Lemy Caution reviews Soulwax’s remix of Lovelight by Robbie Williams

Last term when we ( The Secret Danger Society) weren’t vigorously promoting ourselves on social networking sites, on expeditions to hipster clichés in east London or fighting off horrific bouts of the shakes in our squalid Drummond Street lodgings we could be found sitting on the front row atop double-decker night buses.
Taking turns to hold court we’d offer opinions on various subjects; the weather, association football and who, from amongst our number, was the most likely to one day announce over a reverse charge phone call that they’d just woken up in a Vegas Hotel room with a dead stripper on their hands. We’d always all agree it was Angelo, laugh and then disembark to face another sleepless night, alone, crying ourselves raw over our stupid vacuous lives.
The whole “Vegas-Stripper-Cocaine-Tragedy” used to be, for me, the “Robbie Williams-Vegas-Stripper-Cocaine-Front page-Double Spread-More pictures on pages 4-6-Fantasy”.
Now, thanks to Soulwax making the man vaguely listenable I have to spend what must literally be hours a week explaining to the idiots I hang out with why his name shows up on my Ipod.


Carl. D. Gan reviews Disco Romance by Sally Shapiro

“Carl’s the one member of the Family Danger in our big secret house who gets bullied for having “feelings” and “a soul”. It was at his insistence that we set up the Fey Lord indie-pop splinter society. I promised to give him back his Shins LPs if he’d review something that wasn’t mind melting European electro for us. He took one for the team, cheers Carl.” Lemy Caution

Last week relations were severed between me and a girl. If anyone cares it was the exact plot of Don’t Think Twice It's Alright by Bob Dylan.
I was ashamed but not surprised to find that before the despair and the painstaking over-analysis of the last six weeks started, my mind –like some super discerning hairdresser mincing about in front of a wall of hair products- was racing through a mental list of my records. Yeah, all vinyl thankyouverymuchIndiepointstoME.
What was the right album for this level of heartache? I could give a complete breakdown of the anti-folk movement from 1998 to present if asked and name every member of Guided By Voices ever so its no surprise that I’m always getting dumped. I’m an expert at it. Break up records… that’s my home turf and I knew this wasn’t going to be all 4am pleading with my turntable to give me an extra forty verses of Sad Eyed Lady of the Lowlands. It wasn’t going to be that bad. On the night itself I was completely Illicit-Jazz-Club in the 20’s-Drunk so I managed to fall asleep quickly enough. That was the hardest night out of the way.
As recently as a week ago in response to Jay-Z expressing his complete sympathy for anyone with “girl problems” I’d thought in a completely indulgent daydream that it wouldn’t be that bad. Maybe kinda cool, like Rick in Casablanca or the plot of every good Strokes song. Hey! I could even start smoking.
To tell the truth for about five minutes on the way to Phonica in Poland Street I did feel pretty badass, practising my withering putdowns and wondering how quickly you get drunk if you only drink whisky sitting in White Heat all night (no, of course you’re not allowed to fucking dance). Disco Romance probably saved me from turning into a bitter twat for a week.
Sally Shapiro (not her real name) sings of love lost over the kind of Italo Disco beats that were last popular back when Morrisey couldn’t get laid. Musically, think I Need Your Love by the Rapture but obviously inobtrusive enough so you can actually sit down whilst listening to it. They’re essentially comfort songs but its not all walking through snowy Swedish forests while wood nymphs whisper in your ear that “its going to be aaaaallright”.
Imagine your battered heart and tender nerve endings sitting in an interrogation room. Now, Johan Agebjorn’s (real name) synths and Shapiro’s vocals are going to take turns playing good cop and bad cop.
“Cigarette?”
“I don’t smoke”
“Look don’t worry, I’ll be by your side© ” she says.
“But those synths! Whats their problem? Tell them to leave me alone”
“Oh that’s just because of an age old contrast between upbeat lyrics and dark music or vice-versa that makes music and ergo life interesting”
“So can I go?”
“Yes… this is only a metaphor, get out”