Just When You Thought You Were Out They Pull You Back In

Just when you thought you were out, they pull you back in….. seems like I fell off the edge of the world there, it’s happened before but this time I thought there was no coming back – I’m far out of the loop and there’s a bit of me that worries that it will be too hard to get back in but I guess it’s like a disease and the itch needs to be scratched. This will be my third attempt to write a new blog post each time I feel like I can’t talk to my absence and it reminds me that there are parts of my mind that are becoming lazy or at least complacent and that hurts me and makes the torpor strengthen its hold and drives me back to more wine and falling asleep on the sofa that won’t fit my legs and head at the same time. There has always been a lot of nervous pent up tension in my head, acres of angst and a frustration that I can’t really direct at anything because I truly know I have lived a charmed existence where I have had opportunities and support but that doesn’t stop me from seeing injustice everywhere. For me growing up has been about finding a place to fit the thought that I have that if I constantly made public would have me segregated from a population I feel I need to survive. I keep things in or I let them out as bite size snippets of comedy hatred that form a part of my drink hard, fight harder, party bastard persona that is always trying to hide the vulnerable young boy who grew up wanting to be a poet, drawing maps of mystical lands because he was desperate to control the world in which he lived. I guess this is in way of an apology, not to you because I never hope or expect anyone to read my words but to myself for not making the time to focus on the parts of my life that really help iron out the corners and give me some balance, it’s not an absence through lack of inspiration I have listened to some great music and been to an epic gig with my two closest musical compadres and maybe that is what I needed to wake me from my communicative coma, I have had a head full of ideas that were driving me insane and had a desperation to share them but my life at the moment makes it very difficult to focus for too long on anything other than resting my weary bones and the slow decent into madness. There I go again formulating excuses, I can’t be that tired and I have to remember the younger me who would shout at the sea and sing from his gut, “This is Rock and Roll, we’ll sleep when we’re dead”

I have tried not to talk about my work world too much in these communications, wanting to keep some separation between my life and my so called life, but when one is clouding the other I feel like I must allude to its importance and how it has done things to my character that I thought would never happen. You have to deal with drastic changes as you grow older much worse than a dropping of your voice, the growing of hair in seemingly endless places it’s the delusion of your fantasies into reality and an acceptance of the world that sometimes ends in your loss in belief in magic. I always thought my father was incredibly patient and never one to fall into flights of excitement or at least not showing it but I think it’s the way we all fall in to the pace of the world and our lives more comfortably as we age and we know what to expect and don’t feel as much need to rush to get there. The impetuousness of youth feels vital and exciting at the time but on reflection just seems as shallow and as wistful and pointless as most of youth does – this is obviously tied up with the seething jealousy that racks your increasingly aching joints. So on the Friday of the August Bank Holiday weekend I find myself driving through Caversham over the Reading bridge passing scores of young girls wearing hot-pants and stockings and guys wearing a variety of straw hats, but I would not be joining them in a muddy field as scores of bands filled the Berkshire air with Rock I would be continuing my drive to a Sussex Hotel for a romantic retreat and Spa treatments and a meal that would be far from the free burger on offer by the kind organisers at Mean Fiddler. It was the turn of the millennium when I first went to the festival and I thought I had finally found the person I wanted to be – I was having a great time being a complete idiot hedonist with little care or respect fuelled by chemical imbalance and the power of live music and I never wanted it to change, twelve years on and I am very glad to be driving past to some quiet reflection and relaxation time with the girl I love – the past me would have called me dull and probably puked on my shoes. Maybe Spa breaks and fine wine over tasting menus are not Rock’n’Roll but my perception of that term has changed the thing itself has changed and there is a total paradigm shift in my priorities that make me see the behind the scenes reality that helps in the realisation that the outer appearances are not what infuse our life with a rock punk spirit, it’s about spirit and an understanding that doesn’t have to result in sweaty bodies thrown together and excessive anything.

There was much this summer to make us at least attempt pride at being British from the anniversary of our Monarch to the sporting endeavours of a host of successful athletes of our nation. Tied up in this was a renaissance of interest in Punk, as if the status quo was being given so much attention that counter-culture must have its say  so as the media can seem to remain un-biased and those less enamoured with the Union Jack can be reminded of a time of rebellion rather that starting a new one. This fitted in nicely with my personal quandaries about my identity about how my life was changing and how I was stepping away from some of the things that made me who I am or was. The first wave of punk was before my time and although the music of the post punk generation is definitely right up my alley I was too young to feel the middle class angst at the time it was about, by the time I was feeling this angst it was Nu-Metal and the terrible birth of Emo. But on reflection Punk is not really the music but the attitude and more music than would be categorised as Punk display the attitudes to smash the punk pretenders into place. Rebellious spirit and the anarchic sentiment flow through my veins with a heat that makes my blood boil and fuels the passion I have for everything in life, I am by very nature a die-hard punk if my musical tastes show it or not. Genuine Anger in music can make me love it in an instant; I can spot a fake a mile away because to channel the blood curdling energy of the red mist and pure unadulterated frustration is much harder than many other emotions because it is so visceral and all consuming. Many acts try to use this emotion in their music but for me there are a few masters who show the pretenders to be the try hard phonies they are with relative furious ease, the obvious is Zac De La Rocha who’s Bob Marley Look seems quite out of place when the pure rage drips of every word spat from his foaming mouth, I can imagine Zac waking up in the morning already with a rage boner and screaming when his Cornflakes go soggy. But For me top of the list for otherworldly channelling of anger in a scarily engaging and un-fakeabale way is Cedric Bixler in his performances with At The Drive In. I am lucky enough to have a friend called Miles Patterson who secured us tickets to go and see the show the reformed band would be playing at Brixton Academy prior to them headlining a stage at The Reading Festival and with the thought this could be the last time this group play live together again there was a definite sense of one not too miss, by a lucky chance of fate we were also joined by my other lucky to have you friend Cian Phillips – my two closest musical compadres the two people that I know most understand what the love of music means to me, we face off against a packed crowd and the real champions of all that remains of the punk spirit in our hearts. The sagging nagging thoughts of my advancing age and softening tastes are quickly quenched in sweat, mostly mine but mingled in physical adoration with the thronging masses pushing against each other in that visceral dance that can set your heart a race and your lungs to near collapse. The performance is riotous and raucous as can be expected but for me it was deafened by the screaming aliveness that swelled through me as I remembered the rebellion that is in me the ever present personal knowledge that whatever the status quo is I will set myself against it and revel in being an outsider, that though the heyday was before my birth and much that has been done in its name infuriates me I will always be a filthy sweaty Punk.

Obviously there has been so much music that has passed by unspoken of and at this point in the year when the release dates become less packed with substance it is the time when I look to the albums that I have somehow overlooked or give a tentative second listen too with fresh ears, thinking forward to compiling my 50 (which is already acting as a beacon of enjoyment to spurn me through a catering December). The work radio is still invading my everyday with sounds that would not of choice enter my ear-space but I have learned to tolerate and see the good things in these songs and the unifying power of a group of people enjoying a piece of music together will always win over the snobbishness of musical elitism. So my reviews will be possibly shorter and spread over some time but have all been enjoyed with some degree in a very interesting year for music and my appreciation of it.

   ‘A Different Ship’ by Here We Go Magic I have read reviews saying that this album is disjointed and the creation of a fragmented mind who can’t decide where there music lies but myself I can’t get over how much I like these songs to nit-pick over the form and formula of the album in hole. It is a double album that seems indulgent at first but I have sat and listened to both discs back to back without once feeling bored or like some folk poser was going on too much. It is true that Luke Temple the driving force behind this group did exist in various incantations before settling to release music in this format but I think that is a coming of cohesion not a lack of it. The themes of self-doubt and difficulties with human relationships give much more form to this collection of songs than many more lauded artists. And at the base of the enjoyment of this album are hooks and guitar lines that are witty sexy and infectious laced with a folky funk flow a dreamy drop beat and a witty mysticism to the vocal. Look to tracks like ‘I Believe In Action’ for tales of mixed up pessimism and positivity.

I am very glad that ‘Elbow’ have announced that this band will be there main support act for their upcoming tour, it quietens the doubters in my mind because people I would like to think of as like minds obviously see the greatness that I do too.

  ‘Ill Manors’ by Plan B  The inclusion of this album is the signifier of my submitting to the feel of the music my kitchen comrades would enjoy, in that I bought them the cd knowing that they would enjoy it and it now being scratched up from overplay and somehow this being my most listened to album of the year though I myself have rarely hit the play button. Saying that the whole concept of the album is very interesting and the execution is slick intelligent and has the spirit of legitimate punk protest running through its veins. Ben Drew has taken a long journey from the angry start of his tales of council estate stabbings on ‘Who Needs Actions When You’ve Got Words’, he has played the industry at its own game with his popular easy to sell soul balladearing on his second album ‘The Defamation Of Strickland Banks’ and has given himself the platform to be the artist it seems he wanted to be all along and have the clout to take on ambitious projects. Directing a very British movie created around stories in Rap songs and creating an urban Rap-Opera that is as gritty as it is real and speaks to a disenfranchised youth in their own words and tries to explain the reasoning behind might what seem from the outside to be the inexcusable. Politics aside this is a lyrically adept and cutting record that cuts right to the heart of a society in need of release, poetically poignant at the same time as being beat heavy and draped in the trappings of modern mantras. These grim tales create a very bleak record with little rest bite from the misery of it all but that really is the point, to create a trapped feeling that drive people to riot. Ben Drew has been stern faced in his media appearances to promote the album and film because it’s obviously something he wants to be taken seriously to not be seen as sensational but to speak to the real lives of children in situations we might not believe take place in our ‘All in it together’ society. Despite the fact that I have had these songs drilled into my head by repetition I think they are accomplished and well delivered while at the same time being very listenable, a hard act to juggle but dealt with here with some compassion and versatility. For Me ‘The Narrator’ is the moment of genius where Ben Drew casts himself out of the story and renders his personal feelings out of the field of reproach because his relaying of the stories as if they were fact as Grimm urban fairy-tale nightmares lends them much more clout than an aspirational rapper trying to glorify the streets they are from.

   ‘The Only Place’ by Best Coast Much psychedelic smoke was blown up the rear end of Bethany Cosentino when she began to release as ‘Best Coast’ and I wasn’t sold, I liked some of the tunes but couldn’t buy into the whole package, obviously the rainy hill where I live and the beach vibes of California are worlds apart but she didn’t sell me. Many people have written love odes to the state of California some devoting entire albums to its praise and worship, as if the tourist board pumps money into up and coming bands as long as they endlessly write songs about the Sun, the babes, the waves and the general all round radness of the place. Yes I would like to go to California to find out for myself but I do fear that the place would be so full of self-important good looking people telling me how awesome it is to be there I would surely not enjoy myself, the jaded miserabalist that I am. The lyrical content here is childish with little edge to the point of being ridiculous and dull and possibly scrawled in crayon and pinned on the fridge in a desperate attempt to sound deep and troubled because of your drinking before midday serious bout of alcoholism, ‘I used to wake up in the morning, and reach for that bottle and glass, but I don’t do that anymore kicked my habits out the front door’ mindless drivel if ever I heard it. I did enjoy this at first listen but going back to earlier in the year and listening to an album like ‘America Give Up’ by ‘Howler’ soon stomps this album underfoot and makes it seem passé and trite. That being said it is enjoyable and catchy but incredibly repetitive with the same key and chords fuzzing out for 34 minutes and 18 seconds.

   ‘Heaven’ by The Walkmen Many people have been describing this as a great departure for this band a sort of growing up and finding place but I really only came to their work with their last release so I can’t really judge it from a long term perspective, I have heard the devil that is Pitchfork say how certain fans will be turned off by the slightly more polished and mature vision of the band but for me as a relatively new listener I am elated and think there is some near as damn it perfect indie pop wonder on display on this record. There is a swagger to this album a dirty rock confidence that oozes sexy and dangerous, best displayed in the standout track of the album for me ‘Heartbreaker’ a rolling beat reminiscent of what ‘Arcade Fire’ might have done something more forlorn with but this song is a statement from a broken hearted champion of troubadours ‘No, No,No your wrong, it’s not the singer, it’s the song’                        

   ‘Channel Orange’ By Frank Ocean  This is where I can find a halfway point and provide somewhat of a musical education to my workmates, a Hip-Hop artist with Soul sensibilities and a lyrical softness that should attract a wide range of music fans. There are some comparisons to be drawn with Drake but there is a much wider range to this performers output and a diversity that is hard to deny. He cut his teeth writing for other artists but the omnipotent presence of one Tyler the Creator lured Frank to the performance of his own work and performing on some of his and OFWGKTA output, Frank opened up about some homosexual tendencies that had played in his mind and opened up the somewhat homophobic and un-inclusive world of Hip-Hop to a more modern soulful and genuine artist. Lyrically this album is everything from obtuse to tender which is matched by the different sides to the vocal from soulful baritone to soaring falsetto. When the instrumentation is stripped back the soulful nature of Frank’s voice plays in the parks of Marvin Gaye but there is a pace and patter to his delivery that sets this album in the hinterland the very modern area and show an artist coming at things from a different direction and creating something original, cool and possibly most importantly really great music to get down too. There are a bunch of possible singles on this album and there are peaks scattered all through the 17 track playlist, a few well-placed guest appearances and the emergence of a great voice in the evolution of a genre in danger of stalling its evolutionary process.

   ‘An Awesome Wave’ by Alt-J time for me to do some smoke blowing of my own as I try to describe the joy this album has given me, in my opinion it is really rather good and I recommend that you all go and listen to it by whichever means you have at your disposal, let’s get that out of the way and then I can begin fawning. This album is as infectious as it is inventive and as gritty and raw as it is ambitious and elevated, there are many influences and styles mixed with a measured approach that shows a maturity for a young band but also an ambition and determination in the delivery, there is a precision that takes real work but still a rawness and the real feelings of menace and gritty reality that can only be mustered by true northern spirit. The vocal layering and textures gained through repetition of words makes the tender words ominous and shows a vocal dexterity that I have not heard since ‘The Futureheads’ used too much and disappeared up their own arses. Vocal syncopation and close harmony might sound like it would be more at home in a Cantata or chorale but it is these techniques of closely linked melodies that set The Beatles apart from the rock and roll pack and as we pass through the many incantations of folk through the years we hear here modern madrigals quite telling and honest and wonderfully performed and quite quintessentially British in their style and delivery. The addition of interludes into the album reflect on a band who enjoy the sounds they create together and who are maybe excited by the process in which their songs come together, some could hint at an air of pretension indeed there is much to make us worry of ostentatious notions the name of the band itself is actually a symbol that you would get if you typed that key combination into a Mac, but pity the fool who falls into these traps, this is clever music that is drawn from interesting and diverse places and is held together as a piece of art above airs and graces. Think Jeff Buckley and guitar era Radiohead but then the spritely youth of Bombay Bicycle Club with shades of the excellent Local Natives and a special something that makes them an exciting prospect all of their own.

The songs are ostentatious but perfectly delivered, long solos and increasingly complex harmonies over repeated lines with a subtle changes in words to give the songs dark undertones and hidden meanings, this music is well thought out and elevated as well as being great fun. There are many sections to the songs growing as they go along into more and more intriguing pieces with an array of instrumentation and rhythms that has you aching for the next lesson. Lead single ‘Breezeblocks’ is a standout work that encapsulates all that is best about this group with a wry smile and a belting end to be sung loud in the shower ‘Please don’t go, Please don’t go, I love you so , I love you so’ morphs into ‘I’ll eat you whole’ and we have a tale of addiction and sedition that is hard to match.

When Pitchfork Media reviewed this album and gave it only 4.5 out of ten and described it as dull and uninspired I stopped my daily visits to this site and will only again visit to view there top 100 of the year and pour scorn on how obsessed they have become with cool and how disconnected they are from English music and the rich output we have to offer.

I will return, by hook or by crook in November to fill you in on the last few albums that have been released or have become apparent to my ears, I mean I must have been out of the loop because it was only a month ago I realised that Elbow released a B sides album which needs my words to sing its praises. Then the evaluation process will begin so I can give you my lovely Christmas list. Thanks for listening and we shall speak soon.