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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So poor and cold in their midwest

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Yes. I know. Many things, perhaps. But always, always, fucking literal. A heart on a sleeve, and all that kinda jazz. It's just the way of it, with me, I'm afraid. A big heart, and a bigger gob. But, you know, this is such a gorgeous song. Hear it out. It almost deserves some further developed, rather more refined, cryptic thinking and qualities. Intellectualised, eh? But not from me, alas. I just can't do that anymore. Not now, not since the TV got burned out. So, just go see them play, and then you'll get it. I'm sure of it. Glasgow tonight, for some. But I have another appointment to keep. One not to be missed.
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Lower Dens - 'Tea Lights' (4.42)
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So, yes, Lower Dens are in Glasgow this evening, you fuck, and then Dublin on the 22nd. They are playing with Beach House. Which makes a lot of fucking sense. Yes it does. They play the Exit/In, Nashville TN, on January 15, with The Walkmen, no less. Am just saying, likesay. The superb album, 'Twin Hand Movement', can be bought here. And I am saying nothing more on that one. Oh no.
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Look out the window, look out at the stars above

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The Scottish Enlightenment (with Deathpodal + Le Reno Amps in support), 13th Note, Glasgow, 18-11-10.
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It's difficult to know where to start with this.... 'not enough handclaps' or 'they all look so young'? Anyway, more of that later. The main event this fine evening was the Glasgow launch of an impressive album by The Scottish Enlightenment, entitled 'St. Thomas' (Armellodie, 2010). So far, reviews from the likes of BBC 6 Music, Song, by Toad and The Scotsman have been very positive and are, indeed, well-deserved. The support came from Deathpodal and Le Reno Amps, familiar names around the Glasgow circuit and both bands clearly have a good local following, given the turnout and enthusiasm for their short sets. Musically, Deathpodal warmed me greatly, with just the right blend of interesting 'nooks and crannies' in their sound, as my late Uncle Johnny might have put it. Their EP, as The Skinny suggests, is one to get hold of. As for Le Reno Amps, their stage presence and humour was exceptional - a real engagement with the audience - and one or two songs (well, specifically, the second-last song of their set, and please excuse my ignorance at not knowing the name of this track) had me tapping toes and, er, trying to handclap. However, for the most part, it just wasn't my kind of music, I'm afraid to say. But then, I am an old man and as JC and Matthew (happy birthday!) discussed, it's music for American college kids or peeps that, perhaps, once liked this band, arguably. As for the main dish? The Scottish Enlightenment take the stage at some point after ten o'clock and although appearing a wee bit nervous and unsure, at first, their sound soon dominates the wee basement bothy that is the Note. At times, down the stairs, it can be a little 'bass muddy' (that is so not a technical term but you get what I mean), but tonight the sound is great and the guitars shine brightly, especially on the slow-burning track that is 'Necromancer'. The new album, as you would expect, is given an appropriate airing and although early on, vocally, a bit reserved, David Moyes soon finds himself and delivers the script with confidence and, well, a rather dead-pan measure. It's a great night, all told, even with the lack of handclaps and feeling far too old to witness such an event (I will get over this, though).
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The Scottish Enlightenment - 'Necromancer' (5.14)
The Scottish Enlightenment - 'The universe is drifting apart' (5.07)
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You can purchase the new album, 'St Thomas' (Armellodie, 2010), from here.
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Footnote: Possibly a not very interesting wee tale this, but... back in 2006 and 2007, I used to play 'The universe in drifting apart' to students at my University in a first year lecture sequence on the origins of contemporary sociology. For no better reason than it's a great song and it felt appropriate to play it when mentioning the likes of David Hume, Adam Smith, Thomas Reid (always mah favourite) and Robert Burns et al. A bit obvious and lame, perhaps, but one should pimp great (local) music at any possible opportunity, I would argue. Just a shame I no longer teach that particular block and am now, instead, pontificating on social identity, of all topics. Pfffft.
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PS, Not so great pictures, I'm afraid... I always find it hard to get right at the Note, given the lighting. 'Crispness' is hard to locate. And I hate using FLASH! at gigs. It is, well, so disruptive.
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Just as if to tell her man, that she can't either

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The nervous girl sat back, her tight shoulders arched, mouth dry, trying to whisper an old Jackson Browne song to herself and a few precious memories. Excitement, anticipation, fading in moments. There was an anxiety showing beneath the politeness, this trying-to-please, hurrying time away. And, meanwhile, the perilous boy, with an unbearable shame and sadness to hide, simply wanted to close the door, with a million things to do concerning everything and nothing. Just something to move beyond this hanging on. To get away. For words seemed stupidly unemployed, in such disquieting circumstances. It was all told in the eyes, that of course, now, never meet. A message was delivered within, as well as between, the shared poor-quality headphones; a translation from Japanese to English, across mutating time zones that spanned centuries. And with arms folded tightly into heartbeat chest, her camouflaged silver lake truth had been spoken, during that early morning light, without the need for... [fade out]
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Dead Can Dance - 'The Ubiquitous Mr Lovegrove' (Live, Den Hagg, 2005)
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Go here. Buy here.
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PS, As a rather curious aside, I'm back on Last FM and Flickr. Wonders never cease, huh? So, come find me, if you would like to, please.
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When the clocks go backwards, it's a step in the right direction

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I will call it as I hear it, of course, but this will not be a remotely objective review, if such a thing even exists. After all, this is about Bobby Wratten and Beth Arzy. Comrades. Troopers. Lovers. Friends. And if you believe their label, Elefant, then this is the end. This is the last Trembling Blue Stars long-player to be recorded and released. Ever. There will, however, be one more EP to follow, a continuation of 'Cicely Tonight Volume 1', which is included here as part of, or at least associated with, the full-length album 'Fast Trains and Telegraph Wires' (Elefant, 2010). And you need to believe the record label at times of crisis like this, right? So after, one assumes, 'Cicely Tonight Volume 2', the Trembling Blue Stars are no more? Really? I mean, really? That's a little hard to fathom and grasp. The Field Mice, no more, and with hindsight and after a glass of red wine or two and a long, serious talk, you can appreciate why. The Yesterday Sky - just one song on an 'International Pop' EP (see my 'current obsession', top right corner) and the curtain was firmly drawn. Northern Picture Library, game over, almost before it began, with those swashes and flurries of keyboards and synths. And now Trembling Blue Stars... nothing? Gone? I know, I know. No one has died. The rumours of a fire in the hold are untrue. There is no mass panic on the streets of South London. But... but... it was hard enough accepting that Bobby would never play live again, let alone this fatal news. The end. Weep. However, I refuse to believe, as will countless others, that Bobby is going to do some kind of Hollis vanishing act. Beth, his Blue Star and more, the shining other half, wouldn't let him, for a start, please? Surely? Music is the man. It bleeds from him. His pen, her handwriting. That was the deal. The evidence of love, and bold ideas, is surely here, on the eighteen tracks that make up both album and complementary EP. In total, and no surprises here, this is an intense, moving, sophisticated collection of great sounds and songs. A fusion of traditional, melodic songwriting and using technology to create ambience and riff in perfect measure. It is wonderful, if not a little 'chin-hits-floor', to hear the crisp and distinct vocals of Anne Mari Barker-Davies on a couple of tracks, occupying backstage on 'Cold colours' from 'Fast Trains...' and frontstage on the Eno-esque 'The lowest arc', from 'Cicely Tonight'. It sounds just like old times, but with the (personal) shit all pulled together and some really nice Robert Smith guitar chords in the mix as well. Cath Carroll also features on the album, guesting her distinctive deep-layered vocals on the bossa nova tinged (no, really) 'The imperfection of memory'. It works perfectly and is an inspired and challenging pairing. Another noteable is the inclusion of a cover of The Dream Academy song 'Not for second prize' (from their 1990 WEA album, 'A Different Kind of Weather'). Bobby's version is even more atmospheric and poignant than Nick's, which is really saying something - it chokes you hard to hear these lines, in the context of the news... 'Hard to find a way / to say goodbye / And yet the final kiss betrayed it'. So, if this is a final long-played kiss, from Bobby and Beth (as well as Keris Howard on bass and Jonathan Ackerman on drums, of course) then as a collection of songs it's the least painful kind of goodbye you could possibly hope to have to accept. It's a beautiful sixty eight minutes that's just over far too quickly. I implore you to buy this album, and everything else touched by the hand of Bobby. For many of us, of a certain C86 age, indiepop rank and emotional disposition, he has given us a consistent and reassuring soundtrack to chart our lives and loves, the disappointments and the heartbreaks. And the fun. For that has always been left out of reviews and commentaries, the playful side of Wratten. If you peek and snuggle up, you can hear him, I assure you. And he really is calling out to you.
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Trembling Blue Stars - 'In arrivals' (4.19)
Trembling Blue Stars - 'The lowest arc' (4.59)
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Trembling Blue Stars can be found here whilst Elefant, as a label, are probably feeling a bit miserable over here. You can pre-order 'Fast Trains and Telegraph Wires' here - it's out on November 22, 2010. Weep. Sigh. Weep. Etc.
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He keeps me alive (lips move in perfect harmony)

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So, the really good news - as the photo exclusively (I mean allegedly) reveals - is that Nixon has found his life partner and soul mate. And he didn't even have to go up to the hospital to find that special person. Oh no. I can tell you that the person in question is, obviously, Pat Nevin. They make a cute couple, I think, and it's something of an indiepop match made in twee heaven! Be happy and feel warm for them, please. It is getting to the point where 'cold' will equal 'snow'. We can only hope it will fall soon, and then we will surely singalong-with-Nixon whilst wandering the suburbs of Stockholm with a flask of steaming hot chocolate and a copy of some hipster classic for company.
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Nixon - 'Snow day' (3.19)
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Guess who has 375 friends!
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Someone will make you wise, but it will not be me

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When he was around these here Northern parts, a cover version or two was not unknown. He'd take a song and add that voice to it and simply claim it as his own, in every sense. I mean, there is that heart-crushing take on 'The crying game' that can just leave your eyes all wet without you realising it, as well as a version of 'Wild is the wind' that simply leaves the Bowie one out in the streets, singing for it's supper. However, the song I come back to, time and time again, is this one. Caught live on the old Jonathan Ross show 'The Last Resort' in 1987, Billy, in association with Steve Nieve and The Playboys, tears this classic to pieces and stamps his unique mark on it, like only he could. Those vocals. Angels died, surely? This is just pure and simple genius, and Billy's talent is missed so much in these Days of X Factor. I often wonder what he'd make of it all. Doubtless he is too busy walking his dogs, hanging out with his mum and laughing at us in that rather operatic, Dundonian way. That'll be fourteen years in January and it is still hardly believable.
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Billy MacKenzie - 'You only live twice' (live, cover) (4.41)
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This is an invaluable resource. And this clip still makes me laugh. It's the Billy I remember. Not a tragic figure, haunted by depression and the death of his mother, but a 'giving' man, full of wit, charm and warmth. He was a total flirt, of Hal Hartley ranking.
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It's no good coming home

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I like to imagine, in those little notebooks that he scribbled in at the table by the window in his apartment, Don Draper was constructing late-night lyrics to another melancholy Blue Nile song. Perhaps this one. Dedicated to Betty, no doubt, and full of remorse for just not trying hard enough when push came to shove. A few pages of lost words that were always ever destined to emerge as a B-side, but, paradoxically, guaranteed to win an aching heart. It's saying goodbye in the rain, with a quickness of breath and a lingering kiss. A hesitant step backwards, to the left, and what comes next is uncertain, except for knowing the bag you carry will never feel so heavy as it does this early morning.

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The Blue Nile - 'Wish me well' (4.29)

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Not like I was doing anything

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Just discovered this fairly recent, and very interesting, interview with Bart Cummings and it's something of a must read for anyone who likes their indie-pop, well, Oceanic and 'old school'. One of the band's he played with, The Cat's Miaow, came from Melbourne and were pretty amazing in that jingle-jangle way. In the mid-90s they even did a split-single with Stereolab you know. This was back in the day when that really meant something, when it was all cassette tapes and fanzines and the internet was barely crawling, let alone walking, to us regular punters. Sometimes I kinda wish we could turn back time to those days, mainly so we didn't have to think of Cher's thighs wrapped around a big gun when we type a sentence like this out. I mean, ugh. Anyway, boil the kettle and make some calming peppermint tea. Then listen to this song over and over again, banishing those hideous thoughts of thighs to the bar where no one will ever know your name, er, Tommy.
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The Cat's Miaow - 'Hollow inside' (3.29)
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You can read about all the songs you'll probably never listen to over here.
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Ces yeux ont été déployés pour faire en

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Is this a history lesson? Is this repetition? Can you plagiarise yourself? Look, I know I pimped this single years ago when I first came across it but don't you just love it when the newly-discovered remix sounds ever better than the handclapfanfuckingtastic original? As someone a lot younger and cleverer than myself might say, 'total WIN, bro!'. Er, aye.
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Miou Miou - 'A l'ete de la Saint-Martin 68' (Montag remix, 2009) (3.30)
Miou Miou - 'A l'ete de la Saint-Martin 68' (7" single, 2007) (3.14)
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Miou Miou are Czech but sing, in French, after the inaudible beeps over here. They are absolument magnifique! Oui!
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Why don't we just wait here for a little while... see what happens

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I just keep thinking to myself that if they dared shoot a CGI-to-the-fucking-max remake of 'Blade Runner' (weep!) then this track should be the opening music for it even though, yes, this is of course closely associated with another film. The haunting trance just seems to fit with the images, I imagine, they'd be able to conjure up on their fancy-pants computing technology out in LA LA land. Oh, Zombie Zombie come to Glasgow in February next year to do a live score for a showing of 'Battleship Potemkine' (1925) at the GFT (as part of the annual Glasgow Film and Music Festival). I think this will be one of those events for those of us still trapped within a certain kind of mindset regarding the former USSR. I'll be there, obviously. If you can't wait, they are performing in a similar manner tomorrow evening in Toulon, France, as part of that city's Film and Music Festival.
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Zombie Zombie - 'The Thing' (Main Theme) (7.35)
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Visit their myspace / You should buy 'Zombie Zombie Plays John Carpenter' on download for a very reasonable £££ price.
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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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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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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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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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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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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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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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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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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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