Recite that over your Casio and then bugger off.
Anna C gets all electro

SOULAR- Love crash heal

Soular. Crap name. They sound like The Rasmus. And, if I use my right ear, which is slightly more damaged than the left, like A-Ha. Hopefully it is needless to say that this album did not set my world alight. Still, for the commercial music downloader, and teenybopper who likes dipping their toes into the world of "rock" music, it could go down very well. From Albuquerque, I think that this four-piece are far from being the kings of rock and roll (hot dog, jumping frog, for all you Prefab Sprout fans, and I know you love it) but they produce a powerful and accomplished sound, writing melodic and catchy pop for the masses. Which is mostly the point these days, I fear. Proceedings start in a lively enough fashion, the beats pounding away like Bono's old-man morning wood, but quickly become anthemic in the way that you can taste cheesy acidity in the back of your throat, polished in the way that rock and roll shouldn't be but appears to be ever-increasingly. As the crowd claps in synchrony, all of a sudden my insomnia is cured. I won't name any stand-out tracks because they mostly all sound the same. And that's all I have to say about that.


I have been behaving like a mad person recently. Since I handed in the obligatory dissertation a week or so ago, after sitting in front of it for about three months, I find that what I am left with is very little money and a life in Eaton Socon without means of escape. Which is my idea of hell. And this is my soundtrack. I start thinking that REPEAT fanzine is actually trying to kill me subliminally when the Irishman states "on Friday night, I killed myself" in opening track "Death of a Mummy's boy", going on to describe the experience in great detail. I admit it does start to look appealing compared to listening to this. Luckily, for me at least, I am made of stronger stuff. I find myself hoping that he is not. But, unfortunately, there are another 17 tracks to go. If I was reading it myself, which is all that he is doing after all over the effect of a dripping tap or something, it might not strike me as being poorly written and completely pretentious but the monotone vocals become intensely annoying after a while. Is that the point that I have failed to miss?

And then the keyboard sounds kick in. How many times can I use the word "shit" in one sentence? Actually, crap would be better. As in, there's kitsch and then there's crap. If this is the best that Cambridge has to offer, I want to go back to Edinburgh as soon as I possibly can. And you can bet I didn't listen to the whole thing. When I took the CD out of my laptop, I held it in my hands, staring at it for a whole minute or two. I could feel the anger rising inside me, my face growing red. However, I resisted the temptation to hurl it on the floor and stamp on it violently, as it had a plastic case. It is now collecting the fag ash in the kitchen bin. A small drip of Ben and Jerry's "Chunky Monkey" ice-cream may also fall on its misleadingly shiny exterior. Recite that over your Casio and then bugger off.

Anna C