Jesu

Jesu have quite a prolific output. They sure write songs fast for a band that then plays them back so slowly.

Key protagonist Justin K Broadwick formed the band in 2003 following the break-up of the moderately-successful Godflesh. Jesu know how to flirt with variety (electronic influences appear much more frequently on later releases) but are better, to my ears, when they stick to their now trademark sound - brutally heavy, downtuned and monolithic guitars tied to a melodic wall of sound not so far away from the aching dreampop of Swervedriver and My Bloody Valentine. It may sound a tired comparison but it's a fairly accurate one; Broadwick himself has heaped praise on MBV time and time again.

I lose count of how many listens I've given the following song, and I'm still not bored of it. This, the title track of their third release, the "Silver" EP, is as fine a place to start as any:

The Jesus Years

I could have started writing about so many bands, maybe a real all-time favourite but I figured maybe we'd start with someone who the vast majority of you wont know.

There was a Derby band called The Little Explorer who played a raw brand of British rock and for a very long time I was emailing back and forth about putting on in Cambridge for a show. For whatever reason it just never happened, I never got to see them live and the next I'd heard, they'd split up.

I really hate it when that happens. I'm still kind of living in tiresome hope that Fugazi, Guided By Voices and At The Drive-In sort their acts out and play some more shows. I'd even pay dumb reunion prices. I don't care if they got fat and apathetic like Frank Black, that's fine by me, so long as I get to say I saw them, at least just the once.

Now, I'm not saying even a fraction as many people mourned The Little Explorer but, straight up, they were a solid band who never really got much attention. One of many, many bands in that ilk and that era who took the DIY route and sacrificed any of the potential diversions of real recognition in the process but never took a knock to their integrity.

When they were together they also played in an instrumental side-project called The Jesus Years. I guess you'd call it math-rock but it's nothing too complex or taxing, it's just well crafted, organic sounding indie-rock. There's a real warm sound to their record. You'd guess they did it in just a few takes. Nothing overtly clinical, just some songs that maybe they wrote for The Little Explorer and thought, hey, let's not sing over these ones. Whatever inspired them to put together a second, not entirely dissimilar sounding band, the end result - their 2004 album "Are Matthew, Mark, Luke and John" - is a testament to their short lived glory.

I point you in particular to the song "My Dancing, What The Fuck Are You On About?" which has a lead riff as memorable as its title.

Oh, and it was my ringtone for a good few months about five years back. Beats Crazy Frog hands down, I'm sure you'll agree.

Download

Hiatus, Over.

A bit of background:

I wrote a fanzine once. And I enjoyed it, I really did. At the time it felt like I living the dream.

As a kid I always thought I'd get into writing in a job sense, though you never quite think of things as, say, a career move when you're that age. It's more about what you enjoy. And before I enjoyed music I enjoyed writing. I also enjoyed taking a ruler and making pages upon pages of would-be computer games - no polygons, just 2H pencils and 2D shooters. Maybe I'd do that as a living? No, that was a pipe dream. I soon got tired of that.

I used to try and write stories too and, sometimes, I'd get somewhere with it. I remember trying to write a book when I was about 13. I got 27 pages in or so then realised I'd run out of both ideas and life experience to steal from. When you're 13 with bad hair and an innate fear of women, it was never going to turn into a Bukowski. I found the book again recently. It's not a good book. You probably shouldn't read it.

Still, music took over my life, and so life moved round again, football and video games took a backseat to sounds, bands and - slowly, slowly - getting further underground, buying zines, trying out "local shows". Just like so many others. You know how it all begins. You're content with your pedestrian rock music but can you wait a year or two for them to release a new album? You'd be surprised by how many people can. They can wait. They like music, sure, but do they love it? Do they really love it? Not really. It's a give and take thing. I couldn't wait for the bands that I liked to release their new material, so I had to find others. And it began to snowball.

When I was around 16 or 17 years old I started to discover these bands beyond the radio, mainly through the internet and Napster, from zines. At 18 years old I started writing my own fanzine. For the most part the articles sucked, lacking foresight, but that was 10 years ago now. And I really pushed it. I wasn't just content with my friends reading so I guess I did as much as I could with it at that point. I got guestlist for a lot of shows, interviewed a lot of bands and learnt a lot about various musicians. Most of all, that they're just people. Who are either very good at their instruments, damned charming or, worse, lucky.

I found a lot of the bands I spoke to inspired me with their enthusiasm and, wet behind the ears, they were friendly too. I learnt that the lead singer from Hundred Reasons was a dickhead, that Crazy Town wanted to "score chicks" and that the guy with the thick-rimmed glasses in Wheatus had a surprisingly low-voice in real life. I pissed off Joey Cape by asking if Lagwagon planned a "new direction", got into Mogwai because Appleseed Cast said I should "listen up", witnessed Catch 22 bully their trumpet player till he cried (they threw a pineapple at his head mid-interview) and then I spilt beer all over some guy from Sony and two girls in sequinned dresses backstage at a Stone Temple Pilots show that, obviously, I wasn't enjoying. It was an accident, a hell of an accident.

At university, when I ploughed my time into trying to run a record label instead, the zine kind of died. I just didn't have time. But it stuck in my mind long after. That year doing the zine was one of the best I ever had. I make a living, albeit it a humble one, from what's left of the music industry today and I don't think that'd be happening if it wasn't for the zine.

Older, and only very slightly wiser, I want to bring Ten Second Warning back. It's a blog now. Obviously. And you're reading it. I'm not dumb, nor flush enough, to want to blow a few hundred on printing all those pages up again, nor do I have the time, but I'll endeavour to post up music, young and old, that I think deserves to be heard. Hopefully some of you will agree with me.

Thanks for reading even this far. It's genuinely appreciated. Next time you visit here I'll tell you about a band, or a singer, maybe a duo, or just a bunch of, you'd hope, close friends in a room making a real sound because it makes them feel good and gives them a sense of accomplishment, whatever that is to the individual. After all, this is what it's all about. There's no money left in music, but there's a whole lot else.

James