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.

Hulk Smash. Dont Get Found Out

Sometimes I fear that I will get found out, not that I am trying to hide anything but because people expect things of you and are more than often blissfully unaware of the chaos that goes on inside my mind to deliver something in a calm and methodical way. I think I have a pretty good grip on the inner workings of my brain, I have spent time devoted to the study of its processes and idiocentricities, not the brain in general I hasten to add  this study is not biological but merely a process of trial and inevitable and amusing error that has taught me to respect my failings and where possible use them to make me balanced. Im sure that most people would see it as a bad thing that I closely felt a kindred spirit in the latest portrayal of Eric Banner and The Hulk in the film ‘Avengers Assemble’ – “my secret is, im always angry”, that’s me all over a walking ball of rage who for the most part manages not to be green. Much to most people who have to spend time with me’s dismay I have no desire to quel this anger or maybe just a fear of what I would be left with if I did. The fire in my belly is what drives me its what lets me take on situations that could or should knock me to my knees and in a very Darwinian sense it makes me a strong predator who will hopefully not be eaten anytime soon, the occasional red mist that creates a more frightening beast is the downside to my attempts to being a respected leader and a person commanding of respect. I work to very small margins of error and walking close and falling short is to me completely intollerably fustrating which is how I devote so much energy to staying on the right side of that line and sedating my own fustrations. I guess what it blls down too is a trade off that I have made with myself that I am odviously not ready to take any more steps forward with, when things are going seriously wrong or I am in a time that others would see as chaotic infuriating and frantic I can be as calm as a hindu cow and do my best to instill that calm in the minds of others but outside of that world the small things can really set me off. I love the small things, they are the details that give this world its individuality and its beauty so yes I let the small things get to me and react in a very destructive and aggressive manner but that is because I want the details to be right and because of that I can deal with most big problems that life can create with a clear head and a focused approach. For those who have seen or felt the effects of my temper I apologise and for my twisted views on he power of ego and evolutionary dominance I make no apologies but don’t expect anybody to take these ramblings on themselves but hope you understand that they make my life an easier place to be.

I suppose its one of the true ironies of life that very few of the things you strive for or want end up being anything like you expected they would and more often than notend up being more trouble than you thought they would be worth. It’s all tied up in our intrinsic greed and lack of satisfaction with life as a whole or maybe to be more positive it is the thing that keeps us driving on rather than ever rregressing or being too happy with what we have and becoming lazy. You see I always thought that I wanted to be taken seriously, to feel that my opinions matter but as soon as this becomes a reality you walk into a mindfield of doubt and insecurities and even when your ideas turn out well and others seem to be inspired by them you start to wonder if they came from a good place or if you were guided heavily by a series of strokes of luck that are very soon surely going to run out. This of course can all be attributed to perfectly normal human parnoia but that of course could be seen as a constructed coping mechanisms to dampen our fears that we are all mainly in well over our heads. I’ve never taken things too seriously, I think it’s unhealthy, time consuming and worringly dull

I am lucky enough to be given the opportunity every day to do something that I know in my heart is the best I can do it right now, im not bragging about my success I am only wishing and hoping that everybody has that opportunity. I am counting my blessings and hoping that everybody gets the chance to step up to the play and have their chance to bat whatever the results may be. Don’t get me wrong I don’t for a minute believe that I have “arrived” as a trusted mentor of mine youst to say, It’s all small victories and all fully appreciated in my own head and without feeling the need to shout about it too loudly and if I do then taking care to only deliver my happiness in a way that welcomes other people in rather than isolating them. I wish you all the best for your lives and hope that all of you are getting the chance to be the wonderful, interesting and dynamic people that I know you all. Now i have been given my fair share of opportunity well infact I feel I have been given quite a few peoples fair share but i hope I wont be seen as arogant for mentioning mine, because if by my words I could right the wrong that lifes not fair then I think my writing would be more widely spread than the blogosphere oddity that it is. Yes I do believe in luck because I don’t think that all chances are earned and on many occasions the more deserving is not the recipient of the prize, but seizing the opportunity or not is a personel strength or failure so when stepping up to challenge oneself I do it with no fear and with an open heart because I trust in my own abilitie at that time and feel that the outcome will take me where I need to go. I know it all sounds very Zen but FUCK it, yes I do have to use so many cuss words and if you disagre well “that’s just like your opinion man”.

There was a serious gap in my internet usage with the move in house so when reconnectiong there has been a barage of new music as I realise how much I rely on a constatnt stream of newness but with my I-pod freezing up for no apparent reasons and the musical onslaught brought upon me from my kitchen companions is unrellentingly gangster rap and aggressive D&B there has not been enough hours in the day to listen to everything with a suitibaly attentive ear. I know that I am apparently the boss and could insist on whatever I like to be played but I also believe in the great motivational power of music and if that is the sounds tht gee’s them up then who am I to complain, I never want to be the grumpy and cranky boss who sets the tone and has to have everything his own way – I will see if I am still saying that after another months R&B flava’s.

   ‘Blunderbuss’ by Jack White So Jack finally ditches the supporting acts and assortment of artists he has released with over the years and offers us up a solo release although the list of contributing artists is longer than average but the album does have his stamp all over it. He must keep himself busy but with such prolific releasing we can only realise that this is a labour of love and that writing songs is something that is a compulsion not a chore. He has been heard saying that some of these songs and others have been kicking around for some time but haven’t seemed appropriate to produce with any of the other outfits he has performed with, he has a strong sense of where his music fits and how he wants each side of his very multi-faceted personality to be perceived. I must admit that although I have enjoyed his guitar playing and in some part his voice I have never really trusted Jack White, there is just something about him that deliberately makes him aloof and distant I guess that could also be described as enigmatic and mysterious but the cynic in me thinks he could be laughing at us all from his musical ivory tower. But he does seem to like the blues organ that is one of my favourite sounds and he uses it well in this sometimes quite joyous album. But for the most part I find the music a bit slapped together and incoherent, the man has clearly got a lot of ideas and maybe not enough patcirence. The riffs are as strong as ever but for a man who went from enigmatic rock saviour to paying dues to country roots to Bond movie theme songs its hard to feel where his self lies. For all the bands and intrigue what we really want is jack white behind a Gretsch guitar laying down riffs that very few musicians can axe up next too. The music is enjoyable but there is no consistent theme or balance that stops it from approaching greatness.

   ‘Boys & Girls’ by Alabama Shakes A&R men and women are loosing their jobs across record companies across the world, losing out to the self-marketing power of the internet and the self-fulfilling hype machines that churn out popular opinion on a minute by minute number crunching machine, one track or one performance can be all it takes to create a buzz that will spread like wildfire and become a big boot in a lot of important doors that before would have had to be bribed open by well-connected industry insiders. When those in the know do scoop us all it is usually the genius hunters at Rough Trade Records who have the knack of seeing the best in raw talent and doing the minimal possible in the way of polishing to deliver a gritty real interpretation of music that comes from the heart. The sort of band that are hobbled together from the few appreciators of abstract thought in towns full of old fashioned obstanance, but towns with a rich musical culture that with a new generation drawing influence from can make a newish and interesting combination. I do hate the hype machine though it far too often raises people too high before they really have the chance to learn what they are about and although the high points in this album that are being touted with air play and page coverage I think there are holes in the rest of the album that I’m sure will be filled with time and the small release of constraints that successful label contribution offers. But being positive there are moments of spot on blues drops and splitting yelps of vocal greatness and guitar fuzz that are rarely seen. The hipsters and the scene setters are tipping there songs to be a highlight of the summer so lets hope they come over with all guns blazing and have the rock and roll stones to live up to the hype.

   ‘…A Wasteland Companion’ by M.Ward My personal favourite troubadour pixie and guitar genius is back with another bittersweet offering that manages to fuse his deeply personal and heartfelt tenderness with his dry wit and uncanny turn of phrase. M.Ward has tapped into a time and space that remains untouched by others he has his own brand of shuffling blues rhythm and fingerpicking style that puts him in a league all of his own. One of the main things that makes me fall for an artist is a turn of phrase, a way of looking at the world or expressing it that brings new things to light or puts a smile on my face even when contemplating a situation that may be seen from the outside as dour or sad, with this music breakups and loneliness are spun into a web of wonderful words and compelling guitar lines that cheers up my cold soul. Beautiful ironies are created and stories are spun that speak of love and tragedy that are like a compelling odyssey that transports you to another place and the singer has that rare ability to give his story over to the listener and let them resonate through the passage of your own life and gives the songs meaning above just appreciation. My sad times have been soothed by M.Ward’s music and I have set off on road trips on sunny days with his guitar lines beating in my chest. I doubt that as far as an album he will ever recapture the magnificence of ‘Transfiguration Of Vincent’ but this as near as he has been since with a beautiful balance and a comfort in his own being.

  ‘Bloom’ by Beach House After a spell of time out of the loop with no new music coming my way and the waves of the radio and old cd’s keeping my company there can have been no better welcome back to the world of internet hunting and all the gossip and excitement that causes searching for the new and wonderful than to be wrapped in the warm blanket of the sounds created by this group. Luckily for all of us there has been no departure of style and a group that encapsulates the characteristics of the dream-pop genre they show how deep, haunting and powerful that idea can be how eerily atmospheric and uplifting it can sound and how resonant and consuming their music can feel. With all music it is the small sounds that I grow to love and without these skilfully engineered building blocks there is nothing, on a stave the music is simple and possibly insipid but the building the layers and the quality of the noises that inhabit those crotchets and semi quavers is what fills the bones to give us a production of approaching epic proportions.

The sound is grander and slightly more outrospective but that is the growth that comes with acceptance and the confidence that provides, the stages get louder and the long cooing echoes of breathy vocal seem even more appropriate, guitar lines soar a little higher and more complex but it is the casio bleeps and the swoons of breathy female vocal that are hard to resist. The sound is dreamy, sparce and fleeting yet rich and warm with a faint air of darkness with repeated themes singing straight into your unconscious brain.

Seeing this group perform on the last in the present series of ‘Later with Jools Holland’ was a treat, I love this program and when you see a band you love on there and the other acts performing that night looking on as something magical occurs. Paloma Faith the ridiculous trollop that she is trying to muster some emotional while looking completely ridiculous in a gold lamme toilet roll holder followed by the simple elegance of Victoria Legrand singing ‘Other People’ was a priceless show of how much I love being on this side of the musical appreciation spectrum.

Since the drought there has been a downpour and a season in the sun that lasted a week, some fantastic music has come my way and I hope to tell you about it a lot sooner this time because there are some bits you shouldn’t miss, so until then I bid you a welcome to the summer months and hope that it can bring smiles to all our faces.

Beauty Small & Wide

So far this year I have delved into the touchy feely side of my relations with other human beings and partly shelved my usual vitriol and not shoke my fist at too many things, the budget being that bit too much too resist. This time you find me at the start of spring, a change of seasons for the world and also for me in my life – so what better way to celebrate than with some glorious hippy rhetoric about the beauty of the world and of course some excellent music.

There is a peace in my soul that is flowing the good vibes and calm mentality into my life once more as I once again delve away from the city and into the quiet and beautiful parts of jolly old England that are still keeping this a green and pleasant land. I found the part of me that is peaceful and placid in the outbacks of Australia, hundreds of kilometers away from any human soul and reliant on the sun for everything and at the mercy of nature’s whim, there I learned a respect for the world and a new way of appreciating the small details in the grand schemes that build the blocks of this beautiful Earth. I feared that nobody would believe me, this person walking barefoot across the plains of the Northern Territory and scrambling up rock faces stroking the surface of every rock and lifting every leaf to my nose was a far cry from the lumbering drunk who had been stumbling around the cosmopolitan chaos of Brighton with little respect for anything except pub opening times. I worried that as soon as the great open spaces had folded in to man made structures and I was sorounded by human endevour and corruption I would once again languish into the haze of loutish intoxication that had been my escape for so long.My fears were of course in some way justified and my will was and is no stronger than that of any man but in Adelaide after returning from some time “out there” I sat staring at a blossom tree in an urban garden of a house where reckless abandon was in full dominion and I saw the quiet beauty of the wild twist its magic around my heart and I knew that I would always have that place inside of me, that wherever I went and however much I descended into the human world I had found my peace with the planet and I would forever know how to see its messages.

My new job became an exciting proposition as I walked to the back of the pub and saw the stretching vista of the Chiltern valley spread out infront of me. Im staring out over the view now and baby lambs skip unsure steps over green fields as Red Kite’s hover overhead looking for an easy meal. Ancient copse’s of greys and greens roll over the hills and line the sides of manuquered fields and over it all the billowing majesty of the heavens, great explosions of cloud billowing and mushrooming over our tiny lives. It’s easy again to conjour that far away fieling to suspend yourself in the quiet calm even when you are standing in the center of a very human storm. I am drawing from the inspiration of the fields and trying to be the person I know I can be, chaos can have no hold over you if you have truly surrended to the simple serrenity of a natural understanding its just much easier to do when it is painted infront of you in an unescapable vision.

I am settling into my 30’s quite nicely and feeling proud of myself while still knowing I must push myself every day to go further and be more it’s quite a slap in your own face when you realise that the things in life you once loathed are now the things that are driving you forward but that is part of the mystery of growing up. It’s all too easy to sit and consider and then type your ideas and ideal to a glowing white screen but being asked to be inspirational to others on a day to day basis is a new and interesting challenge that I am relishng. I am enjoying my space in the world it’s a calm haven that is allowing me to be the person that I need to be, taken away from the capitalist structures of urban dwelling I can even ignore the well groomed upper class types who frequent these affluent hills because I can take a look out of the window and remember my perspective and look to those clouds for the nearest I get to religion.

   ‘Noctourniquet’ by The Mars Volta  This will always be a band with a special place in my heart, ears and mind. I remember so clearly the anticipation of listening to the opening build up on their debut album ‘De-Loused In The Comatorium’ and waiting for the drop to hit and the measure of this band with so much potential to be heard, I was not disappointed and against the opinions of others haven’t been disappointed by them since, they knock very loudly at the doors of genius and then run screaming in a make believe language to the deepest denizens of madness and I can’t get enough of it.

When ‘At The Drive In’ split there was a hole at the top of a genre of music that Omar Rodrigues and Cedric Bixler had done much to champion and forward even though they would never presume to adhere to any scene genre or anything so saleable. The resulting split tessellated like a broken hearted lover’s pendant with ‘Sparta’ punchy and direct was caught up in the post-punk maelstrom of artists doing much to tarnish the original ideals of punk. ‘The Volta’ descended into something very much in keeping with the punk ideal  if not the sound – Loud, Angry and Visceral but refusing to conform to any conventions and never giving the people what they may think they want. Over the last 9 years The Volta boys have created a dark and terrifying world in which there music tells deep and involved stories that encapsulate a journey through deeply disturbed minds of musical virtuoso’s that are unparalleled in their delivery and unmatched in their individuality and intoxication. So with ATDI reforming (if only for live shows) what does this do to the minds and performances of these Texan rock monsters. Some will say that this album is mellow and a slap in the face to the ideals of post-punk, some will miss the concepts and involved stories of previous releases but others also have criticised them before for retreating too far into unfathomable conjunctures in the past and I will be at the head of the camp that see’s the melody and discernible lyrics as another string to the Epirus bow that this group wield every time they produce music. As usual there are deep rich layers of sound and discord that can act as a barrier to really getting in to the music but letting yourself flow with the jarring sounds and crushing rhythms will be rewarding as the Latin melodies penetrate your ear space. The vocals are the biggest shift in this release with greater clarity while still retaining the same desperate power – the album becomes more balanced than previous releases and without feeling locked out by not being a drug addled mess in a Texan desert having dark visions of blind soul conquering deities of justice this is actually a more memorable work than ‘Octahedron’ or ‘Bedlam in Goliath’. Don’t think for a moment that means we are entering the world of the 3 minute rock song or even the 12 minute prog-rock arena, The Volta twist from concord to chaos at the flick of a battery of switches with pinpoint accuracy managing to balance an un quelled belly of fire with a melodic harmony and even moments of tenderness. Still bending language to their needs and dripping with biblical and nihilistic charm in such songs as ‘Dyslexicon’;

“In the time of the sixth sun

We are cattle to the prod

And I burn this dictionary

Because it’s my dyslexicon’

But straight after we are allowed a look into the fragile heart of this tormented man of words who sees the things he loves always turning black and twisted and never sure who to blame, the cruelty of others or his own twisted view in ‘Empty Vessels Make The Loudest Sound’;

“I am a mountain of cavernous people

Searching for a lighthouse in the fog

 the flowers that grew from the cracks in the ground you paved

didn’t you think he would warn me through the thorns of my waking dreams

when the riddles connected the dots of this constellation”

These two songs back to back show a level of duality and musical cohesion that very few artists manage to forge into a workable form, it has been said that the best reason to write an album is if it would drive you crazy not too and here we see the cause and the cure laid out for us to listen too, confessional without being needy and ferociously angry while still being disappointed and realistic. I know that this will not be an easy recommendation because for some the sheer volume of noise can be too much but if you want to immerse yourself in a deeply powerful world of music then let The Volta boys entertain you with their talented hands and disturbed hearts.

   ‘Sonik Kicks’ by Paul Weller  Here is another artist who has more than earned his place in the hall of fame and legend status and has become the synonymous leader of an on-going revolution that has been pushing on since even ‘The Modfather’ was born. But what happens when ‘The Modfather’ becomes the ‘ModGrandfather’ and the brand becomes impossible to escape, I once saw Mr.Weller pushing a pram around Preston Park -Brighton in full pinstripe suit and peacock feathered hair looking every bit the part but a part of me was unsure how real it all was or if he had become what people expected him to be. The hairstyle and that look have gone through many adulterations and adaptions but back come’s Weller the elder statesman to vamp his sound and bring a style that he is very heavily touting as modern to a new audience and a sympathetic old one. In all honesty I really wish he hadn’t bothered because I hate to say bad things about him but I find this offering to be dull lacklustre and at sometimes desperate. Surrounding yourself with younger versions of yourself and letting them tweak modulators and play synthesised sounds over your musical ‘B’ sides is not a reinvention it’s a dull attempt to sound vital and make people think there is life in the old dog yet. This is making me sad to write because I once thought that Weller could do no wrong, he was the first artist that I owned the complete back catalogue of on cd (mainly as I was still saving up for the more extensive Beatles one) and “Broken Stones” was the first song that I shared with a girl as “our song”. Rumour was that Weller’s desire to explore his softer side as a songwriter with songs such as ‘English Rose’ was the straw that broke the camel’s back for Bruce Foxton and the rest of ‘The Jam’. Weller rode the 90’s wave heavily and with obvious skill but for me the turn of the millennium was one too many  centuries for this musical survivor and none of his output since then has been notable except by is disappointment. There is a very repetitive tone through this album and the guitar work seems to meld into a fuggy sound that masks any true sparks of the original Weller sound. But don’t get too down about it put on ‘Setting Sons’ and relish in a true English hero in the prime of his life and let this piffle fizzle out.

   ‘Port Of Morrow’ by The Shins  James Mercer is Indie royalty and his absence from his flagship group has caused ripples across the jingle jangle lo fi’ish community, what was he doing playing around with essentially dance producers when what we really want from him is lyrical genius and another look into his perpetually confused and lovesick cynical view of the world. There was some derision over the bands last offering many thinking it was a little too bleepy and far too cheerful, I disagreed but am also glad that this album is soaked in the bittersweet and encapsulating everything we fell in love with the band for in the first place.

There is something in this album and indeed the group that is impossible to emulate and is missing from far too much modern music and that is character. Watching the latest musical monstrosity ‘The Voice’ on BBC One and hearing the hopefuls be told how talented they are when really all they are displaying is a very 90’s vocal style of making sure every note in an octave has been achieved in as short a time as possible, they could sing at me until I turned blue and fell over and I would still not care a jot because they have no character – destined to repeat the songs of others in a bland style that is only really excusable at a drunkard party closely followed by vomiting and blacking out. I read 95% of the Harry Potter saga and even after the 1,084,000 words that ordeal entailed I still didn’t give a ploppy shit if Harry lived, died or turned gay and declared his deep arousal at all things ginger and magical because the twerp had little to no character. For an unassuming indie gent, resplendent in jeans and cardigan Mr.Mercer only has to open his mouth once to have me hooked on his every word and hoping things turn out well – that’s style baby and this album oozes it from every pour.

There are melodies and harmonies that come straight from the first two albums echoed in a childlike innocence coupled with a teenage yearning and a few years of experience. This isn’t new ground but well-trod and firm underfoot for a band that made their names with these intricate love songs sung to the stars in the dead of night. If ‘Chutes Too Narrow’ was caught up on a fantasy of how love can be then this is an album that has been chewed up and spat out by love and still wants to sing its praises. “No Way Down”;

“Make me a drink, strong enough

To wash away the dishwater world,

They said was lemonade”

How could I resist? The lyric is right up my street so go back a few years before Indie started getting so dark and broody and when you still had guitar songs that were not folk and float in the wonderful world of The Shins.

   ‘Mr.M’ by Lambchop If Mr.Mercer is Indie royalty then Kurt Wagner the pivotal member of Lambchop is a foreign dignitary of the highest order, it’s one thing to be brilliant but the myriad of line-up’s and plays on musical styles outputted by this outfit since the early 90’s has been consistently brilliant, a rare and beautiful thing. The tides of the musical styles that Wagner and co have displayed have ebbed and flowed over the years but the lounge singer voice and aching beauty of the music has seen them through to arrive here when the styles are in the limelight to be well practiced masters and it shows in every song, in every chord, in every note. Laid back and effortless would imply a lack of attention but in reality I mean it to imply that this is not forced it is one of the most natural, open and heartfelt recordings I have heard since – well last year and the astonishing album by Bill Callahan. I have drawn something new from this album at each listen and grown to like it then love it with every play, it is an unassuming but addictive piece of work that soothes at the same time as it challenges you subtly to look at the frailties of this world. Kurt Wagner operates well on the side of the self-deprecating masses whom it is hard to truly hurt because they see the ridiculous nature of the world and the great balance between the irrelevant and the important. There is a wounded sound to the vocal that gives the gravitas of experience like a sage oracle who’s every word should be hung upon as if it is the last we will hear, there is also beauty and innocence like a Disney cartoon or the saccharine world of Burt Bacharach where love lives inside of bubbles but this sings of the sugar hangover that follows where we see that good time for the temporary and unreal that it really is. There is nothing happier than misery in my opinion and this album I could wallow in cuddle up near and shake inside until all my troubles are far away – I hope you let it in and help it heal you. It’s all good so I refuse to pick out specific songs I just urge you to listen.

I have been away for too long due to my immersion in my new world, limited access to shops or internet has limited my new music acquiring abilities and when needing to display your character through the medium of a work stereo it is important to rely on old friends so thank you Biggy, J5 and the wonders of Fela Kuti for helping me set a president and be there for me in unsure times. I will shelve my need for constant cooking and figure calculating to be back sooner next time and hopefully under a brighter sun. Until then listen close and listen loud my good friends.