Out of time

Whither the end-of-year lists, you may be wondering (if you are, surely you've got something much better to do?). Well, they ARE still on the way but it very much looks as though I'll still be picking over the bones of 2007 when 2008 is already upon us.

I'm holding off posting the Top 10 Albums list because In Rainbows and The Besnard Lakes Are The Dark Horse are begging to be heard before I can come to some kind of decision, while there's still another gig review to write and post before a specially extended gig list is ready.

In the meantime, then, enjoy the silence - and best wishes for New Year, of course.

Cheers!

As it's unlikely I'll get to a computer again before the day itself, I'll take this opportunity to wish you all a happy Christmas!

PS Are you leaving those sprouts?

Ladyfest

Fate was smiling on me last year when Swiss Toni reached into the Shuffleathon hat and drew out my name as the recipient of a CD from Mandy of I Have Ordinary Addictions. I already owned and loved two of the featured songs, and was delighted to be finally introduced to the likes of Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, Stars and Rilo Kiley, as well as unfamiliar songs by Gorky’s Zygotic Mynci, Death Cab For Cutie and REM, amongst others. The only stumbling block was a Belle & Sebastian track, but that was easily overlooked. (Review here.)

I hope Spinsterwitch can forgive me if I confess that this time around the experience was rather different.

* * * * *

‘Grey Girl’ – Rebecca Riots

Californian folkies Rebecca Riots take their name from a popular uprising which took place in the nineteenth century in Wales during which the poor stuck it to the Man by destroying toll-gates. Wonder what they’d have made of the £5.10 charge to get over the Severn into Wales on the M4? Oh...

As that choice of moniker might suggest, the trio are a political band keen to use music as a tool for spreading the message – the message being (according to their website) everything from "Palestinian rights" and "police accountability" to "building with straw bale". Now THERE’s a much-overlooked subject to sing about.

The good news, though, is that ‘Grey Girl’ isn’t overbearingly preachy but instead gently lilting and nicely understated. I can imagine Low’s Mimi Parker doing this a lot of justice.

‘Silent All These Years’ – Tori Amos

I can’t honestly recall ever having heard this before – quite an achievement, as it was apparently a big hit from the 1992 album Little Earthquakes.

It begins with tinkling, twinkling piano, at once childish and profoundly unsettling, and Amos’s voice, vulnerable – until the music swells and suddenly it’s strong and yearning as though grasping for something just out of reach.

I’ve really grown to like ‘Silent All These Years’, though as a male listener, it’s hard not to hear lines like "Boy you best pray that I bleed real soon / How's that thought for ya?" without wincing...

‘Iowa (Traveling III)’ – Dar Williams

It’s back to the folk, folks, and back to that inexhaustible crib sheet Wikipedia for a bit of background information. Dar Williams – Dorothy Snowden Williams to her mom and pop – has been championed by Joan Baez, who has actually paid her the tribute of covering some of her songs. ‘Iowa’ was widely understood as a not-particularly-oblique song about lesbian desire – the opening two lines, for instance, are "I’ve never had a way with women / But the hills of Iowa make me wish that I could" – until she hopped off the fence and publicly outed herself as heterosexual, leaving Morrissey perched behind.

Sadly, I’ve listened to this repeatedly – about six times tonight alone – and I’m afraid I’m still to find anything interesting to say about it. To me, it’s mind-bendingly bland in a way only American mainstream music can be, shrink-wrapped in a sickly-sweet sheen of “feeling” yet lacking any heart or life or soul or any of the things that makes music worth bothering about.

‘Keeper Of The Flame’ – Nina Simone

Now this is more like it. ‘Keeper Of The Flame’ comes on like a lost Bond theme tune, the opulent sweeping swish of orchestration parting like a pair of heavy velvet theatre curtains to frame Ms Simone’s unique voice centre stage, singing about a love which smoulders as much as the song itself.

Sultry, rich, luxuriant, wistful – and with an extraordinary vocal breakdown about 2:20 in. They certainly don’t make ‘em like they used to, do they?

‘Touch Me Fall’ – The Indigo Girls

The Indigo Girls – aka Amy Ray and Emily Saliers – are one of those acts who are practically household names in the States but who’ve barely even caused a ripple across this side of the pond. I can’t say I’m disappointed – or surprised.

One minute we’ve got mid-paced bore-rock with a touch of folk, then we’ve got clomping great stadium rock drums (think Matt Sorum in ‘November Rain’), then a full-blown string interlude, and then a breathless, rattling finish. Apparent directionlessness doesn’t necessarily bother me – I’ve been unable to stop playing ‘The Philadelphia Grand Jury’, the particularly schizophrenic first track on the latest album by career ADHD sufferers The Fiery Furnaces, for crying out loud – but this just doesn’t work for me.

‘Power Of The Harden-Bratt’ – Ulali

This I HAD to research.

It says here that Ulali (meaning “song bird”) are "the first Native American women's a cappella group to create their own sound from strong traditional roots and personal contemporary styles".

Which is all well and good, but I’ve found ‘Power Of The Harden-Bratt’ to be one of the most unlistenable and intensely irritating things to have ever assailed my ears. I may know different now, but the first time I heard it, it put me in mind of a bunch of tone-deaf middle-managers bullied into communing with their earth mother on a spiritual retreat.

That’s it – call me narrow-minded, but Spinsterwitch has brought this skinny white guitar-loving boy a very long way from home and he’s decided he really doesn’t like it.

Skip, skip, skippity-skip…

‘Everyday Boy’ – Joan Armatrading

I’ve searched and searched online and still can’t find when ‘Everyday Boy’ was released, but I’m guessing from the synthesised chimes that form the song’s backbone that it was some time in the 1980s. The fact that the subject is a friend of Armatrading’s who’d contracted AIDS also dates it to that particular period – a period when there was a climate of fear, when the disease was misunderstood or seen as the “gay plague” or (as in this song) "God’s revenge", and when it was potentially controversial to claim that an AIDS sufferer could be "Just an everyday boy / Doing everyday things".

So, another track I don’t much enjoy, weighed down by its own hamfisted worthiness and very much of its time – but at least it served a definite purpose...

‘I See God In You’ – India Arie

... which is more than can be said for this slice of slow, “soulful” R&B that’s a complete waste of what is patently a pretty damn good (if here underexercised) pair of lungs.

Arie managed the bizarrely impressive feat of garnering no fewer than seven Grammy nominations in 2002 and still coming away from the awards ceremony empty-handed. Quite why she lets out a self-satisfied chuckle at the end of the song is beyond me.

‘Gave Me Love’ – Catie Curtis

More aural wallpaper, and not stylish wallpaper either (despite the initially promising loping Beck-like beats) – more like anaglypta, lumpy and plain, waiting for a splash of colour – so it doesn’t come as a great surprise to learn she’s supported Dar Williams, amongst many others.

The twist in the tale? Instead of a clichéd chord change at the end, the chorus becomes "I give you love" – the love's reciprocated, and in the present tense too. Aww. As thank you songs go, ‘Gave Me Love’ is certainly no ‘Thank You Jack White (For The Fiber-Optic Jesus You Gave Me)’.

‘Love Is All Around’ – Joan Jett

Where did THIS come from?!! Suddenly some life! But then you wouldn’t expect anything less from someone labelled "the original Riot Grrrl".

"Who can turn the world on with a smile?" You! "Who can take a nothing day and suddenly make it all seem worthwhile?" It’s you, Joan! We’ve got something in common, you and I – I believe we’re both ardent fans of rock ‘n’ roll. And when rock ‘n’ roll sounds this good – a short, sharp, Ramones-influenced shock (rather than what the song title threatened, a drippy Wet Wet Wet-style Troggs cover) – there’s nothing better.

I can’t help thinking, though, that had Mr and Mrs Jett (well, OK, Mr and Mrs Larkin) known their daughter was going to go into the music business and become a fempunk pioneer, they wouldn’t have saddled her with the name Joan. Though I suppose it didn't seem to do you or Joan Armatrading any harm.

* * * * *

So in conclusion, I persevered, I really did, but without much joy. Sometimes you just have to face up to the fact that if you bang your head against some brick walls for long enough you don’t break through to the other side, you just end up with a bloodied forehead and a killer headache.

I don’t want to go drawing clumsy inferences and conclusions about the person behind the compilation, and I’m also loath to criticise Spinsterwitch’s selection as being too homogenous because no doubt to many ears mine would be too. The most important thing is that I was exposed to a whole host of songs I’d never heard before, songs shared with me by someone who’s passionate about them – and that’s ultimately what the Shuffleathon is all about. After all, as a result of this I'll be seeking out more Nina Simone and Joan Jett, even if I did turn out to be, on the whole, an ungrateful sod.

Thanks to Spinsterwitch for taking the time and trouble to make and send me the CD, and to ST for arranging the whole shebang.

Festive cheer

Right, this is an order: if you missed the 'Screenwipe' Christmas special on BBC4 last night, WATCH ONE OF THE REPEATS.* Further proof, if proof be need be, that Charlie Brooker is the funniest misanthrope alive, a man with sackfuls of sarcasm and a zero tolerance policy towards fools - or anyone else for that matter.

As a TV critic (with the emphasis on the critic), he's a bit like a pig wallowing around gleefully in shit, showing only a passing interest in snouting for truffles in preference for putting himself through countless celebrity talent show contests just so he can come up with lines like the one about Laura Beale from off of 'EastEnders' winning 'Just The Two Of Us' dueting with Marti Pellow and thinking she could hammer out a tune when she in fact sounded like an out-of-tune hammer...

Perhaps the biggest tribute you can pay 'Screenwipe' is to say that it makes me hope programme-makers keep on coming up with new ideas for shit, braindead, lowest-common-denominator telly just so Brooker's still got subject material to work with.

(Actually, you could just watch it at your own leisure in three parts here, here and here. In't YouTube brilliant?!)

Possessed

I've heard of reading a book or watching a film and empathising with a character - but this is something else...

"Otakukin believe that they, for one reason or another, have the souls of anime characters, or the souls of people/entities from worlds depicted in anime, or in other modern fiction".

But don't worry, there's a whole community of Otakukin out there and "Otakukin is not a delusion any more than any other belief or spirituality is": "A delusion is defined as 'an erroneous belief that is held in the face of evidence to the contrary'. There is no evidence to the contrary with Otas. You may not personally believe in worlds where anime exists, but you can’t prove beyond a reasonable doubt that they don’t. Neither can Otakukin prove that they do. All that Otas can offer is the subjective evidence of memories and feelings that leads them to their belief". Fair point, perhaps - though for someone who's an arch sceptic towards other forms of belief and spirituality, that doesn't make it any less insane...

(Thanks to Jon for the links.)

Quote of the day

"Dying is a bit like writing a letter to Santa. Unless you've been a good boy or girl, you're fucked".

Malcolm Middleton, whose bid to get to the much-coveted Christmas #1 slot with a single called 'We're All Going To Die' has been backed by Radio 1's Colin Murray and Edith Bowman, seeing his odds slashed by William Hill from 1000/1 to 12/1.

'We're All Going To Die' is, quite wonderfully, the first song on Middleton's latest record A Brighter Beat, and certainly made an impression on me when he played it to a bunch of parents and children at a folk festival in the summer. You can buy it at the official site and watch the video here.

Rehab: no, no, no

First I'd heard about this - whose bright idea was it to invite them to play in the first place?!

Feel good hits of the 20th December

1. 'Devastation' - The Besnard Lakes
2. 'Paper And Glue' - Emma Pollock
3. 'Pilgrim' - Kid Dakota
4. 'Red Sea' - Asobi Seksu
5. 'We're All Going To Die' - Malcolm Middleton
6. 'Screamager' - Therapy?
7. 'Flicker Of Light' - Derek Meins
8. 'Keeper Of The Flame' - Nina Simone
9. 'Poison' - Alice Cooper
10. 'Fairytale Of New York' - The Pogues & Kirsty MacColl

Somewhere there's a copy of The Besnard Lakes Are The Dark Horse with my name on it - just not in the Oxford branch of HMV, dammit.

Nerd sniping

I know quite a few people who'd fall for this - not that I actually want to do away with them or anything...

(Thanks to Fiona for the link.)

Going solo

EMMA POLLOCK / DEREK MEINS / ANDY GOWER, 3RD DECEMBER 2007, OXFORD JERICHO TAVERN

Fixing us with a stare, pub poet Andy Gower launches into a collection of acoustic songs about violence, braggadocio and small town depression, the small town in question being Stoke-on-Trent. So far so Noel Gallagher, but Gower at least has both a sense of humour - "I've got some CDs. I'm not on them, I've just got some", he quips drily at one point - and a sense of adventure, most apparent on 'Stepped Out Of Line', which comes to a furious climax with accomplice Craig Coda taking a violin bow to his electric guitar as Gower sings "If you see me walking in your direction / Will you cave my head in?"

As someone else answering to the description of "singer-songwriter" (usually a phrase to have me running for cover or reaching for the shotgun), Derek Meins couldn't be much more different. Put simply, the former frontman of Berwick maverick nearly-weres Eastern Lane is such a magnetic performer it's a wonder there isn't a health warning on the door to remove piercings and steer clear if fitted with a pacemaker.

It's difficult to describe exactly what it is he does - certainly his MySpace site doesn't do him justice - but performance art probably comes closest to the mark. Unlike Patti Plinko, he doesn't have a couple of gas-masked gimps flanking him, just a shaggy squiff of hair and a pair of brown trousers. But the apparently mild-mannered Dr Jekyll sipping his drink between songs becomes in an instant a wild-eyed Mr Hyde, Rufus Wainwright with a filthy mind and more screws loose than a very badly assembled DIY chest of drawers.

Opting to open with an acapella song about taking morphine is certainly one way to grab attention, and whether simulating sex noises to the visible discomfort yet fascination of all present, singing choruses like "If the ocean was made of gin / Then maybe I'd learn how to swim" with a mannered theatricality or indulging in schizophrenic role-play with himself in 'Richard's Going Through Phases', Meins is remarkable.

Glaswegian geniuses The Delgados were that rarest of beasts, a resolutely non-parochial British indie band with a vision and ambition to match those of the Americans. The Great Eastern and in particular Hate exhibited a masterful grasp of dynamics and dramatics. Every song was possessed with poise, beauty and grace, simultaneously bleak in outlook but lush and seductive in execution.

The hopeless romantics split in 2005, soon after the release of fifth LP Universal Audio, and now Emma Pollock is touring in support of her first full-length release as a solo artist, Watch The Fireworks.

In many ways, it’s an unfortunate choice of title; there may not be any damp squibs, but there aren’t many jaw-droppingly explosive moments either. Neatly crafted songs like ‘Paper and Glue’ and piano-led single ‘Adrenaline’ continue along the route towards contentedly centrist pop signposted by Universal Audio rather than blasting off into the stratosphere. There’s little sense of being enveloped in that familiar sumptuous gloom, or of Pollock’s accompanying trio of impeccably coiffed toy-boys being anything more than a backing band of hired hands, as is illustrated when they’re dispensed with for a period mid-set, forced to make their way awkwardly off the front of the Jericho’s stage and into the crowd.

But of course such comparisons, while inevitable, are also horribly unfair. Pollock is an engaging and cheerfully garrulous performer, even when suffering the indignity of her guitar strap slipping off barely ten seconds into the set, and there are enough indications – particularly in album closer ‘The Optimist’, pared down tonight to circumnavigate sound problems without losing any of its power, and ‘Jesus On The Cross’, the darkly comic collaboration with author Louise Welsh for Roddy Woomble’s Ballads Of The Book project – that, instead of dwelling wistfully on past glories, we should be looking forward with relish to those which are yet to come.

A spanner in the works

Thanks and no thanks to Ken for insisting I listen to The Besnard Lakes.

Thanks because the three tracks on their MySpace site - and the warped Arcade-Fire-meets-Beach-Boys psychedelia of 'Disaster' and the choral stoner bliss of 'Devastation' in particular - are very, very good indeed. No great surprise, given that they hail from Montreal. Anyway, you know me too well, sir.

No thanks because, as someone like Ken who busies himself around this time of year by formulating lists, the possibility that there might be an album out there - The Besnard Lakes Are The Dark Horse - that might waltz into my Top Ten if only I'd heard it is profoundly troubling...

A firm believer that recommendations should be passed on, I promptly urged my friend Gareth to give them a listen, and he's now a convert too. He deserved a good turn, in any case, after loaning me a clutch of albums at the weekend which also have a chance of sneaking into the Top Ten at the last minute: the self-titled Shocking Pinks record, Animal Collective's Strawberry Jam and in particular Asobi Seksu's Citrus - now regretting missing them last month even more...

Probably shouldn't admit this, but I haven't yet got or even heard a copy of In Rainbows...

Quote of the day

"While we would never condone prejudice of any kind, we know our audiences are smart enough to distinguish between maliciousness and creative freedom. In the context of this song, I do not feel that there is any negative intent behind the use of the words, hence the reversal of the decision".

Andy Parfitt, Radio 1's Fat Controller, squirms his way through the announcement that the station's ban on playing the uncut version of The Pogues & Kirsty MacColl's 'Fairytale Of New York' has been lifted. Out of touch with the views of your audience, Andy? Now that would be a surprise.

Is it just me...

... or is the bloke in the current anti-drink-driving advert damn scary?

Excuses, excuses - and an offer

Apologies for the distinct lack of activity round these parts of late - it's been pretty much unavoidable, though.

Since the last post, put up on Thursday, I've:

- spent a weekend in honour of my 30th quite literally out of my mind in the company of 28 other self-destructees in a five star and awesomely hard-to-find bunk barn / youth hostel in mid-Wales (sample comment from the online directions, to be said aloud in a deep foreboding voice: "The most common mistake is to believe that nobody lives this high and lose faith"...);

- felt very unwell and decided that sambuca may not be my friend after all;

- visited my old place of work;

- made a bit of a half-arsed attempt at Christmas shopping;

- enjoyed a very tasty beer battered fish and chips at a joint leaving lunch for two colleagues in a country pub;

- attended the work Christmas party at Oxford United's Kassam Stadium, hoovered up free wine, marvelled at the chocolate fountain and the effect of the opening bars of 'Come On Eileen' on unspeakably drunk colleagues, and written it all up for the company newsletter;

- played football in near-Arctic conditions - still not quite able to feel my toes, though unfortunately I can feel my finger, still throbbing from being scalded by steam from my exceedingly lazy microwaveable dinner;

- written so many Christmas cards my arm aches.

Tomorrow night (ie Thursday) it's straight to London for another big night out, this time at the Cittie of Yorke (with its great beer and furnace heating) for someone's birthday. Yes, on a school night.

And then it's over to Cardiff on Friday night for the Oyster party, and then more Christmas shopping, football, mince pies, mulled wine and the pub on Saturday.

But I promise when I come back that there'll be a couple of gig reviews, plus some thoughts on the Shuffleathon CD, at very least.

And to make up for my absence, how's about an offer? I've put together the annual SWSL Best Of - this year a double CD. If you're interested in either a hard copy or just the electronic files, drop me an email to silentwordsspeakloudestAThotmail.com with your postal address (if you'd like a hard copy) or a request to see the tracklisting. Can you tell I've been at the Christmas spirit again?

Reasons To Be Cheerful Part II

(If you're wondering what this is all about, click here.)

It's been a while since the last one of these (during which time I've actually had a Sunday roast at the Brewery Tap, which I'm pleased to report was excellent) - and so, without further ado, here's another...

#4 - Eggs Eggsetera

I'm now in my fifth week of living in Oxford, and all is well. My new place is cosy, cheap, shared with friendly housemates and within easy walking distance of the train station and city centre. Convenience is key, and one thing I really missed in Abingdon was a local food shop. Here I have a choice of two at the end of the road: one possibly the worst stocked shop in the world (yes, even worse than the Co-Op on Ilkeston Road in Nottingham, jokingly dubbed "Russia" by my housemate at the time in reference to the crowds of students queueing up for dietary staples like bread and vodka), and the other called Eggs Eggsetera.

Jenni lived in Staines for a year, when (this being pre Ali G) one of the most notable things about the town was a shop called Taps 'N' Things. Judging by the window display, the "things" in question were vacuum cleaners - it didn't seem to sell anything else. Eggs Eggsetera, by contrast, really does sell eggs and "things" of all description - the "Eggsetera" (a clever pun there, I think you'll agree) seems to cover practically anything else, from cider to cling film. There's not quite the same dedication to the cause as there is from Mr Egg in Birmingham, the takeaway near the Arcadian with an enormous fried egg hanging from the ceiling where you seem unable to buy anything that doesn't involve egg, but I'm not about to take them to task for daring to diversify.

Eggs Eggsetera is primarily a delicatessen, and a good one at that, you see. I can vouch for the quality of the fresh fruit and veg out the front, as well as the strong speciality cheddar and Spitfire cheese, Cumberland sausages and homemade butter fudge (even if it was actually tablet). Perhaps not the best place to do a weekly groceries shop, as it's not the cheapest, but who wants another arsing Tesco on their doorstep? It's more than enough to compensate for the fear that if it carries on raining like it has been today, I'll get back from my weekend in Wales to discover the house under water and the traffic on Botley Road consisting solely of rowing boats and bemused ducks.

Picture perfect

Graphic novels? One step up from comics, I thought, and very definitely not for me. Until I was recommended 'Epileptic' by David B, that is.

'Epileptic' tells the autobiographical tale of the author / artist's childhood and adolescence, focussing particularly on his relationship with his epileptic brother Jean-Christophe. So vivid and frank is it that it's not surprising David's parents found it deeply unsettling, and certainly it's remarkable how his anger, hatred and sense of personal embarrassment come through almost as strongly as any sympathy, compassion or brotherly love.

It must also have been an uncomfortable read for them in its meticulous detailing of every quack they consulted and every faddish lifestyle or set of beliefs and practices they adopted in attempting to put a stop to Jean-Christophe's fits - the suggestion being that desperation can drive even intelligent people into swallowing and regurgitating mumbo-jumbo, opening themselves up to exploitation, if it offers a glimmer of hope.

There are occasional flashes of humour and warmth, but for the most part 'Epileptic' is a dark and disturbing book, the product of a fantastical imagination and populated by childhood monsters and later sinister figures and coiling snakes which plague Jean-Christophe. The extraordinary black and white drawings, and particularly the hollow-cheeked death-faced caricatures, reminded me strongly of the work of Okkervil River's Will Schaff, who was designed covers and artwork for Godspeed! You Black Emperor's Lift Yr Skinny Fists Like Antennae To Heaven and Kid Dakota's The West Is The Future - stark and grim, yes, but also haunting and moving at the same time.

So, thanks to Kath for loaning it to me. Next on the agenda has to be Marjane Satrapi's 'Persepolis', I think.

Update: Thanks to Simon for pointing out that it's Will Sheff who's in Okkervil River - Will Schaff is someone altogether different who just happens to have done some of their artwork.

Is it just me...

... or is this destined to become the basis for an ITV true-life drama for the 2009 autumn season?

Older but not wiser

How to turn 30 and yet feel younger? Simple, really: spend your birthday weekend in the company of younger friends who are not only married and saddled with a mortgage, but who have also very recently become parents...

It was great to meet Ben and Zahra, I'm grateful to Kitty for not being too upset at having her birthday party usurped by someone exactly 29 years older (to be honest, she was too preoccupied playing with boxes and wrapping paper), and thanks to Jenni for driving me back to Oxford on Sunday night when my train back from Birmingham left with me still in Long Eaton knocking back port and whiskey...

Feel good hits of the 4th December

1. 'Navy Nurse' - The Fiery Furnaces
2. 'The Light Before We Land' - The Delgados
3. 'You Bring Me Down' - Blood Red Shoes
4. 'Science' - Monkey Swallows The Universe
5. 'The Optimist' - Emma Pollock
6. 'Richard's Going Through Phases' - Derek Meins
7. 'Aly, Walk With Me' - The Raveonettes
8. 'Piece Of Mind' - Creepy Morons
9. 'Lovely Weather' - The Vandellas
10. 'So Long, Marianne' - Ravens & Chimes

Thanks to Simon and Steve for pointing me in the direction of the last two tracks.

More on Blood Red Shoes, Emma Pollock and Derek Meins when I get round to writing about the last couple of gigs I've been to, likely to be my last of the year.

And in other music related news, I've now got my Shuffleathon CD courtesy of Spinsterwitch - thoughts to appear here once I've given it enough time to breathe on the stereo.

Overheard

"If girls can give it, then they can take it too."

The enlightened opinion of one of my fellow bus passengers travelling from Oxford to Abingdon this evening. This came amidst discussions with his two friends of who had been - and indeed currently is - in most trouble with the law (a kind of verbal version of comparing penis lengths) and of the nuanced legal distinction between ABH and GBH.

Sold out

Ever wondered what happens when those temples to capitalism, American malls, die?