A café in North London, late 2000. For the first time in an age, Neu!’s three completed albums are to be reissued, and Michael Rother and Klaus Dinger have made a precarious truce to promote them. In the preceding years, there have been endless squabbles preventing this extraordinary music from being restored to the public domain. Dinger, a notably wild-eyed man with the personal grooming of Catweazle and a picture of his girlfriend sellotaped to his shirt, has been releasing Neu! sessions on a Japanese label, Captain Trip. Rother, a calm European technocrat dressed in black, has been pointedly unimpressed. As Neu!’s reputation and influence have increased, it seems the pair’s relationship has exponentially degenerated. “We’ve never been very close,” Dinger counters. “I think the only thing we’ve done is make music together, and in my opinion, it’s the only thing we can do. I mean, we would never go on holiday together.” For most of the interview (which you can read in its entirety: Neu! 2000 interview , they have stiffly disagreed with each other’s interpretations of their shared history. This time, though, Rother’s silence implies total agreement. Neu! are not, of course, rock’s only dysfunctional band. Nevertheless, the tension between the pair – birthed during their brief time in Kraftwerk in 1971, and persisting until Dinger’s death in 2008 – was always strikingly at odds with the harmonious music for which Neu! became renowned. This Neu! Vinyl Box – with a 1972 live session, a 1986 reunion attempt, a t-shirt and a stencil! thrown in – still begins with their first album from 1972, and with “Hallogallo”. Clear-sighted, effortlessly propulsive, it feels like recording started in the middle of a telepathic jam that has already been running smoothly for hours, even days. Neu!’s work is often simplified to this idea of ‘motorik’ – a term which Dinger characteristically disliked, preferring something with less mechanical implications like ‘Lange Gerade’ (Long line) or ‘Endlese Gerade’ (Endless line). Listening to their music in its entirety, however, gathered on Vinyl Box (with free downloads for all purchasers, and not a vulgar old CD in sight), a more complicated picture of Neu! emerges. It might be the pristine motorik pulses that influenced generations of electronic auteurs, post-rockers, dronerockers and most every band who’ve looked for the next hip option after The Velvet Underground. It might be Dinger’s clenched, glammy acceleration of motorik – on Neu! 2’s “Lila Engel” and “Super”, on Neu! ‘75’s “Hero” and “After Eight” – that so invigorated John Lydon and the less cloistered punks. But the corners of Neu!, Neu! 2 and the exceptional Neu! ‘75 are sketchier, unfocused places. After the epiphany of “Hallogallo”, Neu! immediately slides into “Sonderangebot”, the amniotic squelching and scruffy dislocation setting a template for ambient diversions to come. That first album was recorded in four days, the third after an extended hiatus, reinforcing Dinger’s picture of a duo clearly unenthusiastic about each other’s company. Neu! 2 was also completed in four nights, climaxing in a famously expedient rush, with two tracks being re-run at various speeds to pad out Side Two. It’s this oddity which springs to mind when listening to the box’s Neu! ‘86 album, a fraught reunion session previously - and controversially – released by Dinger as Neu! 4. Neu! ‘86’s inclusion signposts a new phase in Rother’s relationship with his own legacy: his new live band (including Sonic Youth’s drummer, Steve Shelley), specifically recruited to play Neu! music, confirms as much. Rother’s version is markedly different from Dinger’s Neu! 4, since he “completely reworked the album from original multitrack and master tapes”, but any fears that Rother’s politeness might take the edge off the sessions can be discounted. Neu! ‘86’s chief pleasure is in how it makes explicit their inchoate bickering, so that “Dänzing”, for example, slings raw guitar chords, bird noises, deranged sing-songs and elements of musique concrète into what is essentially 1980s electropop. Mostly, the album sounds like a messy argument about how Neu! should evolve and transcend their own stereotype. Sometimes, recidivism triumphs; “Crazy” is ostensibly a bubblegum punk retread of “Hero”. At others, the mischief-making can be rather forced; “La Bomba (Stop Apartheid World-Wide)” is basically “La Bamba” being grappled over by Stock, Aitken & Waterman and Throbbing Gristle. It’s easy to see this 1986 session as despoiling the Neu! legacy. But Neu! Vinyl Box is both a tying up of loose ends, and a way of seeing the band’s music as haphazard, multi-faceted and innately impossible to tidy up. It concludes with the 18 minutes of Neu! ’72, a rehearsal tape similar to another clandestine Dinger release, Neu! ’72 Live In Dusseldorf, which reveals how they could be an exhilarating live band – and also how much Conny Plank, as producer, brought to their studio albums. At times, the groove sounds like it will roll on eternally. But then, again and again, the jam collapses in on itself; as fragile and capricious, perhaps, as the band who created it.

What would Murdoc make of it? Previously, Gorillaz live performances have seen the “real” musicians play anonymously behind a curtain. But not tonight. If anything, tonight’s show abandons the notion of Gorillaz as a “virtual band” altogether. It seems more about establishing Damon Albarn’s overdue re-emergence as a front man, after spending close to a decade in the background on a number of collaborative projects, from Mali Music to The Good, The Bad And The Queen and Gorillaz. It’s tempting to ask what’s prompted this, as he steps out from behind his keyboard to sing the second song of the night, “Last Living Soul” from the Demon Days album. Certainly, it’s easy enough to continue to play behind a curtain when the band is, broadly, second-tier musicians. It’s clearly harder, though, when your touring band include Mick Jones and Paul Simonon, here sharing the stage for the first time together since Jones left The Clash in 1983. You could argue that the simple fact of their presence here means Damon is almost forced to blow his cover. But there is, crucially, also the small matter of last year’s Blur tour to take into account. Damon’s enthusiasm at both those Hyde Park dates last July was palpable; and it seems likely those shows rekindled his interest in live performance. Which is certainly what we get tonight. Critically, this show establishes Gorillaz as a highly credible live proposition. And, sure, this is in no small part down to Jones and Simonon’s involvement; it’s thrilling to see them share backing vocals a thunderous “O Green World”, or watch Simonon prowl the stage with his bass slung low. That the two men are wearing sailor’s hats – in a nod to the Plastic Beach album’s concept – fortunately doesn’t diminish their cool. And, before they wheel out the special guest vocalists, the band make a persuasive case in their own right. “Melancholy Hill” is beautiful; if, like me, you favour Damon’s more reflective, downtempo Blur songs, this is up there with “Out Of Time” or “Strange News From Another Star”. As to the special guests, we get a video of Snoop early on, for “Welcome To The Plastic Beach”, but it’s not until the fifth song that Mos Def and Bobby Womack arrive for a sleek “Stylo”, accompanied by a huge grin from Damon. From then on, the turnover of vocalists is pretty regular, from De La Soul leaping round the stage for “Feel Good Inc” to a pleasingly dissolute Shaun Ryder on a thumping, adrenalised “Dare”. Perhaps the best guest slot, though, goes to Little Dragon’s Yukimi Nagano, who duets with Damon on a beautiful version of “To Binge”. With Damon’s inner performer in full flight, it’s perhaps no surprise to see the cartoon façade relegated to video screens. Jamie Hewlett’s images cut from scratchy line drawings reminiscent of his early Tank Girl work to richly detailed, 3D cartoons or video cut-ups. It’s great, but perhaps it feels too overwhelming. During “White Flag”, I count 19 people on stage – the regular band plus string section, the Syrian National Orchestra and grime artists Bashy and Kano. It kind of makes you stop and acknowledge what Damon’s achieved here; I can’t think of any other artist so willing to pull together so many apparently diverse musical outlooks and not make a pig’s ear out of it. MICHAEL BONNER Set list: Orchestral Intro Welcome To The World Of The Plastic Beach Last Living Souls O Green World On Melancholy Hill Kids With Guns Stylo (feat Bobby Womack and Mos Def) Rhinestone Eyes Broken Empire Ants (feat Little Dragon) Dirty Harry (feat Bootie Brown) White Flag (feat Bashy And Kano and The Syrian National Orchestra) Superfast Jellyfish (feat De La Soul and Gruff Rhys) Dare (Feat Rosie Wilson and Shaun Ryder) Glitter Freeze El Manana Cloud Of Unknowing (feat Bobby Womack) ----- Sweepstakes (feat Mos Def) To Binge (feat Little Dragon) Feel Good (feat De La Soul) Clint Eastwood

A nice email last week from Michael Taylor, alerting me to the existence of his band, Hiss Golden Messenger, and their new live album, “Root Work”: “Touchstones, as I see them, would be Traffic's ‘Low Spark Of High-Heeled Boys’, possibly some live Dead, some vintage-era Tubby/Jammy,” writes Michael, enticingly. As it happens, I was already aware of Hiss Golden Messenger. Rick Tomlinson from Voice Of The Seven Thunders forwarded me last year’s “Country Hai East Cotton” which I enjoyed very much and then subsequently, shamefully, neglected to blog about. Taylor, it transpires, used to figure in The Court & Spark and has moved in the past year or two from San Francisco to North Carolina, where he works as a folklorist. If there’s one contemporary band that I’d pair up Hiss Golden Messenger with, it’d be another crew of ex-San Franciscans, Brightblack Morning Light. Taylor is, perhaps, more of an orthodox songwriter than Nabob and Rabob, and there’s a baroque craftsmanship to a bunch of his songs that reminds me of the Laurel Canyon sound (and to a recent update of the same, PG Six’s lovely “Slightly Sorry”). But on “Root Work”, he stretches them out to incorporate more heft and groove than on “Country Hai East Cotton”. The really terrific “Resurrection Blues”, for instance, is a hot and sticky progression, propped up by deep horn charts, that gradually loosen up and shoot off at tangents as the song goes on, and the lead guitarist (Taylor? I don’t know) steps up for a high, clanging solo. Pretty hooked on this one. The whole set’s good, though, from the opening field recordings of birdsong, into the New Weird American reggae of “John Has Gone To The Light” (one of my colleagues suggests an affinity here with Chris Squire’s “Fish Out Of Water”, which I don’t know), through strong and soulful songs like “Isobel” and the countryish skank of “O Nathaniel”: I’m sure there’s an obvious analogue for the latter, but I can’t locate it this morning for the life of me. And equally, Michael Taylor’s voice really reminds me of something, which again I can’t place. Apologies for the vagueness, but please have a listen to Hiss Golden Messenger’s Myspace, and see if you can help. Thanks!

Much to love from the Woodsist label these past few months, and this debut from White Fence is especially great. White Fence is a guy called Tim Presley, who also seems to have some kind of role in Austin’s Strange Boys; coming, I should plug again, to Club Uncut on June 24. “White Fence” sounds much more of a bedroom project – it’s incredibly lo-fi and distorted in places. Nevertheless, Presley is pretty much a rock classicist in his songwriting, and once you’ve adjusted to the waywardness and fuzz, these are terrific songs: spindly and psychedelic, one-man garage rocking, lysergic balladry, damaged jangle and so on. In fact, it’s a measure of Presley’s gifts that the comparisons which often spring to mind when I play “White Fence” are not predicated on the sonics – there’s little temptation to namedrop early Sebadoh or even his contemporaries like Woods, Ganglians and so on – but to the ‘60s pantheon. Straight off, the opening “Mr Adams” rings like The Byrds, albeit an unsteady Byrds in constant danger of collapsing in on themselves, before a breakbeat unexpectedly drives the song off on a pacey tangent. And so it goes on: a dazed stumble through a canonical record collection. By track four, “I’ll Follow You”, he’s cranked up an insistent, creaky organ and is having a fine crack at Nuggetsy psych (imagine Ariel Pink fixating on ? & The Mysterians rather than ‘80s FM radio, maybe). By track five, “Sara Snow”, he’s channelling Syd Barrett, perhaps Skip Spence, with something in the neighbourhood of aplomb. “The Gallery” is akin to listening to The Hollies on a totally warped old seven. The whole thing works brilliantly, though. It might not be the most innovative musical plot to betray love of The Kinks (“Hard Finish On Mirror Mile”) or, hey, The Beatles (“Be Right Too”), but Presley does so with the dual advantages of neat songs and genuinely arresting sound design. A couple of times (“Baxter Corner” and the 54 seconds of “Box Disease/Today Bond”), he moves through the gears to try out DIY punk, and comes out sounding like something from one of the “Messthetics” comps. Mostly, though, White Fence remain happily in a sort of dreamlike, misremembered ‘60s. “Destroy Everything” is playing again now, and it’s wonderful. You can find it on the White Fence Myspace, with a bunch of these other songs. Let me know what you think.

Something slightly uncomfortable about wondering how much music remains unreleased in the Jack Rose archives, following his passing at the end of last year. It’s scant consolation for his loved ones, I’m sure, that the rest of us are keen on getting unheard music from him for a while longer. That said, I suspect whatever comes out bearing Rose’s name is likely to further enhance his reputation; his touch and good judgment always seemed so constant that it’s hard to envisage anything sub-par being dredged up. And if this “Ragged And Right” EP is anything to go by, we might discover that his creative reach stretched even further than most of us envisaged. “Ragged And Right”, Rose’s last recording, is a hook-up with D Charles Speer & The Helix, a loose-looking bunch fronted by Dave Shuford of the No Neck Blues Band, and also featuring the pianist Hans Chew, who figured on other Rose sessions, plus Marc Orleans from Sunburned Hand Of The Man. That lineup might suggest Rose edging towards scorched improv territory, closer to his Pelt work than later solo releases. In fact, though, The Helix turn out to be a raggle-taggle crew of highly skilled players who can knock out rowdy, folksy boogies as effectively as they can turn their hands to free music. Consequently, the nearest analogue in Rose’s catalogue is the 2008 album with the Black Twig Pickers, with this one a radiant electrified session. The elevated joy in the act of playing shines through every note, even on a hardbitten country ballad like “Prison Song”, with Shuford (I assume) using his best outlaw baritone, and some amazingly ornate playoffs between Rose, Orleans (I think) on steel and the really outstanding Chew. Next up, there’s a Jack Rose/Glenn Jones-authored beauty called “Linden Avenue Stomp”, a rolling and keening marvel which, like the Black Twig Pickers’ stuff, feels like such an open-hearted and full-blooded, enormously unprissy embrace of roots music. It’s here they really take flight, though the experimental imperative is disciplined, channelled, reminiscent in some ways of the Grateful Dead and maybe the New Riders Of The Purple Sage. “The Longer You Wait” is a Merle Haggard song attacked with similar gusto, and finally there’s a take on “In The Pines” which begins with some a capella goofing and proceeds to gleefully disregard all the spectral gloom which contemporary musicians (Kurt Cobain, Mark Lanegan, Bill Callahan) have brought to the song. It sounds like a riotous, visionary, uplifting hoedown, one where you can almost smell the good times in the recording room; a wonderful way to memorialise a great musician. As, I suspect, is this: “Honest Strings: A Tribute To The Life And Work Of Jack Rose", a tremendous-looking digital comp that costs $15, runs for six and a half hours and features, deep breath, D Charles Speer, MV & EE, Rick Tomlinson, Sunburned Hand Of The Man, Pelt, No Neck Blues Band, Black Twig Pickers, Hans Chew, Six Organs Of Admittance, Hush Arbors, Spectre Folk, Elisa Ambrogio and an epically impressive cast of artists. I’m going to grab a copy and give it a go.