A mass of contradictions

Death Grips, XOYO.

         

Hip hop artists aren’t particularly known for their punctuality. In February, Public Enemy strolled on stage 50 minutes after their scheduled slot in Salt Lake City, and in the same month Snoop Dogg took to the stage three hours after his published stage time at a show in Pittsburgh. I’ve often wondered what makes an artist keep their audience waiting, it seems to me a silly thing to do for all concerned; the crowd get tetchy, the atmosphere is sullied and the artist themselves is usually late getting on the road to the next town. Apart from all those proper reasons why it shouldn’t happen, it also really pisses me off.

Which makes it achingly refreshing that on Sunday night at XOYO, Death Grips are early. Arriving in pitch black onto a stage barely big enough to contain them twenty minutes ahead of time, a crushing cacophony of noise explodes out of Flatlander’s synth/keyboard/computer/I don’t know (it was pitch black remember), and a decidedly hench silhouette of MC Ride slides into view, topless, tattooed and bearded.

Death Grips aren’t a quiet, subtle three-piece. Zach Hill beats the living shit out of his drums in a series of baffling time signatures, Flatlander is an exponent of genuinely eclectic production, from Charles Manson monologues set over chiming notes to glitchy rhythms that come in and out with the inconsistent, nervous movements of a suspicious policeman on a stakeout, and MC Ride is an in-your-face frontman with a beat-you-over-the-head-with-a-nuclear-bomb method of delivery. He’s less a rapper, more a hostage interrogator with a sore throat at the end of a shitty day. They open with the irresistible Guillotine, and it’s loud. Really fucking loud. Aeroplane-taking-off-in-your-head loud. 

A thing that strikes one about Death Grips (aside from the absolute disregard for any lighting whatsoever; two dull blue lights at the back of the stage are punctuated by one torch light, intermittently flashed upon MC Ride’s face. It’s horribly sinister), is the level of intensity that accompanies the oppressive volume from start to finish. After Guillotine concludes, the first instinct is to think ‘There’s no way any of them can keep this up’, but they do. And with some style. All the stand out moments from their free download release Ex-Military are visited with no discernible drop in pace or delivery, from the Link Wray-sampled Spread Eagle Cross the Block to Interstellar Overdrive-backed I Want It, I Need It (Death Heated) with a feel that is impressively similar to the record, especially when the fact that Ride doesn’t have a hype man or a break of anything more than about ten seconds in between songs is taken into account.

It’s refreshing to see a hiphop outfit let their music do the talking. As well as the lo-fi lighting setup, there’s no ‘bling’ tonight, no superfluous hangers-on either on or off the stage, just a dark, sinister but superbly entertaining show of music prowess and performance. They disappear no more than 35 minutes after they arrived. No encore, not even a word breathed all night to acknowledge the existence of the audience. 

As I leave, I clock the merchandise stand. It consists of a stack of seriously cheap looking t-shirts and around 15 copies of Ex-Military available to buy. On cassette.

Full of dust and guitars.

                             

It’s interesting how, while some artists will go to great lengths to build up a myth, others have one built for them. Syd Barrett is probably most well known for his mental disintegration, culminating in him dying at the age of 60 in 2006 as a recluse in his hometown of Cambridge. Not only had he not spoken to the press for nearly 40 years, he’d hardly spoken to anyone at all.

The tales about Barrett’s antics are as tall as they are numerous, but behind the mystique and absurdity was an almost unrivalled talent. Syd Barrett was one of Britain’s songwriting greats.

A lyricist and musician way ahead of his time, Barrett joined the nascent Pink Floyd (then called ‘The Tea Set’) sometime in 1965, and once they got their let’s-do-loads-of-American-RnB-covers stage out of the way (as seemed to be the custom for just about every fledgling British band of the time), he guided and steered them into a visionary outfit, forging ahead in psychedelia and improvisational performance with his innovative, virtuoso guitar playing and inspiration.

Unfortunately, the beginning was also the end for Barrett, as with each passing song written and each live performance completed, he became more and more odd and unpredictable before leaving the band altogether in 1968. At that point, he’d contributed around 90% of the band’s songs (including two of the greatest singles of all time: the fantastical, voyeuristic Arnold Layne and the timeless See Emily Play), but had stopped performing with them live; he would amble across the stage, guitar slung aimlessly around his neck and stare into space.

It is at this point it becomes almost impossible to separate the myth from the reality. One thing we do know for sure is that Barrett did take more mind-altering drugs than was healthy. But that’s only part of the story. He was a fragile character from the very start. In fact, Dave Gilmour remarked that Barrett’s nervous breakdown would have ‘probably happened anyway’. His propensity for LSD exacerbated the problem rather than seeding it.

It is, however, unfortunate that his breakdown stole the limelight over his ability as a songwriter. Everyone knows the stories:

Syd’s mate locked him in a cupboard for three days straight while out of his mind on LSD, Syd locked his girlfriend in a room and only fed her biscuits under the door, again, while high on acid. Syd crushed Mandrax into his Brylcreem and let the stage lights melt it all down his face.

All three stories obviously involving heavy drug use, but all three stories probably untrue.

There are enough true stories to go on if you’re that way inclined. For example, he probably did walk all the way from London to Cambridge when he’d had enough of England’s capital never to return, he did walk out on recording sessions halfway through with no explanation (in fact, it got to the point that when the rest of the musicians saw him turn left out of the studio they knew it meant he’d gone for a cup of tea and would probably be back. If he turned right, he’d gone and that would be that), and he did turn up to a Floyd recording session years after he’d left the band, almost completely mute, brushing his teeth while holding the toothbrush still and jumping up and down to clean them. He’d also shaved all his body hair off by that point and was much heavier than his slender figure of days of yore to the point where no-one recognised him.

He had gone from this to this.

Again, there are enough true stories about Barrett to keep those of that persuasion firmly entranced, so the other apocrypha shouldn’t get in the way. But the important thing to remember is that Barrett’s songs are by far the most effective way of getting inside his character and finding out what he thought, did and felt. From the very first songs he contributed to Floyd to his final, disjointed solo work, the songwriting is a journey into his soul.

The song I’ve chosen to accompany this entry is Here I Go, the centrepiece of Barrett’s first solo record The Madcap Laughs (Harvest/EMI). By this stage, Barrett had progressed from his rangey, psychedelic wig-outs to a more rounded, lyric-led style and to the uninitiated, it’s a classic slice of 60s British pop; a young man, rejected by a girl, woos her sister instead. But it’s so much more than that. The tempo speeds up and slows down seemingly at random, the imagery it conjures up is at the same time surreal yet also vintage 1960s England. It’s classic Barrett. You want to know the time signature? Just try to keep up. You want to know what I’m REALLY talking about? Listen a hundred times, you’ll get there eventually.

 He had a tremendous ability for projecting exactly what he was feeling onto record and sharing it with the listener. In fact, it’s hard to think of a British songwriter that could execute that particular facet of songwriting more effectively. David Bowie is the obvious retort to that claim, yet he is, by his own admission, heavily indebted to Barrett.

Everyone with a passing interest in music knows a story about Syd Barrett. Indeed, he was surely the most extraordinary eccentric British popular music has ever produced. But how many people have taken the time to listen to his work? Because in my mind, there is no better way to appreciate his remarkable talent than by putting on some headphones and actually listening to what he had to say.

CW Stoneking

           

In the mid-1930s, Robert Johnson transformed himself very quickly from an ‘embarrassingly bad guitarist’ (not my words, the words of the great Son House) into one of the most important blues musicians of all time, and the King of the Delta Blues style that underpinned much of what followed in popular music.

As the now often recounted tale goes, he was alleged to have sold his soul to the Devil at a crossroads near a plantation in Mississippi in exchange for the ability to master the six string weapon he was attempting to use to tell his stories of love, loss and hoodoo. The Devil apparently took his guitar from him, tuned it, played a couple of numbers (I don’t know which ones, but I’d certainly love to find out) and handed it back to him. Johnson was transformed into a mesmerising, complex guitarist, who was suddenly not only adept within Blues, but also other related genres too. My favourite Johnson moment is undoubtedly the ragtime-influenced ‘They’re Red Hot’, which arguably isn’t even Blues at all.

The veracity of this tale is clearly up for debate. The more time passes, the more sceptical we become, and this sort of Faustian tale isn’t going to wash with the majority of right-thinking people in 2011.

But, to question the veracity of the story is to miss the point.

Throughout the history of popular music, the best artists have built a world and a myth around them and resided within it. They’ll construct a series of tales that add to their legend and blur the lines between fiction and reality. When Bowie transformed himself into the androgynous Ziggy Stardust, it was not enough to dress like him and sing songs about him. He had to believe there was only Five Years until the end of the world, he had to become him. Johnson’s tall tales were simply an extension of his myth, which he propagated further with his songs ‘Me and the Devil’ and ‘Hellhound on my Trail’. The music may have been primitive, but he knew the value of a good story.

C.W. Stoneking is a character. No-one can live in the manner that he apparently lives; taking sloops to Africa, being washed up in shipwrecks and owning the last Dodo in existence. But he means it. He lives it, and because he lives it, we believe it. To see Stoneking live is to take a time-machine back 75 years as he stops to tell us about his time as a Hoodoo Doctor’s assistant, before breaking into another song with his Primitive Horn Orchestra.

To listen to Stoneking on record is to be transfixed to the point of hypnosis for 40 minutes as he gallivants around the Deep South, administering potions to would-be sweethearts after escaping 25 years hard labour (the sentence sent down by a ‘monkey in an old wicker chair’, naturally) in sub-Saharan Africa where he was washed up in a shipwreck. Meanwhile, he pays homage to General Douglas MacArthur and his sterling efforts in the Pacific in World War II.

As an aside, the reason the homage to MacArthur, emotively titled ‘Brave Son of America’, is such an important song on his Jungle Blues record is because it adds context. To reference a prominent figure in history within the era you’re trying to resurrect is a smart move, it covers the entire set of stories with a varnish of authenticity.

The song I’ve chosen to accompany this post, the yodelling ‘Talkin’ Lion Blues’, isn’t necessarily his strongest work on his second record Jungle Blues (out on King Hokum), but it perfectly encapsulates the importance of building a myth as an artist. Our protagonist starts off as a gold miner, has a brief tête-á-tête with a talking lion, and, well, I’ll leave the rest to Mr Stoneking. He’s a much better storyteller than me.

25 Album Openers

Angel - Massive Attack (Mezzanine, 1998) - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hbe3CQamF8k
 
As creative conflict swirled around the Bristolian trip-hoppers towards the end of 1997, they seemed to somehow harness this anger and dispute and commit it to acetate. The deep, rumbling bass at the start of Angel quickly gives way to Horace Andy’s haunting vocal, creating an atmosphere of claustrophobia and genuine menace. Couple this with the bleak and distant production, and you’ve got an unsettling beginning to a timeless record. Some people will tell you that Blue Lines is Massive Attack’s best album. It isn’t. It’s Mezzanine. And Angel sets the tone perfectly for the musical malevolence that follows.
 
Is This It - The Strokes (Is This It, 2001) - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PQRJvZBH1gw

How do you react to being called ‘the greatest rock ‘n’ roll band since The Rolling Stones’, and tickets for your shows trading hands for hundreds of pounds on the streets of London before you’ve even released an album? Sarcastically call your debut long-player and opening track ‘Is This It’, of course. Julian Casablancas’ observational and often sardonic lyrics and delivery underpin everything on the New York quintet’s debut record, and the first song typifies this. The mock disinterest takes on another dimension when you realise they called the last track ‘Take It or Leave It’. Touché.

See No Evil - Television (Marquee Moon, 1977) - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a7L0IYPXKj8

The band that The Strokes desperately wanted to be, Television were the original New York hipsters, cutting their teeth at CBGBs in Manhattan, New York at the same time as The Ramones and Blondie. As one of the founders of New Wave, they released Marquee Moon in 1977, and the soaring guitar work from Tom Verlaine and Richard Lloyd is intricate, beautiful, and is a hallmark of their now trademark sound. The first track is See No Evil, a song that manages to be a foot-stomper and a work of complicated beauty all at the same time. Marquee Moon is one of the best records of the 70s, and See No Evil makes no small contribution.

Straight Outta Compton - N.W.A. (Straight Outta Compton, 1988) - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TMZi25Pq3T8

‘You’re now about to witness the strength of street knowledge.’ sneers Dr Dre, as Straight Outta Compton hits you with a wall of police sirens, fiercely spat lyrics, bass and snapping snare drum. In 1988, this was music from another planet. According to the outraged right-wing press, this was the ‘most dangerous group in the world’ proffering ‘gangsta rap’. To N.W.A. it was ‘reality rap’, the collective insisting they were just rapping about the lives of everyday kids in the ghetto. Whilst the entirety of Straight Outta Compton is an assault on the senses, they never sounded more vital, more threatening and more essential than on the opener.

Leave Them All Behind - Ride (Going Blank Again, 1992) - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HAT-5MTRrPo

The build up, the metronomic drumming, the guitar effects, the hushed vocal. In many ways this is the definitive Shoegaze song, and although Going Blank Again didn’t quite reach the heights of debut album Nowhere, the first song promised so much. The sound of Andy Bell’s guitar towards the end of the eight minutes has been described as ‘the sound of heaven and earth colliding’, and it’s hard to disagree.

Five Years - David Bowie (The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and The Spiders From Mars, 1972) - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=louXPUW7tHU

‘I always had a repulsive need to be something more than human’ said David Bowie, and thanks to his alien creation Ziggy Stardust he finally was. Five Years is the start of The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars’ beautiful, chaotic, apocalyptic journey. From ‘boys, toys, electric irons and TVs’ to ‘cops kneeling and kissing the feet of a priest’, the start of the end of the world has never been so much fun.

Welcome to the Jungle - Guns ‘n’ Roses (Appetite for Destruction, 1987) - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g_enNmzWn6Y

Aged just 24, Axl Rose wrote the lion’s share of Appetite for Destruction, the definitive concept album about living amongst the squalid Los Angeles underbelly. Welcome to the Jungle is less an opening song, more a trapdoor into a 53 minute tour around everything that was seedy and sordid about LA in the 80s; taking in heroin, porn, alcohol and crime. Rose may be a washed-up joke now, but back then he was a bona-fide social commentator with one hell of a voice. From Slash’s riff at the very start to the sneering ‘…it’s gonna bring you down!’ at the end, this is balls-out-of-the-bath hard rock finery.

Search and Destroy - The Stooges (Raw Power, 1973) - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IFe0OfEtP2w

As opening lines go, ‘I’m a street walking cheetah with a heart full of napalm’ is about as bold a statement as you’re likely to get. And can there be a more autologically titled record than Raw Power, the third of The Stooges’ triumvirate of vicious 70s proto-punk records? The thing that made The Stooges so engaging is that Iggy Pop didn’t just sing about how he’d ‘search and destroy’ you; he was more than likely to follow through with the threat. This wasn’t talking the talk. It wasn’t even walking the walk. It was strutting the strut.

Bring The Noise - Public Enemy (It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back, 1988) - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cvy7MWjfVPE

Yes, there’s a short skit at the beginning of the record, which is technically track one, but Bring the Noise is the start of the album proper. ITANOMTHUB is an absolute whirlwind of a hip-hop record politically and musically, with Chuck D in blistering form, railing against everyone and every perceived injustice that African-Americans had had to endure in the US up to that point. The Bomb Squad’s oppressive production provides the perfect background to D’s clinical delivery and the result is the start of the most politically-charged and devastating hip-hop album of all time.

Like a Rolling Stone - Bob Dylan (Highway 61 Revisited, 1965) - http://youtu.be/oykxg0eW3n8

‘…a song about hatred’, said Dylan when asked about Like a Rolling Stone, which kicks off probably his most rounded record. The song seen as Dylan’s crowning glory, it seems laced with bitterness, jealousy and longing for revenge against someone or something, possibly even himself. Highway 61 Revisited’s first song was voted as the greatest song of all time by Rolling Stone magazine, and even after all this time it really is impossible to top.

Smells Like Teen Spirit - Nirvana (Nevermind, 1991) - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hTWKbfoikeg&ob=av3e

‘I started Nirvana because there was nothing else to do’, said Kurt Cobain, the shy boy from Aberdeen, Washington who became the reluctant voice of the world’s disaffected youth. The opening track on their major label debut, Smells Like Teen Spirit, with its beautifully simple four chord riff, catapulted Nirvana into the mainstream, despite Cobain’s typically humble protestations that he was ‘just trying to rip off the Pixies’.

Arcarsenal - At the Drive In (Relationship of Command, 2000) - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lmTSQZjR3DE

Surely one of the world’s more underrated bands, At the Drive In threatened and hinted towards greatness for a long time before finally releasing what is now appreciated as one of the finest releases of this century in Relationship of Command. The level of brutal hardcore intensity, married with genuine melody and ever-changing tempo from the moment that opener Arcarsenal kicks in is a joy to behold. Sadly for ATDI fans, this was the beginning of the end as the band split up acrimoniously later the following year.

Gimme Shelter - The Rolling Stones (Let It Bleed, 1969) - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WJDnJ0vXUgw

With Brian Jones limited to a token role in the band (indeed, by ‘69, Mick Taylor had already arrived, and Let It Bleed would be the last album on which Jones would feature at all), The Stones set about making Let It Bleed against a background of great uncertainty in the world, not least the Vietnam War and possible nuclear destruction. Gimme Shelter, with its building intro, gospel backing vocal, and lyrics about war being ‘just a shot away’ captured the mood perfectly. Also, for fans of rock ‘n’ roll trivia, the cake on the cover of Let It Bleed was actually made by then unknown chef Delia Smith. Let’s be ‘avin’ you.

Whole Lotta Love - Led Zeppelin (Led Zeppelin II, 1969) - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bXKboDqiSbE

Less a rock outfit, more an all-encompassing tornado of sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll, Led Zeppelin were the band that sold more gig tickets in the US than even The Beatles, as well as 200 million albums worldwide. A perfect marriage of guitar and vocal, Page and Plant were absolutely untouchable, and Whole Lotta Love proves it beyond any doubt. Incidentally, guitar manufacturer Gibson recently voted Whole Lotta Love’s riff as the third best of all time. Which is roughly two places lower than it should be.

Rock ‘n’ Roll Star - Oasis (Definitely Maybe, 1994) - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rBZ1HTkGF4s

The song that opens arguably Oasis’ only truly great album, Rock ‘n’ Roll Star has been described by Noel Gallagher as ‘probably my best ever song’. It seems to flawlessly sum up what Liam Gallagher is all about: a swaggering, cocky, genuinely gifted and confrontational (and therefore tremendously exciting) front man. Forget all the off-stage tabloid antics, Liam Gallagher was born to be a singer in a band, and if you picture him snarling, with his hands behind his back, Rock ‘n’ Roll Star is the soundtrack.

Sunday Morning - The Velvet Underground (The Velvet Underground & Nico, 1967) - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eF_CQGHqzts

Possibly the best debut record of all time, The Velvet Underground & Nico saunters into focus with the understated and bleary-eyed Sunday Morning, a song about the morning after the night before. The album rapidly takes a nose-dive into the gutter straight afterwards with I’m Waiting For The Man, but the calm before the storm is a truly beautiful thing. Warning: The Velvet Underground song Sunday Morning is not to be confused with the Maroon 5 song of the same name, a piece of work so undeniably woeful it actually makes your teeth itch.

Hey, Hey, My, My (Into the Black) - Neil Young (Rust Never Sleeps, 1979) - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0O1v_7T6p8U

Another entry into the pantheon of greatest ever riffs, Hey, Hey, My, My is a down-tuned, distorted monster of a guitar track mixed with the chaos of Young’s confusing yet brilliant backing band Crazy Horse and the Canadian genius’ fragile vocal. A song sadly better known for having a lyric included in the aforementioned Kurt Cobain’s suicide note (‘It’s better to burn out than fade away’), this opening salvo is a worthy start to one of Neil Young’s brilliant and criminally underrated records.

Astronomy Domine - Pink Floyd (The Piper at the Gates of Dawn, 1967) - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ts-2lg5fpQ4

In their early days, Pink Floyd were a band that orbited around the nucleus of Syd Barrett, the wayward genius who eventually succumbed to mental illness. Barrett wrote all but one of the songs on The Piper at The Gates of Dawn, and Astronomy Domine takes us on a sonic trip around the solar system and beyond as Pink Floyd’s position as a truly boundary pushing band was set for generations to come.

Holidays in the Sun - The Sex Pistols (Never Mind The Bollocks, Here’s The Sex Pistols, 1977) - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XWF9MMxnekQ

The marching boots, the descending lead guitar (allegedly stolen from The Jam), the knowing, cynical, snarling delivery of Johnny Rotten’s vocal. It’s all here. It’s in many ways the definitive punk song, and the definitive Sex Pistols song, and it kicks off the greatest British punk record of all time. The only full-length release the Pistols ever recorded with Rotten, it made everything before it sound suddenly obsolete and has never been bettered in the genre.

I Wanna Be Adored - The Stone Roses (The Stone Roses, 1989) - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4D2qcbu26gs&ob=av2e

Yes they only made one brilliant long-player (although Second Coming is a much better effort than the initial reviews suggested), but what a long-player it is. I Wanna Be Adored ushers The Stones Roses in beautifully, with Brown’s hushed yet defiant vocal tying together a building, crescendo of bass-led melody which rallies and eventually gives way to the glorious She Bangs The Drums, a song that  just happens to be one of the greatest ever committed to acetate. It’s not just that The Stone Roses were so brilliant, it’s the fact that it seemed to come so easy to them. ‘You adore me’, whispers Ian Brown. Of course we do.

Taxman - The Beatles (Revolver, 1966) - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Maz9ddxEQnM

One of three songs on Revolver penned by George Harrison, Taxman rallies against Harold Wilson and his government’s ‘supertax’, which meant The Beatles were handing over 95% of their earnings to the state. So when Harrison sings ‘Let me tell you how it will be, it’s one for you, nineteen for me’, it’s not only a brilliant lyric, it’s also mathematically accurate.

Debaser - Pixies (Doolittle, 1989) - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7q5WjYjzrEQ

Another disc that opens with a superb bass hook, Debaser starts Pixies third album Doolittle, and is certainly the only mainstream rock record we know of to kick off with an homage to surrealist filmmaker Luis Bunuel. Criminally under-appreciated in their first incarnation, Pixies were hugely influential to a generation of Grunge bands including the aforementioned Nirvana. Doolittle is a dark, challenging record in terms of lyrical content, but an undeniably brilliant one nonetheless.

Sure Shot - Beastie Boys (Ill Communication, 1994) - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JhqyZeUlE8U&ob=av2e

Just about every Beastie Boys record starts with an absolutely winning first track, but Sure Shot tops them all. The last full length album to feature long-time collaborator DJ Hurricane, Ill Communication has featured heavily on plenty of ‘Best of 1994’ lists, in a year that proved a very strong twelve months for music. It also contains the lyric ‘I’ve got more rhymes than I’ve got grey hairs, and that’s a lot because I’ve got my share.’ Self-deprecating hip-hop! What’s not to like?

Vicious - Lou Reed (Transformer, 1972) - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BMpARx-lnEM
A more commercial sounding record than his first release, Transformer is probably Lou Reed’s best solo work, and it starts with the sexy, raunchy Vicious, an opening salvo with David Bowie and Mick Ronson’s greasy mitts all over it. As Reed himself says, ‘You must think that I’m some kind of gay blade, but baby, you’re so vicious.’ Meow.
London Calling - The Clash (London Calling, 1979) - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EfK-WX2pa8c&ob=av2n

A song about the end of the world through a ‘nuclear error’ (which makes it all the more remarkable that it’s currently being used as a theme for the London Olympics), London Calling is the eponymous opener to The Clash’s third (and best) long player. A song beset with howling guitars and a metronomic drumbeat, when married up with Joe Strummer’s desperate singing it creates a genuinely bleak yet compelling start to an album that tackles several political themes throughout. Crucial stuff.

This article first appeared on IGN.com on 12th August 2011.