I want to be on my own

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Because, fundamentally, you can count on good music more than you can count on even good people... x
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The Field Mice - 'Anoint' (Peel Session version) MP3 (5.51)
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Ps, This is the best song they ever recorded. I think.
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To the East of Saltmarket, all roads will lead...

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Absent. Time. Gone away. Time. Not here. Time. Spaced Air Dead. Time. Cards that post. Time. Excuses, those silly, lame, pathetic excuses. Time. Fifteen cards for a pound. Time. The end of Time. But I have been working very hard recently you know, finishing the-many-thousands-of- important-words Glasgow report off (with Noah and Emilia's much valued help) for this exciting project. It'll all be published in September, with pictures, if you are interested. I'll send you a signed copy. Woah. Contain the excitement. Anyway, with that one wee research thing off my sagging, troubled mind, for the moment, in a few hours time I'll be standing or sitting over here, with a few thousand other people, including the Emo Eldest of my very own collection of Small People, crying along, quite openly, to this track... best hope they don't play the little weird fishes song or the Green may just be hit by a flash flood or three. 'Your eyes, they turn me...' x
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Radiohead - 'House of cards' ('Scotch Mist' live version) MP3 (5.31)
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The News Is That You Talk Too Much (so he said)
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PS, Whilst I remember... anyone else gonna be here on July 3? Beers before? Earplugs? Bueller? Bueller? Bueller...
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EDIT_TIME: no cards were played, but the weird fishes swam...
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A hope for you and a hope for me

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I was walking by work last night, a bit later on, wearing expensive headphones and a beaming smile from coffee, cake and chat, and I happened to cast an eye over one section of the wild and abandoned gardens outside the Soviet-era, Politburu-styled, McCance building. For reasons I can explain, I stopped to take a picture, the one you see above these words. Within seconds of capturing the image I realised why I'd stopped. It was, of course, a crushing song and a hippocampus-aided memory that had come to me. It wasn't the one playing in my ears, that would be too perfect, but one, instead, from a distant childhood. My distant childhood. That was one of the things I always liked so much about Mark's lyrics: even in his early to mid-twenties he was writing such wistful and poignant words about disappearing childhood and how quick we are to lose those feelings, those 'open' emotions, whether love, rage, joy, hate, sadness or happiness, that only children seem capable of displaying; apparently immune to the hardening of feeling and the faceless masks of adulthood. When I hear this song I seem to match it, in a 'Snap!' card game like way, with strong visual memories of running through long, deep grass, as a child, close to where we lived at the time. Although this is a song about the fate and position of married working class women, where patriarchal institutions offer little more than a 'union forged in slavery', to me this song is filled with memories of a lost but not forgotten childhood, running until breathless, with friends, through the long grasses near the dumping grounds and the playpark, a freedom to explore that seemed absolutely genuine and the laughter you can only raise, as an eight year old, at the start of endless summer holidays that will last forever and ever. And isn't that the beauty of music and words, you make them your own through a working biography and captured experiences that are at one and the same time unique to you, but also shared and commonly felt. We are not alone, this is true. Music and words help bind us to each other. It gives us the courage, as disappointed adults, to drop the fake masks and have the strength to confess, even in a whisper, 'I really like you'...
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Although there are many wonderful versions of this song, the studio version recorded for 'What Does Anything Mean? Bascially' (October 1985) cannot be trumped. The guitars are inch perfect, blending together like a mix of spices that make for the perfect dish. There is a shimmery haze over the production that glows like a late afternoon summer sun caught in your flickering eyes. However, I have always had a passion, a feeling, for the Free Trade Hall rehearsal version. Somehow, Mark's strained voice makes it even more heartfelt and endearing. Have a listen and see, what do you remember?
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The Chameleons - 'One Flesh' (Free Trade Hall Rehearsal) MP3 (4.37)
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Visit / Buy
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Daddy, what did you do in the Great War?

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Because sometimes even 50 seems too fast. Doesn't it? Sigh. Am currently down in the dumps and feeling very sorry for everyone but me at Glasgow airport, waiting on a plane to hop and skip down to the South coast playground-like haven that is, erm, 'buzzing' Southampton. At least the sun might shine. Oh, the oldest and tallest small person that is attached to me via the family bonds of blood, sweat and tears recommends this particular song to tune into (and I find it very hard to disagree with him). I should say that I'm hopeful that a 'normal', that is, more regular service will resume around these blog parts very soon but I really can't say that with an honest hand on my cheating heart. I am trying though. Things are far too gone to give it all up now.
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GoodBooks - 'Passchendaele' (Dekko remix) MP3 (5.36)
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Visit / Buy / Visit
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All that we see or seem

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out up... up
texts sent
received
an errand to run
thoughts to be gathered
belongings remembered
the smell of paint lingers
from the days before
oh the night before
all that dancing, all those smiles
but early june sunlight knows no shade
within 45 seconds of the street world directions are asked for
city halls?
just look over the road
auditions day for small people
with walking, tumbling forwards
to 'charlie's theme' by the pastels
it works
and then you turn, you see it and crashes happen
blood spilt and shed on the pavement outside o'neils
a casualty no doubt
and november just seems like yesterday
not a bad memory
i touch the back of my head without thinking
not who i used to be
feel the bumps
the ridges charting unfriendly fire
and pools in eyes outstretch just as a song comes on
this one
and these things happen, i know
but why me?
i just wanted to get home to bed
not start a revolution
and all the fresh paint in the world can't mask over
the hurt
it lingers
the hurt...
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Propaganda - 'Dream within a dream' MP3 (8.04)
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Visit / Buy
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A ZTT moment from 'the value of entertainment' can be watched here. Featuring Derek Forbes and Steve Jansen. Quite the team.
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Life is wearing me thin...

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Abandoned blog, once again... it really has been an absolute fucking age hasn't it? Rhetorical of me, I know this. Really though, an utter historical epoch type fucking age. To the extent that I'm not even sure where to start with any of this so I'll just type and see what happens. No plans. Follow mah feet, eh. Or 'let's stay out here for a thousand years', as the song plays it. Sigh. So, where am I? A very big meta-philosophical, multi-dimensional, time/space type of question that. Aye, quite a question indeed. No sure, to be me. But, geographically speaking, I'm currently away at a very posh hoose trying to write with other people. Except I can't. Well, I can but I'm writing this and not what I'm supposed to be writing (an article 'in progress'). No in the mood. If you follow. This is just a temporary distraction though. Honest. A quick coffee break. A metaphorical outside drag on a sooked-up fag in the misty rain down by the gloomy Loch. Deep, deep and lonely thoughts here. Feeling so drained. Sigh again. Anyway, some updates, I suppose, might be useful. Firstly, do you remember this wee blether ah did? Well, the abstract was accepted by the musical organisers so I'd be mighty pleased with contributions from other fine folks; that is bloggers, readers, stalkers, employers... if you are still curious and can be bothered with it all? Thanks to those of you who have already responded so fully and honestly. It means the world to me, it really does. Some of your text has moved me to tears. Not that ah need excuses right now on that front. But, anyway, if you'd like to say something about the three songs in question and what they mean to youse ('Love will tear us apart', 'There is a light that never goes out' and 'Just like honey') can you maybes aye an e-mail to me over here...(c.r.clark@strath.ac.uk)... by the end of July or so? Thanks, to you. Secondly, from September, ah'm going to be based at this place over the big water for a few months. I am just a tiny bit excited about this. I get on a plane to the auld Americas, with the funny Hollywood accents, the incomprehensible baseball/'football' games and really big dinner serving plates. The 'Visiting Scholar' paperwork has all been done and dusted so that's me. Official. Study leave. Ah'm off wandering into writing and research blissland, I do so hope. Plus some local music and coffee along the way, I might imagine. Saying goodbye, in a moment, to those gladeye badtown blues. Thirdly... well, life moves on in a funny sorta way. Work is bearable, mainly because I mostly share mah playtable with some nice folks and I'm holding on for the grand September exit. Exam boards are coming close and the marking... well, I can see some light at the end of that long and winding tunnel. Some comedy moments in the scripts as ever, wish I could share some of them with you (how is it possible for a 4th Yr undergraduate student taking a class on nationalism to genuinely confuse patriarchy with patriotism??). Orwell would die 4 this 'indifference to reality'. Fourthly, personally speaking, my sore heid is a little all over the place with my other 'out of hours' life. The domestic, the private. Never sure where it is heading, least of all right now. Another time on that one I think, can't face some bits of it. All too confusing and upside down (girl/boy you turn me). I guess that's why the happy pills are kicking in - anxieties soaked up in 20mg doses - and the head doctor needs to see me again - ten more sessions, at least, to tell me I'm 'angry' at mah da, gay, a potential serial killer, a bit of a shite or something equally revealing like that... Oh, Reggie Kray do you know mah name?
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The song for a slight return is this one because it just hits the spot rightaboutnow. And I haven't bought much music recently, to be fair. Though with some C86 shopping assistance fae the eva-crusha 'Doom Girls' I did get one of these wee beauties a few days back! Eeeep! I need to learn to take better pictures now... :)
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Mansun - 'Legacy' MP3 (6.34)
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Mansunspace / Paul Draper Lives / Six
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Watch here (thunderbirdesque puppet fun + games) and here (bestest of TOTP fringes 4 eva!)
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About the image: taken on mah camera phone in a coffee shop, Tinderbox, not 64 seconds from where ah stay now. Just liked the way her head was resting on his shoulder. And, obviously, the whole shared orange jumper 'thing'. Ace.
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Footnote: Despite everything, I still believe that not all relationships are 'emptying and temporary' [edit]. Come on here folks, a bit of positivity please. Ah go on now, say you will...
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For tonight, my friend, just waltz with me between the bars

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You can do this if you try...

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The words of Elliot, the voice of Jeff. And, of course, Nina. Oh sweet Nina... It's the jangly nerves again, but dealing with them. Coping. Being bold, a little together, for once. He is someone I want to meet. To talk to. Even briefly. Who makes this kind of music that lifts you to the stars and back? That makes the shallow goosebumps bump. The tiny hairs erect, standing on your broken neck. You would like to know him, for forty minutes or less. But through the music you do have a familiarity. It is a literal thing, symbols and meanings are clear and direct. A song about a school friend who died. Another about a TV documentary unmasking the horrors, the sadness of those connected to Jeffrey Dahmer. And the blending of piano and voice, pained and heartfelt, touches you in places that are unique, but shared with likeminded souls who gather around the upstairs tables to whisper from the bar, 'that is him sitting there...'. My entrance to this world. It is parent's evening and it goes well, glowing reports; pat on head and a lump of sugar. Exit, stage right. A hurried taxi rush to the jungle of Sauchiehall Street. A flurry of calls and texts. It is arranged. I sit and wait. Nervous, knowing I'll blether, for that's what I do when nervous, but needing not to. Not this time. Are we cool? Be cool. He arrives with a gorgeous smile, hair to ruffle and a gentle handshake. That smile could save the environment, I swear. A hello in an accent that is delightfully Hollywood, to my cold and flawed Scottish ears. And we talk. Of Elliot, of Jeff, of Nina. Of plans; past, present, future. The bad times replaced with the good times. New ideas, songs, musical companions and places to be. Good places. The best of places for the next record. The music finds you; to save you and take you home. Europe is not America, a long road to travel with veggie burgers for dinner. And I am struck by the politeness, the listening. I want to know about the music, about him, everything. But he seems to want to know about me. My life. I talk about Mark Hollis, about The Blue Nile (in hotels in Galway and elsewhere...). Changing, alive, neon Glasgow and the value of cryptic lyrics, stolen moments and the sociological imagination. I even mention my morning and the tearful talking with 'the man' who is going to help me sort my head out. And, of course, about you. You who introduced me to his music in the first place, the one who can't be forgotten. You do know this, right? For he just gets it. Gets it all. 'Someone Great' plays over the Nice n Sleazy soundsystem at exactly the right moment. What is that song about? A death? An affair? Something else? We smile. The passion and feeling in his songs are the lines to save you, what makes us who we are. And yes, we smile, shake hands. The voice on the other end draws us in. Drink water. Like him, I want to, well, I suppose, I need to know, that I am a feeler, not a thinker. And I can almost accept this now without the need to offer fake apologies, unhelpful regrets. Assert. Tell the truth. We need to be real to us, to each other. Otherwise, what is the point, exactly? And so we get up, smile, shake hands. Dinner to be had. And I wish him so well. But not before a few images are burned to my mind, my lens. Not that I need them. The impression is made. I now lie awake, sweating it out (as the song puts it).

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Entering another world...

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In dreams you hear these voices, even though the amplification is at fault and crackles the lushness, the sweetness. I watch faces. I watch him. I touch your fingers, silently, secretly. Bashful at my age, I wonder. Here are the open, lucious mouths all around the floorboard masses. Witness it. I mean, even the drunken extroverts who ostentiously push open fire doors and swagger through the quiet people with pint glasses swishing seem taken by the voice, the moment. Your eyes, they do so turn me. I am hooked, not just by the voice. And it is the quietness that is familiar. The politeness in appreciation. The thank-you that is as deeply sincere as a child's reaction one early Christmas morning. Old songs are played, new songs gathered. Tears trickle to 'We don't try', I think of the friend you lost, the one who died. I also spare a thought for her, the song that was sent. And lost. 'Relief' washes over us as we wish our dreams in German, transported to different shores but rooted to this spot as your white T-shirt clings to you for its dear life. 'Not nice' reminds me to leave you alone, to be alone... with my fifth drink or more. And it vanishes. It is thirty minutes too slow, this moment. But every second is precious and the impact is felt. It's in the words of Elliot. The black and blue emotions of life, often punching us below the boxer's belt but, at the same time, wanting to save us from those sad news demons who stalk these dark, dead streets. It is in the voice of Jeff, the heights he reaches with the soaring and swooping that finds time in a chorus of memories. And Nina, oh sweet Nina... how she takes us to other worlds, to your world. She does. So we stand back and watch, to listen, indulge. Then leave. As Xiu Xiu begin to thrash cymbals, scream and upset. The mood is utterly broken as pint glasses hit the floor in explosions of froth. Him. This is something not to see. A rushed goodbye and the new headphones are on. The first song up on shuffle is from The Blue Nile. I do so hope you hear them Chris. Hats off. To you, and only you.x

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Elliot Smith - 'Waltz #2' (live) MP3 (4.32)

Jeff Buckely 'Dream brother' (live) MP3 (8.49)

Nina Simone 'My sweet lord' (live) MP3 (4.30)

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Mark Hollis - 'The colour of spring' MP3 (3.53)

The Blue Nile - 'From a late night train' MP3 (4.02)

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Chris Garneau - 'Relief' MP3 (3.45)

Chris Garneau - 'We don't try' MP3 (3.38)

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You can visit Chris here and here. You really should buy some lovely things from here.

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With sincere and grateful thanks to Adrien@ Fargo Records, John@ Smith Street Records and Rich@ Tin Angel Productions for making this happen. And, of course, Chris.x

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"Auf Wiedersehen, goodnight..."

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Put it in a box under your bed

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Having a wee twee break, you might not have noticed, so whilst I continue to dwell, brood, think and, er, 'get happy', you should have an intense listen to this wonderful tune. Obviously it's the best (eva) song you've never heard (so change that immediately). For the glam twee Princesses everywhere. And their Kings...
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Local Living Guy - 'Best twee band ever' MP3 (3.23)
(via YouSendIt)
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Visit the LLG on myspace (Hi Kieran!)
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The Scottish Pop Academic Network (SPAN) is here
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I've got the spirit, but lose the...

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I never could see anyone besides you / Believe it or not (probably not)
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Hearts sink as incompatabilities are realised. Repeat cycle arguments, ritualised tensions, stress that could tear distant worlds apart. Not so, it is all merely 'discussion', 'debate' or 'another point of view'. A feeler more than a thinker, it is said, suggested, indicated, accused. But one without the other? Can it be? And yes, it is true, it is all on an endless sinking scale, a spectrum of psychological 'self' making, for sure. I know this. I really do. I fight every constructionist, structural, sociological instinct I have in my failing body. Agency. Responsibility. Oh just take it away. But when you say it, say those words... it makes it sound like my weakness, my inability to control hot/cold emotions, my failing to contain some kind of demonic and wild inner-child who suffers from an extreme form of AHDC or an out of control chemical reaction. My feelings, worn on the sleeve for all to laugh at, make you feel... feel what... embarrassed, uncomfortable, uncertain, unsupported, unloved? It is the way I receive it, perhaps. That message. A feeler, not a thinker. Is it about the reception more than the delivery? My issue? A feeler. It's a problem. In fact, it was the problem, when all is said, done, 'discussed'. I feel with heart and soul, you think with logic and detachment. Destined to be miles apart, I guess. A core dichotomy not of our making but one we acted out on stage for too many years. But I'm not sad about it. These things happen. Shed some tears, it's all about moving on and using the music to help us understand ourselves.
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[Feeling]
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Throwing Muses - 'A feeling' MP3 (3.09)
Feeder - 'Just the way I'm feeling' (radio edit) MP3 (4.23)
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[Thinking]
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David Sylvian - 'Thoroughly lost to logic' MP3 (1.17)
The Sisters of Mercy - 'Logic' MP3 (4.52)
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Album currently on repeat / Out in the wilderness... [watch]
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Your body is a battleground

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So, for reasons I am absolutely not going to dwell on here my life has changed immeasurably in the last couple of weeks. And I now find myself living and working in the centre of this bustling and noisey city. It has been something of an eye-opener, to say the least, witnessing and hearing the night calls of the about town people. It is so very different during daylight hours where work dictates the social order, controlled niceties and exchanges. But one thing that has struck me the most in this short time is the manner and means of interaction amongst young drunken men in the small hours, especially those who appear to have 'resources' (one of those words that has taken on a new meaning for me quite recently, thanks to my friend K). You just watch open-mouthed, you see the roaming packs from the back bedroom window. They stagger, they jostle, they push, falling over into an orgy, a huddled mass... they actually seem to caress and fuck each other more or less. These are just some of the 'intricate rituals' Kruger discusses through her art, I suppose. In other situations, contexts, the rituals would differ. A goal is scored and celebrated, quite literally, on a Sunday morning football pitch. The dorms of an all-male public school when lights go out. Why is it men need these rituals? These trying, staged performances? Can they not express themselves to other men in a honest, caring, physical way, without the 'baggage' of cutting remarks, curt asides and homophobic insinuations? I despair. I really do. At times I'm convinced that I've just overdosed on The Field Mice during my formative youth (and not so formative youth) and this has challenged - subverted - the 'norms' that should be experienced, socially practiced, when in the company of male friends and when meeting new men either through work (sober) or in my personal life (at times less sober). Just one reason why I have time for the whole emo genre, I guess. It is ostentatious, I know, preposterous even, but at least it physically, visibly, demonstrates the capacity for boys, men, to challenge those rigid masculine boundaries that our repressed, defined society constructs and reproduces (by the way, is emo still alive or is that now all so yesterday?). Anyway, perhaps it isn't the music at all. Perhaps I am just a fucking sociologist after all. Scary. Anyway, last night, in that slightly worrying 'Rear Window' (1954) kind of way, I watched the displays of alcohol-fuelled groping and fondling amongst the boys and men and I was listening to an old self-made compilation CD-R and these two songs appeared back-to-back... it was something of a perfect moment, an appropriate soundtrack to the most very urban of 18+ films.
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Lloyd Cole 'Undressed' (3.05) MP3
The Boo Radleys 'Wish I was skinny' (3.38) MP3
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Visit BarbaraKruger.com
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Reading: Spicer, A. (2003) Typical Men: the representation of men in popular British cinema London: I. B. Tauris & Co. Ltd.
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Rows and rows of faces on a balcony

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New, unfamiliar environments force you to think back to past accidents, long ago mistakes; those you witnessed, those you were responsible for. And there were a few, you know, over the period. We've all made them, this is true, but some more than others. Hold those hands up, accept yourself. For guilt can hang around in the air like an unwelcome bathroom smell, or a burning tyre at the far too full council dump, near to where we used to live. It's just the 'emoting' faces of close people I used to know, clever and brilliant individuals who mattered, who I might no longer recognise on these dusty pavements... real-life and breathing 'ghosts of glass', as the song puts it. But some are still close, in a reserved, repressed, 'adult' type of way, emotions betrayed, whilst some are simply far too distant, removed from life, or at least from my life. I used to be one of those passionate faces, a long time ago, just a 70's polaroid moment dressed as a crying clown. And the person you see, supporting me as a baby, is no longer alive, a car crash snuffing out the most promising kind of life. And if I had walked past the former me (my 'self') twenty years ago I might have thought - for a fleeting underground station moment - that I was someone worth knowing, based on the shallowness of looks, style, mood. A head can turn, a smile will gather. But time changes many things, including our ability to pretend to ourselves that everything is going to be alright and that a hairstyle, a flowing skirt or a pair of Dr M boots will define someone and, ultimately, make you fall in love with them. What is it that does that? A smile? The eyes? A passing comment that you matter? Communication, not looks. Honesty, not lies. Love, not sex. You just know it can't be as simple anymore. Life as a complicated movie plot that can switch you off or make you walk out the picture house? You bet. And the lost time spans great oceans, those drifting people do change. They shuffle away, or just slide from our lives. We let them, they don't stop walking. For people do move on, Bernard Butler was right. But, at the risk of posing a rhetorical question, do we really 'move on'? Do we not always have a trembling foot or a long, dark shadow in our less than glorious past? It seems you need to make that effort to reconnect, to be drunkenly or foolishly, selfishly bold and just stop them as they sigh alone and say 'Hello, remember me?'. After that initial shock, the frightened expression, they might just look you in the eye, smile a beautiful smile and say 'What took you so long?'. It is all about optimism, a dram (or port) glass being poured to be more than half full. Without that we are just utterly fucked. You can't say it nicely. And it's not rocket science, just a liberal, sleepy, uneducated guess. My glass, right now, needs to be filled though. Literally, metaphorically, and all the rest. You saw that coming, right? I just can't see this happening. Not right now. Perhaps I don't want to let the happiness in? Do I enjoy the misery? No idea. But then, hey, that's me all over... I have no idea. I suppose I do get something out of being the messed up 'me', not being the one I see in the pictures that I no longer recognise (I know I am by no means alone so I need to stop all this self-indulgent, torturing shite). Aye, well then, right so. Next. And make it a happy twee NYC indie-pop song, oh Jesus H please... Oh, hey, look and listen... it is. Saved, again, by the music. Some things will never change, and that is a good thing and not something I am ever, ever going to apologise for.
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'I clicked the link and fell in love with 'Shoot Out' in less than ten seconds'.
Yes I did.
And you will too.
Trust me on this if nothing else.
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The Smokey Pines - 'Shoot out' MP3 (2.50)
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Visit
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Very special thanks to Jacob in Brooklyn for sharing the beautiful pancakes with snowflakes music. The very best of luck my friend.x
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EDIT: For geek-related information and historical clarification, the title of this post is a line from this amazing song, and I always liked this live version of it as Mark sounds happy, content...
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Mark Burgess & The Sons of God - 'Caution' (live) MP3 (8.04)
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Visit
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I cannot articulate my thoughts to you

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Gdansk @ Stereo (06-04-08)

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Lost for words, as it happens. It has taken me a week to even do this. True, there were other bands on the bill last Sunday night but, with considerable diplomacy and apologies, they were absolutely nothing (yes, nothing) in comparison to the power of Gdansk. They just possess that raised stage with an aura (can I actually say that without appearing like an utter twat?) and presence that is comparable to few other bands I've seen (well, okay, perhaps 'Bright Lights' era Interpol?). It's all in the mix, dynamic and diversity... the richness and depth of the vocals, the intricate guitar interplay, the tight-with-flair drumming... in fact, you could get into a bit of a stushie about it. Best band in Glasgow right now? You could argue for Frightened Rabbit (album launch on Monday @ Mono) but as they tell you often and loudly they come from Selkirk, so... No matter, point is, if you haven't seen Gdansk play yet and live remotely near a venue they are gracing with their lively presence then you'd be a right wee numpty to miss out on them. The power, passion and - yes - 'pop' (just listen to songs like 'Freakin all the squares' or 'Cut glass') is utterly compelling. Time - and your ears - will prove me right: they are the best fucking band in Glasgow right now, with no exception or academic disclaimah footnote (and I hope you know I do not make this kind of bold statement lightly or without thinking). Yes, the future is Gdansk. Be moved, embrace, hold onto them.

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The song below (thanks M for the heads up) is a recent demo posted on the band's myspace page and is one of their strongest pieces yet. It stood out for me when they played @ the Admiral Bar on March 22 and again at Stereo last Sunday...)

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Gdansk - 'The Blue Notes' (Feb '08 Demo) MP3 (4.30)

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The band's myspace page is located over here (check for gigs in April/May in Glasgow and you can also download another Feb '08 demo entitled 'Spills from our mouths' - this track is also highly recommended).

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PS. Best band in Stonehaven? This one, absolutely!

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PPS. Goodness me: this is my 201st post. I think that is one more than I managed with Let's Kiss And Make Up... funny how time flies, as they once sang...

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Sight and sound untangled in complexity all around

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Flat Notes (on entry, 08-04-08)
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Stop. Start. Stop. Start. Start... stamina tested but when it begins to happen you just can't help but fall away, gushing in the forced saviour of icy April showers. Was it 1am or 3 the tears came? Waking up, as promised, in search of another country; beneath the shade of a new morning afterglow, with coffee for afters. And you feel that searching ache as time turns into the end of time. To love, to hold, to capture a moment stolen in this cocooned Ikea'd landscape. TVs on walls, clean towels by the dozen. It's all in the making of a naturally produced chemical, a part of that constant Calloway rush. Or is it with another kiss, a turned cheek, another grinning aside? Small movements as pawns, within cells of strings the vagal/vagus seems to disappear, to capture a transition from pleasure to pain. Stumbling into the light and it is felt so deep, inside. We raise a drink to challenging the 'cake and eating it' man, back from 'finding himself as in losing himself' in foreign dunes and climes. And who is he really? Returning to what? You? Her? The academy? Not important though, his guff is not important, to me nor you, I hope (for you, for...). And below the early mood surface of drunk red wine and self-revealing 'body issues' skin, the common truth is that the touch, the feel of another is missed tonight, the sharing, the happy pills, the pillow talk, even the... ["when it gets to be too much - can't go on - I really need the human touch"]
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Field Music - 'Got to get the nerve' MP3 (4.03)
Five Star - 'System Addict' MP3 (4.09)
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Boxes That Go Beep [forgive me]
And You Can Dance [make-believe dinner party/shag guest #4]
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We adopt brand new language

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Conference Abstract (draft)
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'There's nothing wrong with me': social change as cultural product in the half-full glass as drunk by Moz'
(Authors TBC)
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In this paper, the authors agree with Raymond Williams that the later work of Pierre Bourdieu is unduly guarded and cautious in the real possibilities of progressive, socially and economically redistributive, social change. Indeed, the same pro-materialist argument holds good when applied to the post-Smiths work of Morrissey. Although often portrayed as a reactionary, allegedly 'racist', admirer of black-and-white 1950's English kitchen sink Bennett-type melodrama, the authors argue that, on the contrary, the work of Morrissey is hugely suggestive and liberating in its performative connotations relating to the mythical centre-left Galbraithian 'Good Society'. The static nature of 'Old England' becomes transformative and un-reified in its relations to aspects of the exisiting structural/cultural neo-liberal order, especially true when applied to McRobbie-esque 'cultural product', such as 'Maladjusted' (1997) or 'Southpaw Grammer' (1995). In conclusion, the authors suggest that music just needs to be heard for what it is and fuck all the bollocks that can be written about it sometimes. Aye.
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So, knee-deep in red wine, mature stilton, banished memories and slightly impressive undergraduate dissertations and this is just so fucking random...
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Oh, a song... well, yes, if Peter Hook had played bass for The Cure and they'd recorded a song originally performed by Ride it would sound something like...
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Blind Mr Jones - 'Eyes Wide' MP3 (3.44)
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From this stunning compilation album (via the glorious and underused emusic)
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Oh, on other matters, I'm still looking for some help with this paper, if you have a few spare moments... please?
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Aye, so, cheers tae bampots JC and Coxon this is the wee song kicking mah cunt in righto aboot noo and maken meh greet mah fucking eyes oot eh... it's aw aboot timing, likesay (isn't it always with just the right music though?)
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Frightened Rabbit - 'Poke' MP3 (4.36)
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You can pre-order the wonderful new Rabbit album fae ower here, ken (released April 14, please buy it, please)
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Gdansk kill @ Stereo tomorrow. Be there. Or be here.
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Buy this stuff. The EP is worth the few shilling pennies and then some.
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Who else might attend this event then? Ah need a co-author, eh.
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You can't go home again

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INTERNAL MEMO
To: Self (fucked-up and awol)
From: Self (relatively well balanced)
Subject: Self (MOT now due)
Date: 1970 -
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So yes, of course, there are 'issues' in trying to 'find yourself'. It's a terrible expression, I know, but let's just put that to the side for the moment. Actually, tell you what, you can call it 'needing space' if you like (though they aren't quite the same thing, I do agree). More importantly though, what if you put yourself through all this - the thinking, the dwelling, the insults, the questioning, the soul-searching, the leaving, the snowball fights, the heartaches, the teasing - only to discover that you don't really like what you 'find'? Will it have been worth it then? Will you be any more at ease with yourself, simply knowing that you really are a bit of a fuck-up who needs some kind of help? I do think it is better knowing than not knowing, whatever the price might be. Honesty counts for a lot you know, especially being honest to yourself. But what is it that makes that so hard to do?
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Morrissey - 'Suedehead' (live) MP3 (4.08)
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Listen: track taken from this album / Watch: remembering Jimmy D (sigh)
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Yours is the only version...

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An update, almost... So a week is a long time in politics? Oh fuck right off. What about the social? What about real life? What about C. W. Mills and his personal/public 'thing'? And, to go you one more, what about those haunting zombies and my eva twee fading memory? I honestly don't know where to begin with events of the last few days. I really don't (short of posting a very sad song written by Neil Hannon, alongside some maudlin and angst-ridden words, but that would just be too predictable and below the belt, yes?). So, I'm just thinking, I won't even bother trying to be all 'cathartic' just now. Just drink. Reflect. Think. Act. Sleep... Oh, and I'm far too busy anyway, what with writing a lecture for Tuesday on the sociology of the 'reconstituted' family (and trying not to think about Alan T and Charlie D having sex in a 'made over' garden shed). So, anyway, let's just cue the music, oh please, and listen to an act in three parts, for I am a West End dweller, getmefuckingoutofhere, please...
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Interpol - 'PDA' (session) MP3 (4.56)
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You know where to click (37 seconds, no fade out)
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Visit / Buy (on vinyl)
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PS, Ok, so, why is it when I stay in a hotel (even quite nice ones) I always end up in a room next door to two people (I assume) that are having the noisiest and best sex ever? Am I just very unlucky? Salt and wounds, you utter bastards...
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Left without a word

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You enter, with soap-stained tears
Timely, nuanced distractions
Unnoticed cute vacant stares
You overdose on dated distractions
And smiling at appled gadgets
Where personalities develop in time
Listening to a tinny something
By someone you've never known
Staring out a third-hand window
Shuffling for Euro change in pockets too small
Fussing over a small child who just wants to be left alone
Standing at the back, a resigned head bowed
Fearing the day ahead, a disciplinary, a dismissal?
Shoes shine to attention, ready for thirty seconds of fame
Free newspapers predict more fear, less love
What we buy into, every-single-day
That rucksack weighs you down, spilling over
B'Berry gossip from the office
Her with him... but... no...!?
I'll stay next to you
Shift over to an empty corner, hide away from him
Unlit fag, waiting for an early exit
In a conversation about yourself
With her into you like a train, oblivious
Those pink twins in transit
Playing havoc with the colour/contrast buttons
White trainers and top knots
Someone laughs way too loud
And with tickets inspected
You depart, with a smile, tears no more
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Thanks to Miles and Anne for sharing their amazing music, and (though unintended) for inspiring the above few train journey type of words. Together they are Vanilla Swingers, to my mind the most exciting band of the year, bar none. The debut album appears in May and I cannot wait. Good luck M + A.x
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Vanilla Swingers - 'I'll stay next to you' MP3 (6.46)
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Go visit here and then visit here
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There's no such thing as perfect despair

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"Everything passes.
Nobody gets anything for keeps.
And that's how we've got to live."
Haruki Murakami
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Diamonds / Gdansk / Welcome to Spook Club
Admiral. Glasgow. 22-03-08.
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Late. Late again. Rail connections made to the tune of 'Someone Great', entering into the one-dimensional though focussed set of Diamonds was simply an act of misplaced timing, though wonderful memories were first captured from the past, running through the longest Horseshoe bar. Late. So late again. Venue compact, but filling. A guest list entrance, drinks in hands. People to see and meet and speak with, new people, young people, with glorious smiles and an enthusiasm for music that can only impress, charm and radiate. Gdansk just storm, they smash and grab. In Andrew Campbell a star is born; a physical presence to demand the showman's award, commanding the stage with an ability to spit a lyric and hit 'the blue notes', the song of the night bar none with a riff that Tom Smith could only dream about capturing. And you were right about the drummer, holding it all so tight with muscular wit and style. You like being right, I remember. The green-tinged lights are holding to Spook Club. It's their EP launch, 'Robert for King'. There's a sense of expectation, nerves perhaps, certainly an act to follow in Gdansk. But they do it, they just do it. The new material sounds strong, well-ordered, tight. Lyrics remembered! Timing is everything here, not timidity. Focus. The title track sounds pitch perfect, notes being held for the duration, the space of the song is taken over to cross the waters. A deep resonating, powerful voice, the common link between Andrew and Graham. And the applause is as generous as it is sincere and felt, aspects of a city loving its own, wishing them the success so clearly deserved. It is just all smiles here, all smiles... to Andy, Heidi, Anina, Dara, Deborah, Chris, and you... But not late, no, not late. For, as the song put it, we still have roads left in both of our shoes. The one precious thing to hold onto.
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Gdansk - 'Project' MP3 (3.45)
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Visit the seaport...
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Welcome To Spook Club, as previously mentioned here.
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EDIT: Heidi had her camera with her and captured some great photos of the night (thanks Heidi).
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Scenes of a near crime (parts one to three)

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Shared best practices as drunken, dangerous knowledges; an aside to relationship meltdowns ensuring the taxi drivers and academics are safe from harm tonight.

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Massive Attack - 'Safe from harm' (studio) MP3 (5.19)

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Watch / Buy / Visit

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That song they played earlier tonight in the Glasgow Uni Postgrad Research Club that sounded like classic Human League was actually this one...

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We're safe, for the moment

Saved

For the moment

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LCD Soundsystem - 'Someone Great' MP3 (6.26)

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Buy / Visit

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Would you turn up at my door?

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It would be something of a heavily cliched understatement to say that I'm massively excited about the current state of music in Glasgow. But then, thinking about it, this city has always been something a bit special. It must be the sublime mix of lashing rain, dry humour and ready-steady buckfast. And though you might think differently, I'm not just saying this because I'm a wee big smug about happening to stay here and the fact I'm increasingly operationalising my 'agency' (and tiny housekeeping budget) and getting out and about to see local bands play. Glasgow has history, tradition, and dare I say it, 'reputation'. This city has consistently delivered in fucking buckets and spades when it comes to innovative, inspiring, life-changing sounds. I mean, going back not too far, remember this label or this label? And do you know this fantastic new label? And, I'll go you one further, remember the first time you heard this song? (I do and I cried and smiled my heart out all at the same time!). And as I grow older, you know, I look around, I listen around, and just smile the biggest cracking smile to anyone who'll join in with me. I'm fed up with the low-level reductionist whispers of my own peers who will sometimes moan about 'there is nothing new' or 'it ended with punk' or, worst of all, 'it all sounds the same'. Get out and just fucking listen a bit, eh? Make an effort, get up and switch off the gameshows on TV. It is worth it. You can start with this Saturday night at the Admiral Bar on Waterloo Street. You'll catch three local bands (Welcome to Spook Club - it's their new 'Robert for King' EP launch, Gdansk and Diamonds) for just four pounds. The sound of the new young Glasgow is certainly doing it for me - and I'm sure they'll make you smile as well. So, you simply have to be there, come down and join in. Mine is a Guinness...
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Graham from the band (guitar/vocals) was kind enough to indulge a few of my inane, 1986-era 'Smash Hits' type questions...
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Can you say a little about how the group first came together? And when did you know it was all 'working' and you had something special?
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The band originally started in January 2007 and we played our first gig in July 2007. The band in its present form (me, Anina on bass and Chris on drums) has been on the go since November 2007, when our previous drummer left due to too many musical commitments. Chris, our new drummer actually runs Tollhouse Studios, where we’d been practicing since the start. Anina and I have known each other for years and have always had shared musical interests. When I first thought about putting a band together, it seemed a natural choice to see if she might be into it, and it’s been way more fun than we both expected. We were very excited when Chris joined as there seemed to be an instant chemistry. We actually booked Chris in for three practice sessions to see how it went but asked him to join at the end of the first one. People at our gigs have been positive about the new dynamic, and things feel good on stage. That’s as far as I can go with the “special” you refer to!!
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What or who has had most influence on the band? Writers, musicians, friends and family, artists, film directors? All of the above?
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The most obvious influence has been Haruki Murakami (the writer). We got our name from his book 'Dance Dance Dance' (oh, and maybe a song idea or two…) and one of our new songs is called Norabu Wattaya (from 'The Wind Up Bird Chronicle'). I love his imagery and try to translate that into the imagery I use in my lyrics. I know my words don’t always make a lot of sense, but the overall feeling that the song leads to is something that interests me more. Musically, the list is endless but it would probably start with Guided By Voices, Sonic Youth and the Pixies having a fight with The National. My mate Davey McAuley (who is involved in numerous Glasgow bands) has engineered all our songs so far, and has helped shape our recorded sound.
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Speaking of Directors, and this could be just me, but I think of and hear/'see' your music as being quite 'soundtrack' like in its qualities... is there a film-like quality / or an 'images' dimension to your sound? Or I am talking shite?
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You’re the first person to mention it! I do watch a lot of films and love Mogwai and the filmic feel that they have, but within our songs and music, it has never been an intentional thing. Then again, when I wrote 'Our New Republic', I saw it as being the second part of the “story” to 'Robert for King'. There are strong themes pulling together most of our songs, lyrically anyway. I don’t know how anyone writing songs doesn’t end up doing that. I have recently written the third and final part of the Robert for King “trilogy”. It’s called the “final chapter” unless I think of something new… and when I say trilogy it’s much more in a story sense. I work in the film industry, so the soundtrack idea is maybe less romantic to me!
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Always a question I hate answering myself... what bands do you most wish you had seen live that you haven't and most likely never will? (either due to break-ups or deaths...)
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I’ve been pretty lucky, and seen all of my favourite bands, with the exception of Sonic Youth (I couldn’t justify the price of the ticket last time round). When Sonic Youth and the Pixies played together at the Barrowlands, I was too young to go. I think I was 14.
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The Glasgow music 'scene' seems especially vibrant right now - it always has been exciting to my ears though - so what other bands do you think we should pay most attention to, aside from Spook Club?
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I don’t know if we are part of any Glasgow scene-how do you do that? My favourite Glasgow bands to see live at the moment are Frightened Rabbit, We Were Promised Jetpacks, Nacional and of course, Gdnask, who are playing with us at The Admiral. The Twilight Sad rule! I’m also very excited about seeing Mogwai as part Tryptich.
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What next for the band? An album? And is a recording deal in the offing?
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All offers will be considered…
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Welcome to Spook Club - 'Trophies for hunters' M4A (2.48)
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Full details of the 'Robert For King' EP launch can be found by clicking here. And a special thanks to Graham, Anina and Chris for indulging me.x
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PS, Gdansk previously featured here (20-02-07)
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It's the little things that make us

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Ethnographic notes from a telephone call (18-03-08)
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The back end of a bus, indeed. Who exactly are you fooling or fishing with here for real compliments? And so you like a laugh and a giggle with the girls, swopping stories of forlorn crushes, social theory secrets and day-to-day domestic frustrations. That's life now, but not forever. And even though you tease, by so not telling me what the girlfriends say about 'this', it just makes me smile all the more. Now that's just not fair, is it? And yes you're not so sorry, for all those suedehead silly notes, flirting in unchartered movements around a distant telephone thing-ah wire. But those fucking deadlines must be met. The meetings attended to strategise, energise and forward-plan the succession management sweepstakes. Bleh. Or is it something more than just meeting the flunky deadlines? Is it personal? Well, I confess, it's all just fine, I think. We all have our thematic priorities. I can play with these emotional landmines of fun, excitement, seduction, enticement; raising a glass in a twilight summer, a smile or two, within this profession of demons, players and cheats. They can fuck with your head, as much as your heart, if you let them. But we'll keep a safe distant watch and stare at those dogs of lust tied to the rusted park railings, waiting to be unleashed.*
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Heligoland - 'The kiss-off' MP3 (4.31)
The Radio Dept - 'Bus' MP3 (2.59)
Pony Club - 'The thing about men' MP3 (4.30)
The The - 'Dogs of lust' MP3 (3.09)
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* If you are lost, then I am too. Mea culpa.
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Where we used to stay, this was once a place called home

-
Stranded and free
This is not like home
This is not like home
And you feel alone
In a world that's not your own
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From a bus journey notebook, 14/03/08 (no overdubs, a lo-fi recording)
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On a desperate journey tracked by a song, walking to seek help past the place we used to call home. The steps seem worn, paintwork forgotten, a 'For Let' sign hangs to the side, lifeless in a faint March breeze. It seems like a lifetime ago now but this was once a location of hope, a place for us and those just arrived. Do you even remember? We seemed to just stumble along, unsure of our actions, the words being said, making it up as we went along. And holding on with a grip so tight that we forgot to let ourselves breathe. Perhaps that was the problem, we just suffocated one another? But I also felt too young, out of my depth, adrift... whilst you felt numb, tired, unsupported with our child. It captured a sense of breaking and entering with the music playing too loud, the neighbours above oblivious to the intense soap opera being acted out in the rooms below. But it once felt so right, the expectations, the new life, a glimpse of a future. There was evidence of smiles, of laughter and, for sure, many tears. So where and how did it all go wrong? The tingles of excitement, the quirks once so attractive just came to annoy, confuse, agitate... Where to even begin with control, friendships, trust, arguments, lies, debts, silences... not being real to us, to one another. The solace and hope to be found in different paths, a realisation that we are not for one another. Whilst the TV persuades of houses and grand designs, it surely has to be more than just intricate South-facing roof terraces and Habitat-lite soft furnishings? Above all else it's the people inside that matter most, yes? And we somehow lost sight of that fact, you and I. So, as PJH once put it, let's just bring this to its final end and be done. We might escape intact, for you have Will, and I have Hope. But most of all we have our anchors, our futures, our time to come...
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Great Lake Swimmers - 'This is not like home' MP3 (3.46)
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Visit / Buy
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You've got to get deep inside... show me to myself

'the brilliant historian'
'beauty and the beans'
'You can't, can you?'

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Show me the way to my real self

Tear me away from the empty shelf

Maybe she could make it right

I'd welcome her...

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And the feeling really is the sweetest, most longing and painful, ache...

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The Sweetest Ache - 'Everlasting' MP3 (2.46)

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Taken from this 7" Single (Sarah #47). Sigh.

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PS, Just in case you are wondering, this one can be read, and played, in a literal kind of way. So please, 'read' away...x

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