Let's fleece a few old friends

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My Latest Novel, at King Tut's Wah Wah Hut, Glasgow, 28-12-10.
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I'll preface these harsh words with some softening disclaimer type words. Ah love this band a lot. An awfy lot. I discovered them at a time when I badly needed them in my life. 'Wolves' was rarely away from the CD player in 2006. This need has carried onwards, forwards, as it ever will. So perhaps this was all about hope and expectations tonight. And how those elements never seem to match up to what you actually witness. For I have seen this band soar playing live, like you could not believe. But tonight the fireworks were never even lit, if that analogy actually works. This was a troubling show, right from the beginning. But, it was a sell-out, apparently, so clearly the slightly pissed weegie chattering classes decided to come along to King Tut's for the simple joy of talking over the band who, as we know, like their quiet moments as well as their loud moments. Fucking hell. I don't think I've ever been to a gig where the audience were actually louder than the band for the majority of the set. And not in a shoulder-tae-shoulder singalongwiththechorus way. Just in a 'And what did she say to him then? oh AYE, really...' etc. Sigh. And it wasn't just the audience being bampots. There was sound problems from the off - keyboard monitors buzzing that really got in the way of the more delicate movements, the utterly brilliant and unusual way that My Latest Novel use those changes in tempo and direction in a song, with the added greatness of the multi-part vocal harmonies from Chris Deveney (who tonight looked like he'd rather be anywhere but on stage; his body language throughout was revealing and he couldnae get rid of his guitar quick enough at the end - an end with no encore of course), Gary Deveney and Paul McGeachy (nae Laura McFarlane tonight, or, indeed, ever again it seems for she took her violin and left the band earlier this year - and trust me when I say she is badly missed). Yes, so, this was a troubling show. But, as ever, there were a few saving graces pulled out of the hairy baw-bag. On the plus side, snippets of older material rarely played from 'Wolves' saw the light of day and a couple of new songs were aired from the forthcoming untitled third album (also to be released by Bella Union in 2011). I didn't manage to snag a setlist so have no idea what the new songs might be called. One new track though featured Gary on lead vocal and was about him taking a holiday in the Alps. Or that's how I heard it anyway. Also, to be fair, key songs from 'Deaths and Entrances', such as 'I Declare a Ceasefire', 'Hopelessly, Endlessly' and 'A Dear Green Place' were pretty spectacular but again the audience spoiled it by updating us about what they got for Christmas and who is shagging who in the office these days during the quiet bits and, well, Chris's vocals were a little off on occasion as well. Still, there is hope here - in parts. On the evidence tonight, the band do need to get another violinist in - it's such a key part of who they are and the sound they've made their own. Older tracks, and the newer material, need the substance and the emotional punch that the strings provide (witness Butcher Boy as an example of this working so well). The new material shown off tonight does give much promise for the third album - it sounds strong, lyrically interesting and just a bit more determined. I just can't help but think though, looking around, that a band like My Latest Novel must glower at, say, Frightened Rabbit's multi-million $$$ global assault and wonder exactly what the fuck happened here...
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My Latest Novel - 'Wrongfully, I Rested' (4.43)
My Latest Novel - 'I Declare a Ceasefire' (session version) (4.11)
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Visit here. Buy 'Wolves' and 'Deaths and Entrances'.
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"We can bleed them / we can rip them off..."
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Art is always and everywhere the secret confession

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Something a wee bit different for today, not usually seen or heard around these parts. A piece of music originating from Thailand from years ago. In the genre known as Luk Krung. Or is it Luk Thung? No matter, you can dance to it. A lot. Even if, like me, you aren't really sure what they words mean and are deep in bed with a dose of fucking awful flu. Sigh. Bleugh. Cough. Etc.
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Waipod Phetsuphan - 'Ding Ding Dong' (2.34)
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This album is worth your guilt/blood/seasonal money. And many congratulations to Miles Cleret on a brilliant label, Soundway Records.
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Holding onto next year

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When I used to do all this, in a spirited, proper and 'together' kind of way, I always posted this song around Christmas time. It was my one weakness - my one confession to myself - at this time of year. Some things, I'm glad to say, will never change. So here it is, for another year, again. To me, this is the song that sums it all up, really, in a December 25th way. It is gorgeous, melancholy and, well, you can't help but see and hear yourself in the lyrics and images, in some way. Hold onto next year, all. And a Merry Christmas. x
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The One Who Flew - 'Christmas on Ward 7' (3.01)
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Chris Flew is here. You should watch this. He takes great pictures as well as the music. Please buy some of his brilliant records. Listen here. Thanks, Chris.
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Morvern, I love you, but your historical revisionism is bringing me down

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Aye. So. Fuck. One of these three tracks probably should have been on this mix. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck...
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Holy Fuck - 'P.I.G.S' + 'Red Lights' + 'Stay Lit' (Marc Riley 6Music Session, 17-11-10)
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Moar, here.
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PS, Just in case anyone even remotely gives a deep-fried fig, these were my 'Top Five Albums' of the 'Year That Has Been' (this may change tomorrow, just saying, and yes they are in explicit order of preference).
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Drum roll....
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1. "Fast Trains and Telegraph Wires" by Trembling Blue Stars
(A stunning - WEEP! - farewell from Bobby and Beth. Just utterly gorgeous. Heart!)
2. "The Golden Archipelago" by Shearwater
(Played on repeat, to death, but didn't suffer for it. Genuinely breathtaking.)
3. "Allo Darlin'" by Allo Darlin'
(This record nearly made me smile. And sing. And dance. Shock!)
4. "I Shouldn't Look As Good As I Do" by Math and Physics Club
(OMFG. A cracking return from Seattle's finest. After Tullycraft, likesay.)
5. "Measure" by Field Music
(Just one of the catchiest and inventive records I played this year. Full stop.)
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Please buy at least, let's say, three of these records! (though you can pick up the MAPC record a lot cheaper, and with bonus tracks, here).
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You can concentrate on the ones you love

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So, yes, I'm obviously not really here, because I am incredibly busy and utterly miserable and freezingly cold and so so much else, but I just wanted to quickly nip in and say that I am officially back in love with Stuart. Cough. And Stevie. And Sarah. And Chris. And, well, all of them really. Cough. What a lovely noise they make, even whilst coughing a lot and particularly when shadow-boxing dancing and playing the recorder. I can even, just about, forgive them for the, um, Norah Jones 'thing'. Sigh. Weep. They didn't play the song below tonight, but they did play it last night, see? I tell you, nights like this, you miss those people who appear to be both far away from you and, ironically, quite close to you like - well, like you just can't believe. Although, of course, Stuart can believe. He used to write about it a lot. When he was just a wee boy making albums about everything but love.
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Belle and Sebastian - 'Like Dylan in the movies' (live at Glasgow Barrowlands, 19-12-10) (5.07)
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You can buy the new album here. Cough. A free and full live stream of the third and final Barrowlands show, on 21-12-10, is being broadcast via here (NPR). Cough.
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I just can't bring myself to see it starting

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So, I'll be taking a short break from all this. Just over the holiday period. A combination of work pressures and (disrupted? broken? blended?) family life. You might understand, you might not. It's not that important, whatever your perspective or situation. I will try and fit in a couple of posts between now and the New Year but it's a wee bit unlikely, given everything at my door just now. So-so essays to mark, in-progress PhD's to read. Dull presents to wrap. Excited children to attend to. Et al. However, I thought I'd leave you with a remarkable cover version of a song that's very important to me for numerous (rather emotional) reasons. And, I have to say, I really like this take on it by Bon Iver. As far as I'm aware, Talk Talk never toured or played live any of the material from Spirit of Eden or Laughing Stock. A great shame as I do think this mesmerising performance illustrates, even with Hollis's distinctive vocals missing (replaced here by Sean Carey, Iver's drummer), that elements of that late-period Talk Talk sound could and should have been translated into a live setting. Can you even imagine witnessing such an event? Sigh. Anyway, this live version is a pretty faithful interpretation of the original, in the most part, but it does gets very interesting, and different, in the last couple of minutes. It's funny, when I close my eyes, when listening to this cover version on headphones, I can just picture Hollis at the front of the stage, in fading blue jeans and flowing white shirt, shaking his head about with hair flying everywhere. As he did, with no socks or shoes on, of course. It would be a kind of 'rocking out', I suppose. Anyway... I digress, sentences not paragraphs, you. So, to the point, I hope you all have a wonderful holiday and I look forward to reading and listening a lot more in the months that will inevitably follow. And thank-you, all, for accepting me back into the fold, in what was a very unexpected return from my, it would seem, premature retirement. I'm not done quite yet, it seems...
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Bon Iver - 'I believe in you' (Talk Talk cover, Live in Dublin, 2008) (7.14)
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Bon's resting up here. You should buy this. Mark is alive, well and happy to be retired from the music industry, so I hear.
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PS. I'd especially like to thank Jim, Davy, Steph, Matthew and Lis for being so supportive and encouraging in the last few months. Thanks, comrades. You continue to inspire. x
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I must seem more like a friend in need

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Timing, they say, is everything. Hey boy. Sigh. Hey girl. On so many levels, you know, I really fucking wish I'd heard this album back in August when it was released, rather than just yesterday. Sometimes I wonder if I am fit and agile enough, in a time/emotions/finances/age sense, to keep up with all the good music that's coming out right now. We have been truly spoilt this year, we really have (do you not remember how utter pish 2009 was for new and excellent music?). I tell you, had I heard this record even just last week, the track below, the song that opens the brilliant album 'InnerSpeaker', would have, doubtless, featured on this end-of-the-year compilation. Arse, I say.

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Tame Impala - 'It is not meant to be' (5.24)

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Visit here. Buy here.

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You said you failed to care

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There are no real, or even 'real', words needed for this wee dispatch from the frontline of pop. It's just a link to, in my self-constructed and grossly deluded/inflated opinion, a compilation of twenty of the best songs that were recorded and released this year ('a year nearing it's old age', as Bobby Wratten might put it). Sigh. I always struggle with this type of 'it's the year end so we really need to get our shit together and compile our best of the best of mixes and lists' m'larky, so please indulge me and be a little tolerant. I won't reveal the artists or tracks that feature in an up-front way - suffice to say there are no major surprises apart from, perhaps, Mount Kimbie kicking things off? However, on reflection, it's a pretty mainstream 'indie' mix, all told, mainly because so many of the big hitters had great albums out this year that just couldn't be ignored. Anyway, to gain knowledge and power (in a Foucauldian sense) you need to click on the download! So, Merry Christmas, y'all, and have a nice time of it, ok? Meow. x
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Various Artists - 'You said you failed to care': the best music of 2010 (hosted by File Factory, here) [zip file, 118MB, 20 tracks)
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I struggle with words for fear that they'll hear

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It's all about the translation, from studio recording to live performance. What is given space to roam and take on new life, what needs to be relegated or lost for technical reasons or timings. In this 1988 television performance, taken from the Italian RAI show 'DOC', the outrageously symbolic extended silence from two minutes and forty five seconds until three minutes and one second, is forgone, but in its place is some of the most sublime flugelhorn playing you are ever likely to hear, from Mark Isham. Also of note in this live version is the beautifully light and floaty piano playing from Richard Barbieri, from Japan days of old, of course. You know, I could be swallowed whole by the earth tomorrow and literally not care, if this was the soundtrack to my last meal and stolen moment of joy. Bliss is not the word, for the word is surely heavenly?
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David Sylvian - 'Orpheus' (live, 1988)
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David is home, here. You should buy 'Sleepwalkers', from here. Mark Isham is here.
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You know that time when the words just don't do any justice at all, like

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Is it even possible for me to say futher supportive words about Butcher Boy without embarrassing myself or the band? I am a believer in this group of people, in the Rob Gretton sense, and what they can do together. I'd predict Christmas #1's, if I wasn't such a realist. But, I will try and string a few coherent and objective words together, without going off on too much of a tangent. And so... the rather grand Jeffrey Hall in the Mitchell Library is like a turned-up-to-eleven sauna room in a Finnish Presidential Palace. Er, or something. It's a marked contrast to what's happening outside, even with the snow beginning to melt and the slush disappearing down the working-on-overtime City Council drains. It's a shiny, happy, sweaty (West Endy meets Soothsidy chattering classes!) bunch of people here today for a Glasgow Christmas Fayre with a twist; the usual assortment of twee curiousity stalls with interesting items and crafts all for sale followed by a band, local champs Butcher Boy, playing an hour-long set. Weans are everywhere, admiring recent purchases and stuffing cakes into jammy mouths, with grown-ups chasing them or debating which trinket to shed cash for. In terms of the band, it's the full team out on the level playing-field today, including an enhanced string section - which adds so much to the Butcher Boy sound - and Findlay back on drums as well. The big stick man was missed at the Offshore gig a few weeks back, but like that set, the playlist today is a mix of old and new songs, with the material from forthcoming third album 'Helping hands' sounding dynamic, alive and, well, ready for hatching as a friend might put it. The venue is an interesting choice, very elegant and welcoming, but the acoustics do seem to 'muffle' John's vocals a little. This is a slight disappointment, given his voice, like the strings, is one of the key ingredients to the magic of this band. But it is only a slight concern and obviously not something within the band's control. The other wee niggly point I'd confess to is the performance of the song 'Helping hands', it just seems a little awkward and stilted this afternoon, the structure of this track seems somehow out of synch. The lyrics are a glorious love poem to the Southside of the city, but the way the music stops and starts takes a little to get into. This wasn't picked up on, by myself at least, at the Offshore performance, but it is a bit noteable today. Perhaps this is just me being over-critical of a band who are, in my opinion, simply untouchable right now. In truth, and you have to agree, 'React or Die' is up there with 'Turn on the Bright Lights' as one of the best albums of the decade (that is facing it's old age), and it's nothing short of criminal that it lacked the promotion it fully deserved. As a whole, the set is fantastic, opening with 'Days like these will be the death of me' (from first album 'Profit in Your Poetry') is a belter of an idea and some of the highlights included an almost too emotional performance of 'I could be in love with anyone' (tears! weep!) and a kind of 'shock and awe' version of 'The butcher boy' that almost has the ornate ceilings shaking. The instrumental closer, 'Every other Saturday', if it were a book, would be badged as a work of heartbreaking, staggering genius by someone like Tom Paulin on a late-night TV programme. It features some wonderful interplay between John's intricate guitar work and Maya's haunting cello swooning. Beautiful, and then some. However, the song I want to share below is the slightly longer version of 'There is no-one who can tell you where you've been' (which first appeared on the EP 'The Eighteenth Emergency', released back in 2007). This, for me, was the best song of the performance and illustrates clearly how fantastic this group of (scarily!) multi-talented people are and how well they work together, and for each other. Like many other people, I can't wait to get my hands on the forthcoming album and just hope it leads them to great success in 2011. They are such a nice group of folks you just want to hug them and buy four copies of everything they've ever put out. So please do! In all, it was just a great afternoon with many familiar faces in the audience all swayed by what was being witnessed.
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Butcher Boy - 'There is no-one who can tell you where you've been' (3.25)
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Butcher Boy are to be found here and on the 21st December they are supporting Belle and Sebastian at the Barrowlands in Glasgow. Not to be missed, and not too late for Christmas! You can buy all available Butcher Boy releases here.
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PS. In particular, a big thanks to Robert for being so accommodating with my weans after the show and letting them play (er, destroy!) his brother-in law's bass guitar. The plectrums went home firmly burrowed, deeply, into jacket pockets. Also, please read JC's review over here. As ever, he captures the event perfectly and you should know he totally tholed it to be at this gig so appreciate his efforts, likesay.
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This is a little trick I learned, this latest great escape

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"My life is a Milbury's home
On Hereford Way
My life is a Barclays' loan now
And a mortgage to pay
Let's drink to freedom
And family ties
Here's to the bags
That are under my eyes"
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So, it gets to this time of year and 'Strange Times' (Geffen, 1986) always comes out. There's no logic here, of course, but it just seems like a winter kind of album, my teenage winter album to be exact. I was just 16 (sixteen!) when it came out and it was love at first play. It has this wintery mood and feel to it. I think it's something to do with the 'twinkly' (that's a technical term) guitar work by Dave Fielding. It conjures up, in my mind at least, images of snow, icicles, frost, dark cold nights and being wrapped up warm against the elements. Hot chocolate and, well, jumpers for goalposts, I guess. This is kind of what I 'see' (in a metaphorical sense) and hear when I listen to the instrumental, 'I'll remember'. One time I spoke with Mark Burgess about it, at a gig in Middlesbrough of all places, and he said it was one of the most beautiful guitar parts he'd ever heard Dave play. I agree. Also, equally so, this glorious album contains some of the finest lyrics from Burgess. No more so than in a song like 'Childhood'. I always found that incredible about Mark, you know, that someone in his early-mid twenties could write in such a haunting and wonderful way about getting old and that struggle we all face about having to, with some regret, grow up and get a grip. You can hang onto the memories and smile, the nostalgia of youth, but ultimately it's all about letting go and moving on - but moving onto what, exactly? You can't play crayola naughts and crosses on the back of Pizza Hut menu's forever, unless you've got your own junior charges with you I suppose. Without the fear of those looks, you know the type. Speaking of, I need to get them in the bath and on the move. It's the Butcher Boy Christmas Fayre today up at the Mitchell Library. Not to be missed. Just let me at that mulled wine... Claudius, you fool. Personally, it's a bit like this when they aren't with you all the time, you need to grab every moment and soak it in. I tell you, blink and you miss them growing up, becoming men. So, this is for childhood, the memories and the moments. And for the regrets of not being as 24/7 as you'd like to be, given the circumstances of separation, divorce and changed realities. It's a time of year thing, you know.
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The Chameleons - 'Childhood' (4.46)
The Chameleons - 'I'll remember' (3.37)
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Everything, in one sense, can be found close by Middleton. You can buy 'Strange Times' from here. Very much recommended, whatever the season.
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Your insincerity is written all over her face

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It's now entirely frustrating. This stumble and trip along the economised frozen pavements. And occasionally I let things out and say too much. Whether in an e-mail (not sent) or several text messages (sent). You know someone could be hurting, in a situation and place that renders them a bit lost and sad. And yet you can do nothing, in a direct way, to help (by which I mean, make yourself feel better by attempting to reduce the crippling guilt etched into your soul - jealousy I have never known in my life, but guilt, oh my, best friends forever, like). A distance needs to be kept, across the coastlines. Aye. Despite what I said earlier, our day-to-day dealings can get a tiny bit complicated when you have to be a grown-up and submit to a past event that still scars you. You choose to sacrifice yourself, your own needs, for what you think is the greater 'good' and an as yet unwritten future. But is it? And what are the costs? Will she not hate you for making her grow up in a house devoid of love and for you, her mother, having so many regrets so clearly on display? Fear of change is the very worst reason for doing nothing. And I honestly think Kip might have some answers, or at the least some suggestions, about righting such a wrong.
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The Pains of Being Pure at Heart - 'Heart in your heartbreak' (3.47)
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The Pains are getting away with breaking hearts close to here. You can pre-order the new single from Insound. It's released on December 14th. A perfect gift, I'd say.
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[NB: link to MP3 file removed due to DMCA notice]
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I like you better when we talk this way

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Sometimes, life... you know. It's really not that complex. It's mostly just a case of remembering to turn on the amp. That's the best metaphor I can think of right now. Jim agrees, in his polite Southern way.
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Jim White - 'A town called Amen' (live at Amoeba) (4.52)
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Jim is tipping his hat, and powering up, over here. Be sure to browse his art.
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Long Island's a terminal moraine

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Ned: 'I want adventure. I want romance.'

Bill: 'Ned, there is no such thing as adventure. There's no such thing as romance. There's only trouble and desire.'

Ned: 'Trouble and desire?'

Bill: 'That's right. And the funny thing is, when you desire something you immediately get into trouble. And when you're in trouble you don't desire anything at all.'

Ned: 'I see.'

Bill: 'It's impossible.'

Ned: 'It's ironic.'

Bill: 'It's a fucking tragedy is what it is, Ned.'

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In my head, now, it's not 'Kool Thing' by Sonic Youth playing whilst Hartley directs his Bande à part homage in 'Simple Men' (1992), but this utterly lovely - and truly shambolic - David Bowie cover version. Gotta love those Vivian Girls, like. A great choice to take on for them, with every second of the one hundred and nineteen counting. Bliss.

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The Vivian Girls - 'John, I'm only dancing' (cover) (1.59)

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The Grrrrls are over here! Hopefully there will be some UK shows in the New Year. And a Happy Birthday to you, D. x

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I'm just like I always was

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Alongside this total legend of a man, I'd love to sit down and have a few beers with Mark Cullen. Possibly in a late-night bar on the wrong side of Dublin. In particular, it's his work on the three albums put out under the Pony Club moniker that have struck more than a few reflexive chords with me. I've laughed and wept at some of his well-chosen Cockeresque lyrics, especially on a track like 'I still feel the same' - this is the kind of (dis)honest (possibly drunken) conversation you have with yourself in the bathroom mirror, trying to convince the one staring back at you, in a highly unconvincing way, that age really can equate to greater wisdom and, no, getting on a bit hasn't had an impact on who you really are, deep-down, and that you somehow still matter (that is, not boring) and are relevant, even just in a footnote kinda way. The last album Pony Club released, 'Post Romantic', sold a few copies but not nearly enough to do it justice. It's a crying shame, really. A few of us, I hope, will hear from him again soon. Well, a lot sooner than we'll ever hear from this guy, I suspect. I mean, really?
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Pony Club - 'I still feel the same' (4.31)
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Mark Cullen, we think, is still over here. The album, 'Post Romantic' (Hum Records, 2008), can be obtained, as a download, from here.
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Falling from a wire made just for you

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Paul Smith (with Gravenhurst in support) @ Classic Grand, Glasgow, 03-12-2010
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It's a teeth-chattering chilly and utterly wild night in Glasgow. And that's just inside this historic venue. Who broke the heaters? It was the drummer, apparently. Outside, it's like a scene from 'The Thing' ('why don't we just wait here for a little while... see what happens'). But for the punters who braved the elements, this was a show that reminded you that nothing beats live music. Nothing. Smith's personal, 'not solo' album, 'Margins' (Billingham Records, 2010), has been met with mostly favourable reviews but a common voice has declared that played live it takes on entirely new dimensions. And there is some truth here. As you would expect, the album is the focus and both the 'quiet' and 'loud' moments are given to us with passion, fire and humour. There is much less freneticism on display, no scissor-kicking and jumping about like a daftie, but this is no bad thing for a live performance of such intimate and personal material. Indeed, the album seems to be driven by the recurrent theme of a love that simply cannot be obtained or reached. Or perhaps that's just me. Anyway, Paul Smith, in Maximo Park days, was often described as 'the energetic frontman'. Fair play, really. But his warmth and humour, in this stripped down and 'up close' format, take centre stage - he is a truly captivating and engaging performer. He is also, truth be told, sex on a stick. There are some really nice exchanges and interactions with a clearly devoted audience and the women occupying the front rows, in particular, worship the man, dressed tonight in denims, white shirt and the trademark hat, of course. 'North Atlantic drift' rocks hard and furious, as does main set closer, and single, 'Our lady of Lourdes' ('Your lips distract me'). 'Whilst you're in the bath' comes over as a softly-spoken and bitter-sweet love story, told across the mascara-stained pillows that are really pretend bodies ('I'm falling to bits / but I'll get used to it') and 'This heat' has a distinct samba groove to it, which provokes the audience into a little more than just swaying on their feet to keep warm. Also included in the set, for the encore, are a few old tunes from Maximo Park including 'Tanned', 'By the monument' and 'Apply some pressure'. The delicate and fragile cover version of the Arthur Russell song 'A little lost' ('Cause I'm so busy, so busy / thinking about kissing you / Now I want to do that') proves that Smith, as a singer, is far more accomplished than usually given credit for. It's a haunting moment that seems to freeze the audience to the spot. The highlight for me, though, was the gorgeous performance of 'I drew you sleeping' - and, well, the few brief moments of 'Dancing on the ceiling' as well. No joke: what would Lionel Ritchie have said? And, yes, obviously, 'Acrobat' was not played last night, but right now this live version, taken from the Maximo Park set at Glastonbury 2009, is the only song that really counts... just staggering in its brutality, devastation and demolition, a thing of twisted beauty stolen away from an honest and broken heart. Bliss, in a self-hating kind of way.
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Paul Smith - 'I drew you sleeping' (4.59)
Arthur Russell - 'A little lost' (3.16)
Maximo Park - 'Acrobat' (live at Glastonbury, 2009) (4.31)
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Paul Smith is here. Buy 'Margins' at this location. Smith plays Hall 2 at The Sage in Gateshead this evening (04-12-10).
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But maybe in the next world?

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So, are we really the sum of what we listen to? Music, identity and politics? And all that? But, anyway, I'm with Team Marr on this one, I must confess. Just STFU, you posh Etonian twat. This continual name-dropping of The Smiths at every 'convenient' political moment won't save you when the 'Fuck the Fees' students eventually break through the barricades and stormtrooper-it-up through Westminster with a noose (or a fire extinguisher) already prepared and to hand (please note, the days of sponges and rusty spanners are very fucking long gone now). But, really, what would Craig Gannon say about all this? That's the interesting thing here. I guess he'd just ask for a wee shot on the guitar. Or ask for his owed wages. And he'd probably call Morrissey and Marr a right pair of old cunts as well (and kind of deserved that insult is, let's be honest, what with 'Years of Refusal' and 'Boomslang' to their names). Still, pretty great music they once played together, eh?
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The Smiths - 'Death of a disco dancer' (alt. version, remastered) (5.26)
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In other news, this is a great BBC Scotland interview with Fifer (and Romani) singer-songwriter Jackie Leven. Thanks to mah pal Maggie for the nod on this one. He is mah man.
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If you want a guarantee buy a toaster

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Like you hiding in the corner, and you, skulking quietly with big open eyes near the fire, wondering what happens next, I'm a firm believer (after first picking myself off the kitchen floor) in the idea that there is a perfect soundtrack for every extraordinary moment in life, every misplaced swollen footstep, every half heartbeat that misses a tiny jump in the snowstorms we encounter as we go about our day-to-day rituals and presentations of self. And I have found, through frustrating trial and continual error, that little else can beat Jandek and Danny Saul in scoring that soundtrack. Especially when the latter covers the former, in such a measured, composed and beautiful way. Sigh. I should also say, for the record, that the late Aaron Stout is a very close second. But what would Hallam Foe say?
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Jandek - 'I'm ready' (5.42)
Danny Saul - 'I'm ready' (Jandek cover) (4.26)
Aaron Stout - 'Story of my life' (3.53)
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You can listen to some of Danny Saul's music at this old stomping ground. Jeeps. So early 2000s. You can also buy Danny's new album here (it just came out on Monday) and I'd encourage you to do so, promptly.
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If there were two of you which one would win?

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I realise the jukebox jury - even in the Riverside Tavern, most likely - was a bit divided on this album but if I was putting together a 'best of the year' list then this album would be on it, for sure. If only because it was probably the most ambitious and inventive album that I heard during the last twelve months. A glorious combination of post-punky guitars, lush strings and thoughtful lyrics (in North East accents). So, that was me totally sold.
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Field Music - 'Measure' (Live at Rough Trade East, 15-02-10)
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Field Music are here. Buy the album here.
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PS, The answer to the Couplandesque question in the title is neither. We'd both trip over with 10 yards to go. Life. And how to live it, eh?
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Your glass is empty, just like your head

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It was a scene fitting for the mad snow of this late-afternoon day. Outside of Tivoli, on Stockwell Street, a young couple arguing. Furiously. The basis of this public shouting match being her alleged indiscretions with a known rival. The boy was beside himself, clearly caring, utterly drunk. Amongst the rage and swearing, his cheeks were puffy red, tears glistening. The girl was, I sensed, a little unfussed, but certainly not keen to air this private matter in such a public location. It was a confrontation of the heart, fuelled by some kind of 40% proof tipple. He wanted answers. She just wanted off the streets. And my young charges asked me what was going on. I just said to them, I admit somewhat unhelpfully, rather cryptically, 'Sometimes you just know when it's time to say goodbye', and whilst I shuffled them up the road to wee Tesco, I thought of this song - this version of this song - and, well, the couple who were occupying centre-stage, especially him. The boy with the cheeks, the tears and the heart in bits, not scared to let it show.
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Marc Almond and Gene - 'Say hello, wave goodbye' (live on 'The White Room') (5.18)
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Not a sonnet, not a sound

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No prizes or awards, for it is very obvious, but I still get amazed when a random event or chance meeting can trigger a buried memory that relates to a spectacular song. Often a memory that you'd forgotten you had, for reasons of shame, regret, worry or, er, arrest. I was speaking to someone at work earlier today, who I didn't know, and when she said her name was Christine... well, that was me thrown straight back to a little-used bus stop situated on the main street, in the wee town, I was living in almost twenty-five years ago now. It was a Sunday evening, school the next day. She was heading back to the place in the photograph. It was a saying goodbye kind of moment, you know the one, to a girl called Christine. I just didn't like her in the way that she liked me, unfortunately. I had to be bold and just say it. At a bus-stop. And the bus took ages to come and was late. This song still makes me gulp a bit, even after all these years. And now I can remember exactly why - how wonderful. Anyway, this is a haunting version, given the rather frightening whispering of her name just past the minute mark. And the intense moody stares in the desolate South Bank studios. It's all glorious. I did the right thing, by the way, looking back, for both of us... but this song is dedicated to anyone who has ever broken-up with someone at a bus-stop. Where the bus took ages to arrive. Silences and tears. Sigh. And it's also for her, Christine, the girl from my distant teenage years who I now remember again, thanks to a chance meeting and a spectacular song.

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The House of Love - 'Christine' (live) (3.08)

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All things said... this is a pretty great resource whilst this album is an essential purchase.

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In other news.... this wonderful band are playing a wee Christmas show at King Tut's in Glasgow on December 28th. Festive joy! :)

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This bird has flown

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There is an urgent need for some colour today, I think, to brighten things up around here. Sometimes black and white is just too limiting. You can miss some perspective, the fine details, the beauty in the shades and washes. One of the greatest things about this city is all the red sandstone that resides here. Truly, as well as being built on 'rock and roll', Glasgow's construction could not have happened without this vibrant stone, now awash with atmospheric pollutants (pdf) like fly ash and lead and slowly crumbling around our feet. But the ocean-coloured blue birds, on Byres Road, that have left the ground but never seem to land, don't seem to mind that much. They just get on with looking beautiful and being rather special, in this 'silent sigh city'. And if that appears like a rather stretched and tenuous connection to the first single by a wonderful Swedish indiepop band you might not have heard about, then you'll just need to believe me when I say that it isn't. So there. :)
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Happydeadmen - 'Silent sigh city' (4.02)
Happydeadmen - 'Whatever happens' (3.57)
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The Happydeadmen were, unarguably, Sweden's first real glow of indiepop hope back in a time when it was all heavy metal, punk and goth. You can find Happydeadmen (1988-1999) squatting here. Jan Hedin's voice is amazing, the guitars soar sweetly too. And the really great news? Fraction Discs are re-issuing their 1990 album 'Eleven Pop Songs' tomorrow. You can read all about it here (pdf) and download here. It'll be good to hear this record again, at last, without the scratches, jumps and hisses.
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PS, And a Happy Birthday to you, Maggie.x
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I know what you need (that girl is crazy)

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Has it really been so long? Jeezo. This is just to say, especially for those of you lucky enough to be located in North America, that a special 20th Anniversary edition of Hal Hartley's film 'The Unbelievable Truth' has just been released. His writing, directing and music over the last two decades has been an inspiration to many. He is, without exception, the one director making films today that I'd watch anything by, without question or a moment's hesitation. I mean, if he filmed himself brushing his teeth I'd have it on repeat. In my opinion, nobody has written better dialogue scenes about life, love and the sometimes maddening ways we interact and fail to communicate with each other than Hal, especially when they involved Martin and Adrienne. And so, thanks to some neat editing skills, you can bear witness to Hal's twenty years of filmmaking in two minutes. Really. Go DJ Mendal. If Hartley's work is new to you then I hope you enjoy him as much as I have over the years. He deserves medals.

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Hal Hartley - 'Fear of love' (End credits from 'The Unbelievable Truth') (2.32)

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Visit Possible films. Watch this. And this is quite clever, I think. Remembering Adrienne, of course. She was brutally murdered in her apartment on November 1, 2006, just 40 years of age. I remember the day I heard this news. It was like the sun had fallen from the sky. She was the only person who really looked kick-ass great in cowboy boots. x

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'Something dark will happen to them anyway'

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'Strange Powers' (82 minutes) (2010). Directed by Gail O'Hara and Kerthy Fix. Distributed by Variance Films. Featuring Stephin Merritt and The Magnetic Fields.
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Apparently, 'the Cole Porter of his generation', Stephin Merritt, is best known for his 'memorable melodies, lovelorn lyrics and wry musical stylings'. So the post-it note 'plot summary' tells us. And there was silly old me thinking he was just a fucking genius? I mean, I guess the details are important, and the 'melodies, lyrics and stylings' are crucial to his relative success, but in this deeply ironic, and at times painfully revealing, documentary what is thrown at us, the audience, centre-stage, is the beautifully twisted and loving relationship that Stephin has with Claudia Gonson, long-term drums, piano and singing bandmate, and self-sacrificing manager, of The Magnetic Fields. In truth, over the 90 minutes or so, it's a hilarious, captivating and, at times, deeply moving (almost frightening) insight into how Stephin and Claudia rely and depend on one another and what happens when this is tested, due to geographical relocation and other matters. For they do - they need each other. Stephin clearly needs an organiser, and someone to argue creative content and detail with, whilst Claudia needs to feel she is guiding 'talent' (that is, her friend) and thus places her fate and destiny in the hands, largely, of the work and creative output of another. And that other is Stephin. It's a strange watch this film, all told. It's partly factual and chronological, partly stories, anecdotes and extreme sarcasm and 'irony'. I don't think anyone watching this could ever tire of Stephin's dead-pan, comic, delivery of lines that destroy those around him as well as himself, all in the name of not being 'serious'. Or rather, being serious in the futile attempt of not being serious. And yet, oh the paradox, The Magnetic Fields make deadly serious music, as we all know. And Stephin is a serious worker and musician, that comes across very clear (if he can find the right gay bar to hang out in to write his lyrics). Like other members of the audience, I laughed a lot during this screening, in Glasgow as part of the annual Film Festival. Mostly, the laughing was at Stephin's self-deprecation or his piss-taking of those around him, but also it was those moments where his 'audience', in his day-to-day interactions, reacted to his words, ways and... well, his 'strange powers', I guess. His move to LA features heavily in the film, later on, as does the mechanics and process of the magnum opus that was '69 Love Songs' (Merge, 1999). If you are familiar with the work of his band, or Stephin as an individual who is, in equal measures, baffling and charismatic, then you'll enjoy this documentary a lot. If you are new to The Magnetic Fields, or care nothing for them at all, it's still a pretty unique insight into the 'creative process' (gag!) and how random ideas or notes in diaries can turn into bug-eyed monsters, with a series of unfortunate events, indeed, following on. One to watch, for sure. I am a fan. Oh, and a great soundtrack as well, obviously... :)
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The Magnetic Fields - '100,000 fireflies' (3.20)
The Magnetic Fields - 'I don't want to get over you' (2.23)
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The official site for the film is here. You can watch the official trailer here. Oh, this unfortunate event is examined in the film, of course, and is well-worth watching (it's a killer morning telly moment, that may involve you hiding behind the sofa or leaking in below the waist places). And yes, the whole 'Stephin Merritt is a rockist cracker for not liking or listening to hip-hop' thing is not ignored, either. Is he pretentious and a bit up himself? Perhaps. But he is no racist, from what we see in this film, and he has more than enough talent to merit his affectations and sarcastic, literary, mannerisms.
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Nights like these will be the death of us

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Butcher Boy @ Offshore Cafe, Glasgow, 20-11-10
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You will need to have some faith here, I'm afraid, but it's simply impossible to write these few words without sounding like a right smug wee so-and-so. But, really, this is Butcher Boy we are discussing, and... a) they are playing live for the first time in over 18 months, b) new material from the forthcoming third long-player is being aired and c) the venue is a tiny independent cafe in the West End of the city that serves a mean cup of coffee and encourages you to BYOB. In sum, this is just a glorious occasion that leaves you pinching yourself a bit. I mean, even the entrance fee is a slightly ridiculous £2.50. But I am only here, in truth, due to a nod and a wink (and an 'insider' e-mail) from our own JC. So, I will leave it to him to tell you the tale of the evening, in detail, over at his place. Suffice to say, everyone was present for this incredibly intimate, semi-acoustic, performance with the exception of drummer Findlay MacKinnon. So, it was strings, guitars, keys, accordian and more, all working together to recreate some magical moments from both 'Profit in your Poetry' (2007) and 'React or Die' (2009). It was John Blain Hunt's distinctive vocals, and honest, heartfelt lyrics, that first enticed me into the world of Butcher Boy, some years ago now, and the canny way he has of delivering these lines is as soothing as ever this evening (and yes, it was also the handclaps that made me say MOAR!). Robert Spark, on bass, in the absence of drummer Findlay, keeps things moving along sharply, as well as providing a nice hook when called upon. Everyone is on form and game, so it is difficult, as well as unfair, to pick out some elements over others... but, it should be said, there was some delightful accordian playing from Alison Eales and Maya Burman-Roy's cello-playing reminds you of emotions you thought you'd misplaced or lost. Stunning, in the sense you can feel your heart melt as she finds the notes with her bow (and arrows) to finish you off, emotionally. Highlights from the previous releases played tonight would include the ultimate pop singles, 'Carve a pattern' and 'A better ghost' as well as the reflectful 'I could be in love with anyone', which (yet again) causes a few dabbing of eyes amongst the lucky gathered souls. And the new material? Well, it shines as it hits the ceilings (especially when the #44 bus goes past, illuminating the cafe and all inside). It has a warmth that makes the insides of the cafe windows actually sweat. It is cinematic in scope with a widescreen and dolby-enhanced sound and vision. John's lyrics are even more finely crafted and edited to syllable perfection, with tales of local Southside encounters and matters of the heart and mind. 'Helping hands' and 'I am the butcher' leapt off the page, for me, but JC will tell this tale more fully regarding the new material, I am sure, for not only has the lucky gent now witnessed the new material live, he has also had the pleasure of a studio-playback of the new album, back in August. But time is called. It is all over, and it's just a wonderful evening out, in great company, with kindered spirits who all want to see this group of individuals - this band - do the great things we all know they can do when together like this. Doubtless, 2011 will be the year Butcher Boy hit their mark and step-up to (modestly, I am sure, for they are all so bloody nice!) claim the musical crown they so richly deserve. In truth, Butcher Boy just make me so glad I live in this wonderfully hopeful city, and can thus enjoy nights like these that are actually far from being the death of me. These moments give me room to think and ponder, to accept the fact I do love this life. I do love this place, called Glasgow.
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Butcher Boy - 'Every other Saturday' (instrumental) (4.59)
Butcher Boy - 'I could be in love with anyone' (live) (3.02)
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You can find Butcher Boy here and here. You can buy their last album, 'React or Die' (How Does It Feel To Be Loved, 2009) here. They are supporting Belle and Sebastian at the Barrowlands in Glasgow on December 21st (it's a sell-out that night but some tickets are remaining for the Sunday, the 19th) but before then Butcher Boy are playing a wee 'Christmas Fayre' show at the Mitchell Library on the afternoon of the 11th. You must attend, and gather your Christmas goodies!
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