“The greatest metal band of their generation”, Mastodon returned in September with their fifth full-length album. Since coming together 12 years ago this hairy 4-piece has effortlessly spanned a slew of metal sub-genres creating a sound that’s as unique as it is timeless.

This latest release, titled The Hunter [in tribute to vocalist Brent Hinds’ brother, who was sadly killed in a hunting accident last year] is no different. Taking a slightly more laid-back approach this time the album has a slightly simpler sound than previous releases, stripping things back to the bare essentials and booting in a fuckload of shit-hot riffs.

The albums opening salvo, Black Tongue, is about as perfect a slice of classic riff-driven metal as you could hope for, while tracks like Curl Of The Burl and Stargasm really hark back to Mastodon’s stoner-metal credentials.

Brann Dailor’s percussion really excels in Dry Bone Valley, cutting perfectly through the melodic vocal, as well as in Spectrelight, which is a really stand out, spit in your face track. The energy here is lacking a little though the rest of the album, but this is more of an eclectic mix than Mastodon’s other drops. There isn’t any particular central theme to link the tracks together, instead we’re treated more to a smorgasbord of aural treats to make your ears ejaculate. The album closes with Deathbound, reminding us of the frenetic energy that this band can produce, leaving us on a high.

This is the greatest metal album out at the moment, and is a sure-fire classic. If you’re reading this in 2050, go out and download a copy into your skull or whatever and listen now. Assuming that Mastodon haven’t taken over the world by this stage. In which case you’ve probably heard it.

The Hunter is available now from Roadrunner Records.

It’s been 10 years since a group of bearded, shouty, magnificent bastards first came together in Massachusetts to for Four Year Strong. It’s a major milestone which has been marked by the release of the bands fourth studio album: In Some Way, Shape Or Form.

The changes are clear from the start, with The Infected showing off an angrier, slightly more anthemic sound than previous albums. This impression quickly wears though, as slap-dash and jarring nature of the collection of songs on offer becomes apparent. Falling On You does have some solid rhythms, but it relies on some really hackneyed rhymes, the lyrical content amounts to nothing more impressive than hormonal teenage poetry. It’s a similar story with Unbreakable which is a truly sphincter clenchingly cringe-worthy dedication to people that it’s hard to describe an anything other than socially retarded.

There are a few gems here among the myriad of misadventures. Heaven Wasn’t Built To Hold Me breaks new ground for the band, and they really pull it off, showcasing an interesting new musical direction. Fight The Future sounds like it could have come from their last album; admittedly played at half speed.

Only The Meek Get Pinched. The Bold Survive starts with the unusual but by no means unwelcome addition of a piano. This track really betrays the FYS’s desire to evolve since the departure of Josh Lyford earlier this year after the band elected to remove synth from their music.

This is really a decent album, and no doubt if it had been released by a group of newcomers rather than these seasoned vets it would generate a lot of buzz. But this is a disappointing follow up to Enemy Of The World; the kind of sloppy afterbirth that only Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall could get excited about.

Undoubtedly for the hardcore fans this will become a welcome addition to the canon, but unfortunately it’s unlikely to win over any new followers.

In Some Way, Shape Or Form is available now through Decaydance/Motown Records.

I will say this though. I think The X Factor is genuinely brilliant television. Yeah. I said it. U MAD BRO?

The thing is, with all this talk of mind-rotting television that lessens the collective intelligence, people have seemed to forgotten what makes television great. Is a television show’s worth to be measured only by its educational value? Not everything can be narrated by Stephen Fry. He’s practically God, but he’s not quite omnipresent yet.

Let’s take the West Wing for example, one of the most critically acclaimed shows of recent memory. What was it that made millions of viewers return to this fictional slice of POTUSville every week, over the course of seven years? It wasn’t for the insightful political debate, or the accurate depictions of the inner workings of a country’s governance (check Wikipedia, that shit was woefully inaccurate).

Since the stone amphitheatres of the ancient Greeks, great entertainment has always been about the delicate interplay of human emotion. Truly great entertainers have always been those who move us, one way or another. So just as shows that encourage us to think, like The Blue Planet or Wonders Of The Universe, are intellectually enriching, anything that stimulates our capacity to feel must be emotionally enriching.

That’s exactly what shows like the X Factor do. As hackneyed as it sounds, it really is all about real people, real lives and real emotions. All masterfully edited together of course. Seriously, check this for a perfectly crafted 6 minute journey of emotion.

I might be in emotionally vulnerable state at the moment, but the look of pride in that old mans eyes gets me every time. Now look at this scally.

Similarly, check out this glorious bastard on Britain’s Got Talent.

The editing here isn’t anywhere near as sharp, but I assume that’s because the majority of the budget goes towards Amanda Holden’s weekly stem cell rejuvenation process.

So whether you care about the swelling of Simon Cowell’s coffer, or question the shows detriment to musical integrity, you can’t deny that it’s wonderful television. Just as culturally valid as any of BBC4’s output.

Everything after the auditions is shit though.

Brooklyn bad-asses, Cerebral Ballzy just released the follow up to their Griptape mixtape, creatively titled The Griptape Vol. 2. Once again the reigns have been taken up by Brighton’s own Mumdance, the 26 year old producer extraordinaire who’s taken the DJing circuit by storm with his eclectic tastes, effortlessly spanning almost every genre in the course of one sweaty set. The mix features 10 choice tracks presented by everyones personal hero, Bart Simpson, because why the fuck not, you bell-end?(if you missed Vol. 1, it was ‘hosted’ by supreme 90′s throwbacks Beavis and Butthead)

Unfortunately only 2 tracks come courtesy of Ballzy, the other 8 are cherry-picked from the best of modern punk including The Bronx and The Black Lips. Thankfully the opening track is an exclusive Mumdance remix of Ballzy’s Don’t Look My Way. This track alone makes for a worthwhile download, laying feverish tribal drums over frontman Honor Titus’s venomous lyrics.

Overall this release makes for a delicious 23 minute slice of ‘fuck you noughties’ attitude. [on a side-note, why has no-one come up with a term for the current decade yet? The 'teenies' sounds too much like a children's show/Pornhub category]

You can download the mixtape in it’s entirety for free (YES, FUCKING FREE) here.

Since forming in 2004 SYG have built a heavy reputation for pogo inducing anthems for the pop-punk generation. As to be expected, this new drop is no exception, with all the twin guitars and multiple vocals we’d hope to hear. Unfortunately this effort seems a little less polished than previous albums, and shows an unwelcome departure from the punk and hardcore scenes into more pop fare.

That’s not to say that this is a bad album, it’s perfectly acceptable pop-punk that surpasses the majority of other similar outfits out there, but things do seem a little generic. Lyrically this is the bands weakest album, serving up cliched quotes such as “you need to be yourself”, notably on tracks Certain and Trenches.

Burning At Both Ends is by no means utter shit, but it’s a poor follow up to 2009′s This Will Be The Death Of Us, which saw SYG at their peak.  The bands personality doesn’t really shine through here, which was really their charm to begin with; a bunch of 20-something guys who know how to have a great fucking time. At least that’s my opinion. I always got the feeling that I’d have a blast playing The Star Wars Drinking Game or Tron Loko with these fellas.

That kind of magic only really shows through on Product Of The 80′s. Yes, it does seem a little forced and unnatural, but this is the closest this album comes to recapturing the energy of This Will Be The Death Of Us, as the band sing about shit they know: crappy 80′s sitcoms, pop and video nasties, and really just revel in being geeky losers.

Overall then, this is a solid album, with the usual strengths and weaknesses. If this had been SYG’s debut maybe it would seem exceptional, but I suspect for most fans this will seem ultimately a little lackluster, if still a nice addition to the bands discography. Cub’s standout tracks are Unconditional, Products Of The 80′s and Illuminated Youth.

Burning At Both Ends is available now from Epitaph records.

Watch the full video after the jump.

This still holds true in the oldest part of the village, where the only other transport infrastructure in place is a cycle path running through some of the most charming scenery imaginable. If you want to travel through this part of the village without getting sweaty you’ll need a boat, and hopefully you’ll opt for a ‘whisper boat’, utilizing an almost silent electric engine. Although if you aren’t adverse to getting a bit of hard work you could also take up an oar or a paddle to explore the waterways.

This is probably the second best way to work up a sweat in the Netherlands.

Giethoorn is known locally as ‘the Venice of the North’, and although little known, has quite the intake of tourists. if you’d like to see more of the village, you might like to seek out Bert Haanstra’s 1958 comedy Fanfare, which was filmed in the village. If you find yourself unable to to reach Giethoorn, you might want to visit Britains very own venice, the equally delightful Birmingham. Although tours of the waterways are less popular, you will instead be able to indulge in the age-old local activity of Canal I-Spy.

…was spent like this.

Read on to find out what happened when you decide to throw a party based on the tenuous theme of a Youtube video.

Producing a sound they’ve styled as ‘electropop meets southern hip hop’, The Grand Spectacular write short ditties leaning heavily towards the parody end of the musical spectrum. Mozart they ain’t, but they’re quite humourous, and Cub appreciates that.

Now they may not be able to produce an album’s worth of witty, catchy and often downright filthy songs like some other parody bands out there (if that’s what you’re interested in then Cub suggests The Midnight Beast), but these fellas evidently know how to throw a party.

Cub. was lucky enough to be there for the Official Being A Dickhead’s Cool Party on the 10th of February. Far from being in a secret East London location, the event was actually held in the rather lovely and well know Queen of Hoxton in Hackney, where drinks are plentiful and the even the graffiti is hipster. That’s how we roll here, so we definitely recommend a visit, if only to sample the impressive looking menu or to hang out on the roof garden, which unfortunately wasn’t open on our visit.

On our arrival to the club it became increasingly difficult to distinguish between the Grand Spectacular revelers and the genuine Shoreditch Twats. You might have expected the real hipster-folk of East London to have avoided the event but there was clearly a smattering of them, ironically or otherwise having a genuinely good time.

After indulging in several drinks in the gorgeous basement bar we hit the dance floor to the mixes of DJ Rags and  The Last Skeptic, who somehow managed to churn out the advertized selection of Vegan Crunk, Muslim Trance and Lactose Intolerant 80′s pop.

DJ Rags

The whole event was overseen by Doc Brown, who although dry on the humour front at least kept everything running smoothly. Eventually the time came for The Grand Spectacular to take the stage, bursting on in resplendent tuxedos. Having only one real song to perform, their time on the stage was a little short lived but they more than made up for this with a healthy dose of audience participation, whipping the crowd into a drunken melting pot of hipster and entry-level dickheadery. Towards the end of their time on stage members of the audience were invited onto the stage to enjoy 15 seconds of dance-based stardom, with varying results.

Doing their mothers proud.

The evening ended with a death metal remix of Being A Dickhead’s Cool, which was definitely the highlight of The Grand Spectaular’s performance,and quite possibly the entire week for Cub.

…what wondrous times we live in.Go forth, and indulge in the myriad of Rock Paper Scissors based japery available to you.

Or if you’re feeling adventurous, Rock Paper Scissors Lizard Spock.

This seems as fitting a start as any.