Loney, Dear

Album of the week is Loney, Dear's Loney, Noir. If you're thinking that last sentence had too many commas in it, then bare with me. Loney, Dear is a quirky Scandinavian called Emil Svanangen who produces folksy, upbeat melodies that remind me a bit of Sufjan Stevens (how often do i say that? Rather a lot I fear) mixed with a bit of Gomez. Tracks are multi-layered and often wander off in completely unexpected directions. Catch him at the ICA on May 24.

Chocaholic

Headed down to The Menier Chocolate Factory this weekend to see Chris Hampton's Total Eclipse, his 1968 play about the intense, doomed relationship between Rimbaud and Verlaine. I have to admit, before the performance I knew little about Rimbaud other than Bob Dylan liked his stuff. But Paul Miller's revival succeeds in showing the opposing directions from which Rimbaud and Verlaine approached writing. Rimbaud is all teenage angst and rebellion, Verlaine a sort of wife-beating masochist. It was interesting stuff. But it was the venue that lingered in the memory. A utilitarian performance space has real atmosphere, and the bar and adjoining cafe are both excellent. Well worth checking out.

The Everyday Profound

Joshua Ferris' debut novel, Then We Came To The End, is a thoughtful, engrossing study of office life. Written in the plural first person (in other words, 'we'), it considers the emergence of the all too familiar group mentality that office life seems to foster, usually in opposition to some hapless individual who doesn't quite fit. Full of dark humour and profound insights into the risk/reward calculation that leads many of us to spend our entire lives in offices and jobs we care little about but without the courage to pursue our dreams, Then We Came To The End hints at some fundamental truths about the sorts of lives we lead in the noughties. We all know a lot of office life is a monumental waste of time and resources. Ferris' novel suggests that if we just had the guts to walk a different path we will find the sense of fulfillment we're looking for.

This is it

Album of the week is Kate Walsh's Tim's House, a record of sunny wistfulness. Sparse in its production qualities but with a certain honest directness that surpasses many of the acoustic bores out there at the moment, Tim's House is perfect for the summer sun.

Close to Home

Head down to the ICA (or whever else you can find it) and see Close To Home, directed by Dalis Hager and Vidi Bilu. This funny-sad tale of two Israeli girls performing their military service in Jerusalem interweaves the personal and the political as Smadar and Mirit, the two protagonists, are confronted with the street-level tension and fear that pervades the streets they patrol.

Taking the Mickey

Album of the week is Modest Mouse's We Were Dead Before The Ship Even Sank, a jangly, guitar-driven grower. Part Sufjan Stevens, part early REM, the album has reached Number One in the States and deservedly so. Stand out tracks include Parting of the Sensory, Little Motel and Fire It Up. Mature music, intelligent lyrics, and a grown-up sound that has benefited from former Smiths guitarist Johnny Marr joining the group, WWDBTSES is proof that while he may elect an illiterate president, the musical taste of the American remains admirable.

Bitter pill

Anthony Neilson's new play, The Wonderful World of Dissocia, on at the Royal Court, is an enthralling, ethereal journey. We are confronted with an Alice in Wonderland dream scape of touchstone characters (Scapegoats, Insecurity Guards and Dungaree-wearing Musketeers) that turns into a sobering tale of the desperation of chemical dependency. Neilson, something of the enfant terrible of British theatre (although not quite to the degree he thinks) offers a witty, genuinely comedic script that lures the viewer into believing - and enjoying - the fantastical world of Dissocia, before forwarding a jarring, bleach-white vision of medical rehabilitation. Christine Entwisle is superb in the lead role as Lisa. This is a genuinely different take on what theatre should aim to achieve. And with Mendes announcing he will direct an uninspiring trio of plays at the Old Vic - Hamlet and The Cherry Orchard among them - Neilson reminds us that there are alternatives.

The Ties That Bind

Those with a mere £15 to spend and a spare couple of hours should head to The Royal Court before April 7 to see Lucy Caldwell's arresting play Leaves. Set against the backdrop of The Troubles the play deals with the sense of shock, anger, confusion and isolation caused by a family suicide attempt. Unanswered questions and the confusing twist of cause and effect combine with touches of humour to create a deeply privileged insight into the darker side of being a family that we all recognise. Caldwell's first play bodes well for the future.

Kings Indeed

Funny thing cultural relativism. It's the greasy fuel that lightens up the dullest of chatter on the tube or down the pub. One man's Dark Side of the Moon is another's Blood on the Tracks. But once in a while an album comes along which makes a nonsense of such equivocation. Jump over hedges and run through walls to find your nearest copy of Kings Of Leon Because of the Times dear readers. It is an album of such breadth and scope, such ambition and soul, that it runs the risk of you dumping the rest of your record collection in the (cyber) bin and just sitting in a dark room listening to it for a very long time indeed. Stand out tracks include Knocked Up, Fans and The Runner. But then most of the tracks are pretty standout to be honest. Musical fresh air for Spring.