I feel that it’s time for a fresh start in various aspects of my life; dragging this blog off the subject of me and onto the subject of recovery, I suppose I could say that whatever addictive behaviours we pursue, they are always trains with ultimate destinations. Bleak places. Just because that’s where we are going, it doesn’t mean we can’t get off at an earlier station.
In addition to my new-found addiction to Beach House, I’m also probably late to the party that is Wild Nothing, the nom de guerre of Jack Tatum from Virginia. Much as I don’t like to give the little-known blog Pitchfork publicity, there’s a spot-on review of new album “Gemini” which you may care to peruse. The review, enlightening though it is, doesn’t single out my favourite track on the album, “Bored Games”.
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You want a report from Primavera Sound?? All the gossip, backstage stories, hot bands to watch?? Top ten lists? Whacky anecdotes? Well, buddy, I’m afraid you’re in the wrong place… for reasons far, far too turgid to recount here, my little trip to BCN for this festival was a bit of a disaster, and I spent much of the time hanging round airports, eating late “American Breakfasts” at the Philippino cafe, and just basically being a mopey dick.
So of course now I’m having my own, personal, internet based Primavera Sound post-festival, with no massive crowds of gap year Rahs (where did they come from) and Refrescos that were all ice and no Fanta Limon (gotta love the Fanta Limon). My personal discovery (yes, I realise after 274,903 other Last.fm listeners) of the festival was Beach House, whose amazing album “Teen Dream” is on constant play on my Spotify, and this track, “Walk In The Park” is on constant play in my head, with its less-is-more combo of drum machine, pulsing organ, cascading guitar tremolos, and Victoria Legrand’s incredible husky, sexy, almost masculine vocal. I know I’m coming to the party late, obviously if you want to read a professional and knowledgeable review, I’ll hand you over to the good offices of my closest rival in the blogging trade, but if you haven’t heard of this band, I’m encouraging you to give them a go.
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Completely frazzled and needing to chill, I’ve postponed the Monotonix post in favour of something much more calming. Work Step 11 with the assistance of Trespassers William and this lovely cover of Ride’s Vapour Trail.
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… is on the way, and it’s called “Shadows”. Here’s a taster, “Baby Lee”, originally recorded by Norman Blake for the Burnsong Songhouse (a project where songwriters are locked up in a house and not let out until they have a song), adopted live by the Fanclub at various gigs, normally with me in a state of delirious wonder somewhere in the crowd. The album comes out at the end of May, and I can’t wait.
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I think this has to be one of the most remarkable live performances ever captured on video. Tenniscoats capture the breathy delicacy of “Baibaba Bimba” whilst walking along a Japanese railway siding, chucking sticks down a staircase, as commuter trains thunder past. If you’re not familiar with the original I’ve posted that too for the purposes of comparison and general amazement.
Oh - and stick with it - the magic doesn’t really begin to start until 30 seconds in.
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I’ve been looking for this track for a little while - the studio version of Life Without Buildings’ “The Leanover” from 2001’s “Any Other City”. Well, here it is: a bunch of students from the Glasgow School of Art doing something rather wonderful between 1999 and their split in 2002, with painter Sue Tompkins‘ incredible spoken/sung vocals.
Sue has a couple of exhibitions (here and here) at the ongoing Glasgow International Festival of Visual Art, and hopefully this weekend I will be checking out some of it and then blethering on about it here. Good times.
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I know I seem a little obsessed by The Cure right now, but don’t worry, I’m a pro - it’s just one of about a gazillion current obsessions. Wait til I get on to Faust. And the vintage drum kit I’m trying to justify buying because it was used on one of my favourite albums, notwithstanding no drumming ability, no space for a drum kit, and no money.
I like this cover of “Catch” by Art Brut, it sounds rather like some East End pub rock band decided to launch into a bit of goth pop. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Captures the nonchalance of Robert Smith’s lyric quite well, I think (strokes beard thoughtfully). I don’t know much about Art Brut - they have a song called “Alcoholics Unanimous” which I’m not going to post as I think it’s rather too obvious for this blog, as well as being pants.
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The thought of an unanesthetised trip to the supermarket was too much to bear today (even though I’m now commuting 8 miles to posh Waitrose rather than brave my local student-packed Tesco). I plugged some headphones into my iPhone, stuck it on shuffle, got a trolley, and up came Malcolm Middleton’s “Blue Plastic Bags”, another song about shopping and anesthetisation, but more the kind of shopping and anesthetisation I used to do. Malcolm’s shtick is of course self-deprecation. He undermines, and then he undermines what he’s undermined. And then undermines it again. So I’m never quite sure whether it’s a joke or not. But (for me) it’s saved by a thread of humour and heart that runs through what he does, here evidenced by the (naturally undermining) gag “We’re… all listening to downbeat shite…”. Bless him. This track is from 2008’s “Sleight of Heart”. Oh, and the female vocal is Jenny Reeve who I single out and mention for the simple reason that I totally *heart* her.
Oh, and the lyric about self-help books. I’ve recently bought “Just Get On With It”. I’m so embarrassed to actually even need to buy this book that I am actually just getting on with it without bothering to read it, as I reckon it can’t be much more complicated than that. Surely?
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Well, this weekend’s discovery was that my uncle and aunt live in a house in Devon which was formerly occupied by a band. Oh, what band, I asked my mother. “Can’t remember. Begins with a C. 4 letters.”
Surely not The Cure? A quick Google search later. Brushford Barton, the house were The Cure wrote “Distintegration”. And here’s an article all about it.
As it happens, I was studying (ok, drinking) in Devon at the time. It was a magical place, empty, high hedges, lots of ramshackle country piles, and, as it turns out, one of them was occupied by Smith and Tolhurst writing amazing stuff like this.
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It’s Spring, love is in the air, and of course with addicts, obsession is around the corner. Here’s Prince’s “When You Were Mine” from 1980’s Dirty Mind. Aren’t the lyrics fab?
When U were mine
I gave U all of my money
Time after time
U done me wrong
It’s just like a train
U let all my friends come over and eat
And U were so strange
U didn’t have the decency 2 change the sheets
Oh girl, when U were mine
I used 2 let U wear all my clothes
U were so fine (So fine)
Maybe that’s the reason that it hurt me so
I know (I know) that U’re going with another guy
I don’t care (don’t care) cuz I love U, baby, that’s no lie
I love U more than I did when U were mine
When U were mine
U were kindasorta my best friend
So I was blind (So blind)
I let U fool around
I never cared (Didn’t care)
I never was the kind 2 make a fuss
When he was there
Sleeping in between the 2 of us
When U were mine
U were all I ever wanted 2 do
Now I spend my time
Following him whenever he’s with U
When U were mine, oh no
Love U, baby, love U, baby
When U were mine
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