Her name is scratched upon the bathroom wall

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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It's just a strange and not so curious fact. Just one of those things, really. Like the time, not so long ago, I seemed to bump into Stephen Pastel in Tinderbox everysingleday for a fortnight. When it had the arts and crafts bit at the back, mind? He would see the yellow fanboy badge on the lapel of my black jacket and smirk and bow his head. A modest salute, of sorts. More recently, I have often seen Paul Buchanan on the Dumbarton Road. Let's just say he stands out from the crowd. For he is not grey or beaten down by poverty, weather or the drink. He is not being thrown out of a bookies for declaring institutional foul play or sucking on a woodbine for his dear shortened life outside the gee-gees friendly Victoria Bar. He has managed to avoid the West coast cracks in the pavements, so-tae-speak, despite having a schedule for album release dates that would test the patience of the most Holy and cause O Beng to dance on the graves of even the most fallen. Although, it is true, his patterned, railwayed face does tell many stories. Life has been loved and lived in a sequence of shifts. For his long tan raincoat swaggers after him, like an opulent bridal train, with an air of self-belief in daring to defy the local climate. A scarf, that last time, was very Rupert the Bear. You know, one of these times I really will dare approach him and beg, in my best Sunday afternoon accent, 'Paul, please, when might we hear a studio version of this song?'. And he will reply, politely I should think, 'When it is good and ready, son'. And he may, if graceful, bow a little, strike a light, and walk on with soulful intent and deep purpose. I cannot, cannot, wait.
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The Blue Nile - 'Runaround Girl' (live) (4.54)
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You can register, for notifications, here.
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He glances at the cassette tape, and the pilot light of memory flickers in his eyes

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I was sorting out some long-ignored boxes at work recently and at the bottom of a particulary dusty one I came across some battered C90 tapes. One of these tapes, as soon as I saw the scribbed handwritten label on Side A, caused me to travel back in time to 1993 and remember a Danish girl I liked quite a lot. Let's call her Christina, for that was indeed her name. It was a bit complex though. A friend also liked her, you see, but he was with someone else. Anyway, things kinda happened and she made me a few compilation tapes over a relatively short period of time and, yes, you guessed it, here one was - staring me in the face - daring me to press play. And so I did. Christina had awesome music taste. She is up there with my ex-flatmate Erik in terms of introducing me to great music I'd never even heard of before. Sand Rubies were on this newly re-discovered tape, the wistful track below. It made me smile hearing it again, making a rainy day a bit brighter. I really love the album as well, even though it's a bit, well, 'rock' for my delicate twee tastes. But it's not so much the music, you see, it's the memories that go with it. And I'm just fine with that, really, for they keep the 'wolf of insignificance' from my door, as Saul Bellow put it so well.
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Sand Rubies - 'Bar Room Light' (6.46)
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Track taken from the album 'Sand Rubies' (Universal, 1993). All about them (it is quite a sad tale). What Rich is up to now. With sincere apologies to Frank Deford.
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The fortune-teller might have been right

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Is it bravery or stupidity? Taking on The Go-Betweens like this? And with a Southside accent? Well, for me, it works, it really does work. Mainly due to the trumpet, actually. It's also worth hanging around for the typical Laurieston banter, and the almost-snippet of '(Marie's The Name) His Latest Flame'. This is the stuff of weegie daydreaming. And always thinking of you, Grant. That'll be five years in May. Just unreal. x
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The Starlets - 'The Devil's Eye' (cover) (5.20)
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You can catch up, here. And watch it all unfold, right here.
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