Album reviews: Sleater-Kinney | Bill Ryder-Jones | The Vaccines

Corin Tucker and Carrie Brownstein of Sleater-Kinney roll back the years on their latest album, sounding as energised as ever, writes Fiona Shepherd

Sleater-Kinney: Little Rope (Loma Vista) ****

Bill Ryder-Jones: Iechyd Da (Domino) ****

The Vaccines: Pick-Up Full of Pink Carnations (Thirty Tigers) ***

New year, new resolution – for Sleater-Kinney at any rate, their new album Little Rope peels away the years to reveal their roots in the fertile femme rock revolution of the Nineties. Now pared back to a power duo, Corin Tucker and Carrie Brownstein sound as energised as ever, opening with the torch-like blues and plangent guitar of Hell, before the infernal Tucker holler kicks in, as potent as ever. But it is Brownstein who is playing for her life, turning back to her guitar for catharsis following a devastating family bereavement.

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Together, these simpatico dynamos channel their inner Stooges on the taut prowl of Needlessly Wild, their claws just about retracted but ready to pounce if required. In contrast, Untidy Creature lets it all hang out and the glorious Say It Like You Mean It is wind machine power rock with unfettered Stevie Nicks appeal.

The whole album is a dynamic dance of control and release. Brownstein keeps a tight grip on the angular, stabbing guitar of Small Finds, with Tucker in viper mode in the album’s best nod back to Nineties alternative rock, while epic fuzz riffs are interlaced with terse, melodic notes and a strong, utterly natural vocal hook on Don’t Feel Right, a track imbued with bags of the right stuff.

Former Coral guitarist Bill Ryder-Jones is equally adept at generating and maintaining a mood but he channels a rocky past few years in more introspective fashion. His first new album in five years, Iechyd Da – “good health” in Welsh – is a delicate exercise in mustering hope with Ryder-Jones singing breathily in a soft, aching voice throughout.

Sleater-Kinney PIC: Chris HornbeckerSleater-Kinney PIC: Chris Hornbecker
Sleater-Kinney PIC: Chris Hornbecker

I Know That It’s Like This (Baby) goes for the personal jugular, marking the end of a relationship by sampling the song – Gal Costa’s Baby – which soundtracked said relationship. This Can’t Go On samples disco strings, tapping into a bigger sound with Ryder-Jones’ drawl going somewhat under the radar yet resonating with passion.

We Don’t Need Them features a surprising intervention from a children’s choir. Despite the hookline – “we don’t need them, we don’t need anyone” – the tone is far from defiant but the track generates a measure of exultation with martial drumming and luscious strings. Elsewhere, Michael Head of fellow Liverpudlian outfit Shack recites an excerpt from Ulysses on expansive proggy interlude …And The Sea… presumably for creative kicks.

Ryder-Jones faces the pain on Nothing To Be Done, with mournful harmonium underscoring the sad mantra “I just don’t see myself getting past this one” and wallows in the Groundhog Day of misery on melodramatic indie torch song It’s Today Again. But there are also soothing meditations such as the gentle indie lullaby I Hold Something In My Hand and piano waltz How Beautiful I Am to bathe in before this talented composer smooths out the troubles of the day with closing woozy cinematic instrumental Nos Da.

The Vaccines may be indie rock whelps no more – founding guitarist Freddie Cowan has departed to concentrate on family life – but this London quartet are still giving the kids what they want in the form of no-nonsense Noughties-style indie pop. Their sixth album, Pick-Up Full of Pink Carnations, maintains their partiality for lean teen anthems with not an inch of excess flesh, from Strokesy single Heartbreak Kid to the pacey, driving Sometimes I Swear. It’s catchy but generic fare. The breezy chime of Discount de Kooning (Last One Standing) powers through the pain with a spirit of determination, while Anonymous In Los Feliz rings with optimism but finishes only just a nose ahead of the rest of the standard indie pack.

Bill Ryder Jones PIC: Marieke MacklonBill Ryder Jones PIC: Marieke Macklon
Bill Ryder Jones PIC: Marieke Macklon

CLASSICAL

Helvi Leiviskä: Orchestral Works Vol 1 (BIS) ****

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It being a time when female conductors and composers are at last getting a fair hearing, here is the excellent Dalia Stasevska, better know in the UK as principal guest conductor of the BBC Symphony Orchestra, reviving a fellow Finnish composer who missed out on the exposure she deserved during the 20th century. Helvi Leiviskä was 80 when she died in 1982, but her music – a mildly progressive and naturally engaging voice – is only now finding a justified audience beyond her native borders. Working here with her Finnish band, the Lahti Symphony Orchestra, Stasevska addresses the heartfelt eloquence of the Sinfonia Brevis and lighter-hued Orchestral Suite No 2 before delving into the more wholesome drama of the Second Symphony. Darkness vies with light, levity with profundity, an overriding post-Romantic spirit invites ventures into impressionism and pastoralism for a truly gripping symphonic journey that flirts tentatively with Sibelius-inspired modernism. Ken Walton

JAZZ

Ethan Iverson: Technically Acceptable (Blue Note) ****

Former Bad Plus pianist Ethan Iverson’s second Blue Note album finds him in typically and mischievously inventive form, leading two bass-drum trios, one with Thomas Morgan and Kush Abadey, the other with Simón Willson and Vinnie Sperrazza. Surprises abound. The title track is an unhurried swagger to limber walking bass, Victory Assured an anarchic take on a 12-bar excursion while Chicago Style invokes a softly glittering soundworld before resolving into an enigmatically ballad-like conclusion. There’s a tender account of Roberta Flack’s classic Killing Me Softly, while an extraordinary version of Thelonious Monk’s Round Midnight features the B-movie warbling of theremin from Rob Schwimmer – all it needs is Vincent Price. A closing three-part Piano Sonata proceeds from a sly, stride allegro moderato, through a pensive andante to a Rondo which, like much of the album, brims with witty invention, with echoes of silent film and Erik Satie. Jim Gilchrist

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