valid query with a brief discussion ending in hilarity. I’m just pleased to say they didn’t have bangers and (s)mash, if only to prove that not everything has to be construed as sex. It wasn’t a long lunch – just a quick in and out.

Listen to 𝘾𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨 𝘾𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙙𝙚 on the 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗼𝗹𝗹𝘆’𝘀 𝗖𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗿 Spotify playlist HERE!

Listen to 𝘾𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨 𝘾𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙙𝙚 on the 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗼𝗹𝗹𝘆’𝘀 𝗖𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗿 Apple Music playlist HERE!

Listen to 𝘾𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨 𝘾𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙙𝙚 on YouTube HERE!

Follow 𝘾𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙅𝙖𝙣𝙚 on Instagram HERE!

Follow 𝘾𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙅𝙖𝙣𝙚 on TwiX HERE!

Please share this post and let me know your thoughts in the comments below

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.

𝙀𝙫𝙖𝙥𝙤𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙚 – 𝘽𝙚𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙘𝙚 𝙈𝙖𝙧𝙨𝙖𝙡𝙖

Charles brings the scars to the surface…

“It’s all in the past”. Such a comforting line we have frequently told ourselves and have been told by others. When a war is declared over, we all breathe a sigh of relief. It’s all in the past, we say, to console ourselves. The undetonated bombs are safely tucked away, to snooze until the next war (for there will indeed be a next war). The relentless carnage has finally relented, the nerves subside and the exhaustion overtakes. Because for once there is time for exhaustion. It is a good kind of exhaustion, though. A ceaselessness shattered by peace. The heartbeat slows to what one can only assume to be a normal one, and one lies down, not thinking about the future. The future is irrelevant right now. The present silence is all that matters. The thing is, we have a memory, and scars don’t always heal. The other overlooked flaw in this casual “It’s all in the past” utterance, is that the past often – nay – usually – nay – almost always affects the present and the future. The scars of war are far more than physical. The scars of anyone’s past are usually cemented in the mind. And it doesn’t just have to be something so publicly epic as war…

We’ve all been through trauma of one kind of another. The good times would never be so good without a certain modicum of the bad. The contrast in life is what makes it feel like life as opposed to an automatic factory of business. The problem with these past traumas is that they very often linger like a familiar odour that one just can’t quite place. If not dealt with in a proper, conscious manner, these lingerings can fester, bringing the past right into the present and most probably the future. Which ain’t nice. While said contrast makes a good thing better, we’d all (I’m sure) rather the bad to bugger off into the past for good. This could be an unresolved childhood trauma, a (lack of) money trauma, a past flood trauma, a longstanding phobia, or even just a general anxiety brought on by memories of the past. Put bluntly, one is lying to oneself when one says “it’s all fine”. We are what we were. And if we don’t like what we were, then the past needs to be addressed, laid to rest, and not hurled into an unlocked chest.

That empty comfort of “It’s all in the past” can often be as shallow as “It’s only water”. When the great tsunami of 2004 struck like a wet atomic bomb, did anyone dare to utter “It’s only water”…? I think not. So why do we so casually relegate things to the past when we all know that the past decides the present and the future? Our GOOD memories of the past have so much to do with our present, and we certainly don’t classify THOSE as “old and therefore irrelevant”. There is relevance to everything in the past. That’s why the past so often comes back to haunt. We mustn’t shove it deep down inside, but we mustn’t consciously forget it either. Instead it is important to keep it within our thoughts and memories, but not let it drag us down. Again I turn to war… We mourn the dead, lest we forget. But we mustn’t break down in tears at the memory. To quote the founder of the feet, we must “RISE UP!!”, but we mustn’t fight. THEY fought, and look where it got THEM. Which is one of the most important things about the past. To learn from it. We all make mistakes. We will continue to make mistakes. But if we learn from our past, those fresh mistakes will hopefully be different ones. Only once acknowledged, ingested, mulled over and learnt from, can these past traumas even begin to evaporate.

Which brings us ever so neatly into the world of Bernice Marsala. And what a world it IS! She’s the Nashville gal who just keeps on winning awards! The Josie Music Awards? She’s won them. The International Singer Songwriter Awards? She’s won them. The Infinity Music & Film Awards? She’s won them. The World Songwriting Awards? She’s… Yep, she’s won them too. While many artists either lose their ability to sustain a high standard in their field, or simply lose the motivation or the energy to keep trying, Bernice just keeps on pushing, and frankly just keeps on getting better and better. Her most recent claim to achievement is having been accepted as a Recording Academy Voting Member! For those who can’t quite place “Recording Academy” (though it will undoubtedly ring a bell), this is the posh term for what we habitually and affectionately call the Grammys. Ah, NOW you know! We so often talk about “claim to fame”, but surely a claim to achievement is so much more meaningful, no? Okay, it doesn’t rhyme, but fame should not be the absolute goal to end all goals. It should be money… Just kidding.

Having entirely ignored Bernice’s output for over a year, I can ignore no longer. Okay, Okay. I have not “ignored” her music in the last year, but it has not set foot in this here Corner for that period. I believe July 2025 was the last time she appeared here. I got some complaints about the same artists cropping up here, so I diversified. Actually, I got just one complaint and I have always been very careful to make sure the Corner retained a nice balance, so I never fully understood that one complaint. This same complaint also said that I very often review songs that I have produced and/or mixed – another thing that is simply not true. But either way, I like people to be happy, so I ended up actively shying away from reviewing songs I had had anything to do with. The thing is, this occasionally led to a bit of a problem. I am very fortunate in having some fabulously talented clients having written and recorded some very excellent songs. The problem was this: “Why should those with particularly good songs be automatically vetoed simply because either they appeared here a few months ago, or I had anything to do with their song’s making (or both)?” – To me, this seems pretty unfair. Nevertheless, I stuck to my conscious diversification, and will continue to do this (providing the diverse stays good). Occasionally, though, there comes a track that just cannot be ignored. Where it is so far and away the best song to be released within the week. Please clamp your lugholes around Bernice Marsala’s latest single, ‘Evaporate’.

Look, I can’t help it if I produce/mix for a living, and write reviews on the side (not for a living). Sometimes the twain shall meet. Yes, I produced and mixed the track. But I will not concentrate on this side of things here. It is there for you to hear. I want to touch more on the song, the vocals, the lyrics and the kalimba, for this is the crux of it all. Let’s start with the words. Bernice has spent much of her lyrics reckoning with the past. Not necessarily HER past, for she is an artist. An inventor of scenes and notions. Quite often I ask her where this or that song’s lyrics came from, expecting some story about her past, and more often than not she casually says she just came up with the idea, and that it’s not really anything to do with anything in her own life. Sometimes there is a similarity in context with a friend of hers, and sometimes it is just plucked from the ether. ‘Evaporate’ talks about the relationship between the past and the present, and how one is so often unable to “ditch” the past in order to have an unperturbed present. So true! So wise. She starts straight in with the line “You thought you stitched yourself up, but you walk around with open wounds”. It is perhaps her very best opening line, in being both arresting and relatable. “You’ve got your smile on, like it’s your refuge” – the second line connects your soul with her own. That personal heart of sadness. “Mustn’t grumble”, say the English, for fear of making a fuss. “Pretending won’t distract you from the pain, and avoiding it won’t make it go away”: it’s a third line that makes you sit back in your seat; not in nestled comfort but in dumbstruck awe of how she’s just got it so right. Your eyes are wide and your ears are tingling for more.

Vocally, Bernice is at her most confident yet. The sound is so open and effortless. This might perhaps be something to do with not having a little blob (baby) pushing up against her diaphragm (for she is now the proud owner of two blobs). But I think it is also simply to do with experience. With every song she learns. Not just what to do, but what she is capable of. The release preceding this was ‘Crazy One’ (an official collaboration avec moi). I asked her to sing one or two lines a specific way and she didn’t know if she could. It was something to do with a brief, fast run of notes (without slurring or pausing the notes) – not an easy technique. She was ready to let me down – that’s the spirit, girl! The thing is, EYE knew she could do it. First take…? Nailed it. Being a producer can be tricky, because it’s not all about making music on your own. It often involves asking (politely telling) the client to do something a certain way. I want to make the music the best it can be, but I also don’t want the client to come away resenting me. Hence tricky. But we two get on well, and there has never EVER been anything other than peachy roses between us. She eats the peaches, I smell the roses; job’s a good ‘un. I said I wouldn’t be talking about me… The thing is, I’m not. I’m talking about the producer’s role; because ultimately the artist and the finished song are the stars. It ain’t me, babe. Back to the voice. Bernice’s enunciation has always been “top hole”, but I feel like lately there is a certain natural crispness that is both clearer and smoother than ever before. Speaking of crispness, I was in a pub on Sunday and they were advertising Christmas bookings everywhere. In an August heatwave!! Sorry: crispness/Christmas. I digress.

Let’s get to the song itself. I’ll keep this bit brief for a reason. The song itself is purposely pretty simple in terms of chord changes. It needs to be. The focus of this song is the vocal, its lyrics and the general surrounding sound of it all (the production). I feel like if this song were to be any more complicated or “clever”, the focus might be softened or even blurred. And no one likes an astigmatism. Keeping the focus narrow in the lead while the production remains relatively wide, the song itself is the corrective lens achieving the ultimate goal – money (still kidding). If this song were to be sung with just piano accompaniment, it might seem almost like verse chorus verse chorus verse chorus. But due to the production and the many varying melodies sung throughout the lines, it’s a very unusual Intro, Verse 1A, Verse 1B, Chorus 1A, Verse 2A, Verse 2B, Chorus 2A, Bridge 1, Bridge 2, Chorus 3B, Outro. Hmmm… So maybe it’s not that simple after all. But it sounds and feels natural.

And finally, that kalimba. For those who don’t know what this is, you do. You will have seen one – maybe even played one – but you might not know what it is called. It’s a little wooden box that you hold in your palms, while your thumbs are free to pluck/flick various pitched metal tines. An African doohickey of sorts. This was the one thing Bernice sent me that I didn’t touch in the slightest. I knew not to. I just mixed it. I could clearly tell that this was to be the underlying motif of the whole piece. The drone. The crux. The ostinato. Call it what you will. This kalimba line is integral to everything. In fact, I believe this was the starting point from which the song was born. She also said not to touch it. Ahem. But I weren’t gunnoo, honest! This kalimba sums up everything about the song and even its cover font… It has its past roots, but is so utterly enriched in right now and beyond.

I do believe ‘Evaporate’ to be Bernice’s very best release to date. I could be wrong. You might prefer another. But either way, give it a listen, if only so you can decide for yourself.

It is no surprise that she just can’t help but win awards.

As to me and my past trauma, I’m English, therefore no such thing exists – he says, stuffing it deep, deep down. Nothing to see here!

Listen to 𝙀𝙫𝙖𝙥𝙤𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙚 on the 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗼𝗹𝗹𝘆’𝘀 𝗖𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗿 Spotify playlist HERE!

Listen to 𝙀𝙫𝙖𝙥𝙤𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙚 on the 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗼𝗹𝗹𝘆’𝘀 𝗖𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗿 Apple Music playlist HERE!

Listen to/watch 𝙀𝙫𝙖𝙥𝙤𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙚 on YouTube HERE!

Follow 𝘽𝙚𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙘𝙚 𝙈𝙖𝙧𝙨𝙖𝙡𝙖 on Instagram HERE!

Follow 𝘽𝙚𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙘𝙚 𝙈𝙖𝙧𝙨𝙖𝙡𝙖 on TwiX HERE!

Please share this post and let me know your thoughts in the comments below

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.

𝙋𝙚𝙣𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚 – 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙞𝙨

Charles has only himself to blame…

Music can be an outlet. It can join or define your mood. It can also be background nothing. Or, it can be unlistenable. More often than not, though, it can be an escape. A place to hide; to meditate away your thoughts. Your choice of choosing is usually – as it is for me – rather important. Get it wrong and you’ve severely let yourself down. Get it right and the previously fragmented pieces form a whole. If, for whatever reason you’re low, don’t be naive or gullible in thinking that a shot of “happy music” will disinfect your state of mind. Lowness comes and goes in all of us. It is something that we simply have to endure. I’m not suggesting you wallow, but, like illness, it cannot be shunned. You might be able to put it aside for a brief while, but soon enough it will bite you, and with clenched teeth it will cling with great tenacity. No, in lowness, “happy music’ is not the answer. You must ride the storm, waves and all. But Radiohead is usually not the answer, unless you enjoy punishing yourself – that comes later… The right choice of music can and will give strength, meaning and weight to the declining situation.

While the right music should lead you to meditate (in a manner), ridding yourself of extraneous distractions and pointless nothings, said meditation will leave you with the reduction you require. Only the thoughts that matter, with an increased clarity. Only then can you start to observe yourself. Analyse, even. From this point forth, you are your very own alienist (or “shrink”, if you prefer). With the clutter removed you can now clearly survey the carnage. Your initial query, “What have I done?”, is just that; an honest query. So honest as to almost be expecting an answer from above. But alas, there is no such reply. Then comes the first in a series of alternative emphases: “WHAT have I done?”… It demands a list in a childishly stubborn manner. The next almost lies in lost despair: “What HAVE I done?”… It suggests a genuine ignorance or unawareness of anything having ever been done. It usually comes complete with wide-open puppy-dog eyes. With still nothing close to any kind of response, our third alternative brings the eyelids right down with an aggressive stare akin to Lennon without glasses. It’s vicious: “What have EYE done??”… It’s a full-on boxer-defence stance, very much ready for a fight. While it suggests innocence, it heavily borders on blame. And finally we reach the dreaded final alternative: “What have I DONE??”… It’s a realisation that the ogre within is very much alive and kicking. You know what you’ve done, and it’s all your fault.

Is the automatic reaction to repent and fix things…? Is it, bugger! I mentioned earlier that punishment would come later… The time is now! You give yourself a damned good scolding. You thrash yourself into oblivion – if verbally. You mentally mutilate your being until the sweat pours and the energy is nothing more than weedy. And then you keel over, head propped up by the wall. It is not enough, but for now this movement has come to a close and an interval is much needed. Definitely time for a drink. You see…? THIS is what music can do for you. While it may not sound like much fun, to feel is to live. No one wants pain. No one should be forced to endure pain. But if the pain is already there (through any means), you might as well use it and work out what the hell it is. A friendly word of advice, though (why is it that whenever anyone says the word “friendly” in this context it is usually very much unfriendly and instead suggesting a threat?), try not to beat yourself up too much over whatever it is that you think you may or may not have done. Maybe just concentrate on making the whole saga an altogether finer one. “Then you can start, to make it better”. Failing that, you can just let it be. Either way, thanks, Macca!

From one penance to another, we slide into the realm of what got me here in the first place. Please welcome agablis (yes, all lowercase) to the Corner. My clever typing keyboard seems to have a tendency to try to turn this artist’s name into a dry, white wine, so apologies if at any point this artist segues into a Chablis. As to the name agablis, don’t ask me; I have absolutely no idea. But neither do I much care, because we’re not here for names; we’re here for music. And music is just what agablis does best. Despite the sound, this is not a band, group or beat combo. This is just one Oregonian named Sean Hurst. Being unsure as to whether this artist wishes to have his real name known (and what with me being slightly uncomfortable with an artist name being totalmente lowercase), I shall refer to him as “the dude” (a word so seldom writ by this scratchy nib of mine). I simply feel there is an air of cool to his music, and thus dudish. When I’m on the look out for new music, it all depends very much on how I’m feeling. I think by now you all know how close I am to “the song”, and usually it is chords and melody that I crave. However, sometimes I just need oomph. This could come in the form of gritty rock or even a sneaky, cheeky sort of electronic dance. These days, though, I do notice how much I need to feel. The music must suit, fit and elope with me to somewhere where people are not. My cosy affair with the one that knows me so well. ‘You and the Night and the Music’, replacing you with me. It might be classical, it might be jazz, it might even be weird and wonderful world music (I’ve lately been really into traditional Jewish music). But sometimes it needs to be something that is closer to me. Something I have caressed for just so many years. Guitars. And this is where the dude came in. He fixed me right up, like a doc.

The dude is a self-confessed lover of vinyl, which although pleasing me greatly, frankly doesn’t surprise me. No other listening method is so tactile, so organic and so in tune with its owner. Oh, and that’s another thing; with vinyl you actually OWN it. This would have sounded absurd 20 or 30 years ago, but these days we are basically renting our music collection. Not so much a collection but more like a cluttered drawer full of broken bits that may or may not come in useful one day. A far cry from one’s prized record collection built over the course of decades, relinquishing you of mucho pennies in the process. I have always adored physical vinyl records, but could never continue to keep a proper collection going, simply because it’s a very expensive habit now. The other reason is that I mainly listen to music on the go. And it always seemed a little pretentious to bring a battery-operated turntable on the Tube or the bus. Not to mention awkward. Not to mention embarrassing and absolutely absurd (if a little hilarious). And so I stick with streaming for now. The dude, on the other hand, simply HAD to be a vinyl fan, due to the very music he makes. It’s shoegazer stuff. The perfect thing for my own self-loathing. But potentially, the perfect thing to make me wonder if it is myself I am loathing, or in fact if there is anything in the world actually worth loathing at all! Of COURSE the dude loves vinyl. He makes music to dwell to!

If you’d like a quick point of reference, maybe have a listen to Mal Fantôme and Mercury Teardrop. There, you will get a little more than halfway. But every journey is different, and every journey deserves attentive attention. Immediately the space is wide and cavernous, like early Verve or early Suede. It’s deep and atmospheric, but from 0:11 to 0:27 the bass is surprisingly dry and potent, which I have come to expect from Chablis. It picks rhythmically in time with itself while the ambience hangs like a polluted fog. That is, until 0:27, where the depth of its de-tuned drone really comes into colour. I say de-tuned not in terms of dissonance, but in the way that all guitars and basses are de-tuned by one whole step, where E becomes D. I haven’t actually checked this, but it certainly gives the sound of that “drop-D” tone. At this point, guitars are creating a wall of misty soldiers, drums are kicking like they’re stoned but still on full form, and the bass is, frankly, swinging. All the while it seems as though there are some stunning synths loud in the background, but I suspect these are all guitars. The dude is certainly an expert at sound design. So far, the piece has been entirely instrumental, which, although a heavy dream of a thing, can get a bit “meh” after a while. So it’s just as well the dude opts for 0:48 as the correct time to bring in the most sensuous voices you never knew you needed. I chose that turn of phrase because the whole piece feels like a work of art in the form of hypnotism. The music is there to lull you into whatever mood the creator feels is right (heavy, yet clear and receptive) – the swing of the watch – and then you are in full eager form to listen to what the hypnotist wants you to listen to. From the heaviness of the music (true opium in sound), come the airy heavens of these voices. You NEED this. Now, these voices are undoubtedly female… And yet, I don’t believe they are. I can’t say for sure, but having realised the extent of the dude’s talents in terms of sound design, I wouldn’t put it past him to have sang these lines himself, then manipulated them in such a way that they sound female. Either that or he just has a girly voice. Or it’s someone else singing. But again, I do not care. I care about art, which is what I am listening to. Pure art.

At 2:13, the song does just what I had hoped, but really not what I had expected. Its soldiers disperse in all angles (many out of view), and sparse electronic drums replace the previously thwacked skins. But at 2:38 the skins are back but at double tempo – now, I REALLY didn’t see THAT one coming! It brings a more pop sensibility (perhaps sensible in this present climate of vinyl unlovers). And we’re only halfway through the song! 3:43 then orders the soldiers to stand at ease, allowing for the voices to come to the fore. Nah, those voices have GOT to be female. I’ll probably find out eventually from the dude himself. The rest of the song remains in double tempo once the soldiers have resumed their posts. Remember, this is vibe music; and boy, does it vibe!

Blur once coined the line “He’s a well-wisher and he wishes you well”. The dude’s a dwell-wisher and he wishes you dwell. He got his wish. I’ve got the bruises to prove it!

Finally. Now I can glug my well-earned glass of chilled agablis.

Listen to 𝙋𝙚𝙣𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚 on the Connolly’s Corner Spotify playlist HERE!

Listen to 𝙋𝙚𝙣𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚 on the Connolly’s Corner Apple Music playlist HERE!

Listen to 𝙋𝙚𝙣𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚 on YouTube HERE!

Follow 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙞𝙨 on Instagram HERE!

Follow 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙞𝙨 on TwiX HERE!

Please share this post and let me know your thoughts in the comments below

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.

𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙒𝙧𝙤𝙩𝙚 𝙖 𝙎𝙤𝙣𝙜 – 𝙐𝙣𝙤𝙗𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙

Charles oils those cogs…

Feeling a bit fat lately? Breathing a little heavier than usual? Don’t worry, this is quite normal these days. But it didn’t used to be. Take a look at old photos of anyone under the age of 50 or 60, and they were probably pretty slim. This was the old norm. They ate fresh food and had a balanced diet. Sweet treats were a rare treat – hence the name. In order to buy said fresh food, one had to wander up (or down) the road to the shops (yes, plural) and buy it. It would then be transported via one’s arms and legs (also plural). Arms for to carry; legs for to schlep. These days, food is rather less nutritious, and there are far too many unhealthy options to guide your eyes into temptation. The double schlep is usually achieved pretty much limbless. Vroom there; vroom back. And like a deadweight we wind the sofa with a central blow once back in the homestead; legs outstretched and arms a-flailin’. And yes, you pant with much perspiration. Or perhaps you don’t like the idea of driving all the way there and all the way back, while sweating like a jogger from having moved several inches… There’s always Uber Eats! Eats by apps (these gluttonous plurals). Okay, so at least we all have the fittest thumbs these days… But is it any wonder that we’re perhaps less physically fit than we used to be? For the most part, I call it stubborn laziness. The good news is, people seem to be becoming aware of their physical slump, and so are starting to do something about it.

The bad news is, it seems people are mostly ONLY aware of the physical side. Oh, and good old mental (un)health (stress, anxiety, depression etc.). But there is more to our noggin than what we call “mental health”… Have you noticed lately that your brain is on autopilot? That for the majority of the time it is spent twiddling its neurones, wondering whether it will be needed at any time soon? Are we perhaps getting just a tad too lazy…? Do you remember when you were young (wait, I haven’t finished), being in awe of older people’s knowledge, views and wisdom? I certainly do. These older people weren’t just full of facts, but they seemed so quick-witted. There were layers to their knowledge, and they could respond with witty profundity. But what do WE do these days? We sit in stumped silence, hunched over a small Google machine; we get “the answer” then discard said information within seconds, with the full knowledge (oh, the irony) that it can always be accessed via said little device at a later date. Simply put, our brains have largely become superfluous. I believe this all began with the pocket calculator in the ‘70s. Maths (yes, we pluralise it in England) was suddenly seen by the young as a pointless subject; a needless and laborious waste of time. And to some extent, I see what they meant. But I wouldn’t be comfortable if I couldn’t do the simplest sum without the use of a machine. I would feel a little pointless. And so the mental (un)health aspect starts to creep in. There is such a direct link between the brain and the mind (hear me out, I know most of you think of them as the same thing), that one will very much affect the other. The brain is the internal machine that does the work, and it is required in order to feed the mind with much needed nutrition (instant vibes). Simply put, using one’s brain will make you feel good.

Alongside laze-inducing machines telling us “the answer”, comes another problem. A problem that has been going on long before technology started helping us on our “merry” way. We are so absurdly susceptible to suggestion. Although this has been a thing for (probably) millennia, I have noticed the soaring rise of “wait to hear what everyone else says before blurting out my own identical philosophy”. This needn’t be something so huge as your opinion on world politics, but even something so trivial as your thoughts on a certain wine. If you’ve read the “tasting notes” on the back of the bottle, chances are you will have identical conclusions as to it being full-bodied, containing mild tannins (regardless of not quite knowing what a tannin is) and finishing with notes of cherry and chocolate. We are very much creatures of suggestion (to the advertising industry’s glee). What might be a better “game”, is to taste first, then read after; then you can see if you agree. You’ll feel better, I promise you! But that could be the effect of the wine (hic!). In the words of The Beatles, ‘Think For Yourself’. Self-achievement is one of the biggest mental health boosters. In relying on machines and other people’s minds, there is little to no satisfaction. Which could explain that while I was making that ‘Hands Up!’ album 18 trillion years ago, I was on a high; and while not really making anything of my own right now, I am on a bit of a slump. Having said that, do you know how EYE exercise my brain? By observing and pondering, and by writing these weekly articles. The better the writing, the better I feel.

But what does any of this have to do with ‘You Wrote a Song’ by Unobliterated?? I’ll get to that in a bit. For now, allow me to welcome Gary Taylor to my Corner, for he is the entirety of Unobliterated. Before we delve into the song’s meaning, let’s cover some other stuff first. So… Who is Gary Taylor? He’s a full-frontal nudist. Ahem. What I mean to say is, he is bold and brave, makes sure you sit up and take note, and often has the guts to say what others would only dare to think. His clothes are in place, rest assured. Although living in Portugal with his family, he made sure to hold on to his English roots by way of a dry, sarcastic (sometimes even scathing) sense of humour – I’m sure you aren’t surprised to hear that this sits well with me, while it might give some others a funny turn. It’s an English quirk, just like other nations having their own quirks. And what has Unobliterated been up to lately? He wrote a song. A song called ‘You Wrote a Song’. Now we get to the song’s meaning? No, no; not yet…

Musically, Unobliterated is a master of disguised clever chords and chord changes. With most of his music you might find yourself rocking away (in a nodding fashion), completely oblivious to anything particularly brilliant going on. But believe me, this subtle brilliance is the reason you haven’t got bored and skipped. It isn’t jazzy; it doesn’t ever feel awkward; it’s what I have always attempted to do in my own music. To sound simple, while actually being rather more. The song starts straight in with oomph and dissonance. A welcome dissonance. It’s creepy, but it suggests something’s coming, thus holding your attention. The almost indecipherable lyrics are pivoting between dissonance and “home turf”. Interestingly, those lyrics that are difficult to pick up are exactly what make you pay closer attention. This isn’t a mixing error, but the genuine intention. Robotic confusion, if you will. Then comes the setup of all setups – a two-bar drum fill – as we sink into a “more pleasurable” verse… But it isn’t a verse. It’s a full chorus, followed by a verse. Which also sounds a bit chorus-like. The whole piece has such an unusual structure, which is – ugh – music to my ears! Remind me never to use that phrase when reviewing music. In hindsight, I think Gary – sorry – Unobliterated, has done something unique here, in giving the verse the words of a chorus. Because things seem to actually get more interesting in the other verse. The first verse that follows the chorus – see what I mean? He’s a crazy mixed up kid who probably knows exactly what he’s doing. I love it when artists are being arty rather than reading the manual d’art. Experimentation and newness!!

And after all this excitement, do we get more of the same…? Hah!! I don’t THINK so. This is Unobliterated: king of the bridge! Now, most bridges are how long; 10 seconds? 15 seconds? How long’s his? Try 50 seconds!!! And it’s a three-part bridge too! The first part is what I have come to expect from Unobliterated. It’s smooth, cool, and takes us down another road. But in part two, that road comes to a bridge (no pun intended), leading us to a new land! We have width, reverbs, delays, and ultimately an ethereal, ambient electronic paradise. I almost expect a deep trance-like kick to take over, but just as you think it might go full electronica, he makes a handbrake turn and careers off into the more familiar Unobliterated sunset for a brief part three. Gary Taylor remains the king of the bridge. There are just SO many moments in this song where I smile and tingle with “ohh, that chord” or “ahh, that sound”, that I won’t bother to list them. The final 17 seconds show off the most beautiful voice we never knew he had. The tasting notes suggest a finish of Frank Joshua with no hint of tannins (whatever they are).

Okay, okay. But the song’s meaning…? Let’s ponder on this a bit. I mean, it’s a good question. What IS this song about? But then do you REALLY want me to say my thoughts? How’s about I don’t say what I think it’s about… What do YOU think it’s about? Let me and Gary know in the comments. But if you come to this article a little later than immediately after publication, please don’t rely on other people’s comments for “the answer”. Just listen to the song, listen to the lyrics (the lyrics are in the description of the YouTube video – linked below – should you wish to read them), use your own brain and make up your own mind. Life is better this way. We simply NEED to be more independently minded and not rely on others’ thoughts and views. Be bothered, and write your own mini review in the comments if you wish, but focus on the meaning behind the song. Don’t worry, it doesn’t have to be long by any means (and you don’t have to do it at all!). And also, don’t worry, I won’t be doing this every week. I heard that sigh of relief. Lazybrains.

Remember, don’t look at what others have said. I may not mind you guzzling, courtesy of Uber Eats (still plural), but I might have something to say about Uber Cheats (also plural).

Listen to 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙒𝙧𝙤𝙩𝙚 𝙖 𝙎𝙤𝙣𝙜 on the 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗼𝗹𝗹𝘆’𝘀 𝗖𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗿 Spotify playlist HERE!

Listen to 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙒𝙧𝙤𝙩𝙚 𝙖 𝙎𝙤𝙣𝙜 on the 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗼𝗹𝗹𝘆’𝘀 𝗖𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗿 Apple Music playlist HERE!

Listen to/watch 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙒𝙧𝙤𝙩𝙚 𝙖 𝙎𝙤𝙣𝙜 on YouTube HERE! (lyrics in description here too)

Follow 𝙐𝙣𝙤𝙗𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙 on Instagram HERE!

Follow 𝙐𝙣𝙤𝙗𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙 on TwiX HERE!

Please share this post and let me know your thoughts in the comments below

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.

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙒𝙤𝙢𝙖𝙣 𝙒𝙝𝙤 𝘿𝙤𝙚𝙨𝙣’𝙩 𝙀𝙭𝙞𝙨𝙩 – 𝙁𝙞𝙜 𝙁𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚, 𝙇𝙪𝙗𝙚𝙣𝙖 𝙉𝙤𝙫𝙖 & 𝙍𝙞𝙞𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙖

Charles has no identity…

I’m reading a book about Paul McCartney at the moment. Despite assuming I know pretty much everything there is to know about him and his life, I find myself repeatedly floored by the most fascinating chunks of “Huh, I had no idea about that”. It covers so many aspects of his life and career, from family and friends to his love of literature and old ladies (not to mention younger ones). In some respects his life could never be considered in any way similar to ours. He is in another league. Incomparable. But in other ways, he is very much a normal human being with the same thoughts, feelings, worries and anxieties as all of us. Yes, he has always had that pillow of money to cushion the blow, but he has also had problems that none of us has ever had to deal with. Such as world fame for over 60 years. He is not a complainer in the slightest, but he still needs to deal with things in his own way. With world fame comes pressure. He was never one of those lucky ones who just happened to become famous – like untalented TV presenters. He was famous because of his raw talent. So, as the fame mounted, so did the pressure. Fame and adulation can crash as quickly as it soars. By the end of The Beatles, he was lost, exhausted and scared. He was on his own. But he had Linda. The book often returns to the themes of freedom and escape. His farms in Scotland and Sussex being regular getaways from the persistent nagging press and endless business meetings (he always hated the business side). He would sometimes even travel to Jamaica or Africa to record an album – again, getting away from everything. This frequent escape was probably what kept him sane throughout the decades.

Thankfully, we don’t have these problems. I could say “most” of us don’t have these problems, but I think I can safely say that EVERYONE reading these articles has never been famous and knows nothing of the feeling. Many of us, however, might suffer from the complete opposite. Total invisibility – no eyes on you (despite that word containing 5 eyes). The feeling that no one knows and no one cares. A vague, occasional shadow, at best. One who has little to offer, or one who has much to offer but no one pays any attention. The feeling of being a permanent third wheel, surplus to requirements. No mark has been made, and no heads have been turned. Unlike Paul’s “Ever Present Past”, one’s present and past might come across as irrelevant. Or so that’s what one might think and feel. We’ve all seen the world’s little people on social media, attempting to act like big people, with the hope of actually becoming big people (I don’t mean fat). What if “fame” is not the answer…? What if everything is actually fine? What if all this is just an illusion based on one’s feelings? Are your friends and family actually ignoring you? Have you actually done anything terribly wrong? Have you actually offended anyone? Would you genuinely consider yourself the outcast of society? I would assume the answer for all of these to be No. What is actually most likely the cause of this feeling is arrogance from the other side. Being ignored is usually the fault of the ignorer rather than the ignoree. THEY’RE the ones who need to change. Contrary to the classic break-up line, you should be saying “It’s not me, it’s you”. You could of course loudly flaunt your presence and boast your talents, but perhaps what you need is a good dose of pepping up? Or maybe an amalgamation of the two…

We’re always being told we need to “stay relevant”. It’s a phrase so casually tossed around, but surely the alternative suggests we are irrelevant… Aren’t we our own relevance? Shouldn’t we decide what is relevant or not? To “stay relevant” these days seems to say “be like everyone else”, which to me is the opposite of “relevance”. Being deliberate and true to oneself, is just about as forthright as one can be. Invisibility (and its 5 eyes) will be a thing of the past, and the right people will find you. Ignore the ignorers. In the words of, well, most people these days, “Yer good”. Which brings me neatly into the land of Fig Fable and its members. And what a triumphant land it is! For me, Fig Fable is Lubena Nova and others, because Lubena is the associated member of the community. She’s the person I chat with, she’s the lyricist and melodist, and she’s the sensational singer. But “and others” is frankly unfair, so we will be covering everyone involved. Please welcome Fig Fable with their brand new single, ‘The Woman Who Doesn’t Exist’! Jazz hands at the ready!!

To say this song is a straightforward pop song, would be a huge lie. ‘The Woman Who Doesn’t Exist’ (TWWDE from now on) is not pop in the slightest. This is unashamedly jazz. Yes, real jazz. But vocal jazz. We still have song here, but don’t expect lingering chords of C, G, D, Am & Em. And you won’t hear any chunky riffs progressing the song either. But you will hear edgy vocals. Just not the kind of vocals you have heard elsewhere. I have reviewed the Nova/Riitala duo once before, over a year ago. If you are old enough to remember that, then Lubena Nova’s particular singing voice might be familiar to you. It is unmistakable. If you AREN’t familiar with anything by Nova/Riitala/FigFable, then this might very well blow your mind. NO ONE sounds like them. This is originality incarnate. Of course, we have the inimitable Lubena Nova on vocals, lyrics and melodies; but then there’s Jari Riitala as composer, arranger and double bass player. The combo is completed with Ville Vihko on piano, and Veikka Kajamies on drums. Finally, the whole piece is mixed and mastered by our very own Andres Guazzelli.

Now… I am aware that many music listeners (yes, even artists) are instantly put off by even the mention of jazz. And I understand(!)… to an extent… I think what I don’t like is that “even a mention” bit. An instant switching off because “Oh yuk: jazz, I hate jazz”. Jazz can be as wide ranging as pop, so I urge you not to be so quick to judge until you’ve listened. Be open. Be willing. You never know, you might actually like it! Shall we get jazzy? Let’s. After a brief (but stupendous) piano introduction from Ville, Veikka sets the tempo with a snappy little drum fill, and we’re in. Jari’s bass is walking fast to the most vivacious of waltzes and Lubena simultaneously sings what I can only understand as the word “wiba”. She repeats this word many times before we get into Verse 1. I was instantly baffled by this word. Was it even a word? It seems to have importance, as not only is this sung multiple times in the intro, it appears many times throughout the song… So I asked someone. My private source has informed me that this is in fact what I had initially been inclined to believe. Scat. ‘Wiba’ is not a real word. I have never been sure if I like scatting, but have recently come to the conclusion that if a person can scat with immediate confidence, then it is good scatting. This is therefore good scat. Lubena gave me a right good scatting.

Up to this point, the song already has tremendous bounce and movement, as each player dances around the full range of their instrument. Verse 1 changes key and the three instruments club together, very often playing in rhythmic unison, somehow simplifying the music, thus drawing one’s attention to Lubena’s vocals as she sings in the oh-so operatic style that only she knows: “I am the woman who doesn’t exist. I have no identity, I’m never missed”. There is a falling chromaticism to each line, ending on a grounded chord that wants to go further. And further is exactly where it goes. In fact, this is one of the joys of TWWDE. It just doesn’t sit still. And yet, there is definite form, thanks to Jari’s excellent, natural writing. The ‘wiba’ motif is actually VERY clever, because in returning to this every once in a while, we have something to latch on to (as novices in the field of jazz). This section is the bounciest, most catchy part, making TWWDE a piece not only for the jazzers but for a wider audience not so used to such herbs and spices. My ignorant palate can easily taste, digest and even enjoy this, and it puts me in the mood for more! Pop suddenly sounds a little “what it says on the tin”.

Two minutes into the five-and-a-half-minute piece, Ville Vihko’s piano solo begins. It is of the absolute highest standard. Just impeccable, with nods to those lively, more spritely players – Dave Brubeck, David Newton (Stacey Kent’s pianist), Jamie Cullum, to name a few. The keys are dry and to the fore, but still blending so well with its siblings. The solo is a full minute long, and it never gets dull, but never gets “too jazzy” for the average ear. Crisp and precise yet full of life’s experience. The full band rejoins as a unit for around 40 seconds, while Lubena perches comfortably on top. Veikka Kajamies then takes centre stage, as the band pauses for a shot of non-alcoholic gin. Veikka delivers a fiery yet considered drum solo from the heavens. You will absolutely feel you are listening live at a jazz club. It is 20-30 seconds of “I wish I could do that”, before setting up again for the band to come together. It’s Wiba time!! The final minute is simply pure style. A notch above.

Of course, this will not be for everyone. I shouldn’t think Fig Fable imagines it’s for everyone either. But I tell you, I’d much rather listen to this than Taylor Swift or Olivia Rodrigo. There is something so pleasing and fulfilling about great musicians coming together and making proper music. The kind of music that I’m not good enough to play. The kind of music that demands a lot more thought and concentration as a listener. It’s worth the extra effort. I am enriched! Oh, and Lubena? I’m pleased you exist.

Compared to these fabulous musicians, I feel like an untalented TV presenter. And I’m not even famous.
Fame or no fame, I will now make my escape. Hello, Goodbye.

Listen to 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙒𝙤𝙢𝙖𝙣 𝙒𝙝𝙤 𝘿𝙤𝙚𝙨𝙣’𝙩 𝙀𝙭𝙞𝙨𝙩 on the 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗼𝗹𝗹𝘆’𝘀 𝗖𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗿 Spotify playlist HERE!

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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.

𝙋𝙧𝙤𝙥𝙝𝙚𝙩𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙋𝙧𝙤𝙛𝙞𝙩 – 𝙀𝙙 𝙀𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙚

Charles trends the buck…

Sorry, I’m back… Forgive me if this piece seems a little erratic and all over the place. My mind right now is a little erratic and all over the place – stands to reason. Going away and coming back is such a jolt to the system that I feel discombobulated. My thoughts and feelings are, how can I put it… Messi. In being away, I missed out on the relentlessly glorious (and therefore horrible) hot English weather. I missed out on the pubs being open till 5am. I’m not sure much else happened in Britain other than the murder of a politician, wildfires in Scotland and Wales (surely a first) and, of course, yet another switch of Prime Minister (most certainly NOT a first). We do this every few months in Britain, with every successor being just as uninspiring, inept or dangerous as the last. It feels a bit like skipping dud tracks on Spotify; except that Spotify doesn’t govern a country. Once I had arrived home and attempted to settle back into the swing of things (so far a complete failure), Sunday night was the World Cup Final. So, along with most of the world, I… No, I didn’t. I didn’t feel like watching it. Mainly because I didn’t much care by this point. Neither team’s nation particularly means anything to me so I wouldn’t really be rooting for either side. Also, said discombobulation was in full swing, so instead I sat and read. It felt like a nice, traditional Sunday evening.

The following morning, I read about all that had happened throughout the Final, and it got me thinking about the entire tournament as a whole. I had watched a couple of the England games while abroad so I was still able to have caught the feeling. Those adverts, eh? They’re always so different to usual adverts. Crisps (potato chips), beer, online betting, Google A.I., and at least in Poland – for that is where I have been – a slender version of Peperami. I must say, I did find it fascinating to watch Polish adverts. They were as embarrassing, dated and bizarre as the Half Time Show – don’t worry, we’ll get to that in a bit. The majority of these adverts included famous footballers (because their wealth only starts at football). Some of them are current, some of them are from the past, and some of them are seen almost like prophets of our time. David Beckham springs to mind… Having retired from the game 13 years ago, he must be almost penniless by now, having not held a steady job for so long. I do hope he has a decent pension plan; poor lad. Actually, it turns out he is on “benefits”. Or rather, he is certainly benefitting from the 12 brands (at least) for which he made adverts during the World Cup. These “benefits” amounted to around $25 million. Which is even more than the cost of my little holiday! After seeing that staggering figure it’s definitely time for me to have a well earned hydration break…

What a cleverly coined term: “Hydration Break”. What they meant was, Advert Break!! They’ll do just anything to make a bit more money, whilst losing momentum in the game, with just enough time for the players’ muscles to seize up. And all for that golden dollar… Hydration break: because we care (about embiggening the buck). How deliciously and surreptitiously capitalistic. After a few more minutes of that Final’s stalemate, it’s advert time again as we reach Half Time. And so the game resumes… No, wait… It does not. This is AMERICA!! Land of the free!! Land of the excess!! No game of football is complete without a tiny concert in the middle!!! Were you dancing along to the impeccable masterpiece that was the Half Time Show…? Madonna! Shakira! Justin Bieber! BTS! No? Well, neither was I. Partly because I missed it, but also partly because it was apparently absolutely dire and embarrassing. Not to mention ill-judged. What I haven’t seen mentioned, though, was how each act was just so dated and out of touch. Not just the artists’ fault, but the fault of whoever chose the acts (I believe the show was curated by Coldplay’s Chris Martin, so that might explain a thing or two, having become thoroughly Los Angelised). 25 or 30 years ago, Madonna might have been a good choice. 10 years ago Justin Bieber might have been a good choice. 20 years ago, Shakira might have been a good choice. 5 or 6 years ago, BTS might have been a good choice… But in 2026, this is not what we want. And in truth, I am sure very few wanted a show of any kind. Anyway: I missed out on that – in a manner of speaking. For me, the World Cup 2026 was an obese advert for America – the worst side of America. Profit first, football last. It is no secret that football would not be the mega thing it is now if it were not for mega profit. Of course, this has always been the case for pretty much everything ever in the history of the world… But it didn’t used to be on this scale. The game was always the meat around which the event was based. This time, though, I feel like the ball game was the thing to be slotted in amongst the rest of the vulgar circus.

Shall we finally get to the New Artist Spotlight’s very own prophet…? The man who started it all? The man who had a vision based solely on promoting independent music where every single artist pays exactly zero pennies to be a member…? Please welcome this fine young American, Ed Eagle! Despite that introduction, he needs no introduction. While he might be American, he stands for the good side of America. I still believe that there is so much good left in America, even though the world’s press slams it daily. The worst of America is in its government and mega corporations. The best of America lies in its people; the Americans. Hence why there are so many lovely Americans living in Britain these days. Taking an American out of America seems to be like removing the impurities of said American, allowing said American to thrive and enjoy life, giving smiles and good vibes to all they encounter elsewhere. Which is probably why Ed Eagle now resides in Canada. Of course, he will always have the original American values at heart: freedom, equality, peace, a bitchin’ collection of guitars… I have known Ed for 6 years and counting. If the NAS were to be seen as a place of education, I might even say we went to school together! He’d be the football type, all boisterous and leader-like, while I’d be the quieter, more sensitive type. The thing is, we have always had music in common. Just to be clear, we did not actually go to school together, in case you read that line a bit fast. We have not always seen eye-to-eye with everything regarding the NAS, but that is simply because we are very different people, and any organisation needs to be a little business-like in order for it to work smoothly (I can’t stand the business side of anything). The lovely thing is, we are both good souls with genuinely good motives, and we both have a great love and appreciation for music. We also both treat fellow artists like family. It is therefore with great pleasure that I bring you Ed Eagle’s latest single, ‘Prophets for Profit’!

Ed has always been one of the kings of “statement music”. He is not one to mince his words. He is not one for subtlety. He says what he feels. Which, I must say, is something I like about Americans. There are few layers of dry sarcasm and politeness to tear away before reaching the real substance of the matter. It’s just simply THERE. He tends to make big, epic songs. Not necessarily in sound (some of his songs are acoustic with a soft edge), but in the point he is making. I feel like his lyrics are the most important part of the writing process for him. For example, ‘I Miss You’, ‘Damaged Goods’ and ‘Bye!’ are all much softer songs of his, but the story of each of them is epic and resonant. ‘Prophets for Profit’ is very much one of his “statement” songs, as opposed to one of his more personal themes. Of course, he is not talking about footballers or the World Cup, but I do get the feeling he is talking about America and the careless greed of its powerful cog-turners. So FIFA might actually fall into that category… There are some big, powerful moneymen in this world right now, much like there have always been. But I don’t know if they have ever been so big, so rich, so powerful, and so cutthroat. The biggest and most recent offenders seem to be the young tech wizards with their HAL (A.I.) companies. They so proudly and brazenly break laws and parade around as though they are showing off the corpse of a lion they have just shot. They care not a jot about the carnage left in their tracks (I think they’re quite proud of it!), so long as their wallets are fit to burst. In fact, Ed even included a specific verse about HAL, where it takes all our jobs until there’s nothing left. He phrases it MUCH better and more poetically, but I’d rather leave the details to your own ears, first-hand. So, Ed is evidently not a fan of HAL.

However, HAL is not the focus of the song. It mainly hones in on the more obviously serious matters, like people dying because of needless war. And how rich criminals are able to continue with their filthy crimes while innocent poor people are starving. There is no direct mention of the big orange man at the top, but to me it is clear (I could be wrong) that this jaundiced fellow is on the mind of the narrator, even if the name doesn’t quite reach the microphone’s diaphragm. One chunk o’ woyds that does appear 3 times through the song, is “Who makes a profit, when a baby dies? Is he a prophet, or the devil in disguise?”… This line is a baseball bat to the face in terms of impact, and it’s right that it appears 3 times. Especially when it eventually leads to what for me is undeniably the greatest part of the song (also 3 times – 4 if you count the repeat at the end). In fact this bit is one of my favourite bits of any Ed Eagle song. It is expertly dealt with, exquisitely rendered, and frankly perfect in all ways. When coming to this section for the first time, the song is thus far a great, heavy rock song. It has slamming drums, a technically challenging riff, a bassline that echoes the riff in a lower register, and Ed’s spoken voice atop the lot. But as soon as Ed starts to growl like an angry bear with the lyrics “When will we…”, the whole song changes entirely. We are met with about 6 Eds screaming in perfect synchronisation to the words “Rise Up!!” – It is absolutely thrilling!! There is suddenly space, though. This isn’t the moment where the song goes full-on everything to 11. The song doesn’t really do that, which I think is where it shines. Weight doesn’t come from volume and density. It comes from contrast and passion. I feel like Ed has grown up a bit. He still retains his fervent views and values but he is now able to relay them with more dignity and grace. Ed Eagle is cooler now.

My final words on the World Cup:
Where was the dignity? Where was the grace? Actually, there was SOME. The end of that England/Norway game, both teams behaved impeccably. In fact, it was rather fond and heartwarming to see the bromantic hugs from one side to another. England was not gloating, but modestly (and justly) happy. Norway was neither angry nor bitter; they were heartbroken. And the England players made sure to comfort them and make sure they were okay; England themselves being all too familiar with the feeling of getting close but not close enough.

In the words of Ed’s debut single, “It doesn’t matter the team”.

Surely Madonna should have chosen her hit ‘Don’t Cry for Me Argentina’… But then again, after Argentina’s disgusting behaviour once the final whistle had been blown, I shouldn’t think anyone was shedding any tears…

All the more reason to hold on to those islands. Hydration break!!!

Listen to 𝙋𝙧𝙤𝙥𝙝𝙚𝙩𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙋𝙧𝙤𝙛𝙞𝙩 on the 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗼𝗹𝗹𝘆’𝘀 𝗖𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗿 Spotify playlist HERE!

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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.

𝙆𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝘿𝙇𝘾 – 𝙎𝙤𝙫𝙍𝙞𝙣

Charles sees sensei…

The internet has achieved many things over the decades. Some of them even positive! But for me, there is one longstanding feat that is very much still ongoing. In showing me the lives of seemingly the entire world’s population, I watch, I stare, I observe. I am stunned. It is staggering to see the things that people will do. The lengths people will go to in order to show how brave, daring or stupid they can be. It’s just fascinating – but also often rather off-putting. The vanity, the smug dumbness, the relentlessness. Oh, and the TRENDS!! Once one idiot does something, another 50,000 will follow suit. It’s all a bit absurd, and it shows off the worst of society – the dumb and the sheep who aspire to be dumb. It makes me think back to what used to be on TV… Interviews with great minds being intelligent, interesting and witty. Documentaries that uncovered a world we never knew. Dramas that took their time with narration that most these days would barely be able to comprehend, yet alone be able to concentrate for more than 3 minutes. Oh, and game shows – tacky game shows that were I suppose the equivalent of what most of the internet is nowadays…

But the internet also shows us something that we didn’t quite realise before we were online. You see, TV was pretty much everything back then. That was all we had to go on. Stars were leagues above others. The great intellectuals were admired for their extreme rare brilliance. Experts were a coveted species. Artists were barely of this planet in being entirely unique. And famous comedians were the only people who could make us laugh (admittedly largely debatable). Then the internet was born… Of course, we had a decade or two of dross and gimmicks, but eventually we started to see something; started to notice and realise. The world is absolutely chock full of talent! And it is this that constantly astounds me. Just how many people are quietly being brilliant in their neck of the woods. Well, maybe not so quietly now, but they’re not in a television studio, explaining in a bad suit. They are able to remain wherever they wish, while showing the world what they can do. It’s enlightening and genuinely uplifting!

What REALLY fascinates me, though, is when someone so quickly and effortlessly achieves something that not only would I not be able to do, but something that I don’t understand. Something that is just so far from my brain as to be alien. Talent excites me – this is no secret. But it’s not just arty talent; it’s ANY talent. For example, when a craftsman who dabbles in electronics, casually invents and creates something so fresh and unique before our very eyes. It could be something incredibly useful and brilliant (a house with an automatically detachable roof), or it could be something completely and utterly pointless and stupid (a house with an automatically detachable roof). But I watch these “nobodies” in awe. Or what about the recent breed of Chinese musical prodigies…? At just 5 years old, they are already better than some fully-grown stars of 50 years ago! Of course, HAL (A.I.) is spoiling this recent influx of talent by making us believe that what we are seeing is real, when in fact it never took place. But I see no reason for these HAL videos; we have the genuine talent surrounding us already! We just have to find it. And thankfully, finding it has never been so easy. We can’t avoid such great talent these days. In fact, there’s almost too much incredible talent that we need to take a step back and isolate each little morsel we happen upon. Too much of anything is over-saturation. And over-saturation of a good thing can lead to a certain numbness and inability to be excited or even moved. Around a decade ago I coined the phrase “church fatigue”. It was when my lady-person and I were in Rome… “Oh, another breathtakingly beautiful church. Oh look, another Caravaggio. Shall we have lunch now?” – after a while, all this perfect brilliance just ceases to have any impact.

And so, I would like to refresh and restore said impact. I think, in a way, my little reviews attempt to do this by really trying to make you appreciate the layers and depth of the music. The raw talent and effort that goes into making these little gems. Gems that might easily have passed you by. True gems are hard to come by these days (and I can’t afford them), so here’s a sovereign. Well, almost. Please welcome an artist who has not passed through these gates since CC Episode 15, six years ago: SovRin. His real name is rather less impressive: Ralph Aldridge – which doesn’t sound very German… The main reason he has not appeared in recent years is not because his output his dipped or waned in quantity or quality, but simply because I usually try to pick pieces of music that will appeal to most. Not all, but most – without picking generic releases. This does sometimes mean that I am bound to miss out some crackingly unusual pieces from time to time. I thought it best to allow one of those pieces to slide in for a change. The work of SovRin has always been (and I hope will always be) different, and unlike anyone else. He has his own style. A style which dots between dubstep and chiptune. Those not familiar with those terms will probably not enjoy either. Many will classify this music as “gamer music” (the kind of music that appears in retro-style video games). I personally would not specifically classify it as this, simply because I have never been a “gamer”, unless you include the odd round of Scrabble – which I don’t think counts.

I have heard quite a bit of this style of music over the years, and I always immediately want to switch it off. I usually find it intensely irritating and very dull. SovRin, on the other hand, sounds to me like the Bach of the genre. Leagues ahead, on another level and in a different realm. Bach was German, and despite the very British name, SovRin is also in fact German. Germans are known for their precision and their just-so attitude. His work has always been very precise and just so, like Bach’s. But SovRin’s Germanic tendencies can lead him to be a bit of a Germaniac in music. You will hear the maniac in all his music, but what sets him apart from all the other crazy gamer music out there, is his genuinely Bach-like compositions. Admittedly SovRin’s latest release, ‘Karate DLC’, is not quite as classically themed as previous releases of his, but it does still have strong links to that oeuvre. So, this piece is more “Bach with perhaps some influence from Madeon and Pendulum”. Let us look at the tune’s title… ‘Karate”, could – like the cover artwork suggests – simply be a literal reference to karate video games in general. But then again, it could be a reference to Mr. Karate from various Japanese SNK games (look, I didn’t know about any of this either, and – in case you’re wondering – it stands for ‘Shin Nihon Kikaku’); Mr. Karate, being the alter ego of Takuma Sakazaki (obviously). And he looks absolutely ridiculous, like he’s just stepped out of a Studio Ghibli film. As to ‘DLC’, it stands for “downloaded content” – but of course.

This stuff is so far from anything I know, that I feel entirely immersed in another’s culture, and at their mercy. I am helpless without their guidance, and am therefore forced to trust them, with no other choices available. But trust SovRin I DO! Which leads me to my third and (who’s counting??) final point: I am in awe. I like to think I know quite a bit about music and what goes into making it. I would say I know music like a car mechanic knows the underneath of the bonnet – that’s not a pretty hat, but what Americans call the hood, not to be confused with what everyone habitually wears everywhere except their head. But don’t get the bonnet mixed up with the boot, which Americans call the trunk (which is an elephant nose, because an elephant knows). Frankly, I don’t know how car mechanics do it! Having never driven a car, I stick with music. And yet, listening to SovRin’s music makes me feel like I don’t know an A flat from a G apartment. Just HOW on EARTH does he DO IT??! They do call him “the wizard” for a reason. It’s pure magic! And like all the best magic, I don’t wish to know how it’s done. Otherwise it’s just a talented trick. The way young Sov packs in a million and one correct notes in the only way they know how. Sometimes with extreme staccato attack, sometimes with a portamento bend. Sometimes with a gnarly distorted synth that will blow your head off, sometimes with a softer heartfelt piano, but usually with mega fat beatz in order to give you something to understand. And all the while, everything is impeccably mixed. It must surely take him months to make a 3-minute instrumental piece. Man’s got skillz, yeh? Yeh.

SovRin puts in all this effort, and all you have to do is press play.

I’ve got to continue with my damned detachable roof project. Lord knows why I chose a building with a spire… Now I REALLY understand church fatigue.

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