Your mind blossoms, mine is withering

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

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

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The Lucksmiths - 'Get-to-bed birds' (2.40)
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Have a watch and a listen, and remember. One to purchase. Jeezo, I miss them. :(
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It's, like, 'Bugsy Malone' for the Modern Warfare Kidz, right?

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

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

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

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

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

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'Where the fuck is Tom Vek?'

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

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Tom Vek - 'Too Bad' (3.51)

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

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This now or never

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

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'I'm going South

To feed the animals

I'm going South

Become elephantine'

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

that catches your leaking eyes.

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Kitchens of Distinction - 'Elephantiny' (2.44)

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

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No sleep 'till Ardrossan

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

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

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

Tim Minchin - 'Angry' (5.42)

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Nice places to visit. Download this.

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