Thursday, December 30, 2004
Life is a timewarp
When we finished university, James, Olly and myself promised each other that we’d meet up once a year to drink, talk and take stock of how our lives are panning out. Last year we met in May at Northampton, where we had been to university. The previous year we met at my house in August. This year we have had to wait until late December, as James has been teaching in Japan and now Italy, and our schedules haven’t synced until Christmas. And so I have spent the last 24 hours at James’ parents’ house near Worcester and Kidderminster, drinking Guinness, eating faggots, falling asleep in chairs and talking about live, love, music, films, places and people. Much of the conversation revolved around Oliver’s calamitous university love life. One of the girls in question was called Fiona. I just sat down to watch Weakest Link and eat lamb chops, and she answered a simple question wrong (said “wasp” instead of “buzz”) and got voted off in the second round. I recognised her voice. It was definitely her. Most. Fucking. Odd. An incident of bizarre serendipity.
We have yet to have the conversation with students that some graduates had with us when we were in our first year. We wonder whether we are nostalgic for naivety. We suspect we are. But we’re not doing badly.
NJS
12/30/2004 06:27:00 pm
Friday, December 24, 2004
Bukkake
Am I getting old or is that the most disgusting billboard ever? I'm amazed that there hasn't been a barrage of complaints. I mean, it does look like what I think it looks like, right?!
NJS
12/24/2004 08:48:00 am
Thursday, December 23, 2004
But not yet.
Natalie Portman, in Converse Allstars and faded jeans, listening to The Shins on big geeky headphones with little silly stickers stuck on them, covering up the name of the manufacturer, epileptic and a compulsive liar and an accidental hamster killer, never been in love with anything, falling in love in four days flat with a fucked-up Jewish wannabe-actor whose father is a psychiatrist, who accidentally paralysed his mother when he was nine and has been on lithium ever since and is emotionally numb but is having an existential epiphany and coming off the psychotropic mood-altering drugs and falling in love in four days flat, with a Nick Drake song on the soundtrack, and an acoustic version of “Such Great Heights”, and “The Only Living Boy In New York”… The debut film by writer/director/actor Zack Braff (the cute Jewish guy from Scrubs), Garden State, is the most indie film I have ever seen. My girlfriend loved it, and cried at the end when Zack and Natalie sat on the steps at the airport and he told her it was an ending but rather a beginning, and how he loved her but he was fucked-up right now and needed to go and sort himself out and then he’d come back, and he picked up his bag and went down two steps and then up the escalator (lazy bastard) and actually got on the plane before he realised he loved her and, I dunno, seized control of his destiny or something and got off the plane and went back to her. I quite enjoyed it; bits were particularly funny, especially when Natalie kept on telling Zack she couldn’t believe he wasn’t really retarded (“Do I know you?” “I don’t know, did you go to [school X]?” “No, no, from TV – aren’t you the retarded quarterback?! Oh wow! You’re not really retarded? Oh wow, I totally thought you were retarded!” etcetera etcetera). The deliberate and calculated use of music THE SHINS THE POSTAL SERVICE LOTS OF ANONYMOUS TUNELESS AMERICAN INDIE AND A BEAUTIFUL DEAD GUY WHO WAS DEPRESSED was intrusive (oh wow isn’t it cool how you can hear music when she has her big geeky headphones on and then she takes them off and it gets quieter, wow isn’t that clever, and she’s listening to THE SHINS too, that’s like, totally cool, I really love them); there was little or no character development (emotionally cold 20-something living in LA and working shit job goes back home and sees all his old friends stuck in local ruts rather than exotic ruts, discovers his “soul”, or nebulous variation thereof, by coming off psychotropics and falling in love with kooky-but-flawed girl); in fact, most of the characters remained resolutely within their nicely stereotyped boxes (emotionally cold Jewish psychiatrist father; morally ambiguous but concerned stoner friends; risqué Anne-Bancroft-esque mother having relationship with son’s friend and smoking pot); I find the syndrome-isation of emotions suspicious in the extreme (feel happy one day and sad the next? You must be bipolar! Can’t concentrate? ADHD! Concentrate too much? Autistic!); numerous plot devices were used too heavy-handedly; ah, fuck it, this isn’t a university film studies essay or a review. Garden State, as enjoyable as it was, is a very indie film, and as such it annoyed me intensely. I want to write about how much I Hate Indie.
Dom Passantino is a wise man, hear him quoth; “Indie is the soundtrack of failure, and that’s why so many of us have an attraction to it and a need to defend it. It’s like seeing someone throw stones at your psychiatrist.”
Funeral by The Arcade Fire won the Album of the Year poll at PFM, and it will be in the top ten at Stylus too. The review for it at Stylus is one of our most read ever. I bought it a few weeks ago, played it once and wrote it off as honking indie shit, quite nice if it wasn’t for the tramp yowling crap over the top of it. I thought pretty much the same about it as I thought about that Neutral Milk Hotel album from a few years ago. Dismemberment Plan I could deal with because it was electrified and funky and stole from hip hop and synth stuff and was technicolour. Arcade Fire and Neutral Milk Hotel are brown. Their covers are brown. The music contained within is necessarily brown (do the design departments at record companies not realise how much effect a simple thing like the colour brown can have on borderline synaesthetes like myself? [the colour of a record’s sleeve seeps into the music for me] Of course they do, they’re just not marketing at me!) even if it isn’t. The riff on the first track of Funeral is great, and I love how the piano is used, and the second track has some cool accordion and splenetic drums, but then the yowling tramp singing about digging a tunnel to your bedroom starts to do my nut in, much the way that the hollering tramp on the Neutral Milk Hotel record jars my nerves, and the Indie Talent Gap (meaning that you must self-consciously and deliberately sabotage your music in order to make it more- more what? Vulnerable? Loveable? Appealing to a certain type of person?) is manifest and frustrating.
Personally I consider that most people I meet everyday are completely, hideously, hopelessly insane, as mad as hatstands; people who might send their wives Christmas cards from the family pet - I would consider this insane behaviour rather than “fun” or “kooky” behaviour; religious people, as well, strike me as being irretrievably insane on a very basic and profound level. Probably most people I come across day-to-day have at least one huge, unbound and ragingly obvious chunk of completely irrational insanity in their lives to act as a coping mechanism. Indie is a coping mechanism with a flaw; it paints fantasy as reality by making the fantastical mundane (all good things in life [caveat; not all, obviously, that would be mental] make the mundane fantastical rather than the other way around [consider the difference between running away from and running away to]), meaning that people, rather than attempting to find or create the fantastical in things, wait for things to become fantastical. Creation of unrealistic expectations? Over-romanticising of faux-profound conceits in the face of actual expression of emotional sincerity. Excuse making (“I love you but I’m so fucked-up right now”). Acceptance of myth over engagement with reality. Plus the nasty little niggling aura of defensive condescension that cloaks and covers and permeates everything, the small-mindedness, the one-upmanship, the assumptions.
This is just a rant now, isn’t it? It was meant to be considered. I had considered it.
I suspect that Funeral (and the Neutral Milk Hotel record) would, after a great deal of time and effort and many listens, end up being fully enjoyable, possibly even a favourite. But I don’t know that I can be bothered to exert the required effort to get there, I don’t know if I consider it worth it anymore when, OH I DON’T KNOW, STUFF LIKE BRITNEY JUST SEEMS SO MUCH MORE IMMEDIATELY REWARDING. Speed, chaos, perpetually-enfolded surface. No depth. There is no depth. What is there no depth to? Things which are very narrow appear much deeper than things which are very wide. Proportional representation. No depth? Speed. Chaos. Can’t concentrate? ADHD. Concentrate too much? Autism. Oh the snot has caked against my pants.
NJS
12/23/2004 01:54:00 pm
Wednesday, December 22, 2004
It's Over.
NME's Albums Of 2004
1. Franz Ferdinand – Franz Ferdinand
2. The Libertines – The Libertines
3. The Streets – A Grand Don’t Come For A Free
4. Scissor Sisters – Scissor Sisters
5. The Futureheads – The Futureheads
6. Danger Mouse – The Greay Album
7. Kanye West – The College Dropout
8. Razorlight – Razorlight
9. The Radio Dept – Lesser Matters
10. The Dears – No Cities Left
11. Interpol – Antics
12. Morrissey – You Are The Quarry
13. The Killers – Hot Fuss
14. Nick Cave And The Bad Seeds – Abbatoir Blues/The Lyre Of Orpheus
15. Dizzie Rascal – Showtime
16. Beastie Boys – To Thr 5 Boroughs
17. TV On The Radio – Desperate Youth, Blood Thirsty Babies
18. U2 – Ho To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb
19. The Concretes – The Concretes
20. Kasabain – Kasabain
21. Keane – Hope And Fears
22. Gwen Stefani – Love Angel Music Baby
23. Ryan Adams – Love Is Hell (Pt 1 & 2)
24. Elliott Smith – From A Basement On The Hill
25. Kings Of Leon – Aha Shake Heartbreak
26. Secret Machines – Now Here Is Nowhere
27. Mylo – Destroy Rock ‘N’ Roll
28. The Ordinary Boys – Over The Counter Culture
29. Hope Of The States – The Lost Riots
30. Dios – Dios
31. Devendra Banheart – Rejoicing In The Hands
32. Kelis – Tasty
33. Brian Wilson – Smile
34. Amplifier – Amplifier
35. Graham Coxon – Happiness In Magazines
36. The Go! Team – Thunder, Lightening, Strike
37. The Zutons – Who Killed The Zutons
38. Goldie Lookin’ Chain – Greatest Hits
39. Eminem – Encore
40. The Bees – Free The Bees
41. Mos Def – The New Danger
42. Regina Spektor – Soviet Kitsch
43. The Music – Welcome To The North
44. Wilco – A Ghost Is Born
45. Green Day – American Idiot
46. Sufjan Stevens – Seven Swans
47. The Shins – Chutes Too Narrow
48. Joanna Newsom – The Milk-Eyed Mender
49. Selfish Cunt – No Wicked Heart Shall Prosper
50. 22-20’s – 22-20’s
What, no Il Divo?!
NJS
12/22/2004 01:32:00 pm
Monday, December 20, 2004
Extinction.
So I'm thinking of killing off the blog. I'm bored of it. Whaddaya reckon?
NJS
12/20/2004 03:27:00 pm
Tuesday, December 14, 2004
Polar Bear
So yeah, Final Straw by Snow Patrol is actually really good, isn't it? Why did no one bother to tell me that they sounded even more like My Bloody Valentine than they used to? Why did no one bother to mention that the arrangements are really subtle and interesting? Why did it take repeated exposure to "Spitting Games" and "How To Be Dead" to convince me to steal Emma's copy? Why do people call them indie bedwetters when it's actually quite obvious that they're strung-out romanticists who've taken too many drugs. It's not great or anything, but, you know. Not bad.
NJS
12/14/2004 11:12:00 am
And yes...
... that juxtaposition was deliberate. I'm not very well, you see. Also William and I won the lottery bonus ball thing at work this week. A massive £14 each.
NJS
12/14/2004 09:35:00 am
Can (planned for Stylus)
Prior to recording Ege Bamyasi in 1972, Can scored an unlikely pop hit in the German charts with “Spoon”, which sold some 300,000 copies due to being the theme tune to a television programme. The money that came from this unexpected hit enabled them to buy an old cinema, which they both lived and recorded in for the next few years; prior to that they’d recorded in a castle, because the owner of the castle thought they were great (possibly). Recording Ege Bamyasi was fractious – two of the band obsessively played chess during the sessions (if you can call them sessions), driving the rest of the band to distraction, and a shortfall of finished material meant they superglued “Spoon” to the end of the album in order to flesh it out to 40 minutes and seven tracks.
But anyway, influence aside. Ege Bamyasi is my favourite Can album, possibly because it’s the first one I got, some 7 years ago as a wide-eyed 18-year old, and possibly because it’s also the most fun. I played it at a party once, years ago, and everyone else complained that it was weird. It’s Can’s most pop album, which is to say that it’s like aliens hearing all 20th century music at once and not realising that there are different genres at work, that genres must not cross or whatever it is that fascists think, so that when the aliens try and make their own music it contains everything at once, mashed up and amalgamated, given equal weighting, ideas chosen on whether they sound good rather than some arbitrary order of “merit” (which is, of course, how it should be). So you end up with something that borrows from jazz, from rock, from the beginnings of electronic music, from Vietnamese music and various other musics from across the globe, long before World Music became a section in HMV. There’s guitar as wild as anything Hendrix did, synths and electronics as innovative as Tangerine Dream, rhythms as motorik as Faust and always, always, Jaki Leibzeit’s incredible, pulsating drumming, repeat repeat repeat into delirium, making you twitch and jerk and spasm with little, replicating jolts of percussive joy.
“I’m So Green” is a liquid funk thing divorced from what George Clinton was doing but still recognisable, almost catchy if it actually had real words (some of them sound like real words, sometimes). “Sing Swan Song” (emerging through a veil of water, a trick Orbital would pinch for “I Wish I Had Duck Feet” some 20+ years later) is a bona fide pop song, blissed and vaguely oriental, that you can sing along to, as long as you sing in mumbles, yelps and yodels and can concentrate enough to stop your entire body jerking with the rhythm. The aforementioned “Spoon” is bizarre, spooky, oddly disorienting, but still pop, just about; I’d love to know what kind of television programme it themed. “One More Night” is likewise laden with extra-terrestrial hooks, conventions being disregarded and reconstructed, a song if a song is music with words, or even just music on its own, but also a whole other world of possibilities and sounds and hyperactive imaginations.
Possibly the best two tracks on Ege Bamyasi are the spiralling sonic miasma of “Spoon”, the most outright experimental and “difficult” song on the album (just listen to the tremulous, ludicrous round-and-round surge five minutes in), and “Pinch”, the ten-minute spacepop opener, shuttling rolls of drums and electronic squeaks, everything I’d ever imagined Can would be after reading about them before I ordered the original CD release of this album. That is to say insane, but brilliant, involving, experimental but not unfriendly, weird but not horrible in any way, too long but not long enough. Just listen to it.
The original CD version of Ege Bamyasi from 1989, like almost all early CDs, was thin and indistinct sounding. Sure, you could tell the music was amazing and extraordinary, because really great music shows its quality even over a shitty transistor radio with a fucked cone (“River Deep Mountain High”!), but there was always a sense that it could become exponentially better if only it had that extra depth and clarity, if only the drums had that little bit more thwack, the bass a touch more weight, the bizarre slips of electronic noise or synthesiser a little more definition. But technology’s come a long way in the last 15 years, and the remastering jobs on classic Miles Davis albums recorded in the 50s, 60s and 70s (and a whole host of other great records from decades past by myriad artists) shows that a good pair of ears and a mixing desk and whatever-the-hell-else filters and compressors and other assorted little electronic boxes with magical sonic powers can work absolute wonders. That is to say that Ege Bamyasi was always a bloody fantastic record, but now, remastered and re-released by the lovely people at Mute and Spoon, it is an absolutely fucking monumental one. It has voodoo qualities. It’s one of my favourite records ever, and now it sounds good enough to justify the hyperbole.
NJS
12/14/2004 09:24:00 am
Who's allowed?
Live on television the other day an a cappella performance featured only three of the girls, because, frankly, they can't sing live for toffee, even if that's what they were supposedly chosen for from amongst the legions of pop wannabes who trudged to auditions across the country some two and a half years ago.
They’re an odd phenomena, Girls Aloud, simultaneously drawing from The Sex Pistols, The Monkees, The Spice Girls and any number of other acts, artists, trends and styles that have made up what we call pop music from the last 50 years, as important as any of them but still nothing more than bubblegum. In many ways they’re the end of the dichotomy of meta-pop - What Will The Neighbours Say? is only about the Girls themselves in as much as it’s about any girls who drink and dance and fall in love. There’s a song about Big Brother but it’s not obviously about Orwell or reality TV – just being eyed-up in a club. I could name two of them – Nadine and Cheryl – but not put any faces to those two names. I think one of them is a scouser, and one of them has legs, and another is blonde, and… that’s it. There is no Sporty Girl Aloud or Slutty Girl Aloud. That’s the point; it really is all about the music, man, and they know very well that almost anyone could be fronting it. Which has all been said before and is, of course, both perfectly true and also missing the point.
And yet… and yet…
The first four tracks are a major sucker-punch, a combo the like of which we don’t see anymore. Four singles, two of them covers, two of them the best singles released by a reality pop outfit since “Sound of the Underground” by… Girls Aloud. Sure, it’s far from the best version of “I’ll Stand By You” but it’s an amazing song and still makes hairs stand on end. “Jump” is useful only as another piece of 80s revivalism (they should have done the Van Halen track), but then the turbo-charged pop rush of “Wake Me Up” comes in (Dom thinks it’s like Nine Inch Nails – he’s wrong; it’s like Girls Aloud), and is better than any of the opening salvo. And then “Deadlines & Diets” is a dawn swoon that’s even better, and you realise that, Fucking Hell, this is a proper manifesto, this plays like a Greatest Hits, “Graffiti My Soul” is a stutter-tastic moment of pop every bit as good as “Toxic”, “I say A Prayer For You” is a good ballad…
Trust it.
NJS
12/14/2004 08:51:00 am
Thursday, December 09, 2004
2004; A Song Odyssey
So 2004 has nearly ended. I hate end-of-year things that go on and on and on and on and on; who has the time, frankly? There are things to be said and done and drunk. There were some records released this year, and some of them were fucking wicked. Here is a list of 40 albums and 40 singles, to be followed at some stage next week by a list of 40 songs that were not singles. I shall write about the albums (but not much). I shall write about the songs (but not much). The singles I hope you’ve heard on the radio, and if you haven’t it’s much easier to download them and listen for yourself (or else find another blog that did write about them – there won't be many surprises and I’m sure lots of people will have covered them), so I wont write about them at all. How much longer can I keep on doing this? I dunno.
ALBUMS
1. Embrace – Out Of Nothing
I wouldn’t be writing this, probably, if it wasn’t for this band. Perhaps. You all know that now. But anyway. This is the record they should have made 7 years ago. They’re still not finished.
2. Bark Psychosis - ///Codename: Dustsucker
This runs it a very close second, and if it wasn’t for the mad emotional connections and the tears and the stuff that surrounds that one, this would have won. If you haven’t heard it yet, please do so soon.
3. The Necks – Drive By
This accompanied me all year. I may only sleep to it or fuck to it, but sleeping and fucking are two essential and wonderful activities.
4. Various – DFA Compilation #2
This is here just because it should be, because discopunk was never discopunk, because none of the albums it spawned were any good, and because, frankly, it makes me dance in my own room.
5. Fennesz – Venice
For me, more beautiful and evocative and accessible than that Beach Boys one from a couple of years ago. Like the sound of machines dying. “Circassian” may be my favourite song of the year, if “Out Of Nothing” didn’t exist.
6. Junior Boys – Last Exit
I’m not sure where the hype ends and my own opinion begins, but nevertheless, although this lacked some dynamism, is was beautiful and observational. Teach me how to…
7. The Beta Band – Heroes to Zeroes
… fight? They didn’t. They folded instead. I think this is their best record, their most fun (“Outside”) and their most beautiful (“Pure For”). You can’t ask them to do “Dry The Rain” forever, anymore than you can ask them to do 2-step again. No one paid them any mind though.
8. Delays – Faded Seaside Glamour
Crept up on me over the course of, what, nine months? Beautiful, detailed, melodic and more ambitious than it seems. Boys with guitars and hair make good record shocker.
9. Phoenix – Alphabetical
A New York summer filtered through Paris. Perfect at what it does. I wont be able to listen to it again until May, I suspect, unless we get an amazingly sunny March.
10. Girls Aloud – What Will The Neighbours Say
Some kind of mad tour de force, some kind of poppist victory, tune after tune after tune. I wish I was a girl and lived in a city. I wish it was 3am. I suspect you’re lying if you hate.
11. Can – Ege Bamyasi
A reissue, and hence banished from the top ten, but what a record this still is. Alien pop fans play at jazz. 30 years old! Amazing.
12. Brian Eno – Another Green World
Another reissue. Is this the best oddpop record ever? Eno and I share a birthday. I want those cards, man.
13. Orbital – Blue Album
Bye bye love, bye bye sweet carress, hello loneliness, I think I’m gonna cry.
14. The Blue Nile – High
It sounds like The Blue Nile, ergo it is beautiful and rained on and crystalline and urban and melancholic. If you like those things, listen to this.
15. Tonetraeger – This is Not Here
An unexpected slice of German postrock and electronica, from people who everyone says I would like but who I never investigate. Intensely listenable, which is always good. Pop music is, isn’t it?
16. Ghostface Killah – The Pretty Toney Album
I can’t understand the words! Is Ghostface gay? Who cares. This is the psychedelic soul review.
17. Brian Eno – Before and After Science
Reissue. Not as good as that other one, but not far behind. Had I bought all the remasters instead of just these two, I guess they’d all have ended up in here. But this and Green World are my favourites.
18. Howie B – Mayonnaise
Howie B + Crispin Hunt + some Irish guy I’ve never heard of = the most concise and enjoyable electrofunkpop album of the year. Better than Junior Boys? Less net-trendy, that’s for sure. Not released in the UK. Why not?
19. !!! – Louden Up Now
Not a bad try, all told. They got the sonics right, at least.
20. The Streets – A Grand Don’t Come For Free
Faded as months passed, because the tunes simply didn’t fall apart and remain strong. But for those first two listens, beautiful.
21. Mouse On Mars – Radical Connector
Sentimentality decrees this must be here somewhere, and 21 is as good (and arbitrary) as any other number. This is almost deconstructionist discopunk.
22. Eminem – Encore
He knows what he’s doing. Let him do it. My heart lies in the coffin with Eminem.
23. Can – Monster Movie
SMOKED A HAIKU CIGARETTE, TURNED AROUND AND THEN WE LEFT…
24. Can – Tago Mago
Not as good as people say, but still… wow.
25. Kanye West – The College Dropout
I have a problem with his problem with education. Also, learn more tricks. But very good.
26. Lambchop – Aw C’mon / No You C’mon
Kurt sounds like he is dying. This makes me sad. Totally inferior to the last two, because it has no over-riding character. It is just Lambchop being Lambchop.
27. Wilco – A Ghost is Born
Too much guitar? HE DID A DRONE, THAT’S ALL. I still love his voice.
28. The Mountain Goats – We Shall All Be Healed
Not listened enough. I love John Darnielle. I hope one day to see him live and share beer and chat with him.
29. Tom Waits – Real Gone
Cranked. I do not have fanaticism on my side, but I still enjoyed this.
30. The Earlies – These Were The Earlies
It sounds like Yo La Tengo remixed by Plaid. Some people think that is the greatest thing ever. I think it is just very good. Possibly a concept album about death.
31. Various – Moaning, Groaning, Crying
Old soul. Lots of it. Concise, upbeat, lots of horns, amazing basslines. Fucking class.
32. JC Chasez – Schizophrenic
Ignore the final third, take out all the ballads bar “Build My World” – please, JC, do more sex-bangers. You’re good at them. Also more Jaxxxxxxxx.
33. Various – Kompakt 100
German techno. Lots of it. Drawn out, downbeat, lots of synths. Fucking class.
34. The Arcade Fire – Funeral
Some indie shit. I do not understand American indie boys. This was… like a really good busker who used to take acid and has lost his dog.
35. The Killers – Hot Fuss
Note to all and sundry; please mix your albums with more than just midrange. I am sick of lack of space and bass. Some good tunes though. Not enough like Pulp.
36. Dizzee Rascal – Showtime
Really, Dizzee, what the fuck are you gonna do? Nintendo hip hop? Grime? Urban? Kicked Wiley’s ass. Not hard. Lacked tunes, but done quick. Good man. Stay on top.
37. Bjork – Medulla
Bjork sings. No electronics. Some beatboxing. Very good. Not very moreish.
38. Adem – Homesongs
Guy from Fridge makes album of subdued futurist country. Very pleasant.
39. Felix Da Housecat – Devin Dazzle & the Neon Fever
Guy from nightclub makes technodancefunkpunk futurist thingamabob. Very excitable.
40. Brian Wilson – Smile
Guy from Beach Boys makes Beach Boys album. Late and overrated.
SINGLES
1. LCD Soundsystem – “Yeah”
2. Britney – “Toxic”
3. Deep Dish – “Flashdance”
4. Girls Aloud – “Love Machine”
5. Eminem – “Just Lose It”
6. Robbie Williams – “Radio”
7. M.I.A. – “Galang”
8. Kelis – “Trick Me”
9. Kylie – “I Believe In You”
10. Embrace – “Ashes”
11. Scissor Sisters – “Laura”
12. Rachel Stevens – “Some Girls”
13. Blink 182 – “I Miss You”
14. Ghostface – “Run”
15. The Streets – “Dry Your Eyes”
16. Nas – “Bridging The Gap”
17. Natasha Beddingfield – “These Words”
18. Dizzee Rascal – “Stand Up Tall”
19. Franz Ferdinand – “Take Me Out”
20. Kanye West – “Jesus Walks”
21. Khia – “My Neck, My Back”
22. LCD Soundsystem – “Movement”
23. Girls Aloud – “The Show”
24. Embrace – “Gravity”
25. Snoop Dogg – “Drop It Like It’s Hot”
26. Delays – “Long Time Coming”
27. The Zutons – “Don’t Ever Think”
28. The Streets – “Blinded By The Lights”
29. Jamelia – “DJ” / “Stop”
30. Scissor Sisters – “Mary”
31. Snow Patrol – “Run”
32. Usher – “Yeah”
33. Goldie Lookin’ Chain – “Guns Don’t Kill People, Rappers Do”
34. Nelly – “Flap Your Wings” / “My Place”
35. Delays – “Lost In A Melody” / “Wanderlust”
36. Green Day – “American Idiot”
37. Destiny’s Child – “Lose My Breath”
38. Avril Lavigne – “My Happy Ending”
39. Shapeshifters – “Lola’s Theme”
40. The Killers – “Mr Brightside”
Thanks to Emma, J, Todd, Dom, Billy, Julie, M&K, DM, RM, MD, MH and SF (also TP and Y and AM, in a roundabout way), Steve, Pete, GS, Karim, Ben, Stylus, Grooves, everyone I’ve played football with, everyone I’ve played records with, everyone who’s got me drunk, everyone who passes through AV, everyone I’ve had an interesting conversation with and anyone who’s kept me engaged via that there internet for the last 12 months, and also anyone who’s read anything, anywhere, that I’ve written, and not thought I was a cunt.
NJS
12/09/2004 08:48:00 pm
Thursday, December 02, 2004
Sure plays a mean pinball...
One
I was asked the other week whether I’d rather be blind or go deaf. This is the most difficult question ever. Are we talking from birth, or as the result of an accident? From birth = rather be blind. Result of an accident = rather be deaf, I think. I've talked about this dilemma a lot over the years, and as my mum has quite serious hearing problems, it's a horrible question to consider.
My reasoning is blind from birth = don't know what you're missing, learn to cope better moving around, etcetera : deaf from accident = can still enjoy music on a physical (i.e. volume) level, going to clubs and dancing, and communicate via lip-reading and so on (I know a few people through work who do this, it's quite incredible). Plus I suspect deafness may be easier to solve/cure/correct than blindness.
Think about it though; if you encounter a blind person in your day-to-day life it’s generally very apparent that the person is blind, and as a consequence you are generally very understanding and accommodating, and do your best to help them, or at least to not hinder them. But saying everything twice and always making sure you look at someone face-on when you talk to them, constantly having to turn the television up so loud that it hurts your own ears, is, frankly (and I say this as someone who lives with someone about to get a hearing aid) fucking annoying. Deaf people get treated like shit in society; they get none of the consideration that blind or otherwise obviously handicapped people receive. They're treated as if they're subhuman and it's pretty disgusting. People compensate for obvious disabilities; blindness, physical afflictions etcetera - people don't notice you're deaf, and ergo assume you're an awkward twat rather than someone who needs a little consideration.
Saying that, my mum finally got her hearing aid on Tuesday. Now she whispers so quietly that my dad and I can barely hear her, and complains that we’re shouting if we talk at a reasonable level. I ate a packet of crisps in the same room as her on Tuesday night when I got back from football and she complained about me scrunching the packet deliberately to make as much noise as possible. I wasn’t doing that. Normal, everyday ambient noise, which my mother has been masked from for the last… well, five years or more, probably (when we finally convinced her to go and see a specialist he said that he couldn’t understand how she’d coped with day-to-day life, such was her hearing loss), is now an unwanted intrusion into her near-silent bubble. It’s going to take some getting used to. And, frankly, right now, I wish she was still deaf.
Two
A question I posted on ILM;
Do you JUST listen to music or do you have music on while doing other things?
Q Video games, washing up, reading, surfing the net (NOT driving - this question is about listening AT HOME only), or anything else? If you JUST listen to music (notnecessarily all the time) without any other activity to distract, how do you do so? Describe a "typical" listen to a record or song when you are consciously listening to music as opposed to just hearing or playing music in the background.
A Basically...
I have my iPod while commuting to work, and at work we play music ambiently in the office (iPod again, often on random, though we have a large amount of jazz etcetera at work too). At home in my bedroom / office whilst surfing / playing Champ / writing / doing anything at the PC or in the room generally I have a Denon mini system that I listen to stuff on whilst doing whateveritis, and which is set up so the speakers are positioned nicely to listen to music in/on my bed.
I don't often listen to music before going out, because I don't really "go out" as such - if I do anything even close it's just going down the pub to chat shit with friends, and I don't get changed for that. I've never been massively into clubs or bars because I find it suitable neither for listening to music or enjoying a drink or talking to people, which are the three things I'd want to be able to do.
But I also have the "music room" as I call it, where I keep my CD collection and my separates hi-fi and also my TV and DVD player - this is a dedicated room, basically, for listening and watching (and playing PS1 [soon to be Xbox]). A few times a week, sometimes everyday, sometimes less often, I like to sit down and listen to a record in much the same way as you'd watch a film; sitting down, focusing, lights off (or maybe just lamp on) and soak it in.
I'm intrigued by the ideas of connections between modes and methods of consumption of music and musical taste...
Now I want more responses from you lot, in the comments here, especially to the last part of the question, i.e. the bit in italics just above this bit.
Three
Ignore that singles list from two weeks ago – that was just the voting for Stylus. What I really think will be presented shortly, as will albums of the year, in the only format acceptable - A TOP 40 RUNDOWN. Balls to you, BBC – I love you but you killed TOTP when you moved it from a Thursday.
NJS
12/02/2004 08:58:00 am
Sunday, November 21, 2004
JIZZ BOMB
1. LCD Soundsystem – “Yeah”
2. Embrace – “Ashes”
3. Britney – “Toxic”
4. Deep Dish – “Flashdance”
5. Eminem – “Just Lose It”
6. LCD Soundsystem – “Movement”
7. M.I.A. – “Galang”
8. Kelis – “Trick Me”
9. Kylie – “I Believe In You”
10. Destiny’s Child – “Lose My Breath”
11. Embrace – “Gravity”
12. Rachel Stevens – “Some Girls”
13. Blink 182 – “I Miss You”
14. Ghostface – “Run”
15. The Streets – “Dry Your Eyes”
16. Nas – “Bridging The Gap”
17. Natasha Beddingfield – “These Words”
18. Dizzee Rascal – “Stand Up Tall”
19. Franz Ferdinand – “Take Me Out”
20. Kanye West – “Jesus Walks”
NJS
11/21/2004 11:25:00 am
Tuesday, November 16, 2004
Single of the Year?
Of course it’s not good to snap judge a song on first listen, as Josh found out here, but this is a special case. After all, I’ve heard it, in its prior incarnations, a huge number of times (even if I can’t remember its second time around, thank you Pete), but this new take I have heard only once. So far. Soon enough I’ll probably be sick of it.
Band Aid 20 - “Do They Know It’s Christmas?”
No, they probably don’t because the only reason they would even have heard of Christmas or Christianity is because of British Imperialism. Moot point, who cares? First up, Bono totally over plays his line, THE LINE, that line – “well tonight thank God it’s them instead of you” – because he’s Bono and he’s got soul, or some nebulous semblance thereof, and he sang it originally, so now he’s gonna sing it better, which means singing it more, with more feeling and more notes and taking up more space, more actual seconds of the record. Secondly the guitar over the chorus, that main melody line, hook, riff, fill, call it what you like, presumably played by yer man from The Darkness, is really garish and high-pitched and 80s hair metal sounding, presumably deliberately. The solo towards the end makes up for it. The whole end of the tune makes up for it actually – it’s like “What’s Going On?” only instead of Marvin, poor, dead, legendary Marvin, it’s all these people you know, these voices you recognise. And therefore it’s all the more… affecting?
I caught the first play on Chris Moyles’ show at 7.57am, or whatever, in the car. Will Young taxi’d over with a copy of it, after they’d finished mixing it last night. He hadn’t heard it finished yet. Midge Ure and Sir Bob said, 20 years ago, that it wasn’t the greatest song ever. It isn’t. I heard it in the car on the way to work. I’ve said this is happening more and more often? I started crying, big daft sobs in the car, bawling my eyes out practically, not quite totally because I was driving and had to keep my shit together, because Bonio or Chris Martin or Jamelia or Sugababes or whoever was singing and, you have to remember I was 5 when this first happened, for the first time it really struck me what this was about. Maybe it was the juxtaposition, mentally, of this and the audio footage of a US soldier shooting a dead body in the head “to make sure” that was played on Five Live last night. Maybe it’s the fact that all those popstars, Bonio excepted, are my generation, my age. We all remember the record from the first time around, and from every Christmas since. We all blanked out the SAW version (I nearly typo’d “pversion” then, somehow – perversion?). Maybe it’s the fact that… who knows? But Band Aid 20 is here, and I hope it wont go away for a while.
NJS
11/16/2004 08:42:00 am
Friday, November 12, 2004
Classy Man
So I just had lunch in McDonalds and then bought the Eminem album from Tesco because it was only £9.77 and I objected to spending £13.99 on it in HMV.
I have no principles anymore.
It looks like a (career) suicide note at first glance. It isn't. Not listened yet.
NJS
11/12/2004 02:15:00 pm
We don't barely keep in no more...
Every day in every way I despair a little more at the human race. The guy by the door on the train, trying to get off like several dozen of us, had his thumb glued to the ‘close’ button, eyes glazed over. Twice the person outside pressed ‘open’, trying to board, and twice the door closed immediately, stopping us alighting and him taking our place. I noticed straight away, but… you have to credit people with some sense, perhaps, and to interrupt in that situation would surely make the man pressing the wrong button feel embarrassed, stupid. Surely, surely after the door had juddered closed once when it should have opened, he would realise, he would open his eyes? But no. Wearily I gave in. “That’s the ‘close’ button.” Forced and muffled laughter from several directions including his. How does he manage with the day ahead when he can’t even cope with simple tasks like opening a door by pressing a button? How does he tie his own tie? What happens if he’s the first at the scene of an accident?
Naked Pig Girl was on the train again. Two weeks now, I think. She appears to be going out with the 6ft geek boy, who is too old now to be a geek, and possibly too posh too. When I say geek I mean in the “Belle & Sebastian fan” sense (I have three B&S albums before anyone whinges), not the spotty, computer-loving loner masturbating into a cup and wearing £12 trainers. 6ft, maybe 13st, cords, fleece, shirt and tie for work but even at 7.54am his top button is undone and his tie is loose. He probably thinks he’s really lucky to be going out with Naked Pig Girl, because she wears saucy black to the office and dyes her hair and is slightly aloof and might have a past. She probably feels really lucky to be going out with him, because I imagine that he gives her a sense of stability which she never got at home. I know she never got it at home because she used to live opposite my friend George (name changed to protect the innocent, not that he is innocent, not entirely) with her mother and younger sister. Why call her Naked Pig Girl? Her eyes are smaller now, more piggy, her hair dyed away from the blonde it was when she was 13 or 14, her nose more protruding, slightly bulbous almost, making her seem even more piggy. I realise the horribleness of what I’m typing, but I remember her being pretty, seeming aloof, almost condescending. I realise now, I realised then, that it was probably just nervousness, discomfort, a sense of never belonging and not knowing who you are. She has a job that is presumably respectable and a boyfriend who doubtless treats her like an angel, but she’ll never feel as confident as she might, never look most people in the eye. I wonder if she recognises me as the friend of the guy across the street, or, more specifically, as the friend who walked in on him and her naked and bouncing like inept teddy bears on top of each other in his loft (which was where we, as friends, and many of us, had congregated for a year or more and… done things that teenage boys do, things involving smoke and cider and a pool table and late, late nights watching films and listening to records) on Boxing Day almost a decade ago, when she was only 13 or 14 and he was 16 or 17, when I had arranged to come round and see him because I knew Christmas wasn’t easy since his mum and dad had separated, because I knew he behaved like a lunatic and put his mother through hell and because I knew his mum considered me to be a “good influence”. But there he was, just after lunchtime on Boxing Day, expecting friends to come round any time, naked with the girl from across the street, trying to fuck her in his loft. “For fuck’s sake, it’s Boxing Day and you’re trying to shag your underage neighbour. Sort yourself out.”
George stopped going to school in the fifth year because he preferred staying at home and smoking dope. He said he had issues due to his parents divorcing when he was 13, due to being one of twins, due to the other being stillborn. I didn’t doubt him. George was intelligent and, although not good-looking particularly, attracted a certain type of girl, the type of girl that a certain type of man wants to either fuck or save, or, in his case, both and also neither. The inverse of both. Condemn. Drag down alongside him. Because if someone else is sliding then it doesn’t make you feel as bad? I don’t have the most successful life of my friends from school – I still live at home, I earn well below the national average salary, my job satisfaction is not high – Matt earns almost triple what I do, drives a huge company car, is married – A is married (but not for long), earns much more than I do, drives a BMW Z3, has owned three houses – JB is on the way to being a lawyer and has slept with more girls then I’ve had hot dinners (possibly), some of them quite attractive – others have been in the forces and now served their term, have done PhDs and have lucrative biological research jobs, are graphic designers, are in successful bands, etcetera, etcetera. But I’m very happy with my life in general, and I am aware that I have control over what happens to me, and that these differences are differences of focus and desire, not ability or happiness. I passed George in the street on Wednesday. He didn’t see me, or if he did, he hid it incredibly well. He still wears all black, although not in a goth way. It was never in a goth way, not the vaguely creative, make-up wearing, intricately-sculpted steel&leather boots way, not in the Marilyn Manson way. He just wore black because it was… easy. I last saw him about 18 months ago, outside a nightclub/bar in the city. He was sitting with a girl who looked like she wanted / needed saving. It was Emma’s birthday and she was happily dancing with friends inside while I basked with some other friends outside in the warm evening. I went over and sat down next to him and said “Hello George.” It took him several seconds to realise who I was. I can’t remember what we talked about after that, not a word. The girl he was with looked as if she was on cold turkey. Too skinny, drawn, pale, quiet, downwards eyes. She looked like her life was terrible. It was probably the first time I’d spoken to him since we were 19 or 20, and even that was only a chance meeting in a local pub at Christmas. “What drugs are you on?” he had said. “None” I replied, and we didn’t speak any more. 18 months ago he had grown fat, as those given to not much exercise do, and while I am far from slim I am at least athletic to a degree – as 14 year olds he was far more muscled than I, simply due to his genes, and I was jealous, but things don’t stay that way if you sit on your arse and smoke dope and eat muffins. On Wednesday he was possibly grown ever fatter – not obese, not obscene, but… 14st perhaps, and no muscle tone at 5’7”. I doubt he could run, not if he still smokes. And I don’t imagine he stopped. Long hair, black jumper, shapeless and too long, like a pauper’s gothic smock, slightly loping walk, bouncing almost, but now shoulders are completely dropped. At 12 he wanted to be an engineer, I think. How do you get from there to here? At what point do you relinquish control of your life? Or do you ever really have it? Do we make those choices for ourselves? The choice to fuck up. The choice to slide.
NJS
11/12/2004 10:56:00 am
Thursday, November 11, 2004
Dear sloan girls...
...who walk into the library at 11am sharp on Armistice day, notice all the staff and students standing still and silent in rememberance of the dead of two world wars and countless other nasty (but not necessarily pointless) conflicts, and then proceed to go into the toilets together and continue to talk at a volume still audible outside; you make me sick.
NJS
11/11/2004 01:36:00 pm
Tuesday, November 09, 2004
Traffic
Why do the menko ones always talk to me? Does anybody want any chocolate?
NJS
11/09/2004 01:46:00 pm
Compact Disc
German man
Oh german man
You say “cool” and “yah” a lot
And listen to jazz
Your clothes are all black
And you want to watch The Wicker Man
I can’t get over the feeling that you are
In fact
Mike Myers
Playing a clichéd german jazz fan
In a dodgy film
Perhaps it is the way you twist your lips?
With your long hair
And say
“Oh right, cool, yah, right, cool”
When we answer one of your
Slightly ponderous
Questions
I was going to make you into a haiku
But I can’t be bothered
You’re going bald
I hope you know
And your clothes are all the same
Either that
Or
You never change
"Cool"
NJS
11/09/2004 01:39:00 pm
Petrol Station
Bed bed bed bed bed bed bed.
NJS
11/09/2004 01:37:00 pm
Friday, November 05, 2004
Blue Skies
Stand on a cliff and look at that and listen to this.
Oh yes.
NJS
11/05/2004 08:45:00 am
Thursday, November 04, 2004
wtf is with people hating on Robbie Williams?
This Is Part Seven (7)
The Enormous Embrace Exercise Part Whateverthefuck It Is (which is seven (7), isn’t it)
A song-by-song directory and exegesis of my in-and-out-of-love affair with The Brighouse & Rastrick Brass Band On Acid
And lo on the fourth day He did say There Shall Be Another Single, And With It Shall Come More B-Sides And You, My Son Nick Southall, Shall Be Compelled By Goodly Love For Music To Write About Them.
Maybe I Wish
Danny told a selection of fans who accompanied the band (all expenses paid) on a three-day trip to Spain for a gig aboard a yacht that “the next single has the best b-side we’ve ever written on it”. This is that b-side. Is it the best they’ve ever written? Someone who was on that trip but who shall remain anonymous asked me via MSN last night whether it was, citing the fact that often he/she trusts my opinion more than the band’s when it comes to how good the songs they’ve not heard yet are. Do bands always know their best songs? Doubtful. I bow to my brother when he tells me what I’m best at doing in a game of football (i.e. “stop attempting 40-yard passes in five-a-side, stop trying to go past everyone, just pass the ball simple and early and find space and get on the end of things; you’re very good at that you twat”); sometimes people outside of yourself see the best in what you do because of the remove. But make no mistake – this is a very, very good song. For a while it was deigned to be the closing track on the current album, until “Out Of Nothing” came along and obliterated it. “Maybe I Wish” starts small and builds and builds and builds – five and a half minutes long, no guitar solos, no instrumental passages, no dramatic changes in direction – just an ever-developing melody and growing weight of impetus and emotion. The band produced it themselves in a perfunctory fashion, as if they are saying “here is a damn good song, a song so good, in fact, that all you’re getting is the song”. Had Youth got hold of it and worked some magic it might have been amazing.
Enough
Played live at one of the Cockpit gigs back in December, this is the vinyl-only choice this time, which is sad because it’s very good indeed. Golrim does not like it because it’s noisy, but WHAT DOES HE KNOW? (Quite a lot, actually, and I love him.) It is noisy – it spits and snarls at you from a garage. The title comes from the phrase “I’ve just had ENOUGH” which is the refrain. Sounds like it was largely done in one take with some overdubs later – great guitar in the verse when it goes a bit quieter and makes a rhythmic shluckaschlucka noise. Great harmonies to close. A bit Spiritualized, a bit Primal Scream, a lot pretty good.
Flaming Red Hair
This might raise some eyebrows. Some people might hate it to start with, but most of the people I trust will love it, because it’s fucking wonderful. Started life as a jammed cover of a certain Michael Jackson tune, and has been corrupted almost unrecognisably from there (connoisseurs will recognise parts of the bassline). Apparently Youth and an engineer ran off with the master tapes of the jam that this was adapted from and worked on them in secret while the band were mastering the album tracks – clever man, clever man. I love him, in a truly platonic sense. I played it to a musician/academic friend of mine yesterday and his response was “that emphasises just how shit Kasabian are then”. It emphasises a lot of things. That Embrace are not living in the pigeonhole people think they are. That their next album is gonna be fully jaw-dropping amazing. That they’re happy to piss away outstanding pieces of music such as this on the b-side of singles. Almost all the criticisms levelled at Embrace by whoever chooses to criticise them would be completely laid to waste by songs like this and “Too Many Times”, and by older tunes like “Blind” and “Brothers & Sisters” – those are just the b-sides. “One Big Family”, “New Adam New Eve”, the orchestral meltdown at the end of “All You Good Good People”- oh, I’ve said it all before. If you’d heard “Even Smaller Stones” live then you’d shut the fuck up. This is what marks Embrace out from your Keanes, Coldplays, Thirteen Senses or whoever, above and beyond any tremulous claims that they write better, more emotional songs (although they do). It even marks them out above the likes of Doves, Elbow – none of those bands ever rocked, ever stuck themselves right on the edge of creative failure and challenged themselves to do what the uneducated didn’t imagine them to be capable of, none of them ever did this. “Flaming Red Hair” is a tightly controlled and exercised melange of disco noise, of energy, or barely concealed psychosis and oddness. It’s got a verse, a chorus, a middle eight, but it doesn’t use any of those things in a way you’d expect. It doesn’t use anything in the way you’d expect. The DFA’s publicity guy is a huge Embrace fan, which, as Mr Unterberger pointed out to me last night, was rather an odd thing. This sounds like it could have been produced by the DFA. ARE YOU LISTENING? Bollocks to The Rapture.
How Come
This might raise some eyebrows too, only most fans have already heard it. A live session for Jo Whiley these days must include an indie band doing a (possibly ironic) cover of a recent pop hit, to show just how superior (yeah, right) “real” “indie” music is to pop, in some people’s eyes; LOOK, HAVEN ARE SO TALENTED THEY CAN MAKE SOME PIECE OF POP SHIT BY SOME POP SHITTER INTO A HEART-RENDING MASTERPIECE DRIPPING WITH EMOTIONAL EMOTION – witness Travis making “Hit Me Baby One More Time” into a pussy ballad (where ballad = quiet acoustic sappy shit rather than story-as-song). Dismemberment Plan covered “Crush” by Jennifer Paige on an EP a few years ago, made it into a brooding 6-minute psycho stalker song. It was OK. Embrace did the Jo Whiley show some 6 weeks ago or so, and were going to cover “Cry Me A River” by Justin until someone told them it had already been done. So they hastily arranged a cover of “How Come” by D12. YES YOU READ THAT RIGHT. It’s only three minutes long, it starts out with piano and a melody that Danny wrote so he wouldn’t have to try and beat Eminem at his own game. It grows into something that you might call epic. It is intense and it is very, very good.
I wonder what other Nick-appeasing tunes they have saved up for the next batch of b-sides. Hopefully more disconoise.
NJS
11/04/2004 09:51:00 am
Update?
I am, of course, less than delighted with the outcome of the US presidential election, but not exactly surprised. For the last month of campaigning I could feel no hope for Kerry, only an overwhelming sense of dread and pointlessness. American friends, there is a spare room in our house.
Can reissues… Mute and Spoon have remastered and reissued the German masters’ first four albums on hybrid SACD, and they sound incredible. A review of Ege Bamyasi, that is less a piece of journalism than a passionate and hyperactive over-long love letter, will be up on Stylus early next week. Hopefully Future Days and Soon Over Babaluma will be dealt with shortly. My girlfriend does a good profit out of remastered CDs; she’s built up a decent collection of Stevie Wonder, Rolling Stones, Cocteau Twins and now Can due to my obsessive addiction to clarity. Next up Beatles? Stone Roses? Come on Silvertone, you love money and you already remastered a stack of stuff for The Very Best Of, now do all the singles, the debut album and Turns Into Stone, eh? Roses fans are now all fat and forty, they love reissues. “Music really was better back then, wasn’t it?” WELL NO BUT IT WAS STILL ACE. There are probably loads of other people due good remasterings that I can’t think of right now.
Someone at EMI likes me and has stuck me on the promo list. This is great (Pet Shop Boys DVD!) but there is only so much Jamelia and Tina Turner I can stomach. And the Dirty Vegas was not good.
Do yourself a favour and buy the next Embrace single, even if you only get one CD of the two and vinyl that are available. And if you do choose to get one CD, then get the one that has “Flaming Red Hair” and “How Come” as b-sides. You might be presently surprised. An album of their b-sides would (if it were selected by me, obviously) be one of my favourite records.
Football again tonight; missed last Thursday due to not being well and this Tuesday due to working on a job application. I am DUE GOALS.
NJS
11/04/2004 08:49:00 am
Friday, October 29, 2004
Last night...
I dreamt all my toes were falling off. It wasn't nice.
What does this mean?!
NJS
10/29/2004 10:45:00 am
Thursday, October 28, 2004
Stormy Clouds
The train home from work normally takes between 12 and 22 minutes, depending on whether I catch the 1722 (straight to Dawlish) or the 1727 (stops everywhere). Last night I left work just after quarter past five and ran to the train station, afraid I was going to miss the 1722 and end up having to wait for the 1756. I did have to wait, but not until 1756.
The 1722 arrived at 1741 or thereabouts, just after the 1727 had arrived on the other platform. They let us through first (they always do, because it’s a faster train – it’s often a gamble deciding which train to get, the safely arrived 1727 or the delayed 1722, which they often allow to pass the other train just before Dawlish) even if it’s departed Exeter 10 or more minutes after the 1727), and we trundled to Dawlish Warren. I knew the weather was bad because on the way to work a load of seawater had been dumped on my bag through the vent in ceiling of the train when a wave hit us., and I suspected the train might take it’s time traversing the sea wall. High tide was due at about 1840, so it was bound to be touch-and-go. If they just stopped at Dawlish Warren I could phone my dad or girlfriend and get them to come and fetch me, drive me the two miles or so from the Warren to home rather than having to endure a cramped train carriage being battered and buffeted by the engorged, enraged sea. But the train pulled some 50 yards past Dawlish Warren platform, and stopped. And remained stopped. For half an hour or more. So we sat there, being told nothing more than that the line down the sea wall being checked for safety and we were awaiting permission to use it. A guy I know phoned his brother and got him to go to Dawlish station and find out what was going on. I gather he couldn’t actually get to Dawlish station, because the whole of the sea front was flooded.
Finally, at half past six they announced they were going to take us back to Exeter and arrange coaches. I hoped and prayed they’d stop at Dawlish Warren, even Starcross, to allow people who had been travelling to Dawlish and Teignmouth to get off and seek alternative transport, lifts, local buses, taxis even. People (myself included) were standing this note in italics goes out to anyone who takes up two seats on a train to themselves because they are a sleeping student or a pig-headed businessman or an ignorant fuck of any other creed or vocation [little old ladies excepted] and leaves other people standing because your bag or feet or laptop is more important than another human being – YOU ARE SCUM, YOU ARE THE EXCREMENT ON THE SHOES OF HUMANITY, I HOPE YOU DIE IN YOUR SLEEP YOU SELFISH, INSENSITIVE, BAD-MANNERED FUCKS – end italics and the train was hot, cramped, and tense. A claustrophobic old lady said she felt faint. I opened the window nearest to me and got a couple of other people to open windows near them too.
They didn’t stop at Dawlish Warren, only fifty yards away, or Starcross, another mile or two up the line. They trundled us all the way back to Exeter. I phoned my dad and got him to drive to the station, knowing there’d be hundreds of people and not enough buses and not wanting to suffer the stress. It took him twice as long as it would normally take, because of flooding in Starcross and Dawlish. I went to the pub across the road from Exeter St Davids and necked two pints of Guinness.
I finally got home after 8pm.
NJS
10/28/2004 08:37:00 am
Wednesday, October 27, 2004
Floods in Devon = I am listening to The Penguin Cafe Orchestra and thinking happy thoughts...
fadeout95: who are they?
NickJSouthall: um
NickJSouthall: hard to describe
NickJSouthall: avant-garde twee orchestral chamber pop
fadeout95: valliant attempt.
NickJSouthall: melodies played on mobile phones and such like
NickJSouthall: IT'S MY JOB
fadeout95: haha. I like that.
NickJSouthall: hurdy gurdies and harmoniums and stuff
fadeout95: do you have any experience with really annoying roommates?
NickJSouthall: oh god
NickJSouthall: when i was 19 i tried to burn down my flat because i hated the people i lived with
NickJSouthall: THIS IS WHY I CANT REMEMBER 1998
fadeout95: hahhahahah
NickJSouthall: i told them satan was coming
fadeout95: my follow-up question was going to be "how did you handle them?" but now I'm not quite so sure I want to know.
NickJSouthall: i lft the flat
NickJSouthall: and drank a lot
NickJSouthall: read too much sartre
NickJSouthall: went into total existential crisis
NickJSouthall: wrote the maddest exam paper ever
NickJSouthall: got a 2;1
fadeout95: I have no idea what that means.
NickJSouthall: sat ona seawall that summer reading american psycho and cried my eyes out cos i identified with him
NickJSouthall: 2;1 = grade b
fadeout95: nice.
fadeout95: mine's a theatre major. He keeps doing phonetic exercises and rehearsing lines badly and screaming a lot.
fadeout95: I'm trying to drown him out but it's not humanly possible.
NickJSouthall: is he kicking a football against your door atb 4am and screaming "wake up you weird cunt" at you?
fadeout95: no don't think so.
NickJSouthall: has his best mate (who you are sure he is in love with in a very repressed homosexual way) thrust his hand through your kitchen window, severing an artery and leaving you to pluck glass out of his hand?
fadeout95: not yet, no.
NickJSouthall: then yr lucky
fadeout95: I see.
NickJSouthall: in my third year my room mate and i fired eggs on our kitchen floor one night
fadeout95: fried eggs/
NickJSouthall: we poured absinthe on the floor and set it alight and cracked eggs in it
NickJSouthall: we had drunk lots
fadeout95: natch.
NickJSouthall: 9this might help you understand me better)
fadeout95: I think I get the general idea.
NickJSouthall: aye
NickJSouthall: university fucked me up
fadeout95: I so anticipate your autobiography when you turn 45 or so.
NickJSouthall: haha
NJS
10/27/2004 10:40:00 pm
More musing on death.
I think part of the reason Peel (and also Clough) dying has hit me so hard is the fact that we're at a point in history were we've had 50 years of television, radio, pop music, magazines, popular culture - and that first generation of "normal" people to become famous on an every day level, people who everybody knew but who weren't superstars, who moved in a different moonlight to Cary Grant or James Dean or Marilyn Monroe but who were just as much a part of history and even more so a part of our lives... that first generation are all in their 60s and 70s now, and beginning to die of natural causes. Early deaths, rock star deaths, overdoses, spectacular car crashes, shootings… in a way are all much easier to accept than someone who has, for people under 40, always just been there, present, a building block of the popular culture, just dying, dying because they’re old and have run out of time to live.
NJS
10/27/2004 10:49:00 am
Tuesday, October 26, 2004
Sometimes you just write and you don't really know what or why, you just have to type. Other people will say it better, more knowingly, more profoundly, but this is my two pence.
John Peel would, I’m sure, appreciate the fact that radio Five Live has just followed a tribute to his life and a commemoration of his death with an article about what kind of biscuits British people like to dunk in their tea.
I never really liked punk, and, if I’m honest, I probably only ever listened to Peel’s programme on Radio 1 a few dozen times. I did often catch the first ten minutes or half an hour or so of it in recent years as I drove home from football on a Tuesday night, but in recent months we’ve been finishing at 8.30pm and Peel had been bumped back to 11pm, so those few, warm moments of bumbling, endearing, unprofessional passion disappeared. But Peel wasn’t just about punk. The only Peel Session CD I own is by Boards Of Canada. He was the first Radio 1 DJ to play reggae, ska, krautrock, electronica, hip hop, everything.
“Teenage Kicks” and “Ever Fallen In Love (With Someone You Shouldn’t Have)” have been all over Radio 1 this afternoon, and every time I hear either I well up. He didn’t influence the choice of music I listen to, but he did influence the philosophy behind why and how I listen to music. I love the fact that his favourite single was released when he was in his late 30s and he still got it, the rush, the push, the adrenaline, the buzz of hearing a great song and feeling as if you’re about to pop. Who else now is going to play the music that no one else will touch?
Part of me worries that, as someone on ILM pointed out, some people at Radio 1 will secretly be saying “well that’s that problem solved”.
Possibly what I liked most about Peel, disregarding philosophy for a moment (never stop; never be comfortable; always move on and look for new things; help others if you can; enjoy life; be nice; you can be a normal, unassuming person and enjoy cutting-edge art and culture; everyone can enjoy art, as long as they get a chance to appreciate it; everyone deserves a chance; etcetera, etcetera, etcetera), was Home Truths on Radio 4. I remember vaguely crossing swords with Momus on ILX about it; he complained, said “who wants to know about the normal people, who cares about the average; I demand the exceptional!” but I saw Home Truths as being about showing how exceptional even the normal people are. The item I remember most from that programme was about a pub in Brighouse, and a group of local men who would go there on a set night every week and take their wives, and the wives would sit at one side of the pub and the men at the other and each group was like a different club having a meeting; if a man was going to be absent one week then he had to bring in a note from his wife giving permission. The situation reminded me of the Sunday night regulars in the pub where I used to work. I found it heart warming; just another example of the silly little things we do, the games we play, to pass the time, to make our lives that bit better, that bit more fun.
“Celebrity” deaths don’t generally phase me at all. Joe Strummer dying upset me, as he was on the mental checklist of musicians I would like to meet, to have a beer with and chat to (alongside Bill Drummond and Mark Hollis). Peel was on the other mental checklist; the list of “good guys” (and girls). You never, ever came across anyone saying anything bad about John Peel. Negative or critical maybe, but never bad, not with feeling.
Rest in peace, John Peel. We love you.
NJS
10/26/2004 10:55:00 pm
John Peel RIP
John Peel, bastion of British radio for over 40 years, has died suddenly of a heart attack whilst on a working holiday in Peru.
BBC website report.
This has really shaken me up.
NJS
10/26/2004 02:43:00 pm
Monday, October 25, 2004
Do you have any Linkin Park?
Children and animals love me, for some reason. I’m not entirely sure why, because I’m not massively keen on either. I’m no animal hater – it’s just that I’m allergic to most things with fur (which I’m sure they’re aware of on some primordial, scent-based level, hence their affection for me), and as for kids… well, they can’t really talk about existentialism and cultural impact of hiphop and Chris Morris over a pint of Guinness with you, can they? But they do love talking to me, for some reason. Emma’s 13-year-old brother loves me. The three random kids of about the same age who’ve just spent the last 20 minutes harshing my buzz (or something) seemed to too. It’s probably my own fault. Emma says that because I’m not particularly arsed about children I don’t bother to make any special effort to communicate with them on “their level” (if such a level exists) like most adults do, and apparently kids love being talked to as if they’re normal people (there’s a surprise).
So how did it start? How do you think? Blasting the Embrace album via the iPod I get onto the train, spot a seat next to someone who won’t mind being assailed by my music, and sit down. So I sit by three kids, about 12 or 13 years old, because kids don’t mind noise, do they? One of them I recognise – he does a paper round on my estate and I walk past him every day. I always feel quite sorry for him, especially when it’s raining.
But I had my iPod in my hand when I sat down, didn’t I?
“Is that an iPod?!”
“Yes.”
“How much is it?”
“In money or capacity?”
“I dunno- how much?”
“Um, 20gigabytes. I’ve had it nearly a year, it cost £300 but they’re £220 now.”
“You spent £300 on that?!”
“Have you got any Tupac on it?!”
“Yeah, I have actually.”
“What are you listening to?”
“Embrace.”
“Embrace?”
“Who are they?”
“Um, a rock band, I guess.”
“Have you got any Foo Fighters?”
“Have you got any Blink 182?”
“Have you got any Green Day?”
“Um, no. No. They’re quite good. No.”
“Can I have a go?”
“How many songs have you got on it?”
“Have you got a girlfriend?”
“No. Um, three thousand and something. Yes.”
“I see you in the mornings. You walk fast. Why do you walk so fast?”
“To get to the train on time.”
“Where do you work?”
“He goes to college!”
“Does he?”
“No, I work at the university.”
“Are you a teacher?”
“What do you study?”
“I work in the library.”
“Does it use batteries?”
“It has an internal battery, it lasts about 7 hours.”
“Do you charge it every day?”
“Do you use it all the time?”
“Why do you have so many songs?”
“Do you read a lot of books?”
“What type of bird is that?”
“I don’t know. Oh, it’s a heron. I look after the music and films, I don’t have much to do with books.”
“Can you take sound off DVDs and that?”
“You could if you recorded it to CDR via an analogue stage, I guess, and then ripped from the CDR.”
“Yeah, I do that all the time. Weirdo.”
“Are you well into computers?”
“Are you a techno bod?”
“Not really, but I do like stereos.”
“Are you from round here?”
“What school did you go to?”
“Yes, I live where he does his paper round.”
“I know him better than you do. I see him every day.”
“Do you have any Jay Z?”
“Do you have any Eminem?”
“Yeah, do you like his new one?”
“I went to Teignmouth. Yes, I have lots of Jay Z.”
“Do you have Dirt Off Your Shoulder?”
“Yes. I have lots of Eminem too. I do like his new one.”
“Do you have Michael Jackson? Can we see all your songs?”
“Wow is that a touch-screen?!”
“It’s touch-sensitive, on this bit.”
“Is it loud?”
“Yes, it’s louder than most iPods, I downloaded software to make it louder.”
“I like the video when Michael Jackson’s nose falls off and he goes UERGHUERGHUERGH UERGHUERGH.”
“I go to Teignmouth! Who was your tutor?!”
“Do you know Mr Smiddy? Ask him about me. He was head of sixth form.”
“We can’t, we don’t know your name.”
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
“He does he said!”
“My name’s Nick.”
“Can I have her number?”
“Is she fit?”
“What’s your ambition in life?”
“Do you have a lot of CDs?”
“Yes, no you can’t have her number! Of course she is. Um, to get a better job at the moment. I have almost enough CDs.”
“Do you know Muse?”
“I was in Chris’ science group.”
“Can we come round and borrow some CDs?”
“No you can’t!”
That’s about as much as I can remember. When I got off the train they all vaguely followed me to my car, where dad was waiting to pick me up, and they said “BYE NICK!” very loudly. While the conversation was going on I was randomly playing them songs from the iPod, avoiding Jay Z and Tupac in favour of “B.O.B.” by Outkast and “Soon” by MBV. You gotta get ‘em young if you can.
Most odd, but strangely good fun.
NJS
10/25/2004 07:24:00 pm
Pulse
Yes I am alive, just in case you wondered. I fear the man on the cliff may not be, though.
NJS
10/25/2004 08:44:00 am
Friday, October 15, 2004
Bugger That First List
The Albums You Should Have Listened To Before You Die
Copy this list onto your blog, put the ones you have listened to (completely from beginning to end) in bold and then add three more albums that you think people should have heard before they turn into their parents - remember, it isn't necessarily your favourite albums but the ones you think people should listen to... and when we say listen we mean from track one through to the end... If you put a link to your follow-on post in the comments of the site where you found it, the chain will be trackable. You are also allowed to DELETE up to THREE albums on the existing list, if you feel a) that this is an album which should not reasonably be foisted upon anybody, or b) that one Steve Earle album is quite enough for one lifetime, thank you.
The original list was rubbish, frankly; too much boring guitar shite, no dance music aside from the tokenistic Orbital pick (Brown, how imaginative [Brown gets picked by rock fans because the song titles are on the cover, like a proper rock album from the 60s by someone like The Small Faces]), no hip hop, no jazz, just standard canon picks left, right and centre. If we’re going to do this we have to consider why we’re doing it – are we making a list to fill in the gaps of a music fan’s historical rock education, for instance? And if we are, why the fuck are we doing that? There are reams and reams of lists and papers and essays and books of collected reviews that tread that same, well-worn path, and they’re all fucking boring and written by 40 year olds. We’re the blogosphere; we should seek to be a vibrant and irreverent (but no less thoughtful or passionate) commentator, not bound by received wisdom and rock historiography orthodoxy. This list, of records you absolutely must hear before you die, shouldn’t be about being the same as any list you can get in Rolling Stone; it should be about helping the participants in the list become better listeners, it should be about broadening horizons and opening minds, not reinforcing the status quo. And as such, being the all knowing genius that I am, I have deigned to redraw this list in mine own image, or something.
So here goes…
Talk Talk – Spirit Of Eden
The Congos – Heart Of The Congos
Eminem – The Marshall Mathers LP
Orbital – In Sides
Michael Jackson – Thriller
Prodigy – Music For A Jilted Generation
My Bloody Valentine – Loveless
Gillian Welch – Time (The Revelator)
Miles Davis – In A Silent Way
Brian Eno – Another Green World
Public Enemy – It Takes A Nation Of Millions To Hold Us Back
The Buzzcocks – Singles Going Steady
Missy Elliott – Miss E… So Addictive
Nick Drake – Five Leaves Left
Genius/GZA – Liquid Swords
Spiritualized – Ladies & Gentlemen We Are Floating In Space
A Guy Called Gerald – Black Secret Technology
Blur – Parklife
Aphew Twin- Selected Ambient Works Volume 2
Kate Bush – The Hounds Of Love
Twenty records that you ought to listen to, in my (not so) humble opinion. Ben, Ian, etcetera, it’s over to you.
NJS
10/15/2004 10:55:00 am
Thursday, October 14, 2004
England
God, we were shite. Passing awful, movement awful, commitment absent. A “professional display” says Michael Owen. Bollocks was it. It was shite.
On the positive side of things, though, the pub I was drinking Guinness in last night after the match with my mate Andrew had some Middle Eastern satellite feed on (cheaper than commercial rates for Sky, but sadly no incidents of Ron Atkinson racially abusing black Frenchmen) which was showing the Italy v Belarus game, a 4-3 stunner replete with three fantastic goals (scorching Totti free-kick, left-footed Belarusian free-kick, and a 35-yard left-foot Belarusian screamer that swerved and slammed in off the post), a penalty which Totti scored and was forced to retake (he scored it again, in the same place but harder), a very good goal by De Rossi (my new Roma hero), and lots of niggly incidents and neat passing from both sides. In short, everything the England match wasn’t. Dom, I envy your nationality.
NJS
10/14/2004 09:31:00 am
Wednesday, October 13, 2004
Another List
I suppose I’d better take two minutes to do this…
The Albums You Should Have Listened To Before You Die
Which I found over at Ben’s blog today. Most of the current choices on it are abysmal, so I shall do the best I can.
Here are the instructions. Pass it on…
Copy the list on to your blog, put in bold the ones you have listened to (completely from beginning to end) and then add three more albums that you think people should have heard before they turn into their parents - remember, it isn't necessarily your most favourite albums but the ones you think people should listen to... and when we say listen we mean from track one through to the end... If you put a link to your follow-on post in the comments of the site where you found it, the chain will be trackable. From now on, you are also allowed to DELETE up to THREE albums on the existing list, if you feel a) that this is an album which should not reasonably be foisted upon anybody, or b) that one Steve Earle album is quite enough for one lifetime, thank you.
London Calling - The Clash
Think Tank - Blur
This Is Hardcore - Pulp
Moon Safari - Air
Never Mind The Bollocks Here's the Sex Pistols - Sex Pistols
OK Computer - Radiohead
Ziggy Stardust And The Spiders From Mars - David Bowie
The Wall - Pink Floyd
Setting Sons - The Jam
Come From The Shadows - Joan Baez
The River - Bruce Springsteen
The Very Best Of Joan Armatrading - Joan Armatrading
What's Going On - Marvin Gaye
Metal Box - Public Image Ltd
Orbital #2 (The Brown Album) - Orbital
Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain - Pavement
Apple Venus Vol. 1 - XTC
Marquee Moon - Televison
Daydream Nation - Sonic Youth
I Never Loved A Man (The Way I Love You) - Aretha Franklin
The Velvet Underground & Nico - The Velvet Underground & Nico
Appetite For Destruction - Guns N Roses
Talk Talk – Spirit Of Eden
Eminem – The Marshall Mathers LP
Freddie Hubbard – Red Clay
The last three albums are my additions. I have chosen to delete;
No More Shall We Part - Nick Cave And The Bad Seeds - because it’s overblown AOR goth-drama shite,
The Kiss of Morning - Graham Coxon – because Coxon is a wanker, and
Elastica - Elastica - because I have Wire’s first three albums.
Like I said, pass it on. And please get rid of Springsteen and The Jam ASAP.
NJS
10/13/2004 03:28:00 pm
Tuesday, October 12, 2004
FORZA
I love playing football. Why? The thrill of physical exertion? The excitement of feeling yourself do something you’d only hoped you were capable of? Hitting the back of the net? The grace, the poetry, of a well-placed pass, a good finish, a dummy, a mazy run, a feint? Tonight, and this doesn’t happen often (trust me, I tell you every time it does), I had a GREAT game. Or, I had a marvellous 45 minutes or so, and a good next half an hour. 7-a-side, teams pretty even, but we communicated much better and had luck fall in our direction. I scored three inside the first ten minutes, one good finish after a nice move (simple, first-touch stuff), one accident that snapped through the keeper’s legs, and one lucky challenge on a defender that snapped in powerfully. And then a full-pelt run on the break, down the centre of the pitch, bellowing “BACK AND LEFT BACK AND LEFT BACK AND LEFT!” at John, tearing down the right in turquoise t-shirt, as if I was John Garrison played by Costner in JFK describing Kennedy’s ruptured head jolting backwards and spilling brains over the motorcade. And John pulls it back, I take one touch with my right, barge past Martin, still at full-pelt, and the second touch is instant, left foot, and the ball sailed, low and hard, into the bottom corner. Billy applauded, I yelled “FUCK YES” and ran back to start again. It was a great moment, as stupid and tiny as that sounds – a goal in a casual Tuesday night five-a-side, but little moments of joy like that are what life’s made of. Get them where you can. I think I scored six all in all, and we won about 15-4.
A good evening.
NJS
10/12/2004 10:08:00 pm
Term-time wonders
Students, especially male ones in their first year, are a bizarre breed. The most bizarre ones are... Well, it seems almost as if some of them have a list of bohemian student things to do, like
Monday - watch a French New Wave film, preferably a black & white one
Tuesday - listen to some Bob Dylan
Wednesday - ask the library guy if they have any black & white photography [like wtf?! just randomly?! not "photographs of X" or "photographs by X", but just "hi, yeah, do you have any, like, photography in the university, like, a collection? of black & white photography? it's on my wannabe-boho-student-boy itinerary for today": so say I "we have some slides of photography", and wannabe-boho-student-boy picks an LP of the poetry of Ted Hughes as read by Ted Hughes instead OH JOY
Thursday - listen to some Frank Zappa
Friday - watch a Kurosawa film
I was never like that. I really wasn't. I never went in the fucking library in the first year, for a start.
I guess they're just lonely. Or maybe idiots. This one is wearing a black trenchcoat and is very well-spoken.
Also, wtf is up with people born in 1985 wearing Nirvana tops?
NJS
10/12/2004 01:07:00 pm
Monday, October 11, 2004
Franco Baresi would be proud
Jamie Theakston, being the most knowledgeable man in the country when it comes to pop music, is presenting a new series on C4 which aims to get viewers voting on who should be inducted into the UK’s Rock N Roll Hall Of Fame. Oh my. There were five artists included automatically, bypassing the shortlist and vote kerfuffle and going straight past Go and collecting £200; The Beatles (yawn), Elvis (yawn), Bob Marley (yawn), Madonna (yowl) and U2 (wtf?!). U2? Why the fuck do they get a pass straight in? Because their career’s passed across more than one decade so the organisers didn’t know which show to put them in? Jesus. No Stones, no Velvets, no Marvin, no Stevie, no Clash, no [insert name of favourite redundant canonical rock artist here]… So U2 are one of the five Greatest Artists Ever. I guess they’ve sold a lot of records, but I still don’t get what the fuss is about beyond bits of Joshua Tree and Achtung Baby.
But anyway, last night was 90s night, with ten possibles up for the vote, including Prodigy, Oasis, Radiohead, Dr Dre, Blur, Robbie Williams… and Missy Elliott. Who, granted, released two solo albums and did a whole hump of production work in the 90s, but who surely didn’t break through into the UK mainstream until 2001 when “Get Ur Freak On” was released? So wtf is she doing in the 90s show?
There were many, many things wrong with this programme, from the completely redundant talking-head commentators (Stephen Dorff says he likes Red Hot Chilli Peppers! WOW!) to the inclusion of Red Hot Chilli Peppers (and some woman, Sylvia someone, saying something about how they’ve changed their sound with every album yes they’ve got slower and more boring is that what you mean crazy woman?!) to John cunting Harris wearing a Happy Mondays t-shirt and a BAD haircut (almost as bad as Vernon cunting Kaye rubbing himself in the presence of Paul cunting Weller on T4 earlier in the day – “Do you think you’re cool?” “Anyone who thinks they’re cool isn’t cool” he says wearing sunglasses indoors and sporting a cunt’s haircut - I hope they both catch impetigo and die, or at least have very nasty rashes which make them appear unsightly to ladies they find attractive) and perpetuating even more BULLSHIT about stuff. John Harris – you’re a cunt.
But of course no one really cares about this programme, because everyone was watching Ralph Little mark Paul Gascoigne on Sky One. Chris Waddle… Viv Anderson… Trevor Francis… Sheffield Wednesday Old Boys vs Some Pesky Famous Kids? Robbie Williams’ boyfriend flatmate / cousin / whatever scored an almost mirror-image copy of the Beckham goal against Wales after Gary Pallister had driven the Legends ahead after Bosnich went off to snort some coke injured and they had to put some TV presenter in goal, before Ally McCoist restored order by scoring the winner in injury time. And on Five there was a documentary about Stan Collymore, possibly my favourite non-Wednesday/Arsenal/Roma player ever, for a bunch of reasons including (but not condoning) the fact that he decked Ulrika.
Sunday nights are bizarre.
Drove to work so as to avoid being confronted by a frozen corpse atop the cliff.
NJS
10/11/2004 08:56:00 am
Friday, October 08, 2004
The Brattleboro Rat
The man on the cliff was wrapped up in a big coat and a woolly hat today. What do I do when I walk past his frozen corpse in three months' time? I can see my own breath in the air as I walk to the station in the mornings now. Heaven only knows what it's like before sunrise.
The title of this post is the title of the novel.
The train journey is becoming increasingly frustrating each morning, as the sun is slightly further down in the sky and the light correspondingly more golden, the air correspondingly cooler, and the mist over Cockwood, Powderham and Turf Locks correspondingly more beautiful - every glance out of the window sees another photo opportunity, if only I was outside and walking, pulled from my grasp. Every power line, every telephone pole, every mist-shrouded heffer, every stark and naked tree thrown into relief by the rising sun, is a possible picture, and I can't take any of them because I'm on a fucking train.
NJS
10/08/2004 10:11:00 am
Wednesday, October 06, 2004
A Noisy Bristol Crowd
The man on the cliff was wrapped in a sleeping bag yesterday morning, which I am taking to mean that he is definitely living in the observation shelter. It’s turning cold enough at night now, but I pity him when it gets to January if he’s still there. One morning I’m going to walk past a corpse. What does one do if this happens?
Tried to get some trainers in Bristol yesterday afternoon, some Nike Air Max preferably, but the only good designs were £90-£110. Except for a pair of very nice Air Max Rock Roach (or something), which were only £60. But which they didn’t have in my size. Bastard Bristol. Maybe I should have just pimped out for a £90 pair? Brown Air Max are not easy to come across in Exeter, because it sucks for shopping.
But anyway, the gig…
Normally at Embrace gigs I’m either with loads of people I know and/or hideously drunk; last night I was only with Emma and, as I was driving the 80 miles back after the gig, sober as a judge (not a drop passed my lips). I met two new people – one kid to sell a ticket to (for a bargain £5) and also Nathan (Cavs), who was sound as a pound / a good egg / refreshingly normal compared to some of the people you occasionally meet prior to gigs after arranging it via the net. Nathan, we must meet for a proper beer sometime, and discuss the vagaries of higher education and useless degrees in full.
Dogs Die In Hot Cars were very good, very early 80s spiky songwriting, a bit Cure, a bit Dexys, a bit XTC, a lot Elvis Costello. Good harmonies, good dynamics, interested in getting hold of the album = result for DDIHC (despite their shitty name. Danny did the lighting for them, disguising himself with a woolly hat and Mickey’s glasses (he tried mine but they were too strong and sent his eyes weird). While he was arranging his cunning disguise we got a playback via Mickey’s laptop of a preliminary edit of the video for “Ashes” – it looked very good, but the band all agreed that they preferred the previous edit (which I didn’t see).
Embrace came onstage to a medley of songs that have heralded their arrival over the years – “I Want To Take You Higher” by Sly & The Family Stone, “Wonderful World” by Louis Armstrong, “Down To The River” from the O Brother soundtrack. They forgot “Don’t Believe The Hype” though, which was a shame because that’s what they came onstage to (in conjunction with Sly) when I first saw them in Bristol some seven years ago, a cheeky riposte to all the glowing press they were getting at the time, and early evidence of the band’s always-ignored (by the press) sense of humour and pathos.
So… swathe of white noise, building and building, the band standing stock still, barely visible, and then… big house beat vanquishes the noise, four-to-the-floor, held for a few bars to raise tension to a stupid level, a slither of guitar from Richard and “Ashes” implodes, explodes, lifts-off. It’s a great way to start a set, probably the best opener they’ve had, huge yet also tight and utterly valedictory and vindicating. Vocals spot on, crowd singing and bouncing from front to balcony (where we were), band in control and on the edge too. In the dressing room beforehand Mike and Steve had been napping side-by-side, perhaps synchronising circadian rhythms to keep them in better time on stage. (Or perhaps, after the chaos of the last few months, they’re just knackered?) This will be, when it’s released in November, a smash hit single. It can’t fail, surely?
A word on the venue. This is the third time I’ve been to the Bristol Carling Academy with Emma (Flaming Lips and Ash being the other two – the Lips gig their being one of the best gigs I’ve ever seen [only partly because of the company, J & Josie!]), and the third time it’s rained on us when we’ve left. It’s also the umpteenth time I’ve been distressed at how badly run Carling venues are. £2 for a bottle of water, only able to buy cans of Carling and even then you have to have them (messily and wastefully) dispensed into a plastic cup because you might use it as a weapon or something, possibly. They don’t let you have the lid to your water bottles because you might throw it at the band or you might use it as a weapon as well or something. Plus shit with cameras (I didn’t bother to take mine this time because last time I had to run back up Park Street to put it in the car, the assholes) and all sorts of other petty shitty, badly-thought-out commerce-over-experience nonsense. Carling? Mean Fiddler? You fucking suck. But they have a total monopoly over live music venues for any band wanting to play to between 1500 and 2500 people in this country (or 6000 in London or whatever).
Highlights… “All You Good Good People” now climaxes tighter and with more noise than ever before, Rik’s guitar playing and the tautness of Mike & Steve much improved from 7 years ago, an intense wash of delirium now awesome even when sober and on the balcony watching onstage antics via a monitor because I was too short and not aggro enough to be able to see properly (I’ve seen them plenty of times, it was nice to be able to listen). Danny’s constant exhortations to the crowd, getting them to dance, sing along, wave arms. His announcements of “Richard McNamara on guitar!” prompting Rik when he has to play a fiddly bit – he even did an announcement for Mike, Steve and Mickey at one point too, proof positive (if any were needed) that he loves Sly & The Family Stone (“you might like to hear my organ!” indeed). The introduction to “Come Back To What You Know” – “I was on a TV show with Lemmy, and I asked him if he ever got bored of playing The Ace Of Spades. He said Well you know, Dan, it’s a fucking good song; it’s not Agadoo”, proof, if proof were needed, that they’re right to play it again. People want to hear it, so who are the band to deny? I’m still not overly keen (I sang along, as per, and everyone else loved it), but, as Emma pointed out, I’ve always been an awkward sod.
More highlights… “Even Smaller Stones” is a fucking amazing song and I cannot wait to hear it recorded. Mickey, after the gig, was full of enthusiasm and eagerness to get onto working on new material, the new modus operandi the band have regarding the creation of their music obviously a positive new phase for them – if other results of this new method are as good as “Even Smaller Stones” then the fifth album will be their best (four songs and one chorus totally finished already). “New Adam New Eve” and “Out Of Nothing” were both awesome as well, likewise the D12 cover. Rik’s mad harmonies during “Someday” and the “dur-dur-dur-dur” intro he did to the chorus of “Save Me” at one point. News that they’re very close to sorting a deal for Out Of Nothing to be released in America. The cavernous kick-drum in the intro to “One Big Family”. A wry smile from Rik when I asked him if they’d play “Blind” and told him, through a big grin, that it was their best song because “all the others are shite”.
Lowlights… The venue. Danny’s voice cracking during “Looking As You Are” and faltering during “Spell It Out” (Rik carried him through it, thankfully – that’s what brothers are for). TP (good man, as ever) mentioning that the band looked tired, and the fact that he was right. I doubt anyone else in the crowd (with the exception of Stu) noticed because the reaction from front to balcony was phenomenal, and the energy the band put into the gig was awesome, but they were clearly tired after the show when I nipped back to say cheerio before the drive home (I walked in my front door at five past 1). The absence of family, friends and loved ones (and, Emma pointed out, drugs) was obvious – after the high of being onstage, the expended energy, the fatigue and melancholy that I imagine kicks in as they board the bus again must be deadening. There’s no one there to give them a hug and say well done, apart from each other. Still, a couple of weeks (after tonight and Liverpool) to sort things out, rest and recuperate, and do a fuck-load more publicity for “Ashes” before hitting the circuit again in November.
But even despite the rapturous reception and raucous performance I went away with the impression that this is still the calm before the storm. Shepherd’s Bush was a celebration, a welcome home. This was one of the last missiles in the final volley before invasion.
Seven years ago there were crowd surfers. We're a bit old for that now. But not too past it.
NJS
10/06/2004 09:02:00 am
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