Tuesday, 9 November 2010

There is no shame in impulse

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As Patrick Batemen might say, 'this is a great, great song... and a personal favourite'. When I first heard this on the radio a couple of days ago I actually thought Stereolab and Lush had, erm, "got it on" and created some kind of uber-talented wean prodigy who was able to pull off a very convincing impersonation of Can around the time when they used to play at Bar Mitzvahs out on the West coast. So just play this loud and do some serious bedroom dancing, comrades.
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The Soundcarriers - 'Last Broadcast' (4.55)
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Visit and say hello + Shop and buy some stuff + Watch and be amazed + go see them love and live (11-11-10)
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Tears of sadness for you

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Serious. I always say I'll never fucking watch it again, and then... I just do. It's something about this brief moment, in particular, and this awful, wonderful, song. It's a car journey from the North, heading South, expecting great things, full of hope. But also deep in thought, in isolation. Knowing something has to give. Head against window. Pensive. These few black and white moments, surreal and cinematic, just keep me coming back for more. And more. I do know it's just a film, a 'moving picture thingy', an act of essentialised and contrived fiction, but I really do think he knows, at this exact moment, that it's all fucking over. And I'm not ashamed to say it makes me cry, and then chain-smoke ten cigarattes on the outside steps, every single time I force myself to watch it. Sometimes you just need to do these things. To remind yourself you are alive. You have agency.
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Joy Division - 'Insight' (Peel Session) (3.56)
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This is just me, in a very twisted sense, remembering the 15th of February, 2008. The day I bought the DVD at HMV. A day of change, of realisation. You, also, can torture yourself, just a wee bit, by watching the relevant clip over here. Jeezo. It's thirty years ago now. Hell.
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Monday, 8 November 2010

And now you've come along








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Edwyn Collins, supported by The Kinbeats and Frankie and the Heartstrings @ Oran Mor, Glasgow 07-11-10
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Phew! This will hardly be an objective review, given how giddy and elated I feel right now, but this really was an amazing show. So, excuse my bluster and hyperbole. Hopefully the photographs above will tell their own story, and prove the actual point here. For even though he was born on the East coast, this was a kind of 'homecoming', of sorts, for the main attraction - the Glasgow crowd hanging on Edwyn's every single witty, wise and well-chosen word. It was something to witness, indeed. Due to a stop-over at this place for some pre-gig nourishment, Ferg, JC and myself missed The Kinbeats but did manage to catch Frankie and the Heartstrings. It was a confident and assured set, as JC noted, but the actual songs seemed to slip from one to the next without a pause or a note of (much) difference and distinction. True, the sound upstairs at Oran Mor can be a little bass-'muddy' at times, given the nature of the high-ceilings, this being the former Kelvinside Parish Church after all, but even so... the Heartstrings band had left the stage, I must admit, without a melody or a 'hook' getting inside my damaged head. A pity, but they are a band to watch for sure, not least due to their sheer physical energy and exhuberant performance. And so, the lights went low, and come 9pm a familiar shuffle was heard and our epic hero, as ever championed by his wife Grace, appears, stage left. The band - including the multi-talented Boz Boorer (keys, sax, bass, anything else that's to hand....), nonetheless - are plugged in and on the go, opening with a wee jamming taster before launching into the full-on, punchy, Northern-Soul-alike, anthem that is 'Losing Sleep', the opening track on the new album of the same name. The intentions are thus made clear from the very start: this night is going to be relentless and rock just a wee bit hard. And so it proves to be - for over the next 90 minutes or so there is a fair outing of material both recent and historic with, pleasingly, new songs like 'What is my role?' (co-written with The Cribs' Ryan Jarman) and 'Do it again' (featuring Alex Kapranos and Nick McCarthy from Franz Ferdinand) holding their own against classics such as 'Rip it up' and 'A girl like you'. There are just two thoughts that pain me about this evening, and one moment that brings a tear to my eye, in a good way. What pains me? Well, firstly, the performance is just over way too soon - given the extensive back catalogue Edwyn can dip into you just keep wanting moar - and, secondly, depressingly, you can't help but wish for Edwyn that he could pick up that fucking guitar and just play it (you can see the sheer desire in his eyes, to strum and pick and more, and you can also hear it in his encouragement to Tom Edwards, in particular, to just let those riffs fly...). It is a sad thing to dwell on, the guitar thought, but what makes me truly weep - well, it is when his son, William, takes to the stage, late on, to join his father, and the band, with all his teenage nerves, confidence and delight just out there and off the fucking hook. Body rigid, hands shoved deep into pockets. An in flames orange fringe covering his eyes. But he lets it all out, and then some. His old man beams with delight. They embrace. Williams leaves, one song is the absolute point of this. It is quite amazing to witness such a tender father and son moment, from just a few feet from the stage, and given what Edwyn, Grace and William have been through, in recent years, you can't help but admire the tenacity, talent and unedited love that is on display. It is as much staggering as it is almost unbelievable. But over it is. All of it. With the closing number of 'Blue Boy' still ringing in our pelted ears ('She'll be listening to the words being sung!'), we make our way out onto the bitterly cold and rain-swept streets of Glasgow. And we all fall over and laugh, again. It is that kind of evening really. We have all come along, for Edwyn, the band and his family. Even Duglas T. Stewart is smiling away.
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Edwyn Collins - 'Losing Sleep' (3.15)
Orange Juice - 'Blue Boy' (2.55)
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Edwyn is camping out here. And he makes strange tweet sounds over here. Oh, you can also take 'coals to Newcastle', right about here. Tomorrow evening Edwyn storms The Cluny, Newcastle.
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Sunday, 7 November 2010

A good day for you is a good day for me

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No great musings today. It's a day of rest after all. But I was wondering last night, in that 'am I asleep?' or 'am I awake?' moment, where would we be without the distinctively Melbourne-flavoured music of Josh and Joel Meadows? I mean, perhaps not as globally influential as Liam and Noel, in terms of brotherly pop, but they certainly got on a lot better than the Mancunian hosts of a joke Pinky and Perky show. True, they were only around making music as the 'Gliders for such a short time, relatively speaking, but they put out some really great 7" records and this was one of them - 'Letter from a lifeboat' (1992) - affectionately known as Sarah 63. I think, for me, the reason I'm kinda in love with everything The Sugargliders ever did was because of their wonderful accented Oz vocals and finely-picked acoustic guitars, against a backdrop of some really nice imagery in the lyrics as well. I guess that's the reason why. Also, a few of their tunes were, shall we say, rather influenced by the Brisbane 'striped sunlight sound' of The Go-Betweens, a song like 'Aloha Street', for example. I'm still hoping, one day, perhaps at a party or just some kind of function, somewhere, that when I randomly mention The Sugargliders to a drunk person who is pretending to be interested in what I have to say they won't assume I'm just talking about these wee cute things... but then again, being able to glide through the air for over 100 metres is pretty impressive and certainly worth a ten-minute conversation. What am I going on about? I guess this is just me saying thanks Josh and Joel for making the kind of music that makes everything feel ok, a bit worthwhile. This is my own (love) letter from a lifeboat, otherwise known as a certain cafe in Glasgow ('eclectic pop' is an apt description for what is currently being played, by the way).
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The Sugargliders - 'Letter from a lifeboat' (4.18)
The Sugargliders - 'Aloha Street' (2.15)
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You won't discover that much about Josh and Joel Meadows, out there in the interweb world I mean, but you can try here - for they went on to form The Steinbecks after The Sugargliders caught the breeze, and this new band also released some pretty great records that are certainly worth looking out for. In fact, I might post some Steinbecks material at a future date (you just never know).
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Saturday, 6 November 2010

Those books that you pose with are more than antiques




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The Indelicates, with support from Dave Hughes and Lou Hickey, @ The 13th Note, Glasgow, November 3, 2010.
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This was always going to be a very fun evening, but the show was really something else. A DIY gig organised by fans for fans. Bliss. After very able supporting sets from Dave Hughes and Lou Hickey, Julia and Simon Indelicate take the, er, 'stage', at the 13th Note and, with the 'record' button firmly pushed down, they launch into a full outing of new album 'Songs for Swinging Lovers'. It's hard not to be very twee here but it really does restore your faith, somewhat, seeing a (lovely) boy and a (lovely) girl playing so well together, with genuine feeling and meaning and humour. The music is pitch-perfect, the lyrics sharp and well-observed and the between-song banter worthy of a late-night Glasgow pub (where the punters have read up on their Derrida and Foucault, of course). Highlights from the new album would certainly include 'Roses', 'Be Afraid Of Your Parents', 'Sympathy for the Devil' (no, not that one...) and 'Ill'. The new songs work so well in this stripped-down keyboard and acoustic guitar format, letting the lyrics and their delivery become a focus. After the album is contractually delivered, literally, requests are encouraged, and requested, and alongside the wonderful closing anthem that is 'We Hate The Kids' ('thank-you and goodnight!') it's the song below that really hits home for me, allowing Julia to kill it softly, in a fucking beautiful and amazing way. What can you say - it's a wonderful night in rainy Glasgow and one - shudder slightly now - that will hopefully be repeated for the promised forthcoming David Koresh concept album. Simon has promised it so it'll happen for sure. The Indelicates are, indeed, worthy biographers.
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The Indelicates - 'Sixteen' (3.39)
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Go pop round for a cuppa with Julia and Simon. And buy some stuff! This is the scene to be seen in, you fucking hipsters.
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Friday, 5 November 2010

All of us were ordinary, compared to Cynthia Rose

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It was once revealed a long time ago, to a certain amount of surprise I might add, but Prince and myself have a very strange relationship. Strange, in the sense, that I totally, completely, utterly adore him. I always will, whatever he has done in the past or chooses to do next. It is unconditional, a bit like it is with Moz, you know. My heart really does beat to the bassline of 'Pop Life', I can tell you (when it is not beating to the bassline in this song!). I know it's possibly a little out of step with my usual C86, twee, shoegaze, indie-schmindie choices but still, he rocks mah (purple) world. And, I think, had the remorseful, distant boy in the photograph above said the right things, in the right order, to the buried, upset girl, it may have all worked out.... a lyric from Prince might have made all the difference, really.
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Prince - 'The beautiful ones' (live) (2.13)
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Och, yes, I know everyone goes on about the Feist thing, but my $$$ and <3 <3 <3 still goes to this little performance from our man. Glorious!
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Thursday, 4 November 2010

I'd make her mother smile, and the kid survive

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FML. What a day. Nothing seemed to go right. A class where one student showed up. One. Pouring rain and gales. Cancelled meetings. I even lost my part-time job turning tables round at Marks & Spencers. But, I guess, at least Mono was something of a saviour (you literally have no idea) and I even got served by Stephen Pastel in the record shop bit (who, yes, is still as cute as a wee kitten playing with a big ball of tartan wool by a roaring log fire... awwwww!) who sold me a Stereolab album that might not suck entirely even though it's one of the more recent releases that I didn't buy at the time it came out as I thought it might suck a bit so decided to avoid it and hold onto the glorious memories of albums past and previous (just like.... er, no, so not going there). You know, I really <3 this city. It just restores and revives me somehow. So, no, let's not FML just yet. Please (thanks, you, Stuart).
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Belle & Sebastian - 'I'm waking up to us' (live) (3.45)
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I'm pretty much the same person. Aren't I?
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Wednesday, 3 November 2010

Don't believe a word he just said, it was all bullshit.....

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It is, unfortunately, not that funny anymore. I mean, you go about your day-to-day 'to do' business, through the 'motions', just keeping it going and all that, trying to find a winning smile or well-timed grin and pretending to be 'ok'. You answer their intrusive but well-meant questions politely, paying attention, for the most part, to steering that wafer-thin line between diplomacy, revelation, rudeness and tears. 'I'm fine, really. I'm fine'. But then you hear a song, on daytime radio of all places, that takes you right back to that dark, muddled place, and suddenly it's not at all 'ok'. It's anything but 'ok'. This is one of those songs. I just can't shake it or escape it. It's captured in one simple line, Mark managing to convey the sum of all possibilities and hopelessness in a deep, somewhat resigned-to-the-fuck-of-it-all heavy breath... 'You never know what day could pick you baby / Out of the air, out of nowhere'. And in truth, though I know it's ultimately pointless, damaging and self-destructive, I don't really want to escape this song. Not right now. I'm hanging on to the precious memories that were once almost shared, if nothing else. At least those moments are intact and can still render an unforced smile without struggle or pretense.
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Mark Kozelek - 'Duk Koo Kim' (10" version) (10.33)
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This is all just a Sad Reminder, of course. You should really watch this, just to see and hear the beauty that is exposed (it's a full set from Mark at this year's Sommerfesten, which is held in Norway at the end of July, as I'm sure you know). Simply stunning. Oh, Mark hangs out, getting happy and playing practical jokes over here. No really, he does.
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Tuesday, 2 November 2010

Mes cousins jamais nés hantent les nuits de Byrne

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You know, these tired and dark days I seem to be listening to nothing much more than cover versions and live versions of songs I already know far too well. I mean, what the fuck? Am I getting comfortable or something? And I don't know whether to be genuinely worried or not, but I'm listening to these versions of 'This Must be the place' even more than the original version (yes, including the definitive one that's on 'Stop Making Sense'). I just need to know, in a general consensus type of way, that this is not as troubling as I might be fearing. I've not 'turned', have I? And no, let's just stay silent about the utter nightmare that was the Arcade Fire version, cool? I'm sorry, but when are we just gonna accept and live with the fact that Win Butler cannae sing for his wannabe-Decemberist life (or even his August wife, come to think about it for a minute). Och, hey... stfu at the back there. It's been that kinda day so let me say my piece, asslips. After all, you know I am right (this time).
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Miles Fisher - 'This must be the place' (4.38)
MGMT - 'This must be the place' (live) (5.06)
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Visit Miles over here. If you haven't already, please do watch him masquerade as Patrick Bateman right here. MGMT, as ever, are laughing their rich fucking asses off over here. And they are laughing at you and me, kiddo.
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Monday, 1 November 2010

Gather the bruised and imperfected, the cursed and the rejected


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'Cowboys and Aliens' was the theme. It is also the name of a great album by Kitchens of Distinction, oddly enough. So, aye, I would write some really interesting, thought-provoking and blah blah blah words in this here space about how grand and wonderful the Fence spooky night celebrations at Stereo were but I cannae honestly really remember it that well and am still a bit hungover to 'dwell', so tae speak. I mean, in brief, I turned up a wee bit late after the start time (erm, six hours late in fact... however my valid excuse of Zombie shuffling with weans does, most certainly, apply here) but thankfully I did witness, in the wonderful company of Duncan and Wendy, King Kenny (as pictured above, the one with the beard) and band playing a blinder and then there was some electronic plinky-plonky Orbital/Underworld type stuff and then some band where, to be fair, the singer sounded like a chain-smoking, throat-cut, wounded deer on a wind-swept hillside surrounded by a pack of hungry wolverines. Aye, I think that's it all covered in about as much depth as I can honestly recount for now. Sorry, likesay, but sometimes you just gotta dance and drink and get HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY to Hi-NRG and more.
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<GAG!>
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King Creosote - 'There's none of that' (live and acoustic) (3.32)
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Buy stuff here. Go visiting here.
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