First off, apologies for the lack of posting recently. My new job is going well but it's definitely eating into my tweeting and blogging time. A general election is almost upon us and as such politicians are taking to the stages and news programmes to tell us why they should be put in charge of the country and what they're going to do to make our lives better. They'll also warn us of the dangers of voting for the other lot, intimating that doing so will lead to nothing but a world of misery and pain and further damage to "Broken Britain."
Politics and politicians are a necessary evil but unfortunately, the majority of those who go into politics seem to be utterly the wrong people to do so. For every Vince Cable there is a plethora of Balls, Osbornes and Wintertons: smug, manipulative, viscous douchebags who completely believe they know better and delight in listening to their own constant spastic drone of meaningless soundbite spunk.
I detest these people. When they're on the news I have to change the channel or I will become a rabid, spitting rage monkey who could well throw something through the television. It shouldn't be like this so today's five are people I think we ought to be able to vote for - artists who understand life and convey more common sense and wisdom in the space of a song than any politician has in a life of carefully crafted speeches and policy statements.
Dan le Sac vs Scroobius Pip: Get Better
This song is essentially everything The Daily Mail isn't: someone who dares to treat teenagers as something more than feral, hoody wearing scum who will slit your throat, rape your mobile and stick a portrait of Princess Di up your arse then set fire to it. The sad thing is, The Daily Mail website probably gets more views in a day than this video ever will and countless thousands of imbeciles will believe everything they read there and vote accordingly. If Britain is indeed Broken it's time media outlets like the Mail looked a little more closely at their part in creating the climate of fear and paranoia they love to report on.
Johnny Cash: San Quentin
Before anyone points this out to me, yes, I know he's dead. This is not a blog bound by the realms of reality and if you believe that even those in this post who are still alive would stand a chance of being elected then you're either madder or more optimistic than most. This is a song for the "hang 'em high" brigade who believe all the problems in society can be solved by throwing people in prison or, even better, executing the majority of them. They also tend to be the people who believe in the mythical golden era when crime was almost non-existent and everyone lived in harmony. I'm no historian but as far as I can see this has never been the case. Imagine what Johnny Cash could bring to politics - the honesty to admit that people stray and the belief this isn't something that should be held against them indefinitely. No knee-jerk reaction and the willingness to add a hysterical comment to every media non-story.
Marvin Gaye: Inner City Blues
As an album What's Going On has a stronger political and social conscience than any think-tank or party political group. For that alone you've got to think Marvin Gaye could have brought something special to the world of politics. On a slightly lighter note, you've also got to believe he would do sex scandals with flair and panache - no soggy cigars and jizz stained dresses.
Primal Scream: Shoot Speed Kill Light
There are political Primal Scream songs but this has to go in for the simple fact that I dream of a day when Bobby Gillespie is in the running for Prime Minister and this is his campaign song. Who knows, if he got in we might even get some sensible drug laws...
The Stone Roses: I am the Resurrection
Stone Roses - I am the Resurrection Live Blackpool '89
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From Mani Mk2 to the original model. Will leave it to two lines from the song to convey what I think a massive amount of people feel about politicians:
Don't waste your words I don't need anything from you,
I don't care where you've been or what you plan to do.
Friday, 2 April 2010
Saturday, 20 March 2010
Love to Hate You
I wanted to write something today but couldn't be arsed. Through a semi-hungover haze I discussed topics for this post with the Tea Queen and realised that by writing this I could justify staying in bed for a while longer (it's the only place in my flat where I can ponce onto my neighbour's wifi).
There are many many bands I truly despise. Music is such an important part of my life that it upsets me when people are shite at it and make massive amounts of money from it. Muse? Wank. U2? Overblown arse biscuits. Coldplay? Aural magnolia emulsion. Anything from the bowels of Cowell? Explosive diarrhoea spattering the brain pan.
The only thing worse than detesting a band with every fibre of your existence is when they go and write a decent song. You're in a friend's car listening to Radio 1 and Jo 'have you ever seen/heard Dido and I in the same room' Whiley announces that next up is a world exclusive: the first play anywhere in the known universe of Cold Patrol's new single. She builds it up as if they've somehow found a cure for cancer through banal guitar dribble and you start flexing your sneer muscles. There's a moment's pause before it begins and every atom in your body is filling with bile as you prepare to rant about the eternal awfulness of this band. But something is amiss. The opening chords don't make you want to kill fluffy animals slowly. Your foot has started tapping of its own accord and your head is borderline nodding along in time. The realisation hits you: this song isn't too bad. You feel dirty. You feel used. You want to go home, dip a cotton bud in Swarfega and scrub your ears raw. Today's five are in honour of this.
Snow Patrol: Chocolate
I prefer to post live versions of songs whenever possible but I just couldn't with this one. I found clips of this from T in the Park and Live 8 but Gary Lightbody's smugly twattish face and complete inability to sing live almost resulted in my laptop landing in the garden. Neither wonder he looks smug, he's somehow managed to take a gnat's penis of ability and turn it into a machine that just shits money. Snow Patrol are the musical equivalent of Rohypnol and the fact Chasing Cars was the number one song of the last decade says more about the state of Britain than any hysterical Daily Mail editorial ever could.
Starsailor: Good Souls
According to one of their other songs, Daddy was an alcoholic. With progeny like this, who can fucking blame him? However, unlike the Lightbody twat, James Walsh can at least deliver a live version of his only decent song without sounding like a cat being forced to shit pineapples.
Bryan Adams: Summer of 69
Bryan Adams is a bastard. I will never forgive him for ruining an entire summer holiday by staying at number one for several millenia. To this day I will never understand who kept buying it 14 weeks into its stint at the top of the charts. Until the Arcade Fire and Wolf Parade came along, Adams, Morrisette and the Barenaked Ladies were the reasons why I imposed an embargo on Canadian music. Having said all that, scientists have proved that it is physically impossible to dislike this song.
Coldplay: Yellow
Before he married the human equivalent of his band's epically dull music and decided to rail against climate change from the back of his 4x4, Chris Martin was a practicing satanist who sacrificed kittens on an altar made from the skulls of his human victims. Nah, not really, but you've got to hope there's something more interesting going on with him than his music would lead you to believe.
Moby: Feeling so Real
There was a time when Moby made music to get off your tits and jump around like an idiot to. Unfortunately, he then realised he could make more money by making music to sell cars to middle-aged, middle-management wife swappers from Tunbridge Wells. This is an example of the former.
There are many many bands I truly despise. Music is such an important part of my life that it upsets me when people are shite at it and make massive amounts of money from it. Muse? Wank. U2? Overblown arse biscuits. Coldplay? Aural magnolia emulsion. Anything from the bowels of Cowell? Explosive diarrhoea spattering the brain pan.
The only thing worse than detesting a band with every fibre of your existence is when they go and write a decent song. You're in a friend's car listening to Radio 1 and Jo 'have you ever seen/heard Dido and I in the same room' Whiley announces that next up is a world exclusive: the first play anywhere in the known universe of Cold Patrol's new single. She builds it up as if they've somehow found a cure for cancer through banal guitar dribble and you start flexing your sneer muscles. There's a moment's pause before it begins and every atom in your body is filling with bile as you prepare to rant about the eternal awfulness of this band. But something is amiss. The opening chords don't make you want to kill fluffy animals slowly. Your foot has started tapping of its own accord and your head is borderline nodding along in time. The realisation hits you: this song isn't too bad. You feel dirty. You feel used. You want to go home, dip a cotton bud in Swarfega and scrub your ears raw. Today's five are in honour of this.
Snow Patrol: Chocolate
I prefer to post live versions of songs whenever possible but I just couldn't with this one. I found clips of this from T in the Park and Live 8 but Gary Lightbody's smugly twattish face and complete inability to sing live almost resulted in my laptop landing in the garden. Neither wonder he looks smug, he's somehow managed to take a gnat's penis of ability and turn it into a machine that just shits money. Snow Patrol are the musical equivalent of Rohypnol and the fact Chasing Cars was the number one song of the last decade says more about the state of Britain than any hysterical Daily Mail editorial ever could.
Starsailor: Good Souls
According to one of their other songs, Daddy was an alcoholic. With progeny like this, who can fucking blame him? However, unlike the Lightbody twat, James Walsh can at least deliver a live version of his only decent song without sounding like a cat being forced to shit pineapples.
Bryan Adams: Summer of 69
Bryan Adams is a bastard. I will never forgive him for ruining an entire summer holiday by staying at number one for several millenia. To this day I will never understand who kept buying it 14 weeks into its stint at the top of the charts. Until the Arcade Fire and Wolf Parade came along, Adams, Morrisette and the Barenaked Ladies were the reasons why I imposed an embargo on Canadian music. Having said all that, scientists have proved that it is physically impossible to dislike this song.
Coldplay: Yellow
Before he married the human equivalent of his band's epically dull music and decided to rail against climate change from the back of his 4x4, Chris Martin was a practicing satanist who sacrificed kittens on an altar made from the skulls of his human victims. Nah, not really, but you've got to hope there's something more interesting going on with him than his music would lead you to believe.
Moby: Feeling so Real
There was a time when Moby made music to get off your tits and jump around like an idiot to. Unfortunately, he then realised he could make more money by making music to sell cars to middle-aged, middle-management wife swappers from Tunbridge Wells. This is an example of the former.
Tuesday, 16 March 2010
First Day on a Brand New Planet
To quote the great Scott Walker and appropriate the royal 'We,' today we came through. Today was my first day back at work since before Christmas so definitely was the first day on what was rapidly becoming a strange and forgotten world. I survived, made it home in one piece and reacquainted myself with the refreshing taste of beer at the end of the day as opposed to beer in the middle of the afternoon. Good times.
A recurring theme of this blog is my penchant for taking the obvious route when it opens itself up to me. An example of my thought process: "I feel like doing a five a day today, what should I do? Well, it was my First day at work so I might try and do songs with the word First in the title." And there we have it...
Explosions in the Sky: First Breath After Coma
The combination of slow burning songs with oblique titles, swirling guitar lines building to epic crescendos of noise and a fanbase that has a higher than average level of facial hair have seen Explosions in the Sky lazily labelled "the Texan Mogwai." In the interests of fairness I hope Mogwai are known as "the Glaswegian Explosions in the Sky" over there.
Urusei Yatsura: First Day on a Brand New Planet
Urusei Yatsura only made three albums and they are little nuggets of lo-fi pop magic. They split in 2001 but I reckon if you give it another couple of years the inevitable reunion will swing its way around and this post will turn out to be instrumental in that.
Morrissey: First of the Gang to Die
Given the up and down nature of Morrissey's solo output you've got to take any chance to post one of the highlights. You Are the Quarry is possibly his most consistent solo album and this is one of its highlights.
Pulp: Do You Remember the First Time?
I don't think this needs much of an introduction - simply one of Pulp's greatest songs.
The Secret Machines: First Wave Intact
It's getting late, my brain is starting to shut down so I am going to be massively lazy and quote from the holy book of Rolling Stone magazine and their description of The Secret Machines:
"They take Pink Floyd psychedelia, Led Zeppelin stomp, and The Who-inspired choruses and charge them full of big-rock beats, atmospheric keyboards and all kinds of electronic whooshes."
I need to go recharge - this working lark has knocked me for six (in the best possible way).
A recurring theme of this blog is my penchant for taking the obvious route when it opens itself up to me. An example of my thought process: "I feel like doing a five a day today, what should I do? Well, it was my First day at work so I might try and do songs with the word First in the title." And there we have it...
Explosions in the Sky: First Breath After Coma
The combination of slow burning songs with oblique titles, swirling guitar lines building to epic crescendos of noise and a fanbase that has a higher than average level of facial hair have seen Explosions in the Sky lazily labelled "the Texan Mogwai." In the interests of fairness I hope Mogwai are known as "the Glaswegian Explosions in the Sky" over there.
Urusei Yatsura: First Day on a Brand New Planet
Urusei Yatsura only made three albums and they are little nuggets of lo-fi pop magic. They split in 2001 but I reckon if you give it another couple of years the inevitable reunion will swing its way around and this post will turn out to be instrumental in that.
Morrissey: First of the Gang to Die
Given the up and down nature of Morrissey's solo output you've got to take any chance to post one of the highlights. You Are the Quarry is possibly his most consistent solo album and this is one of its highlights.
Pulp: Do You Remember the First Time?
I don't think this needs much of an introduction - simply one of Pulp's greatest songs.
The Secret Machines: First Wave Intact
It's getting late, my brain is starting to shut down so I am going to be massively lazy and quote from the holy book of Rolling Stone magazine and their description of The Secret Machines:
"They take Pink Floyd psychedelia, Led Zeppelin stomp, and The Who-inspired choruses and charge them full of big-rock beats, atmospheric keyboards and all kinds of electronic whooshes."
I need to go recharge - this working lark has knocked me for six (in the best possible way).
Monday, 15 March 2010
Caledonia, you're calling me
Patriotism is a concept I've always found difficult to get my head around. The odds of you being born in one country over another are so far beyond the cliche of "astronomical" that they make winning the lottery look like a certainty. Couplings going back over generations had to take place on both your mother and father's sides before they could get together and fire the starting gun on the sperm race that resulted in you. If you spend too much time thinking about it (as I just have to write these opening sentences) it will really mess with your head.
In short then, birth is the end result of incalculable odds so being patriotic about where this happened to me seems to be odd. Today's theme is one I did previously when just posting videos on Facebook but I wanted to do it again as I feel my country needs me. From time to time, usually just before Christmas, compilations proclaiming to be the definitive representation of Scottish music appear. Not the traditional stuff, but rock and pop. Almost without exception they are shite. Toe-curlingly bad. Bad enough to make you rescind all claims to being Scottish and become a nationless wanderer. The root of this world-beating craptitude is glaringly apparent: in the eyes of all those who put these albums together, Runrig, Simple Minds and the Bay City Rollers represent the pinnacle of modern Scottish music. Blustery Gael-rock, chest-beating U2 wannabes and a proto-boy band dressed like victims of an explosion in a Scottish gift shop - is that really the best we can do?
The Proclaimers: Scotland's Story
After what I said above you're probably expecting me to start with a band who maybe aren't that well known, a Scottish artist who hasn't quite scaled the heights of international fame and recognition. Balls to that, I've gone for a band who are undoubtedly one of Scotland's biggest exports. The Proclaimers are best known for Letter From America and 500 Miles. To many people they probably appear to be something of a novelty act - twins with big specs and accents so thick they make Jessica Simpson sound like a Nobel Laureate. I have to admit that for a long time I felt the same. However, someone lent me Sunshine on Leith and the strength of the songwriting amazed me. The brothers Reid have the rare gift of being able to communicate ideas with clarity and honesty in the space of three or four minutes, whether it be about love, death or politics. Scotland's Story seems the perfect first choice this post as it's a song that takes pride in being Scottish while at the same time reminding the listener of the mongrel nature of us and the country we live in.
Boards of Canada: Roygbiv
I'm generally not a fan of homemade fan videos on YouTube as more often than not they have subtlety of a brick around the head and look as if they've been edited by drunk toddler. This video is different though. Firstly, with Boards of Canada you have to rely on fan videos as there is no live footage of them anywhere on YouTube. Secondly, and more importantly, this video is genuinely stunning. The montage of 80s ad clips perfectly captures BoC's retro futurism and for people of a certain age (i.e me) will bring back many lost memories of childhood afternoons spent in front of the telly.
Simple Minds: I Travel
Yes, I am a contrary bastard. I hold Simple Minds up as an example of the shiteness of Scottish music as it's sometimes portrayed in one paragraph, then barely a few paragraphs later I choose them as one of the five a day. I am a fickle soul but the simple fact is that Simple Minds weren't always stadium rock wank bags who wanted to out-bluster U2. The early part of the career saw them experiment with different styles and I Travel is still one of my favourite early 80s songs.
Arab Strap: I Saw You
I suppose this is one of the more positive Arab Strap songs, even if ultimately he seems to be crippled with shyness whenever he sees this woman and resigns himself to the fact "she's probably got a boyfriend anyway." In the Strap universe this represents a relatively good day.
The Jesus and Mary Chain: Upside Down
A band fronted by warring brothers, managed by Alan McGee and wreaking havoc as they tour the UK. It all sounds familiar, doesn't it? The Gallaghers may have garnered more column inches for their sibling rivalry in the 90s, but ten years before it the Jesus and Mary Chain crawled out of the new town hell of East Kilbride and took their amphetamine fuelled madness on the road. Unlike Oasis, the JAMC have clearly funneled their mutual dislike into the music and the end result does sound like it's been recorded on the edge of a brawl.
In short then, birth is the end result of incalculable odds so being patriotic about where this happened to me seems to be odd. Today's theme is one I did previously when just posting videos on Facebook but I wanted to do it again as I feel my country needs me. From time to time, usually just before Christmas, compilations proclaiming to be the definitive representation of Scottish music appear. Not the traditional stuff, but rock and pop. Almost without exception they are shite. Toe-curlingly bad. Bad enough to make you rescind all claims to being Scottish and become a nationless wanderer. The root of this world-beating craptitude is glaringly apparent: in the eyes of all those who put these albums together, Runrig, Simple Minds and the Bay City Rollers represent the pinnacle of modern Scottish music. Blustery Gael-rock, chest-beating U2 wannabes and a proto-boy band dressed like victims of an explosion in a Scottish gift shop - is that really the best we can do?
The Proclaimers: Scotland's Story
After what I said above you're probably expecting me to start with a band who maybe aren't that well known, a Scottish artist who hasn't quite scaled the heights of international fame and recognition. Balls to that, I've gone for a band who are undoubtedly one of Scotland's biggest exports. The Proclaimers are best known for Letter From America and 500 Miles. To many people they probably appear to be something of a novelty act - twins with big specs and accents so thick they make Jessica Simpson sound like a Nobel Laureate. I have to admit that for a long time I felt the same. However, someone lent me Sunshine on Leith and the strength of the songwriting amazed me. The brothers Reid have the rare gift of being able to communicate ideas with clarity and honesty in the space of three or four minutes, whether it be about love, death or politics. Scotland's Story seems the perfect first choice this post as it's a song that takes pride in being Scottish while at the same time reminding the listener of the mongrel nature of us and the country we live in.
Boards of Canada: Roygbiv
I'm generally not a fan of homemade fan videos on YouTube as more often than not they have subtlety of a brick around the head and look as if they've been edited by drunk toddler. This video is different though. Firstly, with Boards of Canada you have to rely on fan videos as there is no live footage of them anywhere on YouTube. Secondly, and more importantly, this video is genuinely stunning. The montage of 80s ad clips perfectly captures BoC's retro futurism and for people of a certain age (i.e me) will bring back many lost memories of childhood afternoons spent in front of the telly.
Simple Minds: I Travel
Yes, I am a contrary bastard. I hold Simple Minds up as an example of the shiteness of Scottish music as it's sometimes portrayed in one paragraph, then barely a few paragraphs later I choose them as one of the five a day. I am a fickle soul but the simple fact is that Simple Minds weren't always stadium rock wank bags who wanted to out-bluster U2. The early part of the career saw them experiment with different styles and I Travel is still one of my favourite early 80s songs.
Arab Strap: I Saw You
I suppose this is one of the more positive Arab Strap songs, even if ultimately he seems to be crippled with shyness whenever he sees this woman and resigns himself to the fact "she's probably got a boyfriend anyway." In the Strap universe this represents a relatively good day.
The Jesus and Mary Chain: Upside Down
A band fronted by warring brothers, managed by Alan McGee and wreaking havoc as they tour the UK. It all sounds familiar, doesn't it? The Gallaghers may have garnered more column inches for their sibling rivalry in the 90s, but ten years before it the Jesus and Mary Chain crawled out of the new town hell of East Kilbride and took their amphetamine fuelled madness on the road. Unlike Oasis, the JAMC have clearly funneled their mutual dislike into the music and the end result does sound like it's been recorded on the edge of a brawl.
Friday, 12 March 2010
Job Lot
In these parts some refer to it as the Nat King, others the broo, but mostly it's the dole. I've been unemployed for the last couple of months and although the hours are great it's fair to say the money is pish. Today was my last trip to the Job Centre to sign on as I'm starting a new job next week so guess what today's topic is? Yes, I am that obvious.
Billy Connolly: Three Men From Carantyne
Before he made shite jokes about being minted and hanging out with minor Royals, Billy Connoly was actually a fantastic comedian. Before that he was something of a troubadour who swung between folk and comedy. Cop Yer Whack for This is one of his comedy albums and Three Men From Carantyne is a song about an ever-growing troop of people going to sign on. I can sympathise.
Glen Campbell: Wichita Lineman
A love song with a telephone engineer as the central character is something that only really works if you transport it to the wide open spaces of the US. Can you imagine the British equivalent? Even with Jimmy Webb's songwriting skills, Glen Campbell's velour smooth voice and sweeping strings it's fair to say that Warrington Lineman just wouldn't have the same timeless appeal.
The Frank & Walters: Happy Busman
The Frank & Walters are still one of my favourite bands from my teens. Daft haircuts, lysergic power pop ditties about buses, trainspotters and bad trips, all sung in the thickest of Irish brogues. If only the world had more bus drivers like Andy James - no fares, pink carpet and bubbles and a driver who loves everyone like his family. Infinitely better than overpriced tickets, sticky floors and cretinous chavs listening to the latest cock cheese through tinny mobile phone speakers.
Half Man Half Biscuit: 24 Hour Garage People
Maybe a tenuous one here but it's going in as I have been on both sides of this tale: the drunken arse at the garage who can't decide which sandwich he wants, and the poor bugger on the other side of the counter who is doing this job to help get through university. I think the garage I worked at had probably the most educated staff of any company I've worked at since. We used to discuss the Kantian morals between serving dodgy sausage rolls and fucking about with nervous teens when they asked for ten fags and a packet of skins.
Stoner: Eh, man, eh, can I get ten Regal King Size, a clipper and a packet of blue Rizla?
Me: How come you need the papers AND the cigarettes?
Stoner: (blanching) Eh, well, aye, eh... it's just in case the fag breaks and we need to, like, eh, repair it.
Me: Reeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaalllly?
We used to have a sweep on how long it would be before the same teens would return to buy Jaffacakes, juice and shiny things.
CJ Bolland: Sugar is Sweeter
I'll admit that it is whether a sugar daddy is actually a job is debatable to say the least. However, this post is been written as Friday night hoves into view and it feels like the perfect lead in to the weekend's carnage. Have fun.
Billy Connolly: Three Men From Carantyne
Before he made shite jokes about being minted and hanging out with minor Royals, Billy Connoly was actually a fantastic comedian. Before that he was something of a troubadour who swung between folk and comedy. Cop Yer Whack for This is one of his comedy albums and Three Men From Carantyne is a song about an ever-growing troop of people going to sign on. I can sympathise.
Glen Campbell: Wichita Lineman
A love song with a telephone engineer as the central character is something that only really works if you transport it to the wide open spaces of the US. Can you imagine the British equivalent? Even with Jimmy Webb's songwriting skills, Glen Campbell's velour smooth voice and sweeping strings it's fair to say that Warrington Lineman just wouldn't have the same timeless appeal.
The Frank & Walters: Happy Busman
The Frank & Walters are still one of my favourite bands from my teens. Daft haircuts, lysergic power pop ditties about buses, trainspotters and bad trips, all sung in the thickest of Irish brogues. If only the world had more bus drivers like Andy James - no fares, pink carpet and bubbles and a driver who loves everyone like his family. Infinitely better than overpriced tickets, sticky floors and cretinous chavs listening to the latest cock cheese through tinny mobile phone speakers.
Half Man Half Biscuit: 24 Hour Garage People
Maybe a tenuous one here but it's going in as I have been on both sides of this tale: the drunken arse at the garage who can't decide which sandwich he wants, and the poor bugger on the other side of the counter who is doing this job to help get through university. I think the garage I worked at had probably the most educated staff of any company I've worked at since. We used to discuss the Kantian morals between serving dodgy sausage rolls and fucking about with nervous teens when they asked for ten fags and a packet of skins.
Stoner: Eh, man, eh, can I get ten Regal King Size, a clipper and a packet of blue Rizla?
Me: How come you need the papers AND the cigarettes?
Stoner: (blanching) Eh, well, aye, eh... it's just in case the fag breaks and we need to, like, eh, repair it.
Me: Reeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaalllly?
We used to have a sweep on how long it would be before the same teens would return to buy Jaffacakes, juice and shiny things.
CJ Bolland: Sugar is Sweeter
I'll admit that it is whether a sugar daddy is actually a job is debatable to say the least. However, this post is been written as Friday night hoves into view and it feels like the perfect lead in to the weekend's carnage. Have fun.
Wednesday, 10 March 2010
If the Musselburgh Deaf Society was a band...
... it'd be on Mute. However, it doesn't exist: it's a pretend society created on the Sunday of a very drunken weekend of birthdays, ending of eras and general carnage. Apologies for the lack of posting over the past few days. Saturday and Sunday were never likely to be days when posts were written, one being given over to recovery and the other devoted to getting back on it all over again.
Today's five are songs by artists on Mute records. Back in the days of The Chart Show, Melody Maker and NME (music newspaper as opposed to slightly indie smash hits) the indie chart was something I pored over. Mysterious band names you never heard mentioned on Radio 1 hinted at some fantastical world of pale boys with guitars, seven inch singles and tiny venues where only the most knowledgable would be allowed entry. Then at number one sat Erasure, the campest man in pop plus his deadpan sidekick, singing pop ditties even your mum knew the words to. I loved them but it didn't make sense: how the fuck were Erasure an indie band? Andy Bell may have been pale but he was no fey indie-boy with his guitar.
The answer lay in the label Erasure were on, Mute. Until EMI acquired the label in 2002 they were one of the biggest indie labels in the UK along with Factory and Rough Trade. According to the label's Wikipedia entry, "Mute never acquired the same glamour as contemporary "indies" Factory Records and Rough Trade Records it far outstripped them in sales terms." That may be the case but when you look at the huge variety of artists the label released records by they deserve massive credit.
Depeche Mode: Just Can't Get Enough
Greatest synth pop hook ever? Probably. Vince Clarke at his most mobile, Dave Gahan's hair at its largest and so many sharp edged cheekbones you could probably make a Saw booby trap from them. Electro-pop at its very best. Oh, and as for the Saturday's version? It may have been for charity but that doesn't mean they have carte blanche to turn into an insipid piece of rusty arse water. Pouty bints.
Goldfrapp: A&E
The first time I heard this it was in the background at someone's house and the melody was what hit me. When I eventually bought the album I listened to the song more intently and I still find it one of the saddest things I've ever heard. Heart-breakingly good.
The Warlocks: Shake The Dope Out
Proving Mute isn't all shiny synth pop, The Warlocks might not be the most original sounding band ever but it takes chutzpah to choose the name the Grateful Dead first plied their trade under. Two drummers and more than one song referencing dope: lovely.
Diamanda Galas: The Litanies of Satan
I'm not even going to attempt to describe this other than to say you will either love it or hate it. Either way, I think you have to respect any artist this committed and any label who will give it a home.
Erasure: Don't Suppose
I couldn't do this without including Erasure but balls to the big hits. This is the B-side to Chains of Love and probably as close as they ever got to country and western. The lyrics are straight from the Nashville book of the broken hearted and the banjo solo doesn't even grate.
Today's five are songs by artists on Mute records. Back in the days of The Chart Show, Melody Maker and NME (music newspaper as opposed to slightly indie smash hits) the indie chart was something I pored over. Mysterious band names you never heard mentioned on Radio 1 hinted at some fantastical world of pale boys with guitars, seven inch singles and tiny venues where only the most knowledgable would be allowed entry. Then at number one sat Erasure, the campest man in pop plus his deadpan sidekick, singing pop ditties even your mum knew the words to. I loved them but it didn't make sense: how the fuck were Erasure an indie band? Andy Bell may have been pale but he was no fey indie-boy with his guitar.
The answer lay in the label Erasure were on, Mute. Until EMI acquired the label in 2002 they were one of the biggest indie labels in the UK along with Factory and Rough Trade. According to the label's Wikipedia entry, "Mute never acquired the same glamour as contemporary "indies" Factory Records and Rough Trade Records it far outstripped them in sales terms." That may be the case but when you look at the huge variety of artists the label released records by they deserve massive credit.
Depeche Mode: Just Can't Get Enough
Greatest synth pop hook ever? Probably. Vince Clarke at his most mobile, Dave Gahan's hair at its largest and so many sharp edged cheekbones you could probably make a Saw booby trap from them. Electro-pop at its very best. Oh, and as for the Saturday's version? It may have been for charity but that doesn't mean they have carte blanche to turn into an insipid piece of rusty arse water. Pouty bints.
Goldfrapp: A&E
The first time I heard this it was in the background at someone's house and the melody was what hit me. When I eventually bought the album I listened to the song more intently and I still find it one of the saddest things I've ever heard. Heart-breakingly good.
The Warlocks: Shake The Dope Out
Proving Mute isn't all shiny synth pop, The Warlocks might not be the most original sounding band ever but it takes chutzpah to choose the name the Grateful Dead first plied their trade under. Two drummers and more than one song referencing dope: lovely.
Diamanda Galas: The Litanies of Satan
I'm not even going to attempt to describe this other than to say you will either love it or hate it. Either way, I think you have to respect any artist this committed and any label who will give it a home.
Erasure: Don't Suppose
I couldn't do this without including Erasure but balls to the big hits. This is the B-side to Chains of Love and probably as close as they ever got to country and western. The lyrics are straight from the Nashville book of the broken hearted and the banjo solo doesn't even grate.
Friday, 5 March 2010
Friday I'm in Love
We started the week with songs in praise of the sunshine so it seems fair to end it with a celebration of all things Friday. For most of us it's the end of the week, time to break free from the shackles of nine to five drudgery and partake in that great British pass-time - binge drinking. The weekend stretches ahead of you and the only way to greet it is by heading out and consuming gargantuan amounts of booze, thereby condemning at least the first half of Saturday to a hangover that has its own weather system. To get things started you need a suitable soundtrack (that doesn't include the Black Eyed Peas). Here are five to get the booze juices flowing...
Joey Beltram: Energy Flash
There are a couple of versions of this song on YouTube, including this manically speeded up live mix but I had to post this one in honour of Monkey's appearance about a minute and a half in. Banging monkey techno genius. Lovely.
Sly and the Family Stone: I Want to Take you Higher
Ten minutes of unbridled funk joy and probably the greatest singalong in concert history. So good you might end up missing out on your Friday night as you stay in and watch this over and over.
Arctic Monkeys: The View From the Afternoon
Along with the Streets, the Arctic Monkeys have taken 21st century life in Britain and written songs that explain it more clearly and concisely than any politician or cultural commentator ever could. The View From the Afternoon captures the anticipation you feel as you drag on through the final hours of tedium before you can kill your liver. Makes you want to bounce like a fucker too.
Happy Mondays: Wrote For Luck
Warning: may contain drug, alcohol and dancing references. Few people have documented the joys of hedonism as Shaun Ryder. The lyrics might not make much sense but you just know the majority of the songs were written under the influence and celebrate that fact.
Underworld: Rez
Hearing this for the first time on the legendary Flux Trax album completely changed my view of dance/electronic/whatever you want to call it. I had always been a typically indie teen - band t-shirts and a distrust of anything that wasn't made by pasty blokes with guitars. Rez changed that and I played it so much that when I left for Japan my mum demanded a mix tape that included "that really song that just sounds like lots of loops or something."
Right, Friday lunchtime beckons, may be time to get things started and see how the view from the afternoon looks. Go forth and get battered my good people.
Joey Beltram: Energy Flash
There are a couple of versions of this song on YouTube, including this manically speeded up live mix but I had to post this one in honour of Monkey's appearance about a minute and a half in. Banging monkey techno genius. Lovely.
Sly and the Family Stone: I Want to Take you Higher
Ten minutes of unbridled funk joy and probably the greatest singalong in concert history. So good you might end up missing out on your Friday night as you stay in and watch this over and over.
Arctic Monkeys: The View From the Afternoon
Along with the Streets, the Arctic Monkeys have taken 21st century life in Britain and written songs that explain it more clearly and concisely than any politician or cultural commentator ever could. The View From the Afternoon captures the anticipation you feel as you drag on through the final hours of tedium before you can kill your liver. Makes you want to bounce like a fucker too.
Happy Mondays: Wrote For Luck
Warning: may contain drug, alcohol and dancing references. Few people have documented the joys of hedonism as Shaun Ryder. The lyrics might not make much sense but you just know the majority of the songs were written under the influence and celebrate that fact.
Underworld: Rez
Hearing this for the first time on the legendary Flux Trax album completely changed my view of dance/electronic/whatever you want to call it. I had always been a typically indie teen - band t-shirts and a distrust of anything that wasn't made by pasty blokes with guitars. Rez changed that and I played it so much that when I left for Japan my mum demanded a mix tape that included "that really song that just sounds like lots of loops or something."
Right, Friday lunchtime beckons, may be time to get things started and see how the view from the afternoon looks. Go forth and get battered my good people.
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