Hello and welcome to Stumble Into The Night, Strictly Festivals latest column where I’ll be bring you all the latest news, reviews and leaks from the world of arty pop, electronica and hip hop.

While Simone will be covering the latest indie trends and Scott will be tackling everything hardcore, I’m taking on the artier end of the spectrum, those bands that fall between the cracks but who help to define the Reading and Leeds sound without quite being indie or hard rock.

This week we’re forgoing news and singles because we’ve had a huge week of album releases and leaks, so without further ado, lets get too it.

Albums:

Tyler, The Creator – Goblin

If Bastard was an urgent and enticing glimpse into the violent psyche of a fatherless teen, then Goblin is the predictably misguided attempt by a twenty year old to adapt to his new role model status. Unsurprisingly, in keeping with the Odd Future aesthetic Tyler’s primarily deals with these new and unwanted pressures with rebellion and shock.

Sadly, Tyler’s preoccupation with the media response to Odd Future is so puerile that even a thirteen year old would struggle to keep his eyes from rolling. “Radicals” is anything but, if Tyler thinks ironic acknowledgement and a “Fuck Bill O’Reilly” preface will salvage a painfully juvenile track then he’s dead wrong. Having seen the success of “Fuck The Police” in the live arena, “Radicals” seems a track purely design to get crowds chanting en mass, sadly “Radicals” offers little that we hadn’t already heard when it was coming out of Detroit in ’99, save for Tyler’s wonderfully playful endnote: “I’m A Fucking Unicorn, Fuck Anyone Who Says I’m Not”.

Sadly, despite Tyler’s impressive narrative techniques the childish  attempts at attention grabbing extend to the bedroom with the tedium of “Boppin’ Bitch” and “Bitch Suck Dick” halting the Goblin’s momentum at the mid way point.

It’s not all bad news; the elements that make Tyler and Odd Future so exciting are still in place. The woozy synths, the eerie atmosphere that simply refuses to settle and of course those cutting couplets that inform “Yonkers” and “Tron Cat” still dominate. Better yet Tyler has perfected the art of slowing things down; “Analog” is a genuinely sweet moment that if it weren’t so bravado laden would almost resemble genuine charm.

In keeping with Bastard, Tyler’s finest moments come when he details with his own past and when he deals with the loneliness of fame rather than the responsibility it bestows. On the brilliant “Golden” Tyler reflects on the emotional detachment between performer and audience:

Strictly Our Opinion: When Tyler forgoes bravado and ignores his critics, focusing on his own torment he’s one of the most intriguing and exciting artists on the planet. When he attempts to justify his continued homophobia or to dismiss responsibility, he comes across as delusional and juvenile. Thankfully between the brilliant “Golden” and the irresistible “Yonkers” there are enough tormented thrills to make Goblin a success, in spite of its misguided excess. [3.0/5.0]

Lady Gaga – Born This Way

Tyler, The Creator isn’t the only artist struggling in the face of a fierce media backlash; the critics have sharpened their knives and they’re on the hunt for Gaga’s blood. The narrative is already set, superstar shocks world, shows incredible promise, conquerors the charts, disappears up her own arse, alienates fans and falls flat on her face.

While the ill considered attacks at the G-A-Y anthem “Born This Way” felt forced, in recent weeks Gaga has begun writing her own death warrant; first with the horrific album artwork that accompanies Born This Way and then with a baffling performance at Radio One’s Big Weekend. Arriving twenty minutes late she treated the crowd to new songs and Nat King Cole covers. The audience watching at home were captivated, but the actual fans in attendance were left baffled and disenfranchised.

Now journalists are licking their lips, waiting for Born This Way to fall flat on its face, ready with their pre-prepared obituaries. There’s only one problem: Born This Way is a really good record. While it’s not stacked with obvious singles in the form of “Papparazzi” and “Bad Romance” it instead offers an incredibly slick pop package that refuses to relent.

The album is driven by hedonistic thrills as cacophonous electronic beats slam into one another leaving the listener little room to breathe. This is a record to let your hair down to, to rejoice to, to let everything go to as your swept away by a procession storming beats. If you thought “Judas” sounded awkward as a single, on Born This Way it pounds and thrashes, it explodes through layer open layer of pulsating bass lines to create a euphoric high.

Born This Way may be a palpable electro pop pummeling but it is not a record devoid of soul. Cynical or not, Gaga continues to position herself as the queen of the outsiders, stepping up to the bat for everyone from illegal immigrants (“Americano”), homosexuals (“Born This Way”), lonesome teenagers (“Bad Kids”, “Hair”) and seemingly every other fractured splintered group under the sun.

Sadly, unlike the The Fame Monster’s brilliant “Speechless” Gaga never really manages to conjure an anthem of any great resonance, her primarily weapon of choice is carefree escapism as opposed to heartfelt poignancy. There are moments when the two divergent themes combine: “Hair” while hardly a new sentiment (and hardly a patch on the original Hair) is still a sublime be yourself anthem that’ll play just as well in a frustrated teen’s bedroom as it will on a crowded dance floor (if only Tyler, The Creator had Gaga).

Strictly Our Opinion: On “Bloody Mary” Gaga reveals Born This Way’s raison d’etre “I’m going to dance, dance, dance with my hands above my head”; whether you’re a loser, outcast, nerd, bastard, gay or whatever, who cares, reveal in it, let your hair down and dance. Gaga has come along way from club dancer to world straddling superstar activist but when it comes down to it, she still has one mode, one intention, one aim and that’s to “Just Dance”.

We’ve reviewed two excessively long albums today, and guess which one flew by in one exhilarating rush? [4.0/5.0]

EMA – Past Life Martyred Saints

Nothing diffuses expectation quite like meeting a band in person. Having watched the ominously atmospheric EMA open for a fiery Scout Niblett I went to pick up a copy of their new “12 inch last week. There was a sheepish awkwardness in forcing the drummer to run to their car to pick up a copy. In the meantime my friend exchanged small talk with a drunken dancing Erika M. Andersson while I discussed classical training with the band’s violinist. The band where charming, a mix of carefree goofiness and pent up shy energy.

The reason I bring this up is because listening to Past Life Martyred Saints you struggle to see beyond EMA’s ice cool super serious façade. After all, this is not a record of great laughs and abandon; it’s a tightly orchestrated exploration of haunting vaporous textures. “The Grey Ship” leads the charge, a beautifully understated epic, that whirls, churns and lurches forward hypnotically, carrying the listener across a ghostly sea into a state of murky desolation on the back on an irresistible bassline.

“California” would have appeared a natural bookend but instead it completes the opening salvo with a brazen anthem. The band’s regular set closer is carried by Erika’s raw charisma, the track switches between bold defiance (“Fuck California”) and fragile intimacy (“I’m Just 22”) setting EMA apart; brasher and more daring than their peers.

While Past Life Martyred Saints rarely matches the sloganeering brilliance of its two lead singles, the quality never dips, and the well-layered atmosphere never relents. The listener remains caught in the haze drifting between percussive scrapes, ghostly wails and squealing keys.

Out of the murk Erika manages to stand tall appearing flawed and enigmatic she comes to life on oppressively needy “Marked”. Sadly at other points the grinding textural assault of EMA denies the listener the visceral bombast the band are capable of unleashing. “Butterfly Knife” is demented and infectious but it lacks the bite and drive of its live equivalent’s snarling punk pacing.

Strictly Our Opinion: While the wailing textures and inescapable gloom leave little room for thrills, they nevertheless make for one of the most poignant and enticing debuts of 2011. Past Life Martyred Saints lures and ensnares the listener, and once you’ve accepted the invitation into EMA’s hazy and desolate lair you won’t long for escape. [4.0/5.0]

Quick Round Up: Elsewhere this week Lonely Island return with Turtle Neck And Chain which highlights that some jokes fall flat without their videos (“Shy Ronnie”) and that scatological humour has its limitations (“Trouble On Dookie Island”), on the whole, however, Lonely Island prove that if you put the songs first and the jokes second you can make comedic LPs with lasting appeal [3.0/5.0].

Electronica also made some waves this week with Africa Hitech releasing their long awaited full debut 93 Million Miles Away. The beats are heavy and subtlety is rare, but the imposing bass blasts and the varied percussion make 93 Million Miles Away an impressive and exciting debut. Jaar, Hecker and Blake have little to fear but Africa Hitech are an exciting and intriguing new voice capable of producing gorgeous thickly layered tracks like “Spirit”. [3.5/5.0]

That’s all for this week, I’ll be back the same time next week with more news, reviews and opinion.