How I fell in love with country music | Martin Farrer

My life didn’t change when I saw the duelling banjos scene in Deliverance, but it was the first time I realised there was more to country music than the Benny Hill theme tune

My name is Martin and I love country music. There you go, I’ve said it. It’s not always an easy thing to do. When the subject comes up, I get a funny sort of look. Once you spring the c-word on people, you can see they’re thinking: “Shit, this bloke’s weird. Does he dress up like a cowboy at home and do those funny dances?”

Sometimes people like to crack a joke about country and I’ve heard most of them. There’s the one that goes: “Do you like country? Or just western?” And then there’s: “Yeeeeehaaaaa!” People think that one’s pretty hilarious. But there is one joke which is quite funny and also very telling. It goes like this. Two blokes go into a pub, somewhere in northern England. One of them, who is hard of hearing, goes to the bar to get some drinks. The barmaid says there’s a band on, a country and western band. The bloke goes back to his mate and sits down with the drinks. “There’s a band on tonight,” he says. The other bloke says “What type of band?” The other one replies: “I don’t know. Some cunt from Preston.”

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The Prodigy review – teeth rattled in dystopian breakbeat pantomime

Glasgow Academy
Twenty years on from their multimillion-selling album The Fat of the Land, the Prodigy refuse to get nostalgic, nor reduce the energy levels below total pandemonium

In an era when memories can be monetised, most bands – active or otherwise – might hungrily eye the 20th anniversary of their most successful album as an opportunity to mount a special tour to shore up their legacy and top up their Isas. Not so the Prodigy, Liam Howlett’s tetchy but tireless road warriors.

As Britpop shrivelled, their third album, 1997’s The Fat of the Land, took Howlett’s uncouth youthquake of evil techno and hot-wired breakbeats to the world; an astonishingly successful incursion into the US arguably laid the groundwork for the recent EDM explosion. Two decades on, you could forgive these Essex boys a backward-looking victory lap to fatten the brand.

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Myra Davies: Sirens review – witty spoken-word skewering of violence, patriarchy and modern music

(Moabit)

Backed by smart techno-pop production by Beate Bartel and Gudrun Gut, Canadian spoken-word artist Myra Davies delivers a supremely droll series of observations. Some are close portraits with the vibrancy of a Manet or Degas – on Golddress, she frets about a girl on the cusp of womanhood (“I’m aching to take her picture / it’s nothing compared with what the world will do”), while Inshallah is a funny meet-cute at Istanbul airport. Elsewhere there is a brilliantly pithy three-part retelling of Wagner’s Götterdämmerung (“Girl and a guy on a dopamine high …”) and a cool evisceration of John Cage and his acolytes, highlighting their snobbery while lampooning their methods (“If something is boring for two minutes, try it for four / if still boring, then eight”). As she looks at our sexist, violent culture from her panopticon, Davies is omnipotent, and drily jaded. But crucially – as on Noutiné, a stark lament about a father walking free from the killing of his daughter – not aloof.

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Paul Jacobs: Pictures, Movies and Apartments review – wild, essential garage punk

(Stolen Body Records)

Pictures, Movies and Apartments offers the single most exciting opening to any album this year. The Image (Pictures) begins with kick drum, a single-note bassline and squalls of feedback, before going into a monstrously in-the-red five-chord riff, over which Jacobs howls who-knows-what. It’s the very essence of garage punk: something so primal you suspect the Sonics might have rejected it for being a little unsophisticated. Jacobs, from Canada, has – in common with so many modern garage rock artists – a bafflingly lengthy discography, full of the same kind of stuff. He’s not a one-note artist, though: he manages two or three. Born in a Zoo is just as fuzzed-up, but manages a sunshine psychedelia hook; the title track is bouncy lo-fi pop. Throughout, there are hooks and melodies – the album positively drips with them – but it’s combined with a singleminded wildness that’s desperately exciting. Pictures, Movies and Apartments might be the best garage punk record of the year.

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The Spirit of the Beehive: Pleasure Suck review – giddy peripatetic lo-fi pop pleasures

(Tiny Engines)

Philadelphia four-piece the Spirit of the Beehive are the sort of woozy, musically meandering outfit who once would have been lazily dismissed as a “stoner band”. Of course these days, when weed is legal in a number of US states and even Christopher Biggins is blazing up on ITV, that label no longer feels like such an insult. The band’s third album, Pleasure Suck, takes the lo-fi collage approach of the likes of the Elephant 6 collective – in particular the psych folk of the Olivia Tremor Control – and makes it wilder and weirder, smothering it in layers of distortion, vocal samples and synth smears. Melodies tantalisingly wash in and out of focus, ideas are developed and abandoned at the drop of a hat in favour of something more interesting – a sudden stab of noise rock, say, or a limpid freak-folk interlude. In lesser hands such capriciousness might prove annoying, but here there’s always the thrilling possibility of something new just around the corner. And when the band stumble upon something truly brilliant – such as the power-pop climax of standout track Ricky (Caught Me Tryin’) – they grip on to it for dear life.

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Cardi B – “Bartier Cardi” ft. 21 Savage

Cardi B has released "Bartier Cardi," her first solo single since the chart-topping breakout hit, "Bodak Yellow." The track features 21 Savage, whose drowsy menace feels out of place surrounded by Cardi's hurried triplet flows, but I'm sure the SEO is great. Cardi is also featured on reggaeton star Ozuna's new single, "La Modelo," and the new…

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What's going on Friday?

LCD Soundsystem, Ceremony, Spectre Folk, Darlene Love, Bebel Gilberto and more Friday show options.

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