Hold Hands And It Will Happen Anyway

In England, Thinking of Women (Three Months Later)

2010-11-17T04:01:00.000Z

I saw a tree outside my window as I smoked a late night cigarette, thinking about that girl, which seemed more vivid and clear than its surroundings. Although not much larger than a sapling and in a clear, open area it stood still and proud under an orange lamplight. Seeing that tree alone and proud I was not sure whether to feel happy, sad or empty. Maybe it was just a fucking tree.

Anticipatory Science Forecasts

2010-05-26T11:15:00.001+01:00

I am trying to tell the future (Hand me my glasses)
There are trends in sex trafficking. There are things to be seen.
But I have not seen them?

There are trends, in earthquakes.
Their position, their timing. I’m sure if you give me enough time I can predict the next one. If I guess the Richter level, perhaps they will give me a prize.

If I guess the story of a hero, who drags the screaming children from the rubble, perhaps they will give me a Pulitzer. Maybe I will give hope. I can do it, but not without my glasses. This is where you come in.

Hand me my glasses and I will mention you in my acceptance speech.

“I sure am glad that my predictions saved so many lives. Those children are alive now. And that is not a problem as I solved over-population too. That was a simple one. Stop fucking.” Careless fucks cost lives.

I will be given honorary degrees from every major University in the Western Hemisphere. They will create new programmes of study around my theories. The art of Prophecy will be as respected as Literature or Law. Schools will have my picture on the walls. I will be the Chairman Mao of saving everyone from everything.

My wife will be beautiful and she will support me. She will accurately identify when to be humble and stay away from the press. She will not over-react to my infidelities, as I will have warned her well in advance. Our marriage counselling will begin on our first date. We will have already named our children before we meet; Pablo and Consuela. They will have to attend public school, of course, just like the other children.

They will ask me for the answers to upcoming tests. I will laugh and ruffle their hair. I will send them to the school bus with an extra large hug on certain days, as I know what is in store. It will be difficult for everyone – but there will be good times.

I can already remember the time when we will visit Lake Tahoe – the sun will shine through the trees and scatter around our feet as the endless passages of time embrace my arms and legs and pin me to the dust.

Groceries

2010-05-26T11:13:00.001+01:00

In the cafe on the main street downtown I can see my ex-husband. He is sitting at the window, with his head down, picking at his food. I recognise him straight away and am suddenly very aware I will be walking into his eye-line if he lifts his head. I ghost between two parked cars and park myself on a bench, just out of sight, beside a tree.

His top section is visible through the window along with his feet, resting on a ledge. I can make out his expression to some extent, but I cannot, for the life of me, place it. He scrapes something off his burger before taking a bite. I watch him as he chews for a moment before looking out of the window, gazing into the distance. I imagine myself there beside him, several years ago. His frame is thinner and his hair is thicker, but his eyes glow the way only I have seen. I could walk into the cafe and act surprised, I could tell him how great he looks, perhaps we will embrace awkwardly. Maybe we will have a coffee, maybe we will laugh about the time we spent in Rome, and how the cheap champagne made him sick; how he sang me a song about maidens and castles as he lay slumped across our cheap, unmade hotel bed. Then can imagine how the conversation will progress. I will accidentally bring up Marianne, perhaps I subconsciously want to, and things will turn sour. He will raise his voice a little and say ‘I thought we were over this’ and he will look away, resignation in his eyes. I will catch them in the mirror and something inside me would shatter beyond repair.

Suddenly I am standing, turning away from the cafe. My feet are guiding me away from the hostile situation. Maybe one day, but not today. I can pick up the eggs from the grocery store on the end of the street instead, it is a little more expensive there, but that hardly matters. And the bread? Well, that can surely wait until tomorrow.

That Which Lies Before Me

2010-05-26T11:12:00.001+01:00

Jellyfish

2010-02-06T22:45:00.001Z

As we looked out over the beach she said ‘I wish that we were
in the sky’

I said ‘like moons? Just you and I?
She said ‘Well, she could be there too, you know I’m not the
jealous type’

I said

Well

If I were the moon
And you were the moon
And she was the moon
Then there would be too many moons

Besides,

The sea would go all weird and a...ll the fish would die

She said ‘I don’t think I want to see you anymore’

It was understandable – I wouldn’t want all those deaths on
my conscience

And just think of the jellyfish

Poor spineless bastards, things are hard enough for
them as it is.

Wolf

2010-01-31T22:35:00.001Z

We had been separated for two years. It was around two, perhaps eighteen months. Either way I was in her apartment, sitting in the middle of the floor. She laid across the sofa, draped in colourful sheets. I had removed my socks as they had started to come off with my boots and I had wanted my actions to seem purposeful from the offset. I hoped she would see this as an interesting quirk, perhaps something that signified change, but even I knew it was pathetic. She looked at me with a mixture of intent and pity. I stared at the floor. The silence was excruciating. My mind was racing but words were not forming.

“I saw a wolf” I paused for a moment, unsure if this was the path to follow. “I saw a wolf, when I was walking home the other night. He looked like a wolf. He was white and grey and proud. He looked at me, he looked at me straight on and he mimicked my movements.”

I looked up. She was looking at me. I could see that she had no ring on her finger, It was poking out slightly from under the covers. I could see a t-shirt strewn over the end of the sofa. It was too large to be hers.

“I mean, I think I saw it. I’m almost certain.”

She stood up and smiled and walked towards the kitchen. Through the door I could see half of her putting a kettle onto the hob. After a moment she hovered in the doorway.

“This wolf, as I walked towards him, he mimicked my movements. He looked more purposeful though, he looked like he could strike, but you know, obviously I couldn’t tell what he was thinking”

“Obviously”

I tried to seek playfulness in her voice but it seemed harsher than I remembered.

“I walked towards it, it was in a garden, underneath one of the old boarding houses, next to the pub in the dale. I wanted to see how it would pan out, you know, if I walked towards it, I mean, I couldn’t avoid it, it was on my way home.”

She walked back into the kitchen and took the pot off the boil. She poured out two cups and presented one to me. I sipped it. It was black with a shot of cream. I sipped it and rested back onto my elbows.

She looked at me as I sipped the coffee. I did not say anything else. I began to think about the snow outside. I could hear it crashing against the window. My boots were beside me, the snow had melted from them slightly and there was a small pool of water around the soles. I had bought the boots in the Summer, to prepare for the cold winter. I felt a certain satisfaction in this.

“Go on”

I spun back towards her

“The wolf. Go on.”

“Okay, the wolf, yes, I mean, I was almost at the point where we had to meet. But it was cold, my hands were frozen. I put my head down and walked as fast as I could. Faster than I should. The lights were orange and the road was empty, I tried to look back when I was a few paces forward but I couldn’t see the garden. It had big hedges each side, I could see the edge of the driveway but that was it. I try to think back now, you know, to the garden. If there were some paw-prints in the snow or something, but for the life of me I can’t remember.”

She sat beside me on the floor, dragging the cover down from the sofa. She gave me a corner to cover my feet. I wrapped it around them, pulling them together for warmth. I felt more comfortable now and I laid down on my back.

“The next day, all I could think about was that wolf. I would be going through the day and carrying on conversations but the whole time I was thinking of that wolf. We even joked about it, you know, maybe it was my spirit wolf and all that”

She laughed a little and lent back against the edge of the sofa.

“But then I thought, that day and thinking about the wolf. It’s the most I’ve thought about anything in as long as I dare to remember.”

She looked at me now. A different look.

“What did you come here for?”

I thought.

“I wouldn’t want to say. Just in case I was wrong.”

I walked home and it was light. There were birds singing. The birds carried on singing, but they knew, just as well as I did, that the wolf would be at my door when I returned.

White Christmas

2010-01-11T02:28:00.001Z

I saw a white Christmas this year
For the first time since my birth

On Christmas day we sat, and we were pleasant
My father reminded us as it was a day of Christ

He has read the greats and travelled India
I would like to discuss the old Russians

But they are meaningless to him now
He has God

I would like to discuss the great Russians
But it would not do either of us any good.

At Christmas he was unhappy, but he is happy now.
He would like to discuss God but I am not of the age or mindset to accept this

It was a white Christmas
And I am an adult now, for what it is worth.

Cheap

2010-01-11T02:09:00.001Z

What of you bony hips,
Does you cry for your dignity, I know of men
But to claim for one,
Who could tell?
Who on earth could tell?

Do you better yourself, what is your comparison?
There is a family, shopping, in sync,
Calling for the perfect,
Perfect.

Hair, swept and manicured, furrowed brow
Of hard work, not thought
And never a worry beyond the payment plans.

Test your passes, don’t fall in love.
Stay strong and challenge
But you fight.

Do you know?
Does she know?

After all, that’s all it is, isn’t it?
It’s cheap
It’s cheap.

It’s cheap and you are poor.

On the steps

2010-01-11T01:50:00.001Z

I am back here
on the steps,

It is Autumn.

Not my town, no abode, no contact
Alone on the steps, as they pass
Features blur.

You could pick them out if you wished,
but I see no need.

I do not wish to meet these people, merely observe,
It seems lazy
And clichéd
To wonder where they are going, what they are doing, what they are thinking, how they continue, how they do not give in, how their families are, how they fuck, If they make love, how they met their significant other, if they are happy in the way they love their lives, if they are happy with the world around them, if they are the world around them,
If it becomes them,
If we are linked,
If we are attatched,
When they disappear from view.

Perhaps their sobs were smothered as children,
Perhaps that’s why they do not spill,
On the pavement
As I watch
From the steps.

It's hard being a man, living in a garbage pail...

2010-01-08T21:18:00.001Z

Grief (First Draft)

2010-01-05T02:39:00.001Z

The lights clicked off, one by one by one. She ghosted through the hall without a sound. It was a walk she had made many times before, she could beat the lights now, or even make the walk in the dark if needs be. Once she reached the office, she slipped inside. The room was presented in cold grey stucco. On one side was a thin table. It had thin legs, a thin top and was also grey. There was a chair beside the desk, red, and another in the corner. The chair in the corner looked slightly cheaper than the chair in behind the desk, and was a little smaller. During the day she would often sit on the chair in the corner, but if she had the opportunity she would sit in the larger chair behind the desk.

She stood with her back pressed against the door for a moment. She did not sigh. After a moment or two she moved away from the door and approached the desk. At one side, hidden slightly from view, were several fleece jumpers. These were emblazoned with the company logo. She unfolded and spread these across the floor in the small area of floor between the desk and the wall, away from the door. Slowly, she laid out across the fleeces. Under the desk was a small book of poetry. The inside cover contained a hand written dedication. Each night she would open the book at the page with the dedication. She had not read the poems in side, there seemed little that these poems could convey which this opening page could not achieve. The writing was fairly elaborate, yet subtle. The f’s and g’s swirled majestically, sitting beside the other calm and understated characters. When she had first examined this page, little over a month ago, she had thought of the meanings behind the handwriting. It occurred to her that perhaps there was a strange synchronicity in the handwriting. He could often dart around with the most extreme and soaring majesty, then settle back into a life of weakness. The weakness was an odd phenomena. Since she had known him he had been a strong man, in behaviour and convictions. This had enveloped almost all characteristics of his personality, governing his friendships, work, pleasure and indeed his lovers. The weakness of his later months had always seemed, perhaps, a certain fate. Before a man like he could pass, a second sense ad perspective on life was needed. An acceptance if you will.

Over time the words themselves, and now even the handwriting had affected her less and less and now failed to inspire any feeling from her. It seemed more like a ritual.

After a few minutes the lights clicked off. The sensors were based on motion. Sometimes if she stirred in her sleep they would trigger and a flash of fluorescent light would wake her, but this happened less and less recently. It almost seemed like most things were clockwork. The sensors would not be triggered. She would sleep and awake at such a time, she could glide through the halls and into the toilets until the others arrived.

That night as she slept, she dreamt of a ballroom. He was healthy and they were dancing. There was no music. Just the sound of her dress brushing the sparkling tiles.

Start

2010-01-02T17:58:00.001Z

An indigo sky pulsed over the waves. A screen of thin grey film over the windscreen due to the smoke slowly bleeding from the crumpled front hugging the trunk of a great oak. Its embrace encapsulated the warmth running through her chest, the splitting pain and warm sensation of what had passed seemed beleaguered to a sense of cutting scandal. The only section of the automobile still in tact and working order flipped down on cue to reveal a smile split centrally by a single trickle of dark claret.

50 songs for the year

2009-12-12T21:35:00.000Z

Girls – Lust for Life
Arch M – 21st Union
Casiotone for the Painfully Alone – Killers
Shoes & Socks Off – Vice Magazine Has A Lot to Answer For
Animal Collective – Summertime Clothes
Atlas Sound (feat Stereolab) – Quick Canal
Future of the Left – Arming Eritrea
Los Campesinos! – The Sea Is a Good Place To Think of The Future
Matt & Kim – Daylight
Diamond Rings – All Yr Songs

Grammatics – Relentless Fours
Kindness – Gee Up
M. Ward – For Beginners
Washed Out – You’ll See It
Memory Cassette – Last One Awake
Deerhunter – Circulation
No Age – You’re A Target
Wavves – Mickey Mouse
MSTRKRFT – Heartbreaker (ft. John Legend)
Emily Neveu – My Cosmonaut Edit

The Twilight Sad – I Became a Prostitute
Nude Beach – Nude Beach
Lou Barlow – Take Advantage
Jeffrey Lewis & The Junkyard – To Be Objectified
Lightning Bolt – Sound Guardians
Pulled Apart By Horses – E=MC Hammer
Nodzzz – Is She There?
Jason Lytle – Yours to Keep
Yeah Yeah Yeahs – Zero
The Xx – Crystalised

HEALTH – Die Slow
KASMs – Male Bonding
Bob Dylan – Must be Santa
Calico Horse – Idiotheque (Radiohead Cover)
Mean Jeans – Steve Don’t Party No More
PENS – High In The Cinema
The Horrors – Sea Within a Sea
The Drums – Let’s Go Surfing
Liars – Scissor
Hot Chip – One Life Stand

A Place to Bury Strangers – It is Nothing
Pre – Dude Fuk
A Sunny Day In Glasgow – Hybrid Moments (Misfits Cover)
Abe Vigoda – Wild Heart
Best Coast – When I’m With You
Japandroids – Young Hearts Spark Fire
Johnny Foreigner – Some Summers
Dinosaur Jr. – Over It
Memory Tapes - Bicycle
Vomit Heat – Everything In Its Wrong Place

Zine

2009-11-04T19:43:00.000Z

Matt and Kim Daylight Single (for musosguide.com)

2009-09-12T19:48:00.000+01:00

Matt & Kim Daylight

However much you care to claim you’re love for obscure Sunn O))) instrumentals or Glenn Branca avant-garde freakouts, deep down, beneath that sheen of indier-than-thou mistrust, everyone loves a good pop song. It just so happens that Matt & Kim specialise in the afformentioned ‘pop’.
One part Beat Happening and one part the Wham! ‘Daylight’ has a hook that could snare even the most bitterly stubborn curmudgeon, topped off with a celestial synth line and stuttering drums, set to a plot of summer fun and perpetual immaturity. Matt Johnson’s call-response vocals to noone inparticular are filled with a sense of happiness and youth that cannot help but create a warm sense of the sheer delight and an overwhelming urge to baptize yourself in ice cream.
In the States Matt & Kim can be found on primetime tv, in commercials and all over the music press and it seems it’s just a matter of time before they find a similar fame this side of the Atlantic. On this evidence it seems the fame would be well deserved.

Wavves - Mickey Mouse

2009-07-24T01:56:00.000+01:00

Admit it. You wanted to hate it. You can't.

mp3

A Jingle

2009-07-15T01:17:00.000+01:00

Give me some hope in this backwater town,

I’ve staring on upwards from my comedown

The year that was spent can drag out the sweat

Of a penchant for fun and no time for regret.

me oh my

2009-06-23T19:29:00.000+01:00

Oh, noose

Tied myself in, tied myself too tight

Looking kind of anxious in your cross-armed stance

Like a bad tempered prom queen at a homecoming dance

And I claim I'm not excited with my life anymore

So I blame this town, this job, these friends, the truth is it's myself

And I'm trying to understand myself and pinpoint who I am

When I finally get it figured out, I've changed the whole damn plan

Oh, noose

Tied myself in, tied myself too tight

Oh, noose

Tied myself in, tied myself too tight

Talking shit about a pretty sunset

Blanketing opinions that I'll probably regret soon

Changed my mind so much I can't even trust it

My mind changed me so much I can't even trust myself

on a lighter note i pissed in a punch bowl at a party and someone drank it.

holler

Leeds, Stag & Dagger

2009-06-11T17:23:00.001+01:00

for (www.musosguide.com)

Stag & Dagger Leeds
Friday May 22
Various Venues

It would be easy to dismiss an event sponsored by Vice and Firetrap as cheap throwaway hipster nonsense. It would also be easy to look at the majority of the crowd and expect the same. A Bravery for 2009 perhaps. But then there’s the matter of the most impressive and varied lineups ever to grace the working men’s clubs and University bars of Leeds.

First on the agenda are Abe Vigoda at TJs Woodhouse, branding the audience with their own brand of tropical power-punk. Despite a recent lineup change and near constant technical difficulties the Los Angeles four-piece give a tight and thoroughly agreeable performance, climaxing with a joyous rendition of ‘Skeleton’. Abe Vigoda, unfortunately, have the problem that they are followed on the bill by three of the greatest live acts of today, so many of the nuances and fine distinction of their intricate guitar lines grow hazy in memory.

Crystal Antlers do not suffer from this problem. On record they pass themselves off as a fairly dull and trite affair, but stick the guys on a stage and suddenly a whole new beast is created. The wall of noise sound, intercepted by bongo rhythms and wailing vocals perfectly suit the fairly diminutive surroundings, giving the impression of a primal explosion of noise. Crystal Antlers are complimented perfectly by the visceral delights of White Denim who seem intent on allowing their fans to expel their entire bodily fluids through their foreheads with an unstoppable half hour jam of Workout Holiday favourites and newies, cutting and pasting sections of different songs together to create a patchwork setlist that makes them simply irresistible and sends a jolt of electricity through the packed out crowd. It would be easy to dismiss White Denim as the sum of their parts, southern rock MC5 wannabes perhaps, but their performances certainly are unique.

The Mae Shi step up to the plate next, with the solid groundwork of a band renowned for their chaotic and charismatic live shows. It’s a shame then that something may have been lost somewhere over the Atlantic, because for the majority of their set, try as they mae (sorry) they can’t seem to find the magic today. Perhaps it could be attributed to the loss of a member or to several overzealous superfans jumping into a fairly sparse crowd but the first several songs fall rather flat. Despite these early jitters the band manage to pull out few tricks from their sleeves, covering the crowd in a giant tent and a sit-down singalong pull in the strays from the bar and the added numbers create an atmosphere sorely missing for the first half of the set. The Shi respond in kind, hugging stage invaders and throwing themselves into the throng at every opportunity before launching into a superb rendition of ‘Run to Your Grave’. The pinnacle of the night comes as security pull the plug, the band grab their mics and serenade the audience to cries of ‘Fuck the Police’ goading fans onto the stage for one final dance before they’re on their merry way.

A quick jog over town leads to the Brudenell brings the band with easily the biggest buzz surrounding them, Cursive. Dinosaurs of the alt-rock world their devoted fanbase is out in force to scream every lyric from the bottom of their lungs into the ears of anyone who cares to listen. On record their writhing anthems can create a sense of real emotion and raw feeling but on stage all they cause is numb feet and the urge to squeeze out for a cigarette. A below-par setlist consisting mostly of songs from new album Mama I’m Swollen, falls distinctly flat each song merging into a grey pulp of sound, nothing distinct or particularly impressive. Perhaps it would be unfair to compare the performance with those seen earlier. Cursive certainly would not feel the need to resort to gimmicks or trickery to win over an audience, but the standalone properties of many of the songs on show wasn’t enough to warrant watching a miserable old man ranting at screaming fanboys.

Just an opinion.

God Help The Girl

2009-04-15T14:15:00.000+01:00

(for www.musosguide.com)

God Help The Girl
Come Monday Night

In the three years since The Life Persuit it would be totally unfair to say Belle & Sebastian’s fan-base has diminished, as any cardigan-cocooned fop will testify, but perhaps it is fair to say that anticipation of new output from Stuart Murdoch isn’t quite at the giddy peaks it reached around the time of the classy If You’re Feeling Sinister.
Interestingly Murdock’s has chosen to stake a step away from his band of merry Scots with new project God Help The Girl. ‘Come Monday Night’ is set to be pieced into a concept album of sorts, involving grandiose strings and a vague idea of storytelling, sound-tracking a musical film of Murdock’s own creation.
This may all sound like the makings of an insane, Prince-esque vanity project but the track itself is a slice of ‘60s indebted sweet and soulful balladry, swooning over a sunny London day. From the outset the track conjures to mind very prominent reference points of Bryter Later era Nick Drake, with bittersweet vocals that could easily be mistaken for those of Nico. Lyrically, the song is very similar to Murdock’s previous output, revelling in the quirky reference points and clever puns that made Belle and Sebastian so popular to the romantically minded, opting for a simplistic approach to daily monotony.
“Come Monday night/the day of work is done/Tuesday morning looms/the grey of ordinariness”
Rather than a ham fisted attempt at retro-chic this naivety creates a charming and loveable atmosphere.
'Come Monday Night' is hindered by its insistence at aping its relative influences, but still manages to conjure up a slice of enjoyable sweeping pop nostalgia – despite never straying far from safe territory.

Writingzz

2009-03-29T02:45:00.001+01:00

We creatures who dream of our own mortality
Who think of our deaths and then turn to our coffee
And scan the news for the hate and atrocity
And speak offhand ‘its oh such a tragedy’

We lie and we steal to feed our own egos
To pathologically turn our lives into shows
We are the characters who will never ever change
Create the same problems again and again

The statements we swear that we live our lives by
Are changed the next day to fit our changing lives
The situation’s not perfect, neither are our thoughts
But we say that we live by some book we have bought

A theory you pay your hard cash for
To make you have purpose, to make you want more
From the hole you have dug, the grain in your hand
To be more assertive, more specific demand

Can you fit your whole thesis in the lines of a song
Or will it just change when your needs move along
For something more fitting, to all your desire
Do you feel support? Do you grimace or smile?

Dinosaur Pile Up

2009-03-15T06:34:00.000Z

Dinosaur Pile-Up
City Screen Basement

Imagine the worst gig you have ever been to. Chances are it was a shambolic event, maybe a PA broke or the singer stormed off. These are pretty standard grievances which go hand in hand with the clichés and pitfalls of rock ‘n roll, but my main gripe will always remain the middle of the road.
Dinosaur Pile-Up are a fairly interesting new band, dark basslines and crunching guitars mixed with enough shoutalong choruses to peacefully blend mass-appeal and blogger’s delight. Couple this with a tiny, intimate venue and enough hype to pack it to the rafters and it seems the scene is set for a myth inducing event soon to be the parable of the word on the grubby street. But, unfortunately everything runs smoothly. Too smoothly.Following a slew of dire indie-by-the-numbers support bands DPU take to the humid stage surrounded entirely in a pincer movement of hungry punters. Despite their rapidly increasing repertoire of anthemic gems every track seems to slide easily into the next with the minimum of banter or elation, the non-plussed crowd never really entering the spirit. Take nothing away from Dinosaur Pile-Up’s musicianship, every song is played expertly and with a minimum of fuss but by busting out easily their best track (the fantastic ‘Love is a boat & we’re sinking) in the opening ten minutes they crash the nail directly into their own coffin. Even drunken students wandering the stage and thrusting behind band members cannot bring excitement to what is a very disappointing and dull gig.

The Bar Is A Beautiful Place (short story)

2009-03-02T02:07:00.000Z

“I think I actually, like, fell asleep in the middle.” This clearly gains a positive reaction as someone actually lets out a noise certainly on a par with an elated pig inhaling. I stand up and unsteadily head through the strobe lights towards the bar, wrapping my ankles on a stray jacket and almost nosediving onto the gooey floor.
The bar-woman is stern faced and addresses me with as few syllables as possible. I point fixedly a drink offer for ‘Tuesday Madness’ and she returns after a few minutes with a double whiskey. Her features melt and contort in the uncomfortable heat. Heading back to my seat something completely unfathomable happens and I wake up in gutter around 4am smelling distinctly of urine and cigarettes.

The next night is planned much better and I am sitting alone quite happily in a 50s theme establishment with my head on the sleek surface of the bar humming ‘American Pie’. The staff are clearly well-trained and a different member of staff attends to me every half hour or so to check for vital signs without even the slightest hint of a smile.

Thursday night is the low-point of a week devoid of anything other than low-points. I can’t seem to reach anything beyond the stage of mildly intoxicated and every single one of my friends is an intolerable bore. I get a taxi home alone around 1am and sleep soundly. I dream of floating in a swimming pool in a shining light as the sides slowly deteriorate and dissolve in the chlorine until I lie in an endless ocean staring at the light and rotating slowly akin to a giant microwave.

I am invigorated and hopeful as the doors open and my eyes adjust to the intermittent lights and my nose composes itself from the sting of dry ice. After several drinks I am exposed to everyone’s greatest wit and observations, laughing like a hyena at a story about a friend of a friend who once got his head stuck in a blender and someone’s far cousin who once fell into a grain silo. As the day fades into the Sabbath my body relaxes accordingly on a subconscious level and I happily play out the rest of the night in a soft, comfortable corner sipping cheap wine and meeting those who happen to pass my way with kind words and clever remarks. Recognisable faces are met with dramatic exclamations and wonderfully insightful conversations bordering on the two-minute mark before excuses are made and we part company.

I stand in the shower for close to an hour, head rested on the wall, my fingertips contoured at steep echelons before stumbling into my room and collapsing on the bed. Most of daylight passed without me and I am greeted by a strange feeling of disorientation at the sight of the setting sun. After a few minutes enjoying a level of hush I make my way to the kitchen for a glass of water, dusting the crust from my eyelashes and coughing out the taste of cigarettes.

Break Up The Makedown

2009-02-12T02:59:00.002Z

Five Bands Went out at Their Peak

1) The Velvet Underground

'Squeeze' was not a VU album. Doug Yule was a tosser.

2) Life Without Buildings

Wonderous twee-indie from Glasgow (where else) with a kraut twist, lasting three excellent years before parting company. Their only studio album, 'Any Other City', is a classy muddled ranting masterpiece, perched somewhere between Camera Obscura and The Vaselines.
Complete with marvellously un-rockstar names such as Sue Tomkins and Chris Evans they were the antithesis of everything loathesome in the depressing Travis led early 2000s British indie scene. They were helped on their path to cult status by the fact that in 'The Leanover' they may well have had the best song ever at their disposal.
Tomkins has since taken her tender stream-of-consciousness style to the Tate with a series of spoken word pieces. Chris Evans floundered after the dissolution of TFI Friday, divorced Billie and blew a wad of money on Richard E Grant's coat from Withnail & I.

3) Neutral Milk Hotel

Could any break-up list ever really be complete without them?
Two albums of innduendo swathed, string laden beauties were enough for Jeff Mangum before he presumably collapsed under the weight of his own genius/insanity and went to live in the woods somewhere, crooning at insects about semen. Tremendous.

4) Death From Above 1979

Exploded out of Canada and onto the pages of every British music rag as a perfect antidote to the identikit floppy brown post-punk revival with 2004's most vital and violent album, 'You're a Woman & I'm A Machine'. Went on to bait the press at every opportunity by calling the British music scene shit and writing songs about menstruation and the joys of rejecting contraception. Hated themselves and everyone else and split up a year later.

5) The Replacements

The epitome of both rock n' roll excess and authenticity. Crafted both fantastic balls-out punk rock and desperate isolated tearjerkers, serving albums as emotional rollercoasters. A band of demented alcoholics who would much rather write songs about erections (Gary's Got A Boner) than sell out arenas.
Rejected the mainstream in the early 80s at a time 99% of American rock was begging for MTV commodification and a slice of R.E.M's major label college-rock cash, baiting the juggernaut with the bile spitting 'Seen Your Video' (from their magnus opus 'Let It Be) and making a beautiful anti-video for biggest hit 'Bastards of Young' by filiming a speaker for 3 and half minutes. Collapsed into a fitting heap in 1991 plagued by death and drug-abuse.

'Seen Your Video, It's only rock n' roll, We don't wanna know, It's only rock n' roll.'

Pulled Apart By Foreskins

2009-02-11T14:06:00.000Z

Sky Larkin/Pulled Apart By Horses
Brudenell Social Club, Leeds
31st January

The great myth of ‘no great bands come from Yorkshire except those lads what done gone did that scummy man song’ can finally be dispelled. The Long Blondes had the look but failed to write any really great songs. !Forward Russia! had the storming live shows but lacked crossover success. Sunshine Underground had the anthemic choruses but lacked the cult respect to create a fan-base.
Tonight’s bands seem to remedy every ailment that has plagued the North East, Pulled Apart by Horses seem to improve with every show, enduring themselves with a charismatic and chaotic mix of enormous choruses and pompous-rock bluster, climbing both speakers and audience members on a power-chord fuelled bender, peaking with a stonking rendition of ‘I Punched A Lion In The Throat’ in all its RSPCA baiting genius. They certainly have an impressive array of tunes at their disposal, from the slackeriffic ‘Meat Balloon’ to the pneumatic rocker ‘The Crapsons’ which could well be a lost Nirvana b-side from 1992.
Sky Larkin are an entirely different beast, more likely soaring on penny sweets than cider with a sugary set of pop classics in waiting, channelling the talents of ‘The Vaselines’ and ‘Public Image’ into one compact package. Tonight’s show serves as a homecoming after a UK Tour, evident from the camaraderie shown between overwhelmed front-woman Katie Harkin and the packed crowd. As encore ‘Keep Sakes’ slithers through its casio-led Breeders esque charms, both Pulled Apart By Horses and several ecstatic audience members join them for a rapturous climax. If there is any justice in the world, 2009 could well sway from the year of female identikit electro-pop to the year of full blown fun-grunge!

Pulled Apart By Horses - High Five. Swan Dive. Nose Dive.
Pulled Apart By iTunes
Sky Larkin On iTunes

Grammatics (2009)

2009-01-26T19:38:00.000Z

Grammatics
Self-Titled (2009)

High quality production has many negative connotations within the music community – covering up weak tracks, selling out, major labels, emotionless chart ambition etc. etc, etc. Based on this it seems many bands rely on lo-fi sensibilities to create an idea of authenticity. Sweeping aside this theory are the soaring Leeds/York youngsters Grammatics. Tipped for success for nigh on two years now, the wait for an album seems like an eternity, but the quest for perfection is a time-consuming art and for once solid production only enhances the sheer intricate delights of these twelve tracks of pure epic perfection.
Grammatics are as distant a foray as possible from their former incarnation as mid-2000s Kerrang! also-rans Colour of Fire, ditching the power chords and shoutalong choruses for majestic soaring epics and beautiful heart-wrenching melodies. Although much of the material on the album has previously been released via countless singles and EPs the album is brilliantly cohesive and creates a true atmosphere of its own, switching between despairing hymns and hopeful major key masterpieces extraordinarily.
The true splendour of this album lies in its total lack of any real contempory comparison, a unique and near orchestral delight. A world has been created within sixty minutes closer to Beethoven or Bach than any of the overused indie-rock influences such as My Bloody Valentine or Joy Division.
All twelve tracks are lyrically poetic and imaginative, if a little self-important at times, cramming in detailed psychological insights in a Conor Oberst-esque falsetto. Indeed, the lyrical musings show an impressive knack for exploration matched only in ambition by the music itself. Broken Wing proves to be a particular highlight with a stirring build-up and immense collapsing finale. The art of accumulating to an enormous climax is perfected on Relentless Fours, with its thudding bass drum and repetitive guitar line and quiver inducing, knowingly wistful hook “Everyone loves a breakdown”.
Despite every pretentious pitfall faced by the statement it is certainly very difficult to refrain from labelling this album a real masterpiece.

Get Wavving

2009-01-13T01:46:00.000Z

2008 wasn't really the greatest year for music. The big guns omitted to put out any really great records and, the indie masses had to reply on decent offerings from middle-weight bands like frightened rabbit and m83 to keep them in their chosen state of mild indifference.

But underneath a sleek hipster visade a few really really great bands slipped under the radar.

For me 2008 was a year of noise pop. No Age sold a few records in the US and got a supporting slot with hyperbole art-poppers Los Campesinos! in the UK and Times New Viking made a few fans on the same lineup. HEALTH couldn't decide if they were a dance-punk or a noise band and ended up as a startling imitation of Liars (in the days they used to write actual songs).

And on the message boards, bearded sweater lovers went (quite rightly) mad for Women and Wavves.

These are two truly excellent bands, Women for their droning slow burning autistic masterpiece of an album and Wavves for putting the fun back in music with angsty beach pop anthems wedged somewhere between JFA and Iggy Pop.

What the next year holds for these bands and how they progress remains to be seen but for now i'm quite happy in a hazy bubble of fuzz and imaginary beaches.

Wavves - So Bored
Women - Black Rice

To The Five Bollocks

2009-01-08T04:59:00.000Z

5 To Avoid In 2009

January is a month perfect for dull overcast skies, returning shit presents and lists of top tips for the next year. Every music publication imaginable will be outlining their tips for success in the next year – expect to see Ian Curtis wannabes White Lies topping the majority. But as highlighted by the crock of shit that was last year’s NME tips list, featuring the awe-inspiring and ever so groundbreaking Ting Tings and Black Kids it seems more appropriate to outline the bands to hate on early. Stock up the stagnant bottles of piss now ready for festival season.

1 – Twisted Wheel

One sure sign of a terrible piece of lad-rock dross is a band having Oasis as an influence. Sure enough, like their gay-incestuous spiritual fathers the Gallaghers, Twisted Wheel are an incredibly poor Beatles knock-off. They even have the gusto to use the lyric – ‘Lucy in the castle’s gonna blow your mind’. If you’re going to swindle one of the most famous songs ever, at least change the girl’s name in the title you thick Manchester lad-rock dickheads. That said they are so bland and unoriginal they will probably go multi-platinum and headline V Festival.

2 – Esser

Formerly of pretentious indie wank outfit Ladyfuzz, Esser strides tentatively forward. It would be easy to be swayed by the Hoxton Rent-boy chic and claims that ‘pop is not a dirty word’. If you’re Duran Duran this might well be the case but with over produced and under-written sub-Penate tunes, live shows as enigmatic as cot death and a support slot for the Kaiser Chiefs, respect doesn’t seem on the horizon. Expect two top 20 singles and a second album sinking without a trace.

3 – Sergeant

Here’s a refreshing concept - more lad-rock bollocks giving the North a bad name. File next to the Courteeners as tracksuit indie with absolutely no redeeming qualities what-so-ever.

4 – Dan Black

Marketed as a reputable alternative to Sam Sparro, Dan Black creates forgettable disco-pop with cringeworthy rhymes and half-hearted lyrics. The infuriatingly yoof demographic titled ‘HYPNTZ’ is a wonderous piece of irony at just how white Dan Black is. The Jay-Z sampling track delivers an abortion of corny lines with a camp rasp to make Los Campesinos! seem macho. Currently touted for success by the BBC and NME expect this to be the soundtrack to the summer you kill yourself with a mirrorball.

5 – Skint & Demoralised

The absolute abyss. Combining the worst elements of white-boy rap, lad-rock and shit mid 90s brit-pop choruses we have Skint & Demoralised. Every track is so terribly contrived that even with the odd swear thrown in for good measure, the hideous creations that go loosely by the name of songs can make Scouting for Girls look edgy. Desperate to be labelled Northern Soul, but with a voice of a useless crack-head, the tales of a useless crack-head and, well, the look of a useless crack-head S&D is more likely to be labelled a whiney, brainless sack of shit. Avoid like the plague.

Download (if you must)

Sergeant - Tonight
Dan Black - HYPNTZ

This Band Could Be Yr Life

2008-11-29T14:13:00.001Z

Lovvers

In the current musical climate it seems everybody who has heard an Oasis or Libertines song can create a band, play a gig, become NME darlings, blow the Top 40, become NME villains and fade into obscurity within the space of around three and a half minutes. It seems the times call for a saviour. Or very fast songs.
Lovvers debut LP, Think, (if you can call it that), clocks in at around 13 minutes. Every second of that record sounds absolutely vital. Guitars sprawl and contort around each mini-masterpiece, ‘No Romantics’ a particular highlight. The track perfectly captures the sweaty, spiky sneer of their live set.
I can recall the exact second fell in love with the band. They were playing staple London indie-geek house London’s ‘Pure Groove’, taking exception to the chin stroking audience they took every opportunity to flail their instruments, limbs and, indeed, whole bodies at the audience.
Lovvers’ sound is reminiscent of Sonic Youth playing Pavement songs while an ADHD Iggy Pop struts atop the amps. They would be far more at home with the LA ‘Smell’ bands such as ‘No Age’ and ‘HEALTH’ than hailing from their respective cigarette butt towns across the UK. Not that this has had any effect on Lovvers’ sense of performance – ask them nicely enough and they might even play in your house - although it would probably be best to hide anything fragile. Their 80s punk ethos are definitely in check - they may be short, but they definitely ain’t sweet.

http://www.mediafire.com/file/mzzizrjzt2m/02 No Romantics Download

DiSatisfaction

2008-10-22T11:44:00.000+01:00

So long the staple for every post-ironic muso elitist, drownedinsound is being run as a 'takeover week' by blazer pop chart toppers the kaiser chiefs this week.

pointing out the irony of a band so obviously loathed by the masses who follow the site closely seems hardly worth mentioning - featuring a giant KCs logo atop the homepage then running their top feature on deerhunter just below it is purely ludicrous.

but then think back to those many years ago when you hadnt heard your dads retarded friend's son's six month old drunken child shouting ruby as he stumbled out of whetherspoons and you may remember DiS releasing the original version of 'Oh My God'

so maybe we're all just pretentious wankers for turning on every band who threaten to be heard by anyone who may by their cds in tesco.

i thought this for about 3 seconds before i read this amazing quote from a feature titled 'Ricky Wilson Loves... Radio'

"On Radio, you just go on, say what you want, and fuck off."

deep.