And Before The First Kiss

You have to start somewhere

2012-01-30T07:18:00.000Z

-
'I would like to be an architect' said the sweaty young Czech student in shining, multi-coloured sports lycra as he exited the local Aldi shop to his pal who, rather bemused, just turned to him and said 'But then why are you doing an economics degree?'. 'Well', said our erstwhile hero, 'You have to start somewhere'. And I think that's exactly it: you have to start somewhere. Even if you don't want to be an architect, in fact.
-
Ally Kerr - 'The sore feet song' (3.07)
-
The loon bides here, eh.
-

We're both at our best in a tight spot

2012-01-27T12:34:00.000Z

-
His assisted height nearly matches his fanciful strides; footloose stomps travelling to a railwayed destination, I would guess. The bag on wheels and A-Z map in hand are the rather unsubtle clues. A bitten cigar tossed carelessly to the side just misses a neatly scarfed woman, on cardboard knees, pleading for offerings from those walking by, the same people pretending to be too busy to acknowledge her being or ordeal. I steal a glance to his side, his left-side, attempting to keep pace with the final furlong approaching. There is no tie but an open-necked wound, a deep shade of colour in his glowing cheeks, matching his apparel, and a harsh wind bites deep into masked layered cracks. I’d thought early fifties, from behind, but perhaps slightly older. The mannerisms, purpose and clothing are deceptive; they scream ‘I Am Interesting’ and ‘I Am Not Dead Yet’. I recognise (some of) the signs and symbols exhibited. We are travelling similar paths, you and I, but are more than a million miles apart in reality. I could never match such poise, movement and direction; this intoxicating mixture had my admiration from first glance. A phone goes off to the sound of an X Factor chart-hit I clearly don’t want to recognise and a swarm of genderless pre-teens shout in unison ‘It’ll be him, fucking well answer it!’ This distraction leads to another; for a moment I lose sight of the target as I am led astray by the smell of a distant, chemically enhanced, Greggs product I can only smell hospitals and nostalgia from. But, there he is. The man in the purple suit. Ahead and bold, steering into the barren station that I also, unwillingly, march towards in search of a future I’m not sure I am ready for.
-
The Lucksmiths - 'Self-preservation' (2.03)
-
Home / Obtain / Visiting
-

A menu of delight and despair

2011-12-29T18:48:00.002Z

-
I keep dropping and lifting the magical needle to hear the same '45 play over and over - 'it's all relative' - whilst at the same time knowing I am absolutely not a relativist. Does this make me a card-carrying hypocrite or merely reading the street-sign entitled 'confused'? I am rather unsure. Er, so, belated good tidings for Christmas and tentative greetings as we speed towards yet another New Year, and all that kind of m'larky. I guess I should offer up my sincere apologies for having very little to say just now. Sorry! I mean, I can't even provide you with a 'best of 2011' type of mix. Ooops. I might get to that by summer 2012, if my current workrate is anything to go by (but, I did post another mix over at 8tracks today, pop-pickers, and some of those songs were released this year!). But, unarguably, I will be a little more miserable during the next twelve months and thus, I am certain, have something more - something potentially interesting - to write about. As a dear friend reminds me, often, I am a fountain of absolute nothingness when not unhappy. Och, really, I can barely find the w... [edit]
-
Standard Fare - 'Nuit avec une ami' (3.05)
-
'You're a postcode lottery'. Oh no, that's another song. Anyway, buy this album as it is really good. It came out in March 2010, and all that, but I am just catching up.
-
PS. The last post, written many days ago now, was eaten whole for DMCA reasons. Apologies for offending, er, Pearl Jam? :(

Ruffled feathers in a coldwave

2011-12-12T13:00:00.000Z

-
Fieldnotes #324
-
Lost buttons and used chewing gum; spent matches and tarnished coppers. You search stolen pockets for what you thought was left behind from the night before it began. The loose change cascades into unemployment; stripped fortunes will melt pritt-sticked hearts. Across to the left, behind the till, a pretty girl with a turned down mouth and a fluffy coat waits patiently for a Latte that will take its time to arrive. Stubbed fingers drum in marching time, punching digit holes into an interesting Ikea-lite table. The boy's turtle-shell glasses continually slip down his nose and an index finger rescues the situation time over and again. Scarfs are worn inside, only the gloves are off (literally and metaphorically, as it transpires). You can tell this is a moment that isn't about to last; this is not a relaxed coffee catch-up of old friends or even ex-lovers. It is waiting to happen - and now. You stand to the side for your order, pretending not to witness what you are staring at; you just can't help it. And then she just says it, rather loudly as it turns out. He flinches, hunches and then jumps up in seconds; a pained expression masked in both longing and loathing. He makes to leave, a sugar dispenser hits the floor and smashes into a million pieces. Turning to catch his eyes, 'sorry' is all she can say even though she doesn't mean it. You can see the relief washing over her, like that first sip of coffee after a hard day's night.
-
Afraid of Stairs - 'Tell him how you feel' (2.37)
-
Step into the light, outside yourself. For a moment in time.
-

Look through the round window

2011-12-05T23:38:00.002Z

-
She stares back like she means it; as he sees you, faking it weakly. Those hourglass waterfalls cascade down decorated window frames masking years of poor construction. Passing playmobil cars shuffle and dance, spinning out of time to erratic traffic lights on frozen city centre lakes. Reconstituted families move in bored silence through competing hordes to bargain bin promises within excluded galleries. In the wilderness, out on the steps, forgotten teens without coats or spatial awareness huddle together for meaningless gossip, infectious warmth and heavenly cigarettes. A still, mirrored reflection is caught with a shadow of her presenting utmost; as imagined and played on repeat in soundtrack form. We ache for the taste of Swedish regret in moments like these; passing through the day-to-day lives of others unknown as if we possessed a respectful right to observe, monitor and report. You point and click with tongues hanging out, notebooks at page one. We translate the action figures and reality scenary with error upon mistake upon misplaced empathy. We are they, you are us. It is that time of year: be kind, be true and wish for a hopeful Spring to arrive in tomorrow's, younger, arms. This embrace can never last like you really want it to for, as the song reminds us, "we're lost at sea".
-
The Morning Paper - 'A newer taste' (4.26)
-
It's getting clearer.
-

Hiding in spotlights, not running in shadows

2011-11-26T18:59:00.000Z

-
It's that thing. If I lose you. Again, and so it goes. Stumbling in, falling out.... payday loans are 'Go' in this day and age. Grim, grin... and bear it? No ta. Just like me in this 'visual world'; those ghostly moments of rage, fear, sadness. Tears and the end of time; wheeched away on a Megabus to who knows where. Poundland? Iceland? Where the jumble sale mums go to meet the boil-in-the-bag dads, Brett. Time travel with you beats the odds. In annoyance and irritation of your behaviour, at my ineptness - not knowing what to say or do. You are not her. And she is not the sum of me. Checking the small print for a money back clause. But this is not Argos or even Cash Convertors. Chains broken, head kicked in to awaken from this annual coma. The caustic code isn't written yet as so little is unfamiliar here. Making the familiar strange. But getting stuck on the strange, whilst wearing high heels on a hill pointing downwards. It's an anger based on pain, of insomnia; finding the few, Freud words to ask for assistance. Help is a four letter word though a free prescription is another helpful contribution to this cause not yet lost. It spirals on. What year is this anyway? It's hard to tell if you flick the channels or scan the frequencies. The headlines I remember. It's the same every week. Sink or swim, buying fear, selling souls. You wake up again at 3am, havoc on your mind, and count a pretty blessing that the light is still vacant and out on a date in Germany circa 1972. Prince - the artist - keeps you company as he becomes a butterfly yet again; a slave no more to his poplife <3. Too. Much. Knowledge; information is a fire alarm that won't cease calling you out at inconvenient times, taking names. Snapping and digging and... true, a deep sleep is hard to come by these fallow days. The frightened sirens are set to stun and singing a lonely duet with the drunks rolling past screeching their merlot harmonies in a fake Gregory Italian accent. Bella. Bella. And all that. Or so you think with your ears blocked, your eyes glued shut. No matter how fast you blink reality still heads for the last subway home. And the rain - ah, the pitter patter of rain steering a boo-hoo path down his cracked, shoogily face - it pours over a legoland new town. The stop/go music it plays on repeat in spoken, reverential verse. Thank-you, she says. I accept your challenge of a warm embrace; this invitation South. Rewinding to take it all in - these last six months. Where did it go? Where will it go next? Something is up. Some leave, others stay. All the while Jackie waits on the other side of Poortoun for his lost and weeping children to come home. To roost.
-
Life Without Buildings - 'New Town' (5.54)
-
It's happening again. No where to go.
-

Every landscape is full of ghosts

2011-11-10T17:39:00.000Z

-
Of course, Edward Shanks included the word 'English' in relation to his ghostly landscapes, but it would be foolish to think that such hauntings are the preserve of one nation. Anyway, enough of all that, more NPL indie-pop dancing tomorrow evening. Woot!
-
Horse Shoes - 'I can't decide' (3.04)
-
Visit / Purchase / Reading
-

Give me a role and I’ll knock it out of the park

2011-10-29T12:01:00.000+01:00

Cameron Crowe: Kris Kristofferson once said, “I write a sad song when I’m happy, because generally when I’m sad, I’m too sad to write a good song.” Where do you stand on the subject?

Mark Kozelek: I’m the opposite. When I’m happy, the last thing that I want to do is shut myself away in a room and write. I generally write when I’m feeling down in an attempt to find some peace and contentment.

Exactly this, really. Except 'contentment' is perhaps stretching it a little. It seems too permanent, somehow. Too safe. Peace of mind would be enough, sometimes? And I have always wondered about the song 'Alesund'. A sad song or a happy song? It suggests, obviously, a very distinct geography and kind of space; desiring remoteness in sterile airports, a plush hotel lobby, a city centre gig venue or two. A shared moment with an individual who stands out, picking the spotlight, acting as muse, inspiration for the night. You sing to her, and only her. It also captures, perfectly, the idea of being alone in a crowd, adoring someone close, from afar. Those 'cold bones' needing some warmth. But, once you are invited in, you merely turn your back and walk away into an evening light that doesn't judge you, or want you. The operation of agency, I guess. Like Zorg put it to Bob's horny wife - you deny yourself something you want in order to remind yourself you are alive, you have some control over urges, desires. It's, as ever, a bundle of contradictions and feelings. But these words matter, I think. Anyway, whatever, this is such a beautiful (if shortened) live version, recorded in Belgium, from the recent tour. All nylon strings and delicate arrangements. But, the image... I remember taking this picture with an old camera; one that was effectively stolen from me. That was a lifetime ago, however. It was a cold Halloween night in Glasgow, a particularly emotional one, and Mark had just left the stage, off to the left. His guitar just dropped to the floor, bathed in a blue light. You kinda want to say something to this hero but dare not. Just to shake those talented hands, say thanks for helping me change my life with a lyric from a song or two. 'It isn't real life' was a constant mantra. Well, it doesn't get much more 'real' than a Mark Kozelek song if you ask me. I hope he knows the impact he has on us all? I'm sure he does, Cameron will keep sending him those memos, cards and scripts. It'll be good to see these two working together again - I just hope he gets a line as stirring as 'Dude, fix your fucking face'.

Mark Kozelek - 'Alesund' (live) (4.58)

Read more from Mark's interview with the film director Cameron Crowe here. Also, Mark contributes vocals and bass to several tracks on the new Desertshore album (released on the Caldo Verde label on November 22nd).

'May the lines sag heavy and deep tonight'

2011-10-26T12:02:00.002+01:00

-
Today I am old. I mean Old, Old. Really quite old indeed, actually. I guess half my life and a bit is now over. What a cheery thought that is. Hurrah! But I will dance the day away, anyway, playing this on repeat, repeat, repeat. It is really good! It is not my usual kind of listening, I admit - not enough limp handclaps, twee screeching or jingly-jangly guitars - but there you go. You like what you like; the groove, the beat, the swing. It makes me want to move. In that way. And, when you turn a certain age, it is an idea to try new things. Make yourself comfortable with discomfort, unease and the unfamiliar, I suppose. 'Make love in a hammock!' as Professor Taub once put it in class, as the other JC took notes. Or something like that. Anyway, enough... enough now; I will just get my indie-funk on, people. So hit the floor! Tequila at the ready. We are ready for take-off. Whooooosh! :)
-
Twin Sister - 'All around and away we go' (4.22)
-
Visit / Purchase / Weep
-

We're just flesh and blood

2011-10-25T17:27:00.001+01:00

-
'But as far as I could make out it was a woman dressed in black...'
-
Och Harriet: you just knew that all the indieschmindie boys and poplife girls of a certain age, at a certain time, couldn't help but fall in love with your blue and white sailor striped tops and frayed, up-turned, 501's; the straggled black Betty Blue hair and supple ruby red pouty lips; the scuffed DM's and pale blue eyes that burned... and then there was that voice, all fluttery, sighing and tenderly wrought. Oh my. Oh my... how we all wanted to fall at your perfect feet and adore you completely; be told stories in poetry and verse about the flippant boys who broke your fragile heart and the cardigan and dress you were sick on after that student party on Tyndall Avenue. This session, somehow, captured it all in a faint broken language and hissed 1980s tape machines. In our fertile imaginations, if nowhere else, we were standing beside you, holding nervous hands, urging you to soar. The highlight was, of course, album-opener 'Skin & Bones'; a song beautifully reminding us that we are all just flesh and blood. A timely reminder, today. And I'm sure Peel was smitten as well. How could he not have been?
-
The Sundays - 'I won' (Peel Session) (4.31)
The Sundays - 'My finest hour' (Peel Session) (3.05)
The Sundays 'Skin & bones' (Peel Session) (4.27)
-
The Sundays recorded this session for John Peel at Maida Vale 3 on February 28, 1989 and it was transmitted on March 6, 1989. #keepingitpeel.
-

It's how you make the garden grow

2011-10-24T19:31:00.000+01:00

-
The driven narrative behind a paper curtain is revealed. And it's an illusion, not a memory; a painting, not a photograph. Your precious shard of lost time, fragmented to an uneven image and an e-bow sound. That eternal summer holiday kind of day, in a place familiar in its strangeness... the hours rarely outstaying a clocked welcome. A type of evening where tea-time came and went after the main BBC news; your mum shouting after you to head for home after next goal the winner. The arrogant sun beat down on our swollen hamstrings and all we had for weak shelter was that warm-to-the-fizz can of Dr. Pepper (aye, you collected the ring pulls, and a couple of quid, for a home-printed quality T-shirt). And, especially, do you remember the tall grasses we cut our staggered youth through; those guarding fence posts with erect, curly heads and unsteady, drunken feet? They nearly outgrew us, back then, but we steamrolled through them anyway, sweaty hands and diceman fingers dragging for the feeling of what had passed us by in missed chances. We ran and we ran, in forward motions, and circles, not daring to look behind us; those plaintive songs in our hearts and our heads, with thoughts of a stray kiss smacking our eager lips and capturing our souls. The anticipation, as ever, was never matched by the reality. Until now. A sting and a kick; this land is surely ours, boys.
-
The Chameleons - 'One flesh' (4.29)
-
Home is where the heart is, they say / And it means playing this on repeat, basically.
-

You only ever liked the beginning of things

2011-10-18T09:46:00.000+01:00

-
It goes without saying that I'm someone who can't wait for Autumn and Winter to arrive. People who obsess about music are usually like that, I find. The harsh weather lets you (quite legitimately) stay in a lot more - in that anti-social way - and play many, many records over and over again. Late at night, red wine in hand, headphones on. However, now it has vanished for the months to come, I admit I am rather missing the warmth of the Glasgow sun that does occasionally appear, honest it does. But, anyway, the joiner came this morning to fix the bedroom window so that's a positive. The stalking elements will no longer squeeze their cruel way into this tombstone of an abode. A drip of rain here and a howl of wind there. The irony. Also, and this is just a quick thought: I think, in watching it all over again, rather slowly, I am beginning to finally understand the complex character that was once known as Mrs. Betty Draper a bit more. That's Mrs. Francis to the likes of you and me now, of course. Her moods, tempers, pouts, tantrums; especially when she didn't get her own way with Don. And then, in later years, with Henry, of course. It's all about dealing with alienation, loss and being alone, isn't it? Retaining control; trying to hold onto something - to someone - that had already left the party, building, street. Her Dad, in fact, is the one who is missing here. I might be wrong, I usually am, but I just wish Betty some happiness, or at least peace of mind - via making peace with that loss. This is a song for her which she might dance with Henry to (not Sally though, obviously).
-
The Springfields - 'Are we gonna be alright?' (2.39)
-
This band has nothing to do with Dusty, in case you were wondering. Her. Him. A soundtrack, of sorts. But she was always my favourite one. And Pete Campbell. The shit.
-

Passion pop has your name and number

2011-10-15T10:17:00.003+01:00

-
For a cold October in Glasgow, you need to hear a record that sounds like the dizzy heights of a St. Tropez summer. And, you know, if the (Melbourne) band in question remind you of a grand day out, up North, where the wild catz roamed then, yes, it's so much the fucking better. Play loud! And bedroom dance! <3
-
Summer Cats - 'In June' (2.11)
-
Just a purrfect sound... meow. :) You can buy the long-player over here. It is one of the best albums I own. Fact.
-

Tuning into the inheritance cycle

2011-10-11T08:14:00.001+01:00

-
An uncommercial break; a required (middle-aged 'shoutout') intervention. It's a method of listening via heart and soul, likesay. Eldest has a show on Subcity. He plays 'tunes'. Most of them are pretty fucking great, actually. Even to these old, cynical and rather deaf ears. And my soul weeps with pride and joy, especially, when I hear things, in mixes and beats, that I remember being on the old iTunes account; residing inside the darkened, warped remains of the 'old house' computer. Sigh. My Bloody Valentine. Nancy Wilson. Mogwai. The latest show includes the track below. I absolutely love it. You can listen to more Nocow over here. And do listen to the 'Earthly Matters' show; usually live every Thursday (1-2am), and sometimes on a Sunday afternoon. Always available on a looped playback, of course.
-
Nocow - 'Round in circles' (2.44)
-
The artist is in residence.
-

Nothing's gonna change you now

2011-10-04T19:33:00.001+01:00

-
It was all about making the shoogily connections work; ensuring the linkages eased the transition from one platformed bridge to another. This was when that black and white coastal house was a 'family' home - do you even remember those days when you walk past it now with your own bairns? I am guessing you still walk past it... do you? This was back when before the garden was 'cleared' for an extension and the fertile soil, full of sweetpeas, tatties and non-gendered love, was, well, soiled with the spade of 'development'. But, och, just forget your modern-day skateparks and your cemented bike tracks and what-the-fuck-pay-for-it-nots. We DIY'd it, so we did. After school; when it was proper 'old' school. All bowl-haircuts, feet apace at quarter to three and pro-jock masculinist stances. Those insecurities and uncertainties ran deep, even then. And I always did stand back, you know, watching, waiting and wondering. In a sublime continuation of fear of failure and sibling admiration, I suppose. I was just scared for my knees, in the main, and probably ripping that uber-hip trackie-top. But time moved forwards and I left that shell-of-bricks at seventeen and a half and that was that, really. The home without heart contained me no more. Goodbye broken memories, hello post-Lacan therapy.
-
Moose - 'Last night I fell again' (3.18)
-
To buy.
-

Just why that boy needs me

2011-10-02T17:25:00.001+01:00

-
Is it a cliche that most cliches appear to be true? Anyway, a photograph can tell a thousand stories. There you go: I said it. I like to imagine this captured scene - taken just earlier this morning by the entrance to this local eatery - represents the culmination of an interesting and fun night out. However, given this is the Merchant City, I suspect it ended badly; bruised knees, puffy cheeks and mascara tears, all cried out over a boy who wasn't even worth picking up the bill for, let alone that mournful taxi ride home. This is where, whatever the situation or outcome, bravado took a tumble and ego hit the pavement... in holy, stockinged feet, obviously.
-
Heavenly - 'I'm not scared of you' (3.42)
-
Le Jardin. Oui? Bonne. Ici.
-

It's a right turn to the left, stranger

2011-09-28T23:32:00.004+01:00

As I turned a familiar corner, to the left, a blinding late-September sun made my eyes go funny - bouncing off, as it did, those broken, unemployed leaves - as this song built to a closing fury and rage in my worn-out ears and I got a vivid flashback to the time I was almost introduced to Emma Anderson from Lush. But that moment, those sounds, were a long time ago now and, the thing is, there is no going back. But today, in Glasgow, we had sun and warmth and a few remembered smiles... that's all worth scribbling about (especially if it involves a song and a memory).

Film School - 'Sunny Day' (3.30)

Visit / Purchase / Watch (simple concept videos are always the best - and cheapest)

PS. Dear Film School, Please might you come over the water and play some shows in the UK? That would be truly wonderful. Thanks. Colin. :)

I don't want control of you

2011-09-26T15:39:00.001+01:00

-
These days, I just don't know. I mean, what gives... did Summer leave the party early or something? If so with whom? I think she got lucky with Winter, judging by the weird mix of rain, shine, sun and storms we are experiencing around these parts. Sigh. And, the thought for the day is this: it has to be about looking forwards, not backwards, you know? Weather and otherwise. Which brings me to... so, term has started and as such things may get a wee bit quiet around here. You will know the drill by now, I'm sure. For the moment I still have gainful employment at the University. For how long though? Well, we still don't really know. More news in November, I suspect, and I will doubtless make further cryptic comments in due course. Or not so cryptic if I am 'redeployed' or presented with 'early leave'. Anyway, Saturday can't come quickly enough, I must say: marching for public sector justice in the morning and then an evening of listening to some of the best shambolic indie-pop noises that have ever come straight outa Glasgow. Hurrah! Oh, and if they play 'Speeding Motorcycle' I will, of course, think of YOU. :) I am also really excited about getting to hear the wonderful Conquering Animal Sound play live as 'Kammerspiel' (the debut album) is just magical and I suspect it will be my album of the year. Perhaps!
-
The Pastels - 'Love it's getting better' (cover version) (4.05)
-
Keep in time to the marching and the music, comrades.
-

I can't let this happen to you

2011-09-20T23:59:00.001+01:00

-
You know, everytime I hear this wee delicate morsel, which is late at night usually - after a glass of wine or six to wash the day away - I secretly want to be amongst this swaggering den of talented people. They are a renegade gang, sharing a moment of wonder, and are blessed with a beautiful name attached to their silk button-holes, in more ways than one. The gathering you can hear clearly is, in my mind's eye at least, spontaneous and impromptu; and just to witness and partake, to feel a part of something this special, would be the icing on the cake. Just clapping hands, joining in, planting a cherry on top if the mood accepted it. My accent would be a problem, I suppose, not really being able to do 'posh', even in a pretend and kiddy-on way. Anyway, it's a fleeting musical snippet, for sure, but somehow all the more magical for it, I would say? And, it ends amusingly as well. A bit of comedy and light relief. Perhaps all truly great things should end, be full-stopped, with a knowing smile and a gutsy laugh? You can take your picks and examples without my help, friends. But, aye, I have a few in reserve, just in case.
-
Her Name Is Calla - 'A sleeper' (demo) (1.58)
-
You can find her, here.
-

I would wash all the cinders from your eyes

2011-09-18T23:59:00.005+01:00

-
'And he won't come out alive', he cried. Wow. Sometimes, all you need to hear - especially on a Sunday - are Jonathan's fierce and brash guitars and, goodness me, those angelic, howling vocals he lays claim to via the gift of a blessing from the heavens. After just a few minutes of exposure, to the crashing, the shrieks and the silences, suddenly the world seems to be turned the right way up again. This is the meaning of bliss, my friends; one to be shared and adored.
-
Shearwater - '74, 75' (session version) (3.24)
-
Where they ponder, adrift on Islands. New material here.
-

Not very clever after all

2011-09-15T23:59:00.002+01:00

-
As I was saying earlier, I don't seem to know much about anything just now. I mean, not everything is illuminated, as it turns out. I just didn't get this at all. I had to give up, in the end. Are you even supposed to 'enjoy' this? Sorry, likesay. Pass, even if it does make me look stupid (I mean even more stupid).
-
The Garlands - 'Your words are still stuck in my head' (2.00)
-
Where they can be found.
-

It's not the winning, it's the taking part

2011-09-13T23:59:00.000+01:00

-
So, I don't seem to know an awful lot about anything very much these days, let alone what's fantastic about all this 'new music' that's being released, apparently... but, you know, I think I can still recognise a killer 'hook' when I hear it. And this song has just such a 'hook'. Why the scare quotes, I don't really know, because this is just fucking brilliant. Show Jonnie some love, people. And some money for his masterful debut. It was out in July, it seems, but I'm only catching up the now. Still, this is music that matters and needs supporting.
-
Jonnie Common - 'Bed Bugs' (3.55)
-
Visit (him, himself, like) / Order (via Red Deer Club).
-

Who will save the day?

2011-09-11T23:59:00.000+01:00

-
Eric Michener will save the day! It will absolutely not be Adrian Simmons (the creep).
-
Fishboy - 'Adrian Simmons' (2.56)
-
Why not visit the band + buy their stuff?
-

Could that be said about us?

2011-09-09T23:59:00.012+01:00

-
Have you ever felt this, I wonder? Thought about it for longer than you dared; to try and realise the point? That is, to say, you've listened to a song, over and over, and always wondered what it was about, what it meant. What emotions and experiences shaped the penning of those lyrics? What was going on in that person's life to inspire the words to flow in the way they did? Perhaps, and this is just a rather obvious hunch, in order to 'get' it, you need a similar moment or experience. A common reference point between listener and lyricist, perhaps, or a sharing of biographies, even at a false distance, just for a moment. Anyway, the thing is, I think I get this song now. I mean really get it. And for that I can only say thank-you, Philip. x
-
The Mary Onettes - 'Puzzles' (live) (4.01)
-
Like running down a one-way street. Go watch them play. Buy the album. The official video.
-

You'll shed a skin and carve it up

2011-09-07T21:59:00.003+01:00

-
The Jezabels / Kid Canaveral / The John McIain Band @ King Tut's Wah Wah Hut, Glasgow, 06-09-11
-
'Why it is always marriage, never sex?' Hayley Mary wonders out loud, rather amusingly, in response to a rather brazen nuptial offer from a (female) audience member. Her hair sways in time to her own wee giggle, she bites her lower lip and stares down at the stage, just entered. Within seconds, obviously, a number of (male) hecklers - not including this person, of course, or even this person, I assume - take this as a cue to make their intentions firmly, yet quite politely, known. She is not short of invitations for later in the evening, let's say. And it starts as it goes on; this is an assured, rhythmic, energetic performance of such poetic intensity and emotion that you wonder, really, how can this anthemic momentum be sustained for the whole set? Is it possible? And, in truth, the answer is given to us as a series of gifts to treasure; a chorus to die for, a bridge to break our hearts to, a lyric to sweep away the bullshit of day-to-day life. This performance just soared, perfectly so, and enraptured everyone contained within this sweating, heaving St Vincent St vault. The Weegie-based Aussie supporters, who were evidently out in strength to cheer on their far-from-home local heros, applauded and whooped every swaying motion, every intake of breath. The accents, the haircuts, the grins, revealed themselves in an essentialised way. A home from home. For those of us who had only an EP or so to go on, junior apprentices such as myself, we were won over too, willing these four musicians to climb the highest peaks, to uncover new gold (dreams). You can tell, close up, that The Jezabels have fine-tuned their (live) art and craft to such an extent that even the short break between initial exit and one-song encore doesn't break the charming hold and spell. Bewitched and bedazzled; aye. We are suitably persuaded, convinced that they 'mean' it. As the house lights come on, and the cameras switch off, I find myself only able to mutter the shamefully inarticulate 'wow'; it is without pretense or consideration, and I'm surprised I even managed to catch my tongue to push those three letters out. Intense, beautiful, mesmerising... and that's the music I'm talking about, in truth, as well as Hayley. Great things are ahead, for the Antipodean powers behind the throne; false prophets they are most certainly not.
-
The Jezabels - 'Hurt me' (live, 26-11-09) (6.05)
-
The place where they skulk. Playing live, here, on Friday 9th September. You can pre-order their debut album, 'Prisoner', now (out on September 16th).
-

What have I learned?

2011-09-05T23:59:00.021+01:00

-
Well, just this evening, I discovered - via an informed source, shall we say - nothing at all about this guy that I can actually repeat here (but I just knew there was a reason the music made my blood run sleepy cold and his smile left me crying into warm, salty, slug trails) and I also learned, the hard way, that this over-hyped film is, in fact, very, very dull indeed. Sigh. So, instead of listening to him, I say this: listen to Darren! He is the bee's knees, for sure, and his charm, wit and adorable lyrics will win you over, I'm totally convinced. Ah, go on now. Give him a go.
-
Darren Hanlon - 'Folk Insomnia' (4.12)
-
Go download the latest album. And love it to bits. This is his home, and this is your heart. And yes, that is his guitar on the Captain's Rest stage just last Monday night. <3
-

Hallam, don't look down

2011-09-04T23:59:00.020+01:00

-
'One Day', indeed. Gaze. Away. It's a perfect song for a melancholy Sunday moment (that is, movement?) such as this. Holding onto those starched, frozen covers, not letting go. Too anxious for sleep. More wine; let it flow. The music and words are just so beautiful, washing over you like it is 1991; for that time is happening all over again. Your wrinkles will vanish, those fringes remain intact. Stare. And stare some more at the Hush Puppies you thought long gone. For your approval is no longer required, this time around. Simply relish and adore, everyone. x
-
Kordan - 'Closer' (4.21)
-
An essential purchase. Visit here, watch there. With thanks to Amanda for the gracious discovery; a tip of the cap.
-

I can handle anything

2011-09-03T23:59:00.002+01:00

-
Obsessed? Me? No, why, not at all. I mean, it's just a ghost. Boo.
-
La Sera - 'Never come around' (2.00)
-
Visit (her) here. <3
-

Judd's paradox

2011-09-01T23:59:00.086+01:00

How to begin (the begin) again? Even after a temporary break, only a month you know, it feels like a rebirth needs to occur here. For that caffeinated kickstart, to stretch the creative boundaries, you need the right tools to do the job; 'moisten the grounds', as Zorg's sleazy employer reminds him, whilst staring at his... I suppose it is a tried and tested formula, for this place I think of as 'home', once again. It starts with a photograph - the image, in fact, is more important than you might care to think - then the words will flow, as they do and, well, the music fits into the dovetail that was made 'just so' for it. But, in truth, there is no order to it - not at all; I just like to pretend there is. So I feel some control, I suppose, a structure to the chaos. My mind is intact and functioning. No, really. It is. There is always the music when hopelessness runs deep: it cascades and shoots through these explored regions like blood, for the likes of you and me. And him. But, I'm afraid, I cannot even begin to explain in this unlikely forum how utterly schizophrenic a month August was for me, as well as those surrounding the life I have come to lead these last few years now; on the one hand it was a time of genuine horror, fear and heartache, and yet, from another perspective, it was also a time of beauty, closeness and love. It was all felt, often at the same time. But, it's about moving on, really, and trying to start again; new beginnings, of a kind. Indeed yes, a fresh agenda will need to find its place; a non-virtual reboot, an appreciation of the roots of life itself ('baraka', meaning a blessing). And so, with this somehow in mind, I am hoping September will be a month of steady nerves, comradeship and, of course, wonderful music. Time will tell, I guess. In the meantime, I do hope some of you might stick around, and bear with me as I return to what I might be, what I should become now, with another mask fallen and stripped away, with a Goffman smile to keep us all company. Adieu.

Michael Storey - 'Another Country' (opening credits) (3.12)

It seems you can't purchase the soundtrack anymore, if you ever could, but you can at least read the play (by Julian Mitchell) and then, well fuck yes, watch the film. You should really purchase a DVD copy though; it's my absolute favourite piece of cinema, like ever, although this one always gives it a close run. Sigh. Betty. :(

Not in a dream, but in a song

2011-07-30T09:01:00.054+01:00

Take #7

"What? Oh, right. Hi there. Shit. Is this thing actually on? Are you sure? What do you want anyway? Um, sorry, this is a recorded message. I guess you could tell that though, right? I mean, he's usually so much more articulate in real life, haha. Seriously, he's dazed and confused and looking in a broken mirror here 'trying' to spot white hairs, whilst also trying to stick to what I've written down for him on this pink post-it note - pink... it's yellow, you fucking idiot, not pink... are you colour blind as well as unable to read? - but he keeps fucking it up. Anyway, yes, the discordant malcontent (oh right, well fuck you, I liked that description of the bumptious, sociopathic prick - it is him to a 'T' and you know it) who tragically runs this sorry excuse of a self-hate shack isn't around just now but will be back after the summer sunshine beep-beeps, or when he gives up trying to finish that really fucking terrible novel by Will Self... she always thought he was a genius you know, pffffft - so, so wrong and no wonder he left that party, eventually - although, true, in Glasgow it might be raining rather than glorious summer sunshine. It is just now as I'm speaking this to him through the intricate neural networks. Raining, I mean, it's raining right now. Er, and I mean typing this, not speaking this of course. Confused? Aye, me too, and I have to live inside this bampot's head 24/7. Spare a thought a wee thought, eh? Och. Anyway, see you all soon I guess. Have a nice time. Er, are you getting away anywhere nice? Oh, Bexhill-On-Sea you say? Really? Um, lovely. I'm sure you'll catch syphilis or the plague or something... at least the flu, given it is August by now. So 'bye' then. Oh yes, leave a message if you want to, with your name and number and all that kind of thing but I very much doubt he'll get back to you. He's not much good at that kind of thing. Nothing personal, it's just that he doesn't really like telephones that much (bit of a phobia, he always assumes - empirically correctly as it happens - it's bad news or some credit card company chasing money from him, oh do you get that too... what a coincidence!) and he often doesn't play the messages when he gets back because when you press play, because this fucking machine is so old now, it sometimes gets the tape a bit stuc..."

The Go-Betweens - 'Finding you' (live) (3.55)

Here, there, everywhere. Sigh. Remembering Grant, as always... :(

You always need to be where the party is

2011-07-28T06:05:00.000+01:00

-
Don't look down. Oh, you can never look down. Pass 'Go' if you can muster the chemical energy (every chance in hell comes his way, for sure). Crossing the floor now. In zig-zags, avoiding direct contact with stray limbs, just like the remote cleaner that sweeps up the debris after you, but can never hope to catch up in time to make the break. You are staring at a floating ceiling, looking for a Tour Eiffel foundation. It was always going to end this way: how could it be balanced, stabilised, by any other means necessary? It's a swift return, this distance between us taking another form now. A transparent and reductionist alienation, a journey leading into a departure. Alone. Together. Radiating. A dichotomy of sociological conditioning. More than a missing piece; all of the jigsaw is torn into a hundred slices, in a B&Q garden chipper and shredder. Murder, it was. But, really, on the down, down, down.... serious, where the fuck do you go, in your swollen head, dulled mind, lethargic soul, when all the people leave your smiling company to return to what they know as reality, the morning after, the day job? Do the teetering, shaking sub-woofers and blinking red and green lights block the harsh reality out? You stare ahead, eyelids fluttering, peepers dancing to the pounding of the technological movement, seeing nothing but your own sour, taken oblivion. Jeezo, our Jesse. What a scene, what a fucking tune. It seems you can't escape those demons... play loud, and on repeat.
-
Honey Claws - 'Digital Animal' (3.47)
-
Band / Source
-

Music to hold hands to

2011-07-26T12:09:00.009+01:00

Math and Physics Club @ The Captain's Rest, Glasgow, 25-07-11 (with Very Truly Yours, Bubblegum Lemonade and The Hermit Crabs).
-
"Why did the farmer start a punk rock band? He'd had enough of Hall 'n Oates..."
-
As jokes go, you know those ones, that are told to fill awkward gaps and spaces when tuning up, the guitarist, Lisle, from Very Truly Yours did hit the spot. It made us all laugh - and laugh with him, not at him, thankfully. Anyway, wow! What an amazing balmy Monday evening spent in indiepop heaven at The Captain's Rest in Glasgow last night. Does it get any better than this? The evening was something of a Matinée Recordings shindig as three-quarters of the bands on the bill are currently signed to that label. Very twee, sweet and incredibly adorable - and that was just the audience. What was really impressive was the show of bodies, faces and enthusiastic clapping for opening act The Hermit Crabs. Led by Mel, they played a blinding set and were breaking in the new 'Highlands and Islands' rhythm section. Playing a selection of material, old and new, they are a band well worth checking out. I mean, people even danced! (this can be quite unusual for this particular venue, in my experience - or perhaps it is just the type of bands I go to see play here?). 'Correspondence Course' was especially good and Mel would return later for a spot with the headline act - but more of that later! Bubblegum Lemonade were next up and play a kind of scuzzy Pastels meets Mary Chain shagging the Velvets b-side type of music (and that is very high praise indeed!), and frontman Laz is just brilliant with his Byrdesque guitar 'licks', as well as with the audience; being both witty, self-deprecating and charming - often in the very same sentence... 'Yeah, in your face Artic Monkeys!', said as he ruminated on their as yet elusive search for global 'hits' and 'rock star' status. The wonderful 'Girlfriend Ghost' was dedicated to those who couldn't attend, and a slight chill was felt in the air, as much as you can feel such a thing downstairs in the Rest... and their cover of 'That Thing You Do', as ever, got a wild reception from a sweaty audience in the 'ken. Very Truly Yours, over from Chicago and en route to Indietracks, had the hard job of following on next and what a rousing set they played. Although missing a keyboard player, Billie!, they were tight, jangly, lovely and loud - a bit like Camera Obscura might be if they took better drugs and 'cut loose' once in a while. Indeed, Kristine's vocals are very Traceyanne although the former, true, is a bit more talkative, and not just to cover the silences enforced by tuning and re-tuning. Thanking us all, many times over, for coming out to see the show, it was all smiles and candy floss from Kristine and the band - and great, great songs. 'Across The Sea' was a bit of an obvious song to put on the setlist, given the circumstances, and it fitted the mood of the evening perfectly of course. And, as mentioned, Lisle's joke gave us the giggles. :) As for headline act, Math and Physics Club, what can you say - it was just such an honour to have them play in Glasgow, almost unbelievable in fact. I always thought I'd need a wee trip back to Seattle to catch a show from them as they never play in Europe. It was a fantastic set, covering material from the two albums as well as the early EPs, and the audience were dancing away and nodding heads to the 'catchy pop beats' they play so well. It was difficult not to grin like a complete idiot as songs like 'Jimmy Had A Polaroid' and 'Love Or Loneliness' were played so faultlessly (depsite the jetlag!) and it was quite funny when 'La La Lisa' was dedicated to a Lisa who had just left the room (weep!). A further highlight was the duet with Mel Hermit Crab, a very emotional version of 'Darling, Please Come Home'. There didn't seem to be many dry eyes in the room for that one, including my own. Sob. As the set went on the covers came out to play and we were given two choices (I seem to have forgotten them both! I think one was by the old Sarah band, Brighter? Or perhaps that was just wishful thinking on my part? Whatevs.). Anyway, no matter, as we demanded both, and then insisted on another original song for good measure...! :) Oh, there was a very funny moment worth telling... when offering the cover versions someone in the audience asked the band if they knew any songs by Belle and Sebastian... 'But we've just played an entire set of Belle of Sebastian songs!' came the knowing reply from Charles, followed up with 'Why not come to see us play in Manchester tomorrow and we'll play The Smiths!' from Ethan. LOL, so we did. Anyway, in terms of the songs, here you have what the band opened with and closed with in Glasgow last night. Do enjoy. What a brilliant time of it. Moar, please.
-
Math and Physics Club - 'Weekends Away' (2.37)
Math and Physics Club - 'We're so DIY!' (2.24)
-
With very special thanks to Colin ('Half My Heart Beats') for putting this show on. :)
-
Go say hello at the Clubhouse! And, remember, Indietracks is this weekend coming! As for the photographs, what can I say, erm... I do like musician's feet (not in a weird way, promise!).
-

If you hear the perfect note then share it

2011-07-23T07:11:00.001+01:00

-
The dark moors appeal tonight, surrounded in mist and regret, staking out their shadows and trophies for the hunted tribes whose pride and confidence has taken a terminal fall. And this soundtrack, my God, it resonates wildy inside your head, like a forced echo sustaining a rotating, forgotten landscape. The delicate ripples, in the form of one note then two, lap over your raw and bruised feet, soothing and healing, in time to an unfamiliar pattern you can't hope to forget or extinguish. It is all in that moment, a touch, the lingering. Deep inside this cave of sound a faint hum, with jagged claws, is tearing at your soul questioning everything you know, everyone who made this moment of reflection, of unquestioned 'self', possible. The echo continues and repeats, over and over and over. The delicate side comes forth more now, the haunted scraping against skin, against the heart. Sounds invade, and then fade, in a perfect sidestep on this journey. But how many notes does it take to seduce him over to the place where you are? How many for her, do you know? And what about the losing? It's a question, an equation, that defies any kind of traditional or technological source code and has no aide-memoire to act as compassionate companion in the search for that completeness. This time you need to figure it out on your own, the man you both inspire, and then aspire, to be. It's all about the rhythm of time, you see, and as for the exercised hands on the seen-better-days clock... well, they wait for no one, not even you. It marches on and claims continents, never mind countries.
-
Richard Skelton - 'Shore' (7.04)
-
You can buy Richard's work here, and say hello over at his Wordpress site. The effort that goes into making these divine artefacts needs to be seen to be appreciated, not just heard. With sincere thanks to F. for leading me to Skelton's work.
-

I want my lips to blister when we kiss

2011-07-20T21:58:00.002+01:00

-
Sometimes - and you all know this to be deeply true, if you are being honest for once - the only gesture required or demanded at those kind of times is feeling a soft, warm head falling deep into your electrified scapula and a matching pair of loving, tentacled arms reaching around your naked, shamed body, to say, actually, it's all going to be alright, forever.... and I do feel that the Wild Beasts need such a warm, tight embrace, right about now. "It's alive", indeed. Sigh.
-
Wild Beasts - 'Bed of nails' (Live, Later with Jools Holland, 17-05-11) (3.43)
-
Like snakes in the grass. One to buy. The injustice... it does hurt.
-

I can take a road that'll see me through

2011-07-17T11:24:00.032+01:00

-
So, you were drunken in the haze of a less than happy hour, I know, but is that really a valid excuse eighteen years later? Sigh. I don't suppose you remember this song? Or the band? It was a strange time after all; 1992 was it? Nothing but Mega City 4, Midway Still, Leatherface and The Senseless Things playing local tiny grubby venues, attracting all the spotty late-teen boyz ('pop kids'), bad drugs and haircuts that could be used as weapons of mass destruction within their respective gigathon shrines to 'Powah Pop'. They ate all our chips as well. And snogged our ex-girlfriends as they had shiny wheels and could play three chords, with delay, reverb, delay, reverb, delay, reverb... etc. Nobody wore trousers, did you ever stop playing with yourself to even notice that? It was all baggy shorts and obscure indie T-shirts. Except for Wiz, of course, as he always wore that slightly manky Hüsker Dü shirt. Life in a transit van, eh? It's funny, just a little bit, how you look back at those strange times - you know, way back then - and when you look up at yourself now, in a forced hallway mirror making sure you've no toothpaste on your chin before you head off out for the day, kind of way, you realise that you've somehow ended up living the kind of life your Dad can't even begin to imagine. Or perhaps he can. But you'll never ask him, obviously. A line in a movie script would have it that 'every passing minute is another chance to turn it all around'. I'm not so sure that's actually true though, for some things. I mean, some actions, events, can't be turned around or forgiven. Water and bridges, and all that (it has long sailed out to the polluted ocean now anyway). Life. In an instant. You got it all wrong, you know, it's not all about my mother, it's all about my father. Him.
-
Drive - 'Go out - be happy' (3.52)
-
Nostalgia can be a terrible thing, but not always. Buy a copy of the album, go on now. You look at the photographs and just wonder: what the fuck were you thinking about, son?
-
Ps. My rather vain and lame attempts at documenting the wonderful life of Sarah Records continues, by the way. That occurs over here. It's happening every Sunday from a few weeks ago until I get bored, we run out of singles or JC evicts me from his castle. Hopefully the middle option will rule the school. :)
-

Tell us a story from before we can remember

2011-07-14T13:43:00.001+01:00

-
So, yes, I admit it, I would have liked 'The Tree of Life' a lot more if the soundtrack had included Moscow Olympics on it. However, even so, I still can't wait for Part 2. Erm, there is a Part 2 coming along soon, right? Like, 'The Shrubbery of Death', or something?
-
Moscow Olympics - 'Second Trace' (3.43)
-
Go make friends!
-

The killing jar

2011-07-12T10:46:00.000+01:00

'Death is not the end' proclaimed the ill-fitting, turning black-to-grey, T-shirt. And you stare into this iron cage, a grasping void of self-doubt, knowing the reasons why (and your certain fate within it) but you just can't back away. Tip-toes on the crumbling edge, staring down. There is no love lost here, no hope of escape. And yet.... in you go, happily so. A moth into the light, in opposite formation. Deep down, spilling and twirling and longing to be let go. It requires an explanation, in a sense, but there aren't enough letters in the alphabet to form the words demanded by such horrors. How could there be? For this sound, such images, and the feelings generated... they are not of this world; Lynchesque in plot, narrative, angles, set design, acting. All of it. An identity, a long-player, is shaped in the knowing of what needs to be unlearnt and then built up again, reconstructed to a new set of plans. Past mistakes, no more, but the experience and biography shapes you. New foundations need to be established. Roots secured, in hope and promise. Room to grow, a nurturing. It's a farewell, to you, and then...

Conquering Animal Sound - 'Wasp' (3.48)

Visit / Buy / Watch (on tour)

And resentment rides high

2011-07-10T00:31:00.003+01:00

-
All I should say, at this point in time, is that I do appreciate the very slight tip of the cap to 'Love will tear us apart' in this song (whether accidental or on purpose). And, in saying these words, I don't particularly care if no one else can hear it but me. But, do you hear it, as I do? The thing is, J. Tillman (who is not just the drummer in that band) is my new post-Kozelek love(r), for sure. And, erm, The Horrors? Who? Jeezo, that's just so, like, yesterday.... meaning, of course, 1983-84. ;)
-
J. Tillman - 'Occurance at the River Jordan' (4.16)
-
All things real. One to watch.
-

I wish that we could talk about it

2011-07-08T08:55:00.002+01:00

-
'And it keeps coming, and it keeps coming, and it keeps coming... until the day it stops.'
-
There is something about the interpretation of this LCD Soundsystem song that just cuts me down, every-single-time. Emotions, associations and memories, to the song itself of course (when I left the big house, years ago now, early morning, this was my soundtrack as I walked to the railway station in the glinting sun with a stuffed sports bag over my shoulder for company) but, also, it's the sheer talent and skill that is on display here that is just breathtaking (thank-you, Andrew). It's all picking, fingering, tapping and bowing of the cello and the useful employment of some fancy technology as well; the building up of sounds, layers and loops and then their eventual downfall. There are no spoken words involved this time around, they are just not needed, as you find yourself mouthing the words anyway. 'The coffee isn't even bitter'. I love that part. It seems to matter the most these days. Not so long ago it used to be 'I miss the way we used to argue'. But the truth is, I just don't anymore. Those days have been and gone.
-
Andrew Carter - 'Someone Great' (LCD Soundsystem cover, Cello instrumental) (6.43)
-
Go visit Andrew. See him play, loop and play again. One to watch. And the original, of course.
-

It starts out quickly.

2011-07-06T09:45:00.002+01:00

-
'It's all a matter of perspective' mouthed the seven-foot tall goalkeeper to the nervous penalty-kick taker, attempting to stare him out at this most critical of all moments in the ninety-something that have been on offer. And, it's also an expression I'm getting used to hearing these days, this sense of relativity and unknowing, even without that physical twelve yards necessarily being involved. Needless to say, the shoe will fit so I'll slip it on. I'm very much the person that needs to kick the ball into the less than open net. Gulp. This is a challenge. And whilst I appreciate the importance of such an act, of enacting an active agency, so to speak, this doesn't prevent that fear running through the dark spilled blood, chilling it to a slow-motion replay where the metaphorical waterfall floods are actually tiny drips and the journey stops and starts in lost and abandoned railways of the heart. And whilst I gather an inner-strength, of a kind, the soundtrack comes from somewhere otherwordly; a place where what end of the street you stand at really matters, where what you say cannot be taken back. It all begins with one solitary note on a piano. And if you can't even play that note as it should be played then why bother at all? This is not a practice session or a 'jam'. This is real life.
-
Glissando - 'With a kiss and a tear' (7.06)
-
Searching delicate sounds / A slow burning secret / Buying worthy Gizeh
-

Tell me you feel this fire

2011-07-04T17:52:00.005+01:00

Oh Glasgow, I do love you. Yes, I fucking do. Especially when the sun shines brightly, the graffiti gives good LOLZ (praise be to the 12 year old boyz with marker pens about town!) and, amongst all the high horse shite that is being hurriedly pushed through your disciplinary letter box of late, the new 'Young Team' (so tae speak) are finally sent out to find their inspiring 'selves' with their loved ones, both big and small, looking on. I do <3 Graduation Day and I can't help myself, in a traditionalist kinda way. But, you know, it's just nice to see a lot of people coming together, all scrubbed up clean and dressed to the High 9's, to be happy, right? Big smiles and white teeth. Cameras at the ready. And yes, ok, even if it is just for a morning or so and the all-familiar drudge-drudge-drudge of the wordly ways returns in the form of a hangover the very next day. But just believe, for a day or two at least, that the future is a lot brighter than you think and it pays to keep some fingers and toes crossed (but not the ones you stole from Sukie at the graveyard, please no, no, no...).

Stereolab - 'Les Yper Sound' (live) (4.13)

Not writing, just thinking.

A monopoly on the legitimate use of violence

2011-07-01T06:57:00.004+01:00

-
I know, it's not very amusing, really, but the more I read Weber (let alone Marx!) and, in particular, the more I listen to a band like McCarthy, the less I understand how we actually put up with what we put up with in terms of the socio-economic world we are forced to endure and play a small part in. In other words, yes, I am having a slight crisis of political (not musical) faith and I'll be taking a wee break from this rather bourgeois indulgence to consider my material options and focus on the things that matter most. And by that I don't mean the forthcoming public sector revolution (shame on fucking you Miliband; what your Dad would have made of it all I can't even guess). Or do I mean that public revolution? No, I think I have to mean a more personal revolution, one involving the people; the good souls. Well, that and possibly, if the news arrives, trying to find another job (along with two and half million other people forming a winding line around the revamped dole office).
-
McCarthy - 'Governing takes brains' (4.16)
-
One for the weekend. Storm those barricades, comrades.
-
PS. Speechless. Open mouthed. I don't know about you, but this song has just blown me apart into a million different pieces. The Horrors are taking it beyond a question of mere 'progression' or 'levels'. They are now wholesome giants in a minature, scaled-down world. And we are better for this transformation, absolutely.
-

Your mind blossoms, mine is withering

2011-06-29T01:04:00.002+01:00

-
It's all over then, I guess. A final curtain has come down, amidst a stage of occupations and withering, silent applause. We tried. And we failed. Escape routes, sadly, will now need to be planned; a big exit is coming in from the West heading South. Just wish I knew what 'reconfigured' actually meant though. To be kept? Abandoned? You know, I might need to ask Mark to write a song about University restructuring, then maybe I'd actually hear what they are saying; I'd pay attention to the brutal words a little more if he was whispering them in my second-hand ears, whilst those nylon heart-on-strings scatter acoustic sound, like minature paint brushes being put to good use by an army of hipstah centipedes on a canvas that appears to have no edges or centre. It just sits there, waiting to be made known, to be completed.
-
Mark Kozelek - 'Third and Seneca' (live) (8.03)
-
'On Tour: A Documentary' is released on August 16. See here for full details. It just might save your life, as well.
-

Some things might have to change

2011-06-25T09:46:00.000+01:00

Scientific studies have now proven that it's 87.2% impossible for anyone with a love of quirky lyrics, catchy melodies and singers who drum (and play their kit at the front of the stage) not to obsess over the band that once was The Lucksmiths. And this, their final song, well, it just makes me realise that there is something quite different, and wonderful, to being woken up by the chirping of playful birds and the making of pancakes, and not by the usual screams of rushing ambulance sirens, stay-out-all-night drunks and burnt toast. Take me back to the old country, now.

-
The Lucksmiths - 'Get-to-bed birds' (2.40)
-
Have a watch and a listen, and remember. One to purchase. Jeezo, I miss them. :(
-

It's, like, 'Bugsy Malone' for the Modern Warfare Kidz, right?

2011-06-24T23:37:00.005+01:00

-
Sometimes you just need to roll with it and switch off your brain. Yes, for sure, I'm down but not completely out. And this is just about my new favourite video, like, ever. With sincere thanks to Karly @ Slutever for the nod/wink :) Well, having said that, this video is also one to adore and cherish (thanks @ Gen). It all makes me smile, smile, smile, smile; a sea of animated pop-kidz urban battlefield 'drogue' killings and hipstah symbolic (with added blood) electro-tune girl-on-girl harmonies, washing up against all the high horse shite on the shore we call A Place Of Work. Anyway, please do check out Is Tropical and just buy the record, bitches! (before the next 'Call of Duty: Modern Warfare' game comes out, probs just before Christmas, at a guess? It's at No.3 already - wtf?!). #omfg_itsbetterthantherealthing.
-

This is the last stop, the emptiest platform

2011-06-22T09:23:00.005+01:00

-
'What I could have done is what I should have done', as Keris laments. And, to a point, this was practiced and preached, it really was. We all did it. There have been some sterling individual and collective efforts over the last month or so. And yet, despite the blood, sweat and tears (shed whilst we marked exam papers and attended exam boards) the consultation proposals across all four subject areas remain solidly unchanged in both form and substance, but just slightly more condescending in their tone, presentation and delivery. And so, later today, Senate decides our fate at 2pm. What will come next I wonder? Job interview hair cuts, CV updates and a new suit from Ebay? Another move, another train, somewhere South, most likely. Everybody leaving. Or staying. Who the fuck knows, really. This does now feel like the end of something though, even if certain things might remain in place (a technical aside: Sociology has a wee 'hook' of 'reconfiguration' into a Social Policy 'pathway', but we still don't really know what this means and whether or not it leads, directly or indirectly, to a salary, a P45 or whatever else). I think what has vanished, you know, weeks ago, is the spirit and feeling - it has drifted, the willingness; an attachment to an institution, a set of people, you wanted to believe in. As a colleague from another subject area wrote to me yesterday, when news got out: 'Aye Colin. The truth is that I am so disgusted with them that I didn't dare come in today.... because I knew I would let fly. If I could find any of them, that is. I've done it before - let fly - and, you'll never guess, it doesn't turn them into better people, doesn't make me a better person - it just gives them ammunition against you, confirms me as an equal part of their pathology , who'd have thought it? Cunts.' For context, the person was writing about his School colleagues who chose not to put their name to a Trade Union Senate motion calling for an extension to the consultation period and a withdrawal of the proposals, as they are currently configured. I don't think I can add more to this sentiment, except to say I was very glad to read it. Thanks J. But, in closing, and being optimistic old (very old) me, in a Voxtrot way, I should say that this is also, perhaps, the start of something as well. A new adventure into uncertainty, one that is rather tense and unsure, yes indeed. But I cannot deny it: I can't help but feel (almost) slightly excited about all this, a tingle or two. Is that strange? Yes, it is all rather vulnerable, nervous and unsure, absolutely, at the thought of the very worst possible outcomes possibly occuring.... but, I mean, an uncertain adventure is still an adventure, right? That has to count for something. It's the silver lining I'm holding onto, anyway. There has to be something to hold onto, someone...
-
Harper Lee - 'Train not stopping' (4.13)
-
A fast train, and a slow coach... with a book's hidden author. And this as a soundtrack, of sorts.
-

Where roads are fast and knowledge easy

2011-06-19T07:11:00.001+01:00

-
You stand here in my place
Feel the warmth upon your face
Stand back and start to smile
You now have time
You now have will...
-
And so, easily, I think this qualifies as the most EPIC stagediving FAIL of the shoegazey 90's. No? But, then again, like our man Robert the Bruce, there is eventual success of the 'try, try and try again' variety. Och aye. But I can't stop watching this piece of film as Patrick is clearly laughing his sweet heart and soul out at the poor laddie's efforts to exit the stage... LOVE IT.
-
Kitchens of Distinction - 'Drive that fast' (7" edit) (3.58)
-
It's all about Kitchens OD right now. The original, longer, version of 'Drive that fast' is taken from this album (and the album was produced by Hugh Jones, you know). Do buy it. And also see here, for further Kitchens magic and some other news as well.
-

Someone's got to put these people in the ground

2011-06-17T08:18:00.002+01:00

-
When I have managed to find sleep, recently, I've been having a recurring, unsettling, dream of this photograph. It was taken three years ago in the Seattle Public Library. At the time it seemed an insignificant capture, if rather Lynchesque in certain qualities. Now, though, it has become everything. Nothing much happens in this dream, as such, but through the red haze, towards the back following the lights on the ceiling, is a hidden door that is marked by the frazzled white spotlight on the sunken floor. And through that door is an uncertain future that I can't quite make out. Again, it is a fractured red haze blocking my view. An anonymous person, genderless, greets me at the door and tells me, politely, to wait. The waiting. Timing is everything, of course, making those decisions that can have far-reaching, often unintended, consequences. Some you can see an outline shadow for, others that are just impossible to see ahead of you. And, yes, I know, other cliches etc. I think I need to walk through this door, boldly. To take a chance, take back some kind of control. To 'seize the day', as I think I used to be able to do, well, a long time ago now. The soundtrack, obviously, is His Name Is Alive. The band that famously caused Tom Cruise to suffer a nervous breakdown.
-
His Name Is Alive - 'Sitting still moving still staring outlooking' (3.26)
His Name Is Alive - 'In every ford' (3.44)
-
An album to devour, quietly.
-

You have an unfair advantage

2011-06-14T23:41:00.284+01:00

Tom Vek, with guests Breton, @ The Classic Grand, Glasgow, 14-06-11.

'Where the fuck is Tom Vek?'

Too bad. Your advantage. Aye, well, you can stop the wondering, the moaning and the waiting. It's now over. The pause button is, well, unpaused. Press play. Play. Press. Play press. Play. But how early is too early? To get here is enough and all you can do. New hair cuts are displayed (x2) and a quick stop for food and you march on, tickets stapled to twitching hands. Tense. Anxious. Expecting. As well as remembering, of course, for you have been here before. 'Second gig in, like what, six years? Jeezo.' But too early is too early - still soundchecking - so a walk is required, up Bridge St. And, ah, Whitesnake are in town this evening as well, up at the Academy. Choices? Hipstah crowd or soft metal crowd? Gulp. No. Just no. Even I can't fit into a 1988 tour T-shirt that badly. The poor quality patches wouldn't cover-up the awful power-chords. So, you shuffle about, in reverse, and just as you are walking up the stairs who else but he, himself, passes you going down the stairs. Hair slick. Towered. Clothes very preppy New England. Glasses styled, framing. Vek. Like a madeover nephew of Action Man, dressed by Tom Ford. You manage to keep your mouth shut, and just whisper some blessing or other, to the man standing guard by the merchandise stall. He is here. Tonight. Ah saw him, so ah did. Standing. Standing tall, at a vantage point stage right, your feet, your entire body, just can't stop moving. Swaying hips, buckling limbs, a damp forehead. Too old for all this. Please. Or are you really? It's difficult to capture non-blurry images for sweet keepsakes when you just can't stop moving. The beats. It was, it still is, all about the beats. The vocals, hmmm, possibly, yes... But the beats, the layers, the loops, it's a lift-off... and this is just 'guests', Breton. As for Vek, opening the set with 'C-C (You Set The Fire In Me)' is a bold move. I mean, it's just where we were, talking about the beats, back in the dissolving, disarming, October late-afternoons of 2005 when Oran Mor was the place to be. The old, the new. All spill forth. The vintage cases are unpacked and dusted off, adding to the more recent shop deliveries that sell tunes, tracks, songs to change a life, to cause, yes, a pleasured seizure. All possibilities feature this evening in a disordered riot of smiling lips, mislaid cues, curious projections and unfocussed endings. Keyboards are sounding like phasers set to stun, disabling all doubters, not that many are actually present in this misty weegie greenhouse. The bass just kills it, scooping your insides to the outside. It was always his instrument of choice, really. And then there is Vek, finding his way centre stage. He says few words, but how should he have to when his look says it all? Sleek, shined, branded. A curious mix of George Falconer on a day off and/or Clark Kent when he got bold, that time, with Lois Lane, though our man is slightly smaller, in a slender size. He is clearly making up the treasured time he wants back; back doing this little thing called life up on a stage near you. Tune after tune comes at you; 'If You Want', 'World Of Doubt', 'I Ain't Saying My Goodbyes' (some of us believed you, Tom), 'A Chore', 'Nothing But Green Lights'. It just goes on and on and yet, somehow, it's over by 9.52pm, and that includes the minutes-as-hours of encore/no encore teasing. Lights up and out. There is to be no encore or slight return, tonight. 'You have an unfair advantage... too bad!' is a refrain that carries you all the way home, clutching posters and a camera with a very few non-blurry images to stare at, for a wee while, over a nice cup of tea and a sit down. The sitting down though. Sheesh. Your body shivers and shakes; still dancing, dancing, dancing with a clear answer to the question: Tom Vek has tamed Glasgow for an evening and Birmingham will be similarly swept under the carpet. For that's exactly where the fuck Tom Vek will be next - who cares where he has been? Look ahead, be aroused people. This music matters.

Tom Vek - 'Too Bad' (3.51)

Go see Tom play and buy his latest record. This is also worth the attention of your ears, aye.

This now or never

2011-06-12T11:45:00.002+01:00

-
It's a weirdly fetishistic ritual, in a sense, for us wee lot, you know. The masculinist "feet" shot can take things over. Aye, when out and about (in our public 'space') we tend to (over) "indulge". STFU kidz, and all that, you may say. Do you? Still? But, for us, really, it marks an occasion, a rare event. It is done with taste, in silence, with discretion. We do try. But, sadly, at least a pair, on this infamous occasion, are missing. This time, the other, older, limbs and digits, are located here. So a fair excuse, really. The Shadow killed it, apparently. Him. Great visuals, and all that. As for me? You know, I was just happy and glad that there were no extended tears, bloody fights, stereophonic snores or frequent toliet trips in the middle of the great revealing. Sweets were eaten quietly, drinks were taken during the interval. Gazes were well placed, to the side and on the floor. That's fucking rock and roll, by the way. And I said "hello", along the way, to the one with the red hair. Too. Her. The star of the show. Shine, like you mean it.
-
James - 'Hello' (4.39)
-
Do try and watch this, you know. It's a brave new world. Out there.
-

It's a pillow soft for my neck

2011-06-09T14:53:00.002+01:00

'I'm going South

To feed the animals

I'm going South

Become elephantine'

Sometimes, just sometimes, it has to be this short and simple (not to mention sweet?). It's etched into a multi-coloured finer detail, just like the 'sharpened tusks' that Patrick mentions in his piano-driven words; the inviting sign hanging perilously above you, triggering a welcome memory from a life you had done your very best to forget and put down to, well, 'experience'. And, for the likes of us, the memory will obviously relate to a person, a place and, most importantly, a song... and what follows, as you step out from under that swinging trumpeting shadow, is a chorus sung out loudly and with much gusto, to all passing strangers, as you make your way down the road smiling to anyone and everything

that catches your leaking eyes.

Kitchens of Distinction - 'Elephantiny' (2.44)

Give thanks to the magic, shimmering and all, located in that Platonic cave, on the moon (and I still WANT that shirt off Julian's back, quite literally).

No sleep 'till Ardrossan

2011-06-05T23:50:00.004+01:00

-
Who was it that said those apathetic shoegazy dream popsters never had a sense of humour because they were too damn busy sweeping their tangly hair out of their faces, staring at their worshipped feet and messing about with at least fifteen effects pedals all at the same time? You know, I think I love this song, and worship this version of this song, in just about equal measure. But, really, it's an essential listen (to be played on repeat at least a baker's dozen times, or so) as sometimes you just need to let it fucking rip. Play loud, pop kids! LOUD.
-
Drop Nineteens - '(You gotta) fight for your right (to party!)' (Beastie Boys Cover, Peel Session, recorded 15-11-92) (4.15)
-
Yes, I really do miss shoegaze, in that early 90s way. But for that 'lost' Drop Nineteens album, 'Mayfield', you can just click here (Rapidshare). It's essentially a bunch of unreleased demos that were all recorded pre-'Delaware' (Caroline Distribution, 1992). I tell you, these tracks fair bring a Boss DD-5 Digital Delay lump to your acoustic throat.
-

And then I used his feet to kick him in the head.

2011-06-03T12:12:00.006+01:00

Relaxed ambient tunes and swearword poetry comedy, please. It's the only way of dealing with 'this little thing called life' right now, as the artist formerly known as Prince might say. But at least I managed to avoid arrest and/or getting hit by a Polis van yesterday. Protests continue and we have a revised deadline of June 17th to respond to the, ahem, 'consultation proposals' that will effectively murder four successful Degree programmes and sack at least 25 + members of academic staff (yes, myself included). The energy and commitment of my colleagues and the students is staggering, astounding really. But for this weekend, as part of the revolutionary struggle, I will be dancing to indiepop, drinking gin and smiling as much as I fucking possibly can. Well, for at least 20 minutes I will.

Phon°noir - 'We still miss the future' (3.42)

Tim Minchin - 'Angry' (5.42)

Nice places to visit. Download this.

Passing headlights stare at us like eyes

2011-05-31T23:23:00.001+01:00

Some people in your own or immediate sphere, and you have to realise this, just cannot be understood or reasoned with on any level whatsoever. I think I was thirty one years old, or so, when I finally 'got it'. A late developer, you could say. Or, perhaps, another way of looking at the Rhinehart dice is this: you do not want to comprehend the sometimes contradictory words and actions that spill forth from those you think you know. The accented musings don't add up, let alone the sentence on a screen. Deaf eyes and blind ears, and all that jazz. Whether part of a grand mystique, or just covering tracks, measuring bets even, perhaps, some explanations will just defy themselves. It just gets lost in the multiple translations that are on offer, I think that's the issue hidden under the surface. One step will take you forward, true, but the push to your bruised hips will land you at least three backwards; and so the shuffle and crushing goes on and on and on. And it's also concerned, I would guess, with the gazing towards an uncertain future without remembering what came before it, in the depths of a murky past. That's also critical. 'What I had to say is unsaid / What I had to do is undone', as Mark puts it in this song. This reluctance to action, to arms, is not apathy or fear, you understand, it is just undiluted full-on uncertainty. As another unwritten lyric put it so well, you didn't just want to not kill the hour, oh no, you wanted to salvage the entire twenty four hours as a keepsake. For that's what it is, or rather, what it was. A day in the life of someone who once knew what unconditional love was, how it actually felt; the way it just took over your every fucking pore and soaked your skin like plunging into pearly white waters from a fifty foot craggy drop, on high. With weights tied to your skinny glazed ankles as well. But his dear Katy, you'll remember, passed away and a monster was born; those warm summer days with a gentle, hazy moon after midnight were banished forever to be replaced by a longing for what should have been, rather than what was and came to pass. Tragic, in some ways, but it was what it was, friends. That's how the story went, and ended.

Red House Painters - 'Japanese to English' (4.42)

'A million miles away from home / and fifteen from a payphone.'

As an aside, if you'd like to get your hands on a pretty rare RHP radio session (from August 9th, 1988 - recorded for WREK in Atlanta, Georgia) then you should click here. Incredibly, this was captured just three months after they formed as a band. You can hear Mark, quite literally, finding his early voice and his place in the world, or at least the band.

They'll destroy you

2011-05-29T05:22:00.002+01:00

-
So, this is a selective truth for an uncertain future: you should mostly be a wee bit cautious of endorsing any recommendations that come to you from people you don't really know and will, in fact, probably never meet. This sentiment holds true, I find, whether you are discussing shoes, drugs, books, sexual positions or music. 'Yeah, I think you'll like them - I mean, do you remember when R.E.M. had guts, charm, passion and hooks? Well, that's the sound and the attitude, but with a more Tennessee lilt and twang to their punchy swagger'. So I admit, I was curious and it happily all checked out. It's also left me thinking that perhaps the 'event' that is known as 'Rockness' (gag!) should not be so easily dismissed after all? Yes? No? That is, to be sure, assuming you can hike North by noon on the Sunday, at the very latest, to witness the first act take the main stage and claiming it, more than likely, as their very own. I'm a bit indifferent to the new long-player in its fullness, alas, but this particular song is just fucking glorious...
-
The Boxer Rebellion - 'The Runner' (3.39)
-
Go visit + see + buy. A brief history lesson.
-
PS, Have you heard the somewhat leaky-leaked new Tom Vek album yet? It is everywhere. And, woah, it is seriously good. Can't wait to hear 'Too bad' live. What a TUNE!
-

I can't make this plea on your behalf

2011-05-26T11:33:00.001+01:00

-
It's all, unintentionally, revealed in the stuttering eye contact, and in the knowing of what he knows that you know that must, nonetheless, remain hidden. It's a contrived act, a total performance. 'This cannot be happening', is the pin-badge he is wearing openly, declaring both his worst fears and best intentions. You remember this earlier moment, in what is becoming yet another surreal day, as the hopeful thirty-something woman across the street is checking her cumbersome watch every few moments. She seems anxious, flushed, excited; as if anticipating the Circus coming to town one last time. She feels her starched stiff neck with her extending left-hand fingers and flattens her M&S cotton dress down, for only the seventh time or so. Taking another drag on a cheap worn-out cigarette, you get the awful feeling he may not appear to her, not tonight. How long will she stand there, testing time you wonder? But he does fly round the corner, jumping at her in lightspeed fashion, and only a few minutes later than was promised by the text message she clearly failed to receive. She mouths to him, wildly 'I thought you weren't coming!' and he mouths back 'You don't get away that easy, baby'. Her nerves instantly disappear and soft hands are taken, and the evening begins. Like clockwork, for them.
-
Danny Saul - 'Clockwork' (7.41)
-
I've written a few times about Danny now, and I will not stop. He is a Saul Destroyer, truth. You should buy Danny's album here. And watching this Hotpants Romance cover might just put a smile on your face too.
-

When your spoken words no longer matter, Michael

2011-05-22T23:25:00.001+01:00

Well, to share this startling revelation or not? Sigh. I suppose it's just a spectacular lack of imagination on my part that the scariest dream I've had in a very long time involved me being chased through this plaice (har-de-obvious-har!) by someone who looks a lot like Michael Praed did in his mid-80s 'Robin of Sherwood' phase (was anyone else around these parts as devoted to that series as me? - and dare you admit to it? - and no it wasn't just to do with the music of Clannad). What makes this dream-fact a lot worse (heavens!) is that the reason this guy with the hair, the teeth and the smell was chasing me was to do with an unpaid tax bill (!). I mean, jeezo. Is that it? Have I turned into a sub-plot from an old George Lucas script? I think I really need to get out a lot more, and step away from that website (unsung hero or dastardly villian, views?). Anyway, normal service is now resumed and here is a wee Sunday mix; all instrumentals that are admired, adored and in need of your delicate ears. And on that sweet note, I am shutting the fuck up until next time (doubtless now off to a terrifying dream involving, er, Ryan Giggs, Mrs Slocombe and Jamie Oliver fighting it out over the recent IMF, um, vacancy...).

Claude Debussy - 'Clair de lune' (5.13)

The Reegs - 'Start to see' (5.59)

Boards of Canada - 'Chromakey dreamcoat' (5.48)

Faith No More - 'Midnight cowboy' (cover) (4.12)

Butcher Boy - 'Every other Saturday' (demo) (4.59)

I recall, when I first played this album not long after it came out, I actually thought I was listening to the sound of the future of everything that ever mattered to anyone I had ever known, and in such lovely notes as well. Gorgeous.

This is not the way I remember it here

2011-05-19T10:38:00.001+01:00

It's all about yesterday, she said, taking a short walk East to see the scarred geographies of where dead places, and their people, reside, waiting, we hope, to rise again. Those towering, sleeping giants of industry, sullen and morose in a comatose and redundant state. And true, the offices are all closed up - 'for staff training'. This does not fool anyone, let alone your fretful landlord. The assets are clearly stripped to the bleached bone, taken away for a new tomorrow. And so onto the Western front, papers clutched, pre-meetings had, questions hanging limp on the cracked lips of your so nervous mouth. Unfolding just as you thought it might, a rather unedifying affair; stage-managed performances that John Parish wishes he could claim as his own. A tale of two cities, right enough, with those living in the sky seeking closures, "disinvestment", and those scrimping in the dirt seeking to protect what they hold dear as their very own - disciplines, jobs, identities. No votes are asked for, none expected. This is 'consultation', after all, not a 'decision'. You will wait your turn, within twenty-two days. A bus back to town drops you, via a detour, to another location where you receive smiles and handshakes, not frowns and avoidances. In this fair venue you do not suffer from an intellectual leprosy. Indeed, whilst your very worth and existence was questioned, just hours ago in barren chambers, now your value is heralded and paraded in a stage-scene lifted from the Mercury Prize. The glitz and the glamour make for an end to a surreal experience, and day, but then again is this not the life we all live now? Temporary moments, drifting from experience to experience, building us up and knocking us down. I guess the best advice is to hang on tight and line up that last Tequila Rapido, my friends.

Icehouse - 'Street Cafe' (4.14)

All things Iva. This is breathtaking. In other news, I am finally listening to this band again; and I am handling it. I'm even going to see them play live in August (this time I will get a taxi home).

Wave goodbye to our thankless jobs

2011-05-14T20:01:00.005+01:00

-
Oh well then. We now know where many of us stand, in a non-technological fashion. And, I guess the fight to save disciplines, courses and jobs is very much on, in an immediate and directly-affected kind of way. The 'consultation' period on proposals to shut down four programmes (Geography, Music, Community Education and Sociology) at our 'place of useful learning' runs until June 10th. So, I'm afraid, I'll be more than a bit caught up in all of this 'Save Our Subjects' activity, from both a UCU and staff perspective. And, you know, despite the alluring title, my job isn't thankless at all; I actually love it more than I can ever hope to say and would much prefer not to be made redundant (just like everyone else out there staring this awful prospect in the face). Yes, the temptation to 'get out of this country' is great though, I confess, but I obviously won't, and I can't. The fight is on, as mentioned. Anyway, rather than bore you to a state of permanent sleep with my usual nasal whining and self-pitying anger, I rather suspect I will just limit my postings here, keeping them few and far between over the next couple of weeks. I will be pretty busy anyway, trying to stop this intellectual vandalism, and if I did get polemical on this page I'd just end up ranting or crying - and posting lots of tracks by this band, or perhaps this one. The favourites tend to be comforting in this hour of need, don't you think? In closing, I'll just offer my sincere apologies to the 17.4 readers who make a point-and-click pilgrimage to this, er, shrine (?) on a day-to-day basis and tell youse that I'm personally obsessing about everything Tracyanne right now as she just has a way of nailing that particular feeling (to a second-hand graduation gown) and shaking a really big pointy fucking stick at it.
-
Camera Obscura - 'Let's get out of this country' (session version) (2.46)
The Cryin' Shames - 'Please stay' (3.01)
-
Aye, to smile and blush in the presence of Tracyanne. The Cryin' Shames song is one of Carey's favourites, by the way.
-

A gilded eternity

2011-05-10T04:05:00.001+01:00

-
Life is all about the sweet and the sour, isn't it just? Well, some really good news: I'm going to be stewarding at Indietracks this year (thanks Dan!). And this wonderful news comes on the back of another lovely thing that made me weep, in a good way - I have been nominated for a Teaching Excellence award. The students themselves vote for this, via the Union, so that makes it particularly amazing, as well as rather staggering. However, the bad news, sigh, more than a few of us at work will find out (in a few hours time) if we still have something resembling meaningful employment or not. It is looking less than hopeful, I'm afraid to say, as many posts at my place of work will be subject to what they now call "early release". I tell you, neo-liberalism, and this ConDem coaltion, can just go eat a large bowl of dicks. It's difficult to sleep. I am feeling vulnerable, for the first time in, oh, about 48 hours or so. It's difficult to know quite what to do next. Except, perhaps, to make like Yosser... gizza job? I can do that? Now might just be the time to start that record label or, much more likely, write that novel... or, in fact, to play this song and try to get a hold on what's going to, the fuck, happen next...
-
Loop - 'Burning World' (demo version) (5.01)
-
Whether employed or redundant, this is one of the best albums you could possibly own, seriously.
-

When you're ending with diamond eyes

2011-05-08T07:30:00.004+01:00

-
I was forced to remember, years ago now, having an awkward conversation with an ex-best friend about the centrality of 'voice' on any given record; how vocals, lyrical delivery if you like, impacted on a song and how gender was so central to this 'performance'. He admitted, a bit sheepish, that he did not listen to much 'female' music (or rather, what I think he meant by this unfortunate expression, was music where female vocals take the centre stage). I was slightly taken aback by this revelation, though, I admit, his honesty made me think hard about my own listening habits and how central gender was to my choices and preferences. Anyway, I was reminded of this long-ago dialogue last night as I played 'Hounds of Love', for what must have been the many thousandth listen, after the visiting children were popped off to bed and the lovely Hendricks made an appearance. It is such a fine album, really. And it prompted the mini-mix below; songs where women, their 'female' vocals (uh oh, biological essentialism! danger! danger!), make the songs absolutely what they are. This is no more so than the included cover version, a pretty faithful take on a Hüsker Dü track from the 1987 'Warehouse: songs and stories' album. The change of gender, in a powerful way, turns a great song into a storming one, in my opinion, and Bob Mould also adored it apparently. As for Sandy, Cat and Laura. Sigh. You can just drift off, melt away to their incredible words and voices, especially Sandy's finely-observed story, told with pitch just so and perfection in every note. She would have been 64 a few weeks back, you know. Shed a tear, or three... with or without the Gin. x
-
Cat Power - 'Crossbones Style' (4.33)
Kate Bush - 'The Morning Fog' (2.38)
Laura Veirs - 'Ether Sings' (3.45)
Sandy Denny - 'Next Time Around' (4.24)
Heidi Berry - 'Up in the Air' (Hüsker Dü Cover) (3.15)
-
As a complete album, it is hard to beat this one. Go say hello.
-

Those were the days of eternal nights

2011-05-06T23:48:00.003+01:00

"But I remember the way you used to use your eyes
I remember your eyes and your thighs and
The jet black tights you wore underneath your long blue shirt
You bought second-hand to keep you dry on rainy nights
So who told you you were a country girl?
Who told you you were a country girl?
Star-crossed lovers headed for disaster
You took a lifetime on the morning after..."

You were always very photogenic, with those well-placed cheekbones and turny-up lips. I always wore terrible Oxfam jumpers and pretended to know how to smoke. And, she... well, P just told amazing stories about shagging Morrissey around the back of the Caird Hall in Dundee after that gig in 1985 (wishful thinking!). But, to be nearly honest, I don't miss Paisley one bit, not anymore. I think it's about kicking nostalgia, and 1988/89, into touch. It's about going forwards, in every particular sense, no? I mean, even G has moved on now, quite literally, to plough his younger fields of Barley. Life can change direction in an absolute instant, make no mistake about it. But, something about this song will always remind me of George Street, Friday night at the Union, and you.

The Bolshoi - 'Lindy's Party' (5.45)

An album to listen to, now and again. On rainy nights.

Just let me hang up there a while

2011-05-04T00:56:00.002+01:00

-
Live. Laugh. Love. Oh dear. And I think we have all wondered this at least nine times a day for the last sixteen years. Or so. What exactly, the fuck, is going on with my life right now? Two things have happened in the last 72 hours or so that, urgently, made me think about this song, and this version of it in particular. It’s more for Jackie’s spoken introduction, rather than the composition itself, to be accurate and honest, but still... have a listen, if you'd care to. I mean, there are no questions coming or anything like that. I just seem to be losing it, in short, just like Jackie did on the banks of River Nore, that is, An Fheoir, all those Doll By Doll years ago. Firstly, rather bizarrely, I was pulled over by three undercover cops at the train station the other night who told me that I (unfortunately) looked like a known drug dealer and they wanted to check my ID, just to be certain I wasn’t him. This was on the back of a pretty keich day, by the way, so I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry and so, instead, I asked them for their ID and got a bit fucking stroppy about mah civil liberties, being stopped, and all that jazz. And here is the news flash, folks - and it's a rather general, obvious kind of tip - never, never lose it at an undercover gavver. Sigh. And, even more so, just yesterday, I was at the skatepark with D and R watching them scootering away from the Bank Holiday and intact knees, trying to keep out of trouble, and this very reasonable kind of a guy, from behind me, said, West End poshly, ‘Excuse me, please’. He was on a space-age kind of bike that would cost me and you a month's salary, or whatever, and his partner and young child were also on mini-me techno-bikes, following on behind him as Loyal Tribe. I had one foot on the poorly-tarmaced path that winds its cheap way around the climbing frame and just said ‘Why, what have you done? Ah am no blocking your fucking way, pal’. He got stroppy with me, and rightly so. And I got very, very stroppy back at him. The guy peddled on, just like Luka Bloom did back in the early 90s, and his partner, on her way and chasing tails, shouted back, ‘No offence’. I bit my tongue, and then some. Anti-middle class violence. Jeezo. I don't know: I just seem to be picking, itching, for fights these days, for absolutely no reason at all, on the surface of it - feeling angry at something (myself?) I just can’t smell, touch, see, hold. Is it the emptiness? Me? Seriously, stay away. Please. I think I need to sort myself out, you know. Just like Jackie had to do when he had the biker jacket and the hair in a long ponytail... and he couldnae even say 'hello' to a passing stranger.
-
Jackie Leven - 'Marble City Bar' (live) (7.35)
-
Aye, brand new pal, this is something to listen to whilst you have a wee dram of this (if you sell the posh acoustic motorbike).
-

Trying to remember the last sane dream you ever had

2011-05-01T11:04:00.013+01:00

-
Well, just look at this comrades, there are no shambling or even jangling guitars involved this time around. OMG! WTF? Etc. The heavens may well implode. But, to be fair, I did make a firm promise a few weeks ago that these regular Sunday mixes wouldn't just be C86 indie-pop and/or early-90s shoegaze in nature, remember? And so I can now fulfill this bold promise. I suppose you could call this a 'dub'-type of mix (?) but I wouldn't be too sure about that sorely abused, rather hijacked, badge of dishonour these days. It has deep, historical and political connotations, you know, the purists would gaggle, weep and then attempt murder for the sake of musical mummification. Watch your backs out there. Thus, to safeguard my general health and well-being, I'll say no more except this: these are all fucking brilliant tracks whatever genre you want to place them in. Just listen; listen hard, listen deep and listen as if your wee-twee-free life depended on it. More jangle coming soon though, obviously... :)
-
Augustus Pablo - 'Tubby's Dub Song' (dub version 2) (3.40)
Cotti and Cluekid - 'Flashback' (5.52)
Burial - 'South London Boroughs' (5.05)
Eskimo Fox - 'Digital' (4.24)
Lee "Scratch" Perry - 'I Got the Groove' (5.28)
-
Out of all and everything, I guess, choosing this one long-player would be more than perfect to accompany your large glass of Hendricks - with added cucumber of course - this evening. Or is that a touch controversial, I wonder? The album selection, I mean. I thought it one of his best, actually.
-

So, does her boyfriend even know about you?

2011-04-29T09:26:00.009+01:00

-
Indulge me, please folks, but I really do love the fact someone found this tiny wee corner of the interweb by typing 'Anna Bulbrook boyfriend' into a popular search engine. You made my day, whoever you are, and it sure makes a change from the peeps that type in 'What should I do before my first kiss?' and end up here. Oh, the sweet and bitter irony. Anyway, for the record: 1) I have no insights regarding Anna's relationship/domestic situation right now but I hope she is very happy whatever it might be, and, 2) I think the very best idea is to just make sure you are first kissing someone who really deserves it. And remember to keep breathing, that's quite important as well, obviously. And, for a first kiss, absolutely no tongues, ok? Some things just need to develop in the fullness of time, you know. That's one of them.
-
The Airborne Toxic Event - 'Sometime around midnight' (live on Jimmy Kimmel) (4.22)
-
NB: link removed and replaced due to DCMA notice received on 02-05-11.
-
This strings-enhanced TV show performance of their cracking 'anthem for doomed romance' song is a splendid affair... the late-night drunken paranoia just speaks to you, no? Witness it here, and watch. You can also visit the band here and order their new album. It's just out. The photo of Anna was taken during soundcheck @ King Tuts, Glasgow (30-01-09). For a few more of the band, you can peek here.
-

Why are you looking so miserable now?

2011-04-27T02:23:00.001+01:00

-
Yeah. This is not such an incredible revelation. It's not exactly bordering on the profound or anything like that. But, likesay, I have always wondered if as much thought goes into the songs that are chosen to close albums with as much as those deep, vexed thoughts that are clearly given over to selecting what songs open long-players with, especially on a debut LP offering. You Dig? I would like to hope, and I imagine it is the case, that some serious debating goes on as to the exact order of what 'track' goes where, amongst not just the musicians intimately involved with the recording, oh no, but also those interested parties surrounding the first team, such as management, record labels, PR and so on. The closing song that sticks with me, in this regard, is entitled 'It's all mine' by World Party. Karl Wallinger just seems to completely 'let go', as the song builds to its natural conclusion; shifting from, literally, a whisper to a scream and then back to a fade-out whisper. And silence. His voice, you can absolutely hear this, is edging closer to the drowning abyss from about the first chorus... 'It's all mine, it's all mine, it's all mine... it's all my own fault.' It's an utterly mesmerising vocal delivery, in my opinion, and, yes, I would have written another fucking PhD to have witnessed him recording it live in the studio. Lots of blood, sweat and tears, I imagine, and not all of it his own I am sure. Wine as well, I think, lots and lots of red wine... drunk, spilled, pleasured. You can just picture Karl's mouth, his whole head and face actually, contorting, rasping and spitting to get those words out "just right". How many takes, I wonder? How many takes? On a perfect album, such as 'Private Revolution' (Chrysalis Records, 1986) clearly is, I just don't think any other song would have finished it off nearly as beautifully. Not to be too dramatic about it, of course, but I think it's the best full stop [.] I have ever heard in my entire musical life. What is your own full stop, if you have one? And why? Can I ask that? You?
-
World Party - 'It's all mine' (5.35)
-
A rather flash HQ, of sorts, is located here. This is something from the same long-player to watch. And you should, of course, buy this album. Yes.
-

But they can't take away the stars

2011-04-24T06:30:00.003+01:00

-
Eyes down, half asleep, fringe swept; celebrate your sheen and self and just bastard-well GAZE. Yes, whether you like it or not, there is always a certain era or moment (a movement?) that will try to define you and refuse to let go: tentacles gripped hard around those chords, pedals and headphones that speak to you of noises you possess. This will happen at gunpoint, usually. And also when the red wine flows. You return to those soundtracks seeking a solace and comfort lacking in what you hear around you today, last night, a month ago; a longing that is familiar in memory and practice. For even if you hide the CDs at the back of the cheap Ikea storage 'unit', in a vague attempt to play something else for a change, you will still unearth the Hut, 4AD or Creation treasures when the detective work starts. If you were lucky - and, um, are quite old - you'll no doubt remember that Ride used to take to the stage with 'Fyt' floating (yes, floating) through the PA system. They insisted. And it just worked brilliantly, in that developing, layered, building-to-reach-a-plateau kinda way. It was a 'must' for Side A, Track 1 of many a compilation tape. Often, such a start would require a less-than-novel shift into various players within that London ('Syndrome' on Oxford St) scene that celebrated itself. Ride, of course, and Moose as well. Guitars a howling, lyrics a mumbled, and grim punters posed as statues for the dancing never even started, not once. The Wallasey Boo folks, up North, were a bit different to the posh Thames Valley lot, and they changed focus after that first album, but nothing can take away from the raw effects terror of 'Ichabod and I'. And yes, I was tempted by the cheap and nasty lures of 'Outdoor miner', as a cover to finish on, but sometimes asexual silly pop is exactly what you want, the fucking most.
-
This Mortal Coil - 'Fyt' (4.24)
Ride - 'Chelsea girl' (2.58)
The Boo Radleys - 'Walking 5th carnival' (4.35)
Moose - 'Jack' (3.43)
Lush - 'Chirpy chirpy cheep cheep' (cover) (2.39)
-
One of the very few essential albums, really. We can't be friends, unless...
-

When you're the one that I've kept closest

2011-04-22T10:42:00.004+01:00

I hate to confess this, really, even in the relatively safe and warm confines of The Flying Duck, but I suppose it's useful to state that the brief fling that was Northern Picture Library... well, it has been my least favourite offering from Bobby Wratten (so far, anyway). And I don't really know why. It just seemed forced and unenjoyable, for the musicians involved I mean. What with stage fright, depression, addictions... not very surprising, I suppose. Also the music itself - what happened? - it seemed disconnected and aloof even, and the songs incomplete, in parts. Too ambient, missing meaning, feelings, guitars... But, saying that, I do like the song featured below. It takes a while to get going but then has some direction to it. 'Least favourite'. Ha. What a great expression that is. A bit like hearing the immortal phrase, 'I love you, mostly...'. Anyway, I guess I'm saying these words as I'm wondering out loud what Bobby is going to do next. You'll know, I'm sure, this was the last long-playing release from Trembling Blue Stars. Sigh. It's a perfect album and I guess it's good to go out on a high with some amazing pop songs. But... what next? It's just about the waiting, really. Isn't it Aggi? Meantime, yes, I'll just go and watch some old Pastels songs on YouTube and play that xx album to death. After all the hype, you know, it really is a great record. Not boring at all.

Northern Picture Library - 'Catholic Easter Colours' (7.09)

Just trying to be topical, in a calendar year kind of way. This is at least one version of certain events. To be purchased, here. It's worth hearing, honest.

You will know me better than I even know myself

2011-04-19T19:40:00.001+01:00

-
The odd thoughts we can have at the strangest of times. Earlier today, walking across campus, and without a prompt from the music of chance (aka Ipod shuffle), this one audio-memo came back to whisper in my ear: what would this song sound like with lyrics attached? What would the words even speak of? A tragic lover caught in a relentless downtown New York crossfire? A hopeful adventurer looking for an escape route amongst the snowy peaks of Iceland? A surreal haunting within an old creaky, spider-filled house in rural France? And, even more specifically, what kind of magical words would be best placed at those wee magical 'lifts' at 59 seconds and at 2 minutes and 37 seconds? Is 'lifts' even a technical term? How could words make those acoustic moments even better? Could they? Well, as we all know, some songs are just better off without words. I think, quite possibly, this is one of them. Anyway, you tend to create your own ryhmes, meanings, beats and constructions, to fill the gaps and spaces, if you really have to. And, fade out; to a repeat.
-
Ashbourne's Strongest Man - 'Different people hear different things' (4.05)
-
My very favourite label, after Sarah. Please buy their lovely records. Please.
-
PS. Just when I thought the stupid, huffy, pedantic signs going up in the kitchen at work could not even even moar tetchy...
-

The dancers inherit the party

2011-04-17T11:34:00.002+01:00

-
It's quite reassuring, I find, how familiar, remembered moments can come back to tap you on the shoulder via disturbed sleep patterns and half-awake dreams. And not just the awful regrets you try to bury away or the times that you know, deep down, you fucked it all up. A couple of nights ago I was transported back to a former University life, when I was on the other side of the counter. A humble padawan. Before venturing off into the anthropological field, I took heed of the wisdom of one of my supervisors, Judith Okely. It was a rather more considered wisdom than what was offered to the graduate students of Alfred Kroeber ('take a pencil and a notebook'). Amongst the many points of guidance, she begged me to use all the senses - to try and not be so dependent on my eyes - and to keep my mouth shut and ears open for at least a wee while. Smell and touch, she demanded, were just as important whilst engaged on fieldwork duties. She was absolutely right, of course, and I find, in a very real way, this is a 'code' (if we can call it that) not just for anthropological study. It is, actually, a way of life. Our eyes can sometimes fool us, play tricks, we all know this. Needless to say I am a terrible practitioner of such a multi-sensory (as well as disciplinary) approach to the social world but I am learning. Touch, especially, is something I'd miss more than any words could describe. Like when saying goodbye to a close friend or when comforting your child, those moments of holding on, and then letting go. Anyway, with such dull words out of the way here are some songs to give over to your various senses. Dancing is very much encouraged though, true, The Sugargliders cover version of the classic Sea Urchins song might induce a few tears, and more. It is a beautiful version though. And it lets me point to Stephen's residence, in a fairly natural way.
-
(We Are) Performance - 'Vandals' (4.04)
Clor - 'Outlines' (4.33)
All Natural Lemon and Lime Flavors - 'When things come falling' (3.43)
Club 8 - 'Close to me' (2.27)
The Sugargliders - 'Please rain fall' (cover) (2.18)
-
Worth your adoration, completely. Make an Order. Speaking of University life, I do hope you are watching, and falling over yourself in appreciation of, this new series? So near the not actually very surreal bone it hurts. The VC is clearly based on.... (insert high profile name of your own caddish and libelous choice).
-

You sent the moment back to be redone

2011-04-16T01:04:00.004+01:00

You, perhaps? Well, you might know how it is? Just like that early-90's poorly edited script from Lynne, featuring impossibly cast actors? You get a strange text from an old friend, one you haven't seen in a very long time. It's a Round-Robin 'please sponsor me on this impossible feat I'm about to undertake' kind of thing. The cause, for sure, is noble and just. Then you get another text asking to meet up for a coffee. Tinderbox is the venue, as ever. And then, when you do meet up, taking some rather scarce time out (at this time of year it is precious, at least) and it's all just rather, weep, fake plastic trees and their parting shot - hit me sideways and then full frontal - is that they tell you, in a pretty direct way, that you look 'empty'. Sigh. Yeah. So. I think is goodbye, then? Or should I reconsider the expression, and, indeed, the reality. Was the put-down just a self-check warning? Am I, actually, 'empty'? I mean, pffffffft, filled in or not, the point is that even Tom Vek's long-mythologised return to pop-music-making couldn't cheer me up right now. Oh? What's that you say? Come closer and listen? A few seconds, here.

Tom Vek - 'A little word in your ear' (live @ KCRW) (3.48)

So, yes, after a wee while, everything's now gone green, and all systems are fucking Thunderbirds go. Hurrah!

Unless it's got that "thing"

2011-04-14T00:01:00.001+01:00

'A poetic licence costs fucking lives!', he screamed at the ducks by the Green who were just ruffling feathers whilst minding their own business. And, fucking hell, that's not something you'd ever hear in a bar South of where Peter Morris first made his rightful claim. Anyway, red (marking) pen in hand, this is just another one-dimensional and/or cardboard cut-out "thing"; a stand-alone example of a song, you know the kind, one of those four-minute stories where some pretentious and cryptic words have been threatening to spill for a wee while now but those words, and - I implore you - how typical is this?, specifically related to another divinely tense and shrill version of the song; one that you wisely gave away in the name of something far more important than your self-respect and clubcard points. Not the version that follows below, where the oh-so-important shimmerings begin at 22 seconds instead of 18. Oh no. But another version. One that was, some years back, played live at a famous hotel on distant shores, on the Parramatta Road to be exact. Over ten thousand miles away, that is, and yet you could hear it perfectly sitting by the shore near Ferryden, Montrose harbour, as the moon fell into the broken crab pots that had been served a P45. You will mind the time, a graffiti-enhanced train toot-tooted at youse all as you downed the Beetie jar mix in a one-fell-scoop. And you, you were so far from home, in every kind of existential and self-hating kind of way. Bauman could only lead you by the finger-tips to the shores of acceptance - 'collateral damage' he is now calling it in his latest postcard to the adoring masses - and yet despite those injuries you called to me, once. Please now. Just rest those haunting, spoken, sweet sung sounds. Just let them go. Away. Avoid the dropbox, speak to staff inside. And there is still something about this other version, this deadened, locked-in-a-booth with a broken mirror and a pint of red wine for struggle and forced company: yes, this "take", this "mix"... well, it brings you back to the forgotten shoogily table near the unattractive end of the Byker Wall, where friends once sat and over cigarettes and cheap gin ('in teacups') discussed politics, music, sex and laughter. The important things mattered back then. And you joked to me about how those were not your favourite numbers. The 8 by 8 by 8 kind. It was another equation altogether, with an unrevealed Guardian crossword type of impossible answer. My calculator simply fizzed and burned. It was an answer that came to involve a fair dose of soured, cold tea and very little Dutch sympathy. The door on courage was firmly closed. The song left the building with him instead of her. Or was it her instead of him? Anyway, that's exactly how it happened, officer. But, please, where do I sign the release form as I'm not quite ready to leave 'the visual world' just yet. No.

Life Without Buildings - 'Love Trinity' (7" studio version) (4.17)

And they are out of town by now. Just like me. And you. Such a brief stay. And ruined by cunting Belle and Sebastian fans, if you believe the online (and local) rumours and gossip. It would be useful if you possessed this record. Yes, this one. Or at least be able to say 'I was there' with an honest, beating heart. But the fast blood clots like cream. And you faint, again. Gone.

This post, though not particularly worthy, is dedicated to my very good friend, Jim, whose own best friend recently passed away. Take good care, JC. Believe in the music and the memories. x

It's too late for you, it's too late for me

2011-04-11T06:38:00.002+01:00

'No Dancing' featuring The Scottish Enlightenment / Miaoux Miaoux / Male Pattern Band, live @ The Admiral Bar, Glasgow, 09-04-11.

Fuck. Too late. Again. Fuck. These gigs that are over by 10pm. You'd think I'd know the score by now. So, alas, I missed Male Pattern Band and thus can't comment (apologies to the band, and to you) but I did manage to hurriedly tap my size ten feet to Miaoux Miaoux (AKA Julian Corrie) and stare at my weathered shoes and nod my Morrissey-sized head to The Scottish Enlightenment. Truth be told, if I hadn't had my (pretty fancy for a total amateur) camera with me, or been so stupidly self-conscious, I would have danced my fucking arse off to Miaoux Miaoux (even though it was a 'No Dancing' night, officially, this music is very, very appropriate shaking your tailfeather stuff, I tell you). And where to begin? Well, comparisons have ranged from Mogwai (eh?) to Four Tet (bit more like it) but, funnily enough for me, I hear a slightly more pop-dancy and less indie bass-centric Tom Vek. But perhaps this is my long-standing frustration at the fact it has been, what, FIVE years now since 'We Have Sound' (Universal/Island) blew everyone away and, still, there is no follow-up. Sigh. Anyway, the Miaoux Miaoux set is astoundingly good, powered by whispery vocals, subtle guitar work and a table full of intricate bleep-bleep boxes and flashing-light gadgets that look as if they could probably assist a future NASA launch. Julian clearly has more than just one pair of hands to make it all look so annoyingly easy. A difficult act to follow. But someone had to. The Scottish Enlightenment, by comparison, slow things down. An awfy lot. And this is no bad thing and, further, it actually goes to show that this is a very interesting pairing, even though, on the face of it, the bands seem miles apart from one another in terms of approach, reach, sounds et al. The bulk of the Enlightenment set is taken from the wonderful long-player 'St . Thomas' (Armellodie Records), for many folks around and beyond the Central Belt one of the albums of last year. As ever, I am struggling to find better words than 'brooding', 'melancholy' or 'contemplative' to describe the types of glorious noise this band make. This is, doubtless, due to a serious lack of imagination on my part. The pace is slow whilst the lilting (or is that wafting?) vocals, from David Moyes, raises both spirits and hopes. 'Earth Angel / With Sticks in Crypts' sets the mood and tone perfectly whilst the closing few minutes of 'The First Will be Last', in its looped and repetitious way, sends you into a kind of hypnotic, swaying trance (not so great if you are trying to take pictures of shoes, faces or the neck of a guitar). 'Necromancer', a song so convincing and persuasive it needs a health-warning attached, is a highlight and one to hum on the way home. And home it is, just after 10pm, avoiding the lassies in short skirts, too much make-up and screeching like banshees, as well as the 'pumped-up' boys in short sleeves, who, as ever, just want to fight (or fuck) anything with a pulse and drink as much as they can through any available orifice. And then there is the Polis, desperately, trying to contain it all with a withering, emasculated look that is already admitting complete defeat. Glasgow on a Saturday night. You can't alcopop beat it, so they say.
-
Miaoux Miaoux - 'Montefiore' (live mix) (5.10)
The Scottish Enlightenment - 'Necromancer' (5.14)
-
Miaoux Miaoux is here and The Scottish Enlightenment are here. You should buy their records and go see them play. You can find Male Pattern Band, in true pirate fashion, where X marks the spot. With thanks, again, to Callum at KMR.
-

A late walk home down London Road

2011-04-10T09:41:00.000+01:00

-
It's just that time of year, I'm afraid, where marking essays, book reviews, portfolios and dissertations takes over my (working and not-working) life. Yesterday, for example, as the sun made a very rare appearance in Glasgow, I was a long-term resident in a friendly cafe for five hours wondering whether or not that really good paper was actually plagiarised or not (Google assured me it was not). So, I'm afraid, I literally have nothing of any interest to say except things like 'Actually, I think that one is 58% rather than 62%', 'Why has everyone written their dissertation on student drinking habits this year rather than football hooliganism?' and 'I need to mark this down, with a penalty applied, as you submitted your work two weeks late and being "busy at work", especially without a medical note, doesn't really cut the mustard'. And such related musings. All to myself. Sigh. Anyway, this is a wee Sunday compilation, as is becoming a certain habit around these digitalised parts, and I hope you like it, or at least bits of it. If nothing else it starts - and ends - in a fairly uplifting and depressing kind of way. Equally so, as it is all about balance, I reckon. And why change the habit of a lifetime?
-
The Field Mice - 'This is not here' (live) (5.42)
The Rosaries - 'Leaving' (4.04)
Jeniferever - 'Lives apart' (6.53)
The Wedding Present - 'Bewitched' (KEXP session) (6.15)
Steve Adey - 'I see a darkness' (cover) (4.41)
-
Worth visiting, buying and watching. Cannae wait. This is also unmissable, but only in a retrospective and/or time-travel type of way. Weep.
-

Tragedy queen, well you set the scene

2011-04-08T10:36:00.006+01:00

-
Me (aged 40): So what did you think of that song then? Did you like it?
Him (aged 11): He sounds a bit sad and depressed.
Me: Why do you say that?
Him: Perhaps he just realises he can't sing very well?
Me: That's a bit unfair!
Him: But it is true.
Me: ...
-
So who were Gentle Despite? Well, they were mainly Simon Westwood and Paul Gorton. At least one of them could sing a little bit. They came from Leeds. The song below was the third track on their second, and what would be final release entitled 'Torment to me' (Sarah 45). It came out in 1991. The last three minutes of this song... where to even begin? It just shows me the way home, you know. The path is lit up by the shimmering guitars, the tiptoeing bass, and, I'm convinced of this, the restrained xylophone or glockenspeils or vibraphone etc. I mean, even more than that spectacular Peel Session recording by The Field Mice (which will be the subject of a future essay from myself, soon), it represents, in a perfect form, everything I love and adore about this kind of music. You are sent to another time, where you can just close your eyes and be at (relative) peace with yourself and others. The voices, yes, they do stop sometimes. I guess, overall, this music is my version of those click-clacky Executive Toys that sit on oversized desks in large office blocks. You know, the ones that are supposed to prevent stress from taking over and, rather ambitiously, preventing heart attacks. Anyway, shutting the fuck up for a moment, if you decide to chance a listen, I recommend headphones, to catch the creeping nuances and devious interplay - those tiny wee subtle bits that fall inbetween the hops, jumps and cracks of an ageing piece of vinyl. For that is, indeed, what it is made of. Another time, another place, our Sarah.
-
Gentle Despite - 'Shadow of a girl' (6.35)
-
PS. Unusually, for me, the image above has nothing to do with the words or the music. It's the holidays right now and I was just out with D and R (and their visiting Granny) the other day and noticed the pin-on-thingie in this gift shop. It just made me laugh. Out loud. And I even smiled.
-

It's over in Little Portugal, on Dundas Street West

2011-04-06T23:46:00.000+01:00

So, yeah, I'm thinking for dinner I'd probably order the Nachos, or perhaps Jenny's Tofu Scramble if it's closer to a weekend breakfast time when I make it over. A $4 Mocha sounds good, to finish things off nicely. I wonder if the jukebox is as awesome as they say it is? And what might be coming next, Katie, once that fucking millstone of a contract is finally null and void? How are things shaping up with Vanessa anyway? Sigh. All these questions. I'm just your curious fan-boy on the other side of the water, and I'm sorry for all the out-loud wonderings, like. I just miss the possibility of new music, mostly. And looking up at you, stage left, through the lens of a camera. And I miss the talking too, obviously, telling folks how you might change even a small part of their black and white world, with your lyrics, look and attitude.

Mermaids - 'Say you're alive' (live) (3.57)

The place to be, in Toronto. Is the RPM Club still on the go? Watch over here.

The walls close in and I need some noise

2011-04-04T11:35:00.002+01:00

Live review: Dum Dum Girls @ Stereo, Glasgow, 03-04-11 (with support from Top Dollar and Mazes)

'Their tights are way better than their music' some (predictably male) cunt once said about Dum Dum Girls. Well, true, the tights (it's a uniform, get it?) are pretty amazing, but no one was saying they trumped the music in Stereo the other night. And, fucking hell, these sounds, pummeling you in the chops from the word go. It is relentless, brilliant and you just can't take your eyes off front woman Kristin Gundred ('Dee Dee'). Her gnarling, spitting, contorted face as she throws out another lyrical put-down, demanding not to be forgotten... she eyes you with a look befitting a sweet and tender 8th grade serial killer. It's also a music that has instant hooks and a foot-tapping warmness to it: a fascinating blend of Spectorish 60's girl group harmonies and 80's feedback/buzzsaw pop guitars. Think of, perhaps, The Crystals or The Ronettes getting it on with the VU and the Mary Chain. Or Spaceman 3 playing the part of Siouxsie's (or Patti's) backing band. But, in a more complex truth, they are just themselves and they carry the sound and the look of a band on the rise, much like support band Mazes who also delivered a confident set, coming over like a transnational, and a lot more coherent and together, Dinosaur Jr. The Dum Dum Girls set was mainly taken from last year's full-length album 'I will be' (Sub Pop, 2010) as well as tracks from the early EP 'Yours alone' (Captured Tracks, 2009) and the new EP release 'He gets me high' (Sub Pop, 2011). A couple of new songs ('Lavender haze' and 'Teardrops') got an enthusiastic reception, especially from the tweenie-punk Glasgow hipster fan-grrrrls dancing down the front, and the one-song encore, 'There is a light that never goes out' needs no introduction here. As a cover it plays out well, though truthfully it's better on the new EP than handled live (the subtle aspects of the song, and the sheer beauty of it, gets a little lost with the effects pedals and the haste to finish the set). Dum Dum Girls play Leeds tonight and London tomorrow, so why not go see them harmonise, in a sun-soaked, blissed out, buzzsaw kind of way. Their only way is up, Baby.

Dum Dum Girls - 'Hey Sis' (2.15)

Dum Dum Girls - 'Bhang Bhang, I'm a burnout' (2.34)

Dum Dum Girls - 'He gets me high' (3.00)

Go visit the Girls and go buy all their records. You might want to watch this or this.

With thanks to Callum at KMR Promotions.

A Freudian slip is when you say one thing but mean your mother

2011-04-03T12:48:00.002+01:00

-
Oh to be quite so traditional on a day like today. Yes, indeed, I count myself as quite lucky in that not only do I have some really nice photographs of my mum but we also have quite a good relationship, to this day, even with all the ups and downs that our lives have taken over the years. Some things can and do endure, thankfully. In terms of snaps, I think this is the one I like most of all: captured as a bright young thing, just starting out with my dad. Cigarette in hand, trailer door open. A wide, non-rehearsed, smile. Happy Mother's Day, to you. And to you: this mix is dedicated with a deep love and an eternal gratitude. x
-
Blueboy - 'Popkiss' (4.18)
The Neville Brothers - 'Sons and daughters' (reprise) (4.09)
Loki - 'Words we never said' (4.53)
The Organ - 'Memorize the city' (Simon Bookish remix) (3.48)
Pernice Brothers - 'Up the down escalator' (The Chameleons cover) (3.59)
-
Support Mister Loki. Him of Glasgow. Buy. Am off to see Dum Dum Girls this evening. Here.
-

You just smile and frown in equal measure, boys

2011-03-31T13:22:00.005+01:00

'But it's not fucking NICO!' they all scream as one, ramming B&Q pitchforks into your rear defenses and calling your Mum very rude names. Well, no, it's not Nico, obviously, but it is Debsey. And whether you love it or hate it, you have to admire the sheer audacity and/or bravery and/or stupidity (you can take your pick) for daring to even interpret such a seminal tune as this, way back in 1978 of all times. I absolutely love this Captain-Sensible-Approved version, personally, and would attempt to boldly counter those £34.98 pitchforks with a full bathtub of burning oil and a moderate insult or two about your little brother's girlfriend. She really does have false coloured eyes, by the way. And she tried to snog me that New Year's eve, you know, the one where you collapsed at 11pm because you drank far too much Bacardi and coke (with ice). You need to deal with it, bro. I know she told you all about it the next day, without much spin.

Dolly Mixture - 'Femme Fatale' (3.04)

Visit / Buy

I grew up believing in people who tried

2011-03-29T10:48:00.001+01:00

-
Your body is your weapon, these days, as your words no longer hurt me. And, so, it's that time at the traintracks. Again. A drunken suit, looks a bit like a younger, more disheveled, Robert Palmer, sprawled over the table. 'Smells like a brewery', as she across the way would say, with a gin-soaked, fuzzy-felt, grin. There are interesting cufflinks on display, Pixies-related merchandise, I foolishly surmise. A clutched Blackberry won't save him, as it has been dropped once too often already. Cracked and worn, like his beaten liver. That's all directly in front of me. Over the aisle, on the left, is Geoffrey Archer's body-double, UGH!, a battered briefcase glued to his lap with a bruised-looking Daily Mail sitting on top. And then up a bit, again over the aisle, is the River Cottage guy, you know, with the name no one can ever recall. Not Specsaver spectacles, Cadbury's curls and a Home Counties accent. He has expensive headphones in, always, and an XL Twix slammed in his mouth in an uber-suggestive manner. The conductor is totally chancing his arm, getting over-familiar with a stick-thin beauty in fading denim shorts and sheer black tights. Housewifes are in this four-by-four too, and they sit and incest-joke about sprawled cufflinks guy whilst trading mobile videos of the grandkids they'll never see who reside on the other side of the world, far-far-away. Technology, you see, it can change everything and nothing. This distance only from ourselves. Uh, anyway, this is a great song. You should buy it. And don't get on a train drunk. Ever. I will only see you with my camera-shy peepers and tell the Stepps-bound tale, I swear.
-
Underground Railroad - 'Russian doll' (3.48)
-
Off the rails. Buy a ticket. Meh.
-

They walk away quietly into empty spaces, trying to close the gaps of the past.

2011-03-27T11:03:00.001+01:00

Well, it's another listless Sunday and I am attempting to stick to the hopeful promises - those that were made days and days ago now - of putting together a little compilation tape, in an electronic format, on such a hazy day of the week as this pleasant one. As for the music, well, it's a whole lot of twee once more, I'm afraid, but I hope you won't complain too much. I mean, it really is the kind of stuff I do actually listen to. Like, all of the fucking time. Hard to believe, I know. It's worth pondering: how can one so old, grumpy and cynical endure music so refreshingly simple, fun and somewhat apolitical. It does not compute, this sweet addiction to a naive melody, limp handclaps and ultra-cute lyrics. What is wrong with me? Should I not be listening to Kings of Leon or something? So, anyway, a wee thumbs up if you like it, aye. For I have little else to say right now. I am far too busy being, in general terms, a bit hopeless as well as attempting to be forgetful. About pretty much everything in fact. Furthermore, it is worth stating for the record, I am being a bit clumsy too (just like her, him, them).

Bunnygrunt - 'Big fake out' (1.45)

Fireflies - 'The dunes' (3.07)

The Besties - 'Sweden song' (3.00)

When I was 12 - 'Kitten I'm smitten' (2.09)

The Sunny Street - 'Blackberries' (2.27)

And I say, finally, give all your $$$ or £££ to this delightful band. Yes, I was watching this one again. Thus, pictures of land, sea and sky. And meaningful text.

Behind every great fortune there is a great crime

2011-03-24T20:32:00.001Z

-
Balzac said that, apparently. And he was way too uncool for this particular school, that's for sure. And I can also confess, in a self-knowing way, that my life has never been like the film 'Submarine', even during its most dark, "ironic" and failed moments. I am obviously quite glad about this fact though as I can't ever imagine telling a girlfriend, even in hushed tones, 'My mum gave a handjob to a mystic'. I mean, as an excuse for outlandish behaviour it's a bit rubbish really. Having said that, today my life was a lot like this fucking-awesome-and-under-two-minutes song played on repeat for about ten hours and thirty five minutes. And, before you ask, no, I have no idea how long the mystic ('I am a prism') lasted. I wasn't watching and anyway I'd left my chicken-shaped eggtimer at home. Play loud. Leave the quote marks alone. Do, please, continue.
-
Mazes - 'Most Days' (1.47)
-
Mazes are playing here on April 3 (supporting Dum Dum Girls). Pre-order some great stuff here.
-

And there were no bounds

2011-03-22T20:21:00.001Z

-
'Oh, give me this day....'. It's another form of music, with an epic poetic purpose only heard in tears and whispers; and it is captured by a chance meeting, a brief interlude of reassuring clarity that you are not losing your grip on life at all. No. The truth reveals itself with a certain distance offered. And, really, it's exactly the right kind of sound for moments in the wilderness, like these we see before us now. Yes, on a crisp Spring day, a bedsheet of memories tells it's own sorry tale and is enough to send you running over bridges and water, to re-visit the previously known territory of hope and longing... to move it along... and on... there is just something about the sea-cliff drama and the tight-wire tension that exists in this piece of music. It jaggers and shakes and curls itself around you. You are wishing that the single-held note that goes on and on and on would just fade out and tip it's cap as it leaves. To give you some peace, as your ex-lover promised. Yet it continues to a frenzy, literally dripping down the back of your neck, a coldness engulfing your pores as Rupert takes his place in a steel-cased heart. And the 19th Century imagery of the worlds imagined is matched only by the sheer desperation of the way Simon Huw Jones projects himself into the stage production being played out before us, obviously with the lights held low and those white shirt sleeves drooping and swaying in a bathed red light. It's simply stunning. This music. It breaches those false borders between genres, what you might think of as 'post-punk' or 'goth' or 'alternative', and what you always assumed was 'opera' or 'chamber-pop'. I'll take it all on, anyway, this connection to a mood and a desire.
-
And Also The Trees - 'Prince Rupert' (studio) (4.38)
And Also The Trees - 'Prince Rupert' (live) (4.53)
-
Their glorious non-cuddlecore (and yet hopelessly romantic) album, 'Farewell to the Shade', is near impossible to locate at a reasonable price so this has to be an acceptable alternative, I suppose. And the main event is still to come. Dream on, soulghouls.
-

There are times in love that you must be on the right side and lose

2011-03-20T10:37:00.001Z

It's true that such obvious words have been said by a few commentators over the years: the one 'Giant' that William Beveridge rather ignored in his famous 1942 Report was cynicism. Not in the original Greek philosophical sense, of course, but, instead, some of the more contemporary interpretations of the term and how the practical manifestations of cynicism came to rule, it seems, the fucking world. You know, 'jaded negativity' and all that FUN DAY jazz. It's quite easy to see why this destructive element should have a large Acme Corporation target written on its Road Runner back. The day-to-day fuck-ups of late-capitalist society, especially in workplace (not to mention global) locations and settings, does kind of ensure that viewing the social world through any other kind of 'lens' is now regarded as being a bit foolish and naive. You are a jackass, get it? I mean, even on a personal level, and I really don't know why, but I have never suffered from jealousy. Ever. Not in a relationship sense at least (and this has caused 'issues' in the past). Ok, so, professionally I might have felt a small prang of it when reading a perfect sentence from someone like her or him. But cynicism? It is the jittery monkey on my itchy back. It's almost a daily battle to try and work around this view of the world; to stop yourself from falling into the emotional traps put out by the baying crowds to try and snag your dragging limbs of hope. To believe in something 'real', anything that makes life slightly more bearable and 'doable'. But, aye, try we must. For it's not judgement that defeats us all. Oh no. It's cynicism. And with that wee footnote about nothing now presented, I give you some (hopefully) uncynical and uplifting pop. The Wham! cover by The Garlands is especially shambolic and silly. Just what you need, sometimes. Aye. Onwards, upwards. Eh?
-
Slow Down Tallahassee - 'The beautiful light' (3.13)

Very Truly Yours - 'I'd write you a song' (3.12)

Summer Cats - 'Let's go!' (2.14)

Hari and Aino - 'Your heartache and mine' (4.15)

The Garlands - 'Freedom' (cover) (2.10)
-
I'd suggest doing the right thing by this band. It's a cracking album. I do heart twee records with a lot of swearing in them, I've decided.
-

For they get the better even of their blunders

2011-03-17T22:38:00.001Z

-
So you went out to an unfamiliar Montauk searching for something other than yourself. But what did you hope to find in that particular wilderness... aside from an empty beach in February and a girl with ever-changing coloured hair? Her footprints spiral in the sand, yes, and they will happen to dissolve in a lost time as suddenly as they once appeared. This is the just way of it, as you all know, and those memories - those itemised Durkheimian totemic entities that you scrunch up your bleeding eyes so harshly for - well, they should just be put away for another time, I fear. And was there anything else to find out East, at the end of the forgotten line? This is not some game, you know, it's just a beginning and an ending wrapped into a drunken message where she screams at you, in a confusing, silent, apathetic rage, 'I've moved on, and so must you'.
-
David Sylvian - 'Brilliant Trees' (acoustic and live, Berlin, 03-09-95) (3.49)
-
Hard won wisdom. Over three years. Just erase me. Aye.
-

An enemy always equals an adorer

2011-03-15T14:03:00.000Z

-
And so it all started, in our little town, as it meant to go on; in hushed reverential tones. I do remember the need, the urgency, to get to this place, to 'break for the border', some 176 miles or so away in a place called Leeds, England. It was a spontaneous round-trip to pay my respects to the esteemed visitors from over the water, some ten thousand miles away. It was a low-key affair. Not a sell-out. There was minimal fuss on a stage that seemed to be looking ahead to a peaceful retirement. Around the venue, it was men, mostly men, just like me, who had seen their better years come and go in a fell, badly-timed, swoop. Their ancient cotton trophies, with a few holes here and there, a dusky black colour now a washed-up grey, pulled over swollen torsos and inflated bellys, and hair a little lacking where it matters most. Notebooks in hand. Glasses twitching. Beards stroked. Just waiting for the beginning. And these men, just like me, who had grown-up with Oceanic sounds in their ears, were fading backwards, for at least an evening, to a time when a simple chord from MWP's instrument and a deepened, story-told, lyric from SK could make your tiny heart shiver, quake, explode. That night of magical numbers, the Twenty-First of February Two Thousand and Two, they opened with this song and it was met with open mouths and held-in breaths. Drinks put to the floor. And the quietness... there was a respectful quietness that I have never heard at any concert before or since. So hush now, all youse, and dare to listen to this beauty.
-
The Church - 'Radiance' (live) (6.00)
-
After everything. Now this. Something to buy.
-
Setlist: The Church @ 'Break for the Border', Leeds, England, 21-02-02: Radiance, Comedown, Song for the Asking, Buffalo, Under the Milky Way, After Everything, Chromium, Myrrh, A New Season, Numbers, Night Friends, Electric Lash, Swan Lake, Metropolis, Encore: Magician Among the Spirits Encore 2: Hotel Womb, Constant in Opal.
-

A structure that serves to support something

2011-03-13T10:36:00.000Z

-
So, I am thinking, in a between the bars waiting-in-for-a-new-fridge-freezer-to-be-delivered kind of way, that every Sunday will now see a five song mini-mix being presented in these here parts. It'll be a slightly more coherent and 'low-fat' version of what happens every now and then, when I can be fussed, over at 8tracks. I hope this is considered to be acceptable? And I promise the mixes won't all be so terribly twee. You sometimes have little choice in the kind of music you love though, eh? <3
-
Tiger Trap - 'Prettiest boy' (3.16)
Go Sailor - 'I'm still crying' (2.33)
Fat Tulips - 'Take me back to heaven' (1.07)
Free Loan Investments - 'Ronan Keating' (2.47)
Strawberry Story - 'Made of stone' (cover) (3.44)
-
I'd actively encourage you to buy anything and/or everything recorded by this great band. Alas, they were only around for a year or so but, woah, just the best sound. Really.
-

All the guys out there, trying to act like Al Green

2011-03-10T21:27:00.002Z

-
Random thoughts, leaving most work issues to the side for a moment.
-
Not really trying, are you? / When I was 16, and saw this film, I wanted to be just like him. Including the shoes. He was my favourite, for sure. / I'm thinking that the opening line to this song might just be the best opening line to any song ever. Don't you think? / This book, I swear, is like air and water. You can breath it. You can swim in it. Honestly. It will change your mind on a few things. / Why do people in front of me never seem to stay around, even for 0.5 seconds, to hold the door open? Am I so quiet they don't even notice me? / Today, at the big lecture, I mentioned at the end that it was my penultimate class. They awwwwww'd. I nearly wept I was so grateful to hear that sound. It had been a wee while. / This is just beyond awesome. BUY. / A very perfunctory posting with second-class stamp attitude, I know, but there you have it. / Next.
-
The Arrogants - 'Shellshock' (cover) (3.14)
-
The proper one, likesay.
-

These are the riches of the poor

2011-03-08T08:25:00.000Z

-
These days. You look around and it's everywhere. The £££ meltdown misery, making whoring junkies of us all. It's skulking about, up and in your face. It's an industry that knows its time and place, like the scheming vulture circling it's thirsty prey on barren lands. The franchises that profit from effectively stealing and then recycling the possessions of the cash-poor and hard-up. From ten stores in Scotland to sixty, coming soon. I truly fucking weep. And the supermarket stores, around the city centre, that feel the need to security tag their meat, let alone their booze, to ward off the skint and needy, to great applause from the bastards up on high. As Cal might say, whilst munching on his beans on toast and intimidating his daughter, the permanently wide-eyed Emily, 'fuck this for a game of soldiers'. Enough. Enough now.
-
Shoestrings - 'Yesterday's advice' (3.51)
-
Some fools thought they were mere Field Mice wannabes. Sigh. I mean, I can hear the similarities but would still beg to differ. They were just themselves, as my dear old Mum might say. Oh, Shoestrings are now known as Invisible Twin, btw.
-

Hope they'll have a better understanding

2011-03-05T09:06:00.002Z

-
I don't know about you, whoever you are reading these contrived and hopeless words and listening to these melody-driven soft rock songs, but I can usually tell the kind of week I've had by what CDs I've had on the stereo or what songs I've not shuffled past on the Ipod. And this week has been a trying one, for various confusing and emotional car-crash reasons, and I won't get into them here for fear of alienating the very few readers I do somehow manage to keep with me. Suffice to say when the going gets tough I tend to fall back on the songs of my youth, and not always the cool ones. In fact, rarely the 'cool' ones. But you need to look yourself in the mirror, occasionally, as hard as that might be, and whisper to the quiet auidence of 'self'... 'I still really like these sounds, and the memories they bring back, from a time when I was so young and before I ever got involved with her'. These songs, examples of which you can find below, are the musical equivalent of junk food to me. They define a kind of easy, comfort listening that doesn't challenge or confront - and they just wash over you, through you, in a few moments of guilt-ridden bliss. And I'm not being pejorative here, in comparing these songs to junk food, I really do mean this in the best possible sense - they give a warmth, a comfort... and there is a familiarity to them, you know? They just make you feel a little more alive and human and remind you of who you used to be, a long time ago. Well, that's my excuse anyway. You can judge away, of course, though be aware it's not just dizzy heights that can give you a bloody nose.
-
John Mellencamp - 'Check it out' (4.21)
Don Henley - 'The boys of summer' (4.51)
Tom Petty - 'A face in the crowd' (3.59)
-
I'd deny it, officially, but I still have a massive crush for this album, and John, even now. It's so very 1987 of me, I know. Sigh. Hang me good, people.
-

I saw his ghost the other day, I swear

2011-03-02T09:28:00.000Z

-
Yesterday, whilst walking the streets of Glasgow from one appointment to the next, I walked past GOMA and saw Adrian Borland. Just like that. He swept past me, dressed in black and a bit taller than I remember, but it was him. He looked good, a bit like he was in this picture. I did that thing, you know, where you stop in your tracks and your head swings back over your shoulder to steal a second and third glance. You risk it, in the name of confirmation. It was him. Except, of course, it wasn't. For I'm not losing the plot, I swear, I know it wasn't really Adrian, for reasons that are well known, but it was uncanny, the likeness. For someone to look so like him, to be his double... it made me both smile and flinch. It was a clutch of strange, contradictory emotions. I felt compelled, upon returning home, to dig out some old CDs of his criminally underrated band, The Sound, and remember him as he rasped and bellowed those cutting lyrics, as well as how he looked. That will be twelve years in April, an untimely and tragic event at Wimbledon railway station. He was just 41 years old when he decided it was time to say goodbye. Adrian be.
-
The Sound - 'Winning' (BBC live version) (4.10)
-
This is the place of endings, a kind of Brittle Heaven. But where is a useful place to begin?
-

Her name is scratched upon the bathroom wall

2011-02-28T22:58:00.001Z

-
Oh Betty, why did you do it? Why! Why did you push Don just a wee bit too far, even though he fully deserved to have his bawbag vandalised via a poorly manufactured and rather shoogily pair of rusty pliers? And why, oh why, did you take out your own eye in such a violent way when Zorg was obsessed with you, worshipping the ground you breezed so sexily upon? And why, oh why, my sweet Betty, did you scratch your name into the bathroom facilities at Stereo, Glasgow in this way. It really does not add to the overall aesthetic (but then again, it doesn't exactly ruin it, I admit). Well, you know, I like to think, hoping against hope, it might just have been a Werewolve claw what tweely dunnit, eh? Whatever. Just go see them roar a bit and play down their posh local!
-
Betty and the Werewolves - 'Paper thin' (3.48)
-
All about Betty. And her hairy, fiendish friends. This record is an absolute must-buy! :)
-

We are bromeliad, idea, those pretty Meta

2011-02-27T11:34:00.001Z

-
I will riddle you this (though it is not really a riddle, to be truthful, and even if it was one it would be a bit of a rubbish riddle, more like a fairly obvious and rhetorical question, anyway....). What connects bright and breezy Brazilian indie-pop, classic ye olde Australian twee, mad-as-hatters Isle of Wight C86, new Scottish indie-folk and MBV-esque Japanese shoegaze? Well, the answer is this oddly incoherent wee mix, innit? Oh, I know, very lazy of me. But it is Sunday, after all, so have half a heart and a tiny bit of forgiveness...
-
Pale Sunday - 'My punk girl' (1.31)
The Cat's Miaow - 'Seventeen' (The Sugargliders, Cover) (2.10)
Trixie's Big Red Motorbike - 'That's the end of that' (1.38)
Where We Lay Our Heads - 'Gies a wave' (4.40)
Oeil - 'Urban twilight' (3.22)
-
You can find out moar about the lovely words, here. (with thanks to Ruth Barker).
-
I would encourage you to give your discerning ears, sweet love and lots of money to these fine people, in particular. They 'make pretty sounds', as someone said to me at a Mark Kozelek gig.
-

It will all come around again, in time

2011-02-24T06:52:00.000Z

-
It's a matter of timing, as put-upon Uxbal whispers in his bitter-sweet and quite biutiful way. Trying to look forwards, but knowing your fate is sealed. And I still think Bivouac will get their time in the sun, retrospectively. Even a small, perhaps, passing recognition that they made some fantastic sounds, such as 'Drank', along the winding, grungy Derby roads they travelled in the early 1990s. Yes, that's Derby. Not Seattle. It is deeply unfashionable, I know this, but grunge was just a part of my time, eh. And no matter how hard you try, you can't ignore your musical heritage and roots. It all comes back, as a matter of history, biography and everything else that really matters. Play loud. Wear a plaid shirt. And most importantly, like Uxbal, do not be afraid.
-
Bivouac - 'Drank' (5.39)
-
All about the music, all about the image.
-

George Square Gaddafi Death Party

2011-02-22T20:38:00.000Z

-
Notes: from Renfield Street to George Square (you remember all that you will see)
-
A spinning world, it is alight. You staring in, me staring back. Worn faces tell stories. Coffee in hand. Each of us. Searching for golden nuggets in deep pockets to feed the parking meter. A bruised JCB struggles to find a space between the cars. Shaven headed youth, bouncing down the road with mates, looking for a rumble with anyone and anything. STEVIE! YA TUBE. Child First Day is only £1. Checking phones for the latest updates, has He gone yet? To where? A luminous jacket, a shift needs to start, my turn to drive the Bus With No Home. Battered gold rings growing around puffed up and ageing yellowed skin. Lighting Events: Up To 50% Off. Too many plastic shopping bags cut into worn, clenched hands. The #66 Calderwood via City Centre. On time? Is anyone on it? 'There Are No Scheduled Bus Services Currently Using This Stop'. Headphones are in finding the perfect soundtrack to drown out life, clutching CASH CONVERTERS stolen-from-the-poor trophies. The umbrella is up, so the hood comes down. A big orange coat, a tasty scarf and trendy glasses obviously equals a Dutch Tourist on his travels (too elegant for this humdrum town). "MIND BLOWING", 9/10 DEAD SPACE 2. Is it a must-buy? Not so sure. She is pushing a seen-better-days pram in a multi-coloured swapshop tea cosy. It wears well on her, actually. Why are you more intent on sparking up a light than listening to your From The Shire son as he attempts to catch your eye and tell you about the homework needing done? The-bus-won't-come-soon-enough-for-thefuckingfranticlady-dancing-on-the-spot-who-obviously-needs-a-pee. You are holding onto his arm as he clutches treasures in a green M&S bag. He loves his purchases more than you, Mrs. #23 'Have A Nice Day' as no destination is forthcoming. And then George Square, for the Beginning of what must be the End, surely? This life goes on in a city crying out for people going home to stop and listen and clap and show support. Show solidarity, Brothers and Sisters, just move back. Only three more speakers. It is truly amazing, this place. Home. Home now.
-
The Colour Mary - 'Alight' (4.41)
The Colour Mary - 'The world don't spin' (live) (3.58)
-
All about the best band you've never heard of (from Reading) who made 'a grand canyon of glorious noise' (so said The Melody Maker, and they were spot on, as ever).
-

And the Coen Brothers come to Glasgow

2011-02-21T20:38:00.001Z

-
[the start] And The Spluttering Man Said... 'You'd find a fucking argument with yer own shadow, ye hoor'. And The Mortaled Lady Did Then Reply... 'Aye, well, as long as it wisnae your shadow, ye pukey cunt!'. At Which Point The Humble Bystanding Man Interjected... 'I think you should both take a few moments out and perhaps listen to some Elizabeth Fraser Post-Cocteau material. Really, I do'. Then. To The Great Surprise Of The Public Witnesses Gathered All Around The Windy Square, The Spluttering Man and The Mortaled Lady Founded An Unholy Alliance And Battered The Fuck Out Of The Humble Bystanding Man, AKA The Stupid Nebby Cunt. [the end]
-
Elizabeth Fraser - 'Silent Spring' (3.04)
-
Go on yersel, oor Lizzie.
-

And you look at the ground to avoid facing the truth

2011-02-18T23:53:00.000Z

-
What story do you tell? In this frame? I remember, vividly, taking this picture. It was one of those 'captures' that feels a bit like shoplifting, you get a prang of guilt about it after, in an 'informed consent' and ethics kind of way. It was Kelvingrove Park, May 2009. I was there with small people, my D60, a carton of ribena and a packet of pickled onion monster munch. I watched this couple, I thought, studiously avoid each other for what seemed like forever. Their connection seemed severed, all wrapped up in the not-so-young child falling over many, many times in the skatepark. As people, as a couple, they just seemed so distant to one another. So lost and detached. But perhaps that was just my way of picturing the scenario. It could be they were just content in each other's company. No need for superfluous words and redundant small talk. Secure in their vows of silence, in the physical avoidance... And, so, in a roundabout way, it is back to where it all began. In one version of an untold narrative, anyway. The thing is. Please listen to the tale of Bobby and Annemari. For it is very true, if the last few years prove anything, that you really don't need to put up with it. Settle for what is a lot less than perfect. Also, Just have another listen to 'From silver lake' and it all seems to make sense. For it is surely true, anything is possible in an age, and under conditions of, reflexive modernity (as Giddens, the guru, assured us).
-
The Field Mice - 'And before the first kiss' (5.55)
Jackson Browne - 'From silver lake' (3.47)
-
All about them. An essential purchase.
-
PS. This weekend I will be mostly spouting uninformed polemics about New Order and The Smiths over here. My sincere thanks to JC.
-

It's all written between the words

2011-02-17T10:14:00.000Z

-
And, oh my, how time flies, in a back to reality (oooops, bumps-a-daisy) kinda way. A truly awful 24 hours to check-in with work again, grim news repeated and confirmed, showered over us in a faraway Board of Study like salt on those These Will Kill Youse fast-food fries to go, with 'red sauce' on the side. The new mantra is: 'academic and financial sustainability'. It is a Big Sigh heard all around the useful and technological learning campus, a sigh that is preserved for savings targets and the 'human cost' such actions will require. Who will be asked to leave the premises, I wonder. A spinning carousel of employment dumping and a P45 knock-back. The 'deinvested'. Not I, said the... But what might our Defenders unleash to try and save the day? Let's March to the South and make a point of saying 'No Moar', you nasty ConDem cutters. It's really hard to know what to do in these strange times. You want to roar like a Status Quo chorus on a hot day at Wembley but you just sound like the lo-fi cat's miaow that missed out on the lunchtime tuna special. You purrrr, weakly. Is it better to be the one to leave, rather than the one to be left behind? Yes, that's a line from a song. Obviously. And it is not even particularly relevant in this instance. But I suppose duty will call and you just fall back into your comfort zone, especially when the back of your neck gets a bit sticky. And not at all in a good way, for the source reservoir is one of anxiety and anguish. So, this is the song to keep in mind at such a precious time. Even though, recorded live, it has a bit of an awful and rather cliched rockist 'finale' that defeats the very purpose of why Ladytron were so crucial and important, at one point in LaLa-land time. You can keep your reality. Bah. I'll just try not to... [doubtless to be continued].
-
Ladytron - 'Destroy everything you touch' (live at the Astoria, London, 2008) (5.03)
-
In search of something from somewhere else. Indeed, how times flies? A Ladytron 'best of 00-10' record is out on March 28th (Nettwerk Records). You can pre-order here (UK). When they got it right, they were pretty special.
-

Might be your new favourite band, or BBQ sauce

2011-02-11T04:41:00.001Z

-
So, you go online looking for a quirky and hip BBQ sauce recipe that might just happen to use Sailor Jerry as a key ingredient and you end up not only finding the perfect recipe but also your new favourite band. And they are from Philly. Just like this awesome band. Fuck yeah for the internet, doubters.
-
Reading Rainbow - 'Euphoria' (2.24)
-
All for them, and them for us. Things to watch and listen and $$ buy + $$ buy (yeah, US only, meh). The next Reading Rainbow live show is here (24-02-11). GO! GO! GO!
-

It's a crime that we ever let it go

2011-02-09T21:40:00.004Z

-
Late to another cracking party. Weep. I have to admit that I rather lost track of Film School after their (rather brilliant) self-titled debut album was released back in early 2006 on the Beggars Banquet label. However, thanks to a wee bit of, erm, last.fm stalking, I am now catching up in a somewhat furious manner. 'Fission', their latest long-player release, came out in August 2010 on the Hi Speed Soul label and it's a stunning album, from beginning to end. The sound is coherent but also full of surprises, at times sounding like early Lush ('Sunny Day', 'Nothing's Mine') and at other times a more melodic, more indie, and well, more masculine, The Organ ('When I'm Yours', 'Bones'). I do hope they can manage to tour this record over in Europe. It really deserves to be heard live, for sure. It's so difficult to select just one track from twelve, but this one stands out for me, mostly for the ultra-shoegazy feel and the close-to-the-fucking-bone lyrics. It's a very School of Seven Bells sound as well, in a way. The other close contender was 'Meet Around 10', as it has a fucking staggering closing two and a bit minutes. Anyway, I'm happy to 'hands up' here and admit to being late to the 2010 Film School party, but I'm just so glad I made it along in the end. I tell you, we should thank our stared-at-shoes that music as good as this is still being made, released and, of course, bought. Brilliant stuff.
-
Film School - 'Time to listen' (3.55)
-
Cinematic soundtracks available right here. Buy the album here (UK download).
-