After a relaxing week in Berlin it only took an hour back at work before I developed unbelievable stomach pains and had to be carted off to hospital in an ambulance. Apologies to the doctors who endurred me working through the profanisaurus while they diagnosed kidney stones. What can I say… they sting a little!
Meanwhile Radio 1 celebrated its 40th birthday by inviting musical “Legends” and Gwen Stefani to take over for an hour and play their favourite tunes. Unfortunatly I missed Macca’s turn (anyone got an MP3?), but the Arctic Monkeys & Noel Gallagher both picked out some gems. Gallagher was as irreverent as ever, while on the basis of an hour excitedly talking over the top of each other The Monkeys should be given their own show.
The nations favourite is also marking its 40th by releasing possibly the worst album in 40 years - a double album of cover versions, one from each year. The wince inducing tracklist includes The View stretching themselves by covering The Libertines, Just Wack trying on a Cardigan, and It must be Madness to let Paulo Nutini anywhere near Labi Sifri’s classic. That said I wouldnt mind hearing The Streets take on Elton’s “Your Song” and the law of averages says there must be a couple of half decent tracks among the 40.
While on the subject of cover versions, the ever excellent Rob Da Bank had a session with Tunng turning their hand to Blue Pearl’s 1989 rave anthem “Naked In The Rain“. Reimagined as a folk singalong its nothing if not different to the original.
Redefining the word “weekly” its been two months since the last of the promised weekly trawls through my analogue past. I should probably bin the piles of dusty VHS’s but when the first one you put in comes up with some vintage punk funk go-go goodness from The Disposable Heroes Of Hiphoprisy, I just can’t do it.
The Word was essential “back from the pub” viewing in the 90’s, with its winning combination of granny snogging, shabba ranks baiting, and debut tv appearances from the likes of Oasis and Nirvana. As Terry Christian introduces the Disposables, Michael Franti launches into a tirade about the producers of the show cutting an anti-homophobia poem he was to read to make room for a piece on breast enlargement. Pulling his shirt off to reveal “FUCK HOMOPHOBIA” scrawled on his chest, he and fellow Hero, Rono Tse then launch into an absolutely storming version of The Dead Kennedy’s “California Uber Ales“.
The Late Show was BBC2’s late night high brow arts programme, most famous for the power cut they suffered during a Stone Roses performance (YouTube) prompting Ian Brown to mutter on air about “Fucking amateurs“. It did however feature some classic live music, in this case from the Disposables again with “Famous & Dandy (Like Amos & Andy)“. Its worth watching for the posh presenters description of the band, not to mention her jumper and specs.
TONY WILSON
Tony Wilson’s death was marked by websites, and music fans across the globe, but I thought I’d post the Newsnight from that evening. Richard Madeley in particular has some great anecdotes, along with Paul Morley and Peter Saville. I hastily edited the piece looking back at Tony’s life, and its a hell of a task to fit even a 10th of everything he did into a few short minutes. A true legend!
COLDCUT SOLID STEEL
Another vintage show from the box of old Solid Steels, and a request that if anyone has a copy of the opening track, Shazam’s “We Are The Terrible Two” I’d love an MP3 (please ). Featuring in this show from January 92 are The Orb, 69, Rakim, Fela Kuti and my own personal favourite a rarely heard dub version of the Longsy D produced “Searchin‘” by China Black (I’ll dig my vinyl copy out soon). All that and a hip hop mastermix from the hosts, including Chubb Rock, Gangstar, Stetsasonic, the Jungle Brothers and more.
Its just over a year since I first scrambled through my dictionary for the words to describe the wonder of Adele, and finally some of that magic is about to be captured and released in the form of a limited edition 7″ and free download. Jamie T’s Pacemaker records has the privilege of releasing “Hometown Glory” on October the 22nd, and youre advised to pre-order it quick as they’ll only be 500 copies (cue people buying 10 each and flogging them on ebay for £50, as with Lily/Monkeys etc etc).
London has had its fair share of love songs over the years but rarely as beautiful as “Hometown Glory“. As Adele skips the cracks in the pavement, her chorus soars over the piano proclaiming all the wonders of this world… a woman asks if she is lost, “no and thank you madam, I ain’t lost, just wandering“. The lyrics “I love it in the city when two worlds collide“, or “Shows that we’re united, shows that we ain’t gonna take it” could be taken as a tribute to the multiculturalism of the capital, or as a rebuttal to the London bombings. Alternatively just listen, draw your own conclusions, your own meanings, and enjoy that shiver down the spine.
Obviously this blog making “Daydreamer” its track of 2006, and raving about her live show got her a few dozen fans, but since then its all gone a bit nuclear. She wowed on Jools Holland with a mesmeric version of “Daydreamer”, Lily Allen bigged her up in Rolling Stone, and she was on the cover of The Observer music monthly. Make no mistake this girl will make James Blunt put his khakis back on, leave Melua counting bicycles, and achieve the rare feat of appealing to Norah Jones fans while not actually being anodyne or bland. Of course she sounds nothing like these acts, having more in common with her influences, which range from Jill Scott, Etta James and Billy Bragg (and if those three names aren’t recommendation enough I don’t know what its).
So the Klaxons won the Mercury Album award for Golden Skans, surprisingly piping “Back To Black” Amy’s finest “Soul” album in years (if you only buy your Soul CD’s from ASDA).
Actually that’s way too bitchy, its a decent album, and I only mention the Mercurys as a hamfisted link into promoting Akira The Don’s new mix CD which features those kings of nu-rave The Klaxons. As is the case with all things Akira, “Stunners 130” is worth buying for the song titles alone e.g. “If I Was S’Express I’d Fucking Sue The Klaxons”.
Over the course of an hour it crams in Queen, Spiritulized, Ludicrous, Robbie Williams, and a whole load more… not to mention some Akira The Don. Modestly self proclaimed as the best mixtape ever, it comes “guaranteed to ignite a party in even the most depressing circumstances* (*except Mondays)”. Its lairy, loud, and thankfully far more student house party than over polished Ministry Of Sound muzak.
My CD came with a free badge, and a note apologising for the delay in sending the CD but explaining he’d been in Homerton hospital.
If you really want to guarantee strange looks in the street why not also buy Akira’s “Thanks For All The AIDS” t-shirt. “Thanks For All The Aids” was one of my favourite tracks of 2006, and you wont hear a better Live Aid pisstake, but I’m too big a coward to wear this thing in public. Should you with to start a debate/argument everytime you enter a room, order one here. Visit Youtube to see how pleased Akira was when the box of T’s turned up.
BOOTY
The usual dramas at the MTV music awards, Kanye threw his Versace’s out of the pram after missing out again, two of Pammies Ex’s had a full on handbag fight (probably over who’s sex tape was better), and the slightly sad unravelling of Britney continued as she stumbled, mumbled and generally looked like the last place on earth she should be right now is on stage (YouTube). While she disintegrated, her former squeeze The Trousersnake swept the board with 5 awards.
Not only that but he gets all the best mash-ups too. Tyler Fedchuk’s inspired bootleg finds Justin getting his sexy on with Brighton’s finest purveyors of Electro funk, Metronomy. I know Bastard Pop is so 2005, but who cares this stuff is fantastic.
Is it still acceptable to use the word “vibe” in polite conversation? I’m not sure but if it is, I’ve rarely been to a venue with a better vibe than the Enterprise, in Camden.
Clamber up the steep stairs and you’re in what resembles a slightly oversized front room. Get there early and you can nab one of half a dozen stools with small tables right in front of the tiny stage.
There’s quite literally no room for airs and graces in this place, and headliners Peggy Sue & The Pirates mingle with the crowd, along with seemingly being best mates with everyone else on the bill. If everyone breathed in you might fit 70 or 80 people in the room, and by the time second act Stuart James grabbed his acoustic guitar it was almost full. People plonked themselves cross legged on the floor around the scattering of tables, and when the acts finished they too invariably headed for the nearest seat. Stuart James and Dockers MC ended up on my table.
The atmosphere generated by the crowd, the bands, and the venue itself was unpretentious and easy going, like a group of mates in someone’s living room. While I didn’t actually strike up a conversation with anyone (other than the person I came with), its one of the most relaxing and enjoyable evenings I’ve spent not talking to anyone in a long time.
Peggy Sue & The Pirates
The “Sounds Like” section on myspace pages can be a place where some get lost in their own giddy self importance… “oh Early Joy Division, Ella Fitzgerald with a hint of Nico“. Rosa ‘REX’ Slade and Katy ‘KLAW’ Young who together make up Peggy Sue & The Pirates simply proclaim themselves “The best thing you’ve ever heard, prepare to wet your pants“.
While they may not be entirely serious in that claim, they’re probably well aware that they are pretty bloody good. Refreshingly, on stage that confidence is laced with nervousness, a hint of amateurishness at times, and lashings of beguiling wit. Reacting to cries for more towards the end Katy says they’d “love to play for you all night“, only for Rosa to quip back that since all their songs are two minutes long they’d need about 80 albums worth of material.
Their mixture of soul, folk and doo-wop is maddeningly catchy, with at least three or four tracks standing out as killer singles. Oddly “Telivision” is pencilled in as their debut despite it being the weakest song on the night.
Far better is “Superman“, the first song to deal with the considerable heartache of being a superhero. The hook line of “Ohhh Peggy Sue, I don’t know what to do” has burrowed its way so far into my consciousness I may never stop mumbling it. Beginning by justifiably asking Superman what there is to be sad about, when he’s so good at flying. There follows a litany of woes, from wearing the same outfit since the 30’s, Lois Lane not knowing his real name, not to mention:
“I keep getting played by all these different actors, some of them are great, but some of them are wankers.”
It could easily be trite or throwaway but instead it’s both funny and sad. “Shot of Tuaco” is equally wonderful; or as Dan Le Sac summed up more eloquently it “takes that awkward first night and turns it into the ideal first encounter. Pow!“.
Learning a lesson from Regina Spektor that it’s ok to make weird noises on record “Spare Parts” features all sorts of static noises, but most importantly another hooky chorus offering to lend various body parts, e.g. lips for your kisses. “New Song” is perhaps best of all, and will have you shooby dooing around the office for weeks.
In a day glow dinosaur t-shirt, and a blinging gold C3PO necklace, Rosa in particular is blessed with a beautiful voice, along with that wonderful soul/jazz influence in common with their good pal Adele. Katy compliments her perfectly, and together their harmonies deliver a knock out blow.
I’ve previously raved about Stuart being “like Mike Skinner if he’d grown up on Billy Bragg & John Cooper-Clarke rather than UK Garage“, and I’d dragged a friend along on the strength of him being on the bill.
On record his complex dark observations on life are delivered in rapid fire machine gun style, leaving you in awe of what he can cram into 2 and a half minutes. On stage however, while you still wonder at how every single second is filled with a word, and question how he memorises the hundreds of lines, I also found myself unable to make out much of what he said. It’s frustrating when you know the lyrics are so damn good.
The rigid structure of all of his songs i.e. start at breakneck speed, super fast lyrics, 2minutes up, now stop dead without so much as an extra strum, left me longing for a surprise 3 minute guitar solo (perhaps played behind his back or with his teeth).
There was however much to admire, “City on a roll” had those sat on the floor singing along with its “You can clean my body, you can’t clean my soul” chorus, and everyone else spellbound by the sheer richness of its verse. “The Food Between Her Teeth” is a wondrously caustic attack on a worthless man culminating in the stinging rebuke that he’s not worth “The food between” his long suffering woman’s teeth.
Stuart has two Myspace pages packed with FREE songs - head for Stuart James for acoustic goodness, and to The Camberwell Hit Factory for the same incredible lyrics set to brutally basic but bloody brilliant beats.
I can’t recommend the Camberwell remixes enough… and they’re FREE!
With her dad watching on from the side Laura Dockrill, aka poet Dockers MC gave him good reason to look so proud, as the crowd chuckled along with her every line. The only act on the bill without an acoustic guitar or indeed any backup, and the strumming wasn’t missed.
Despite her ripped tights (intentional or an accident climbing the stairs?) she was both sassy and funny, combining rhymes about a local Usher look-alike, “gotta a big dick… doesn’t know what to do with it” with tales of promotion at Argos.
As a child of the 70’s I can’t help but conjure up lazy comparisons with Pam Ayers, although swap the sweaters for Reebok Classics. A slice of Pam’s 70’s popularity would be welcome, but I’m sure Laura wouldn’t thank me for the link, and I doubt she’ll ever write anything entitled “Do You Think Bruce Springsteen Would Fancy Me?” On the other hand she did deliver a love poem to Rolf Harris with only the slightest of winks, so perhaps the Boss may yet get another ode.
Apparently she also did the artwork for Kate Nash’s album, although I may have made that up?
Looking like Elvis Costello crossed with someone off the I.T. Crowd (Channel 4 Sitcom), and wearing eye wateringly tight jeans, Josh Weller has received some glowing press of late. In common with most of the acts he joked with the crowd, and most of his songs come laced with humour.
“Pretty Girls” makes the not exactly radical observation that Pretty girls are not always as nice as those less blessed, but gets away with it courtesy of some clever lines and a chorus praying “that they’ll be ugly when they’re 40, in their marks and Spenser’s boots“.
For “Pop Star” he drags a poor Jay (of “& Silent Bob“) look-alike up onto stage to gamely accompany him on washboard. His attempts have the audience and Weller in fits of laughter, although by the end it’s getting dangerously close to being in time. In tribute the lyrics are tweaked to proclaim him a popstar “A Washboard Popstar“.
I’d not heard of him before tonight, but he was one of the highlights on a very strong bill. Getting home I nabbed as many of his MP3’s as I could find, but for some reason the live magic, for me at least, didn’t quite transfer to his demos. I may be (and usually am) wrong, but judge for yourself, and most definitely catch him live if you get the chance.
Oh Big Chill how you’ve grown. It doesn’t seem like 10/15 years since I was lounging on a mattress in the Union Chapel surrounded by people in tie dye and the whiff of wacky backy at the early Big Chill club nights. Now there are bars, like the very swish Big Chill House in Kings Cross, and at the very moment this gig takes place a few thousand people are listening to three days worth of the musical descendants of trip hop at the hugely successful Big Chill Festival in the Malvern Hills.
Not only that but a visit to The Big Chill House is educational too. Tonight alone I learnt.
1. 30% of women find it difficult to master the technique involved in peeing standing up.
2. The world would be a better place if I owned more 1950’s records consisting entirely of single entendres comparing how much the singers lady likes his 10″…..record.
3. “Puddle City Racing Lights” by Windmill is one of the best LP’s I’ve heard this year.
I’ll return to some of that later, but this UK launch of “La Route Du Rock” (a French music festival) offers a chance to catch a low key solo performance by Matthew Dillon’s Windmill. His debut album “Puddle City Racing Lights” would be a shoe-in for the Mercury Music prize if the judges had any sense, but arriving at the Big Chill house things don’t look too promising. The bars almost empty, there’s a keyboard in the corner, but otherwise no sign or posters or anything that might suggest a band is on. Certainly no sign that its the UK launch of “La Route Du Rock“. The bar staff were equally non plussed… “I’m not sure, there was a band on earlier, and there might be a couple later. No idea what they’re called though sorry“!
Fortunately I vaguely recognised Dillon arriving with a few friends to boost the numbers present to almost double figures. What’s wrong with London when one of the most promising acts to come from these shores in years plays a free gig on a Sunday evening and the crowd consists of me, a few of his friends, the next act, and the two people running the raffle!
Having missed the full band Windmill experience last month due to a slightly manic drive back from a Spanish music festival I was eager to find out how the songs would sound stripped down from the HUGE recorded sound to their bare bones. Members of The Earlies helped to produce the Windmill album, and in doing so repeated the breathtaking job they did on Micah P Hinson’s debut (which remains one of my all time favourites). If you’re a up and coming singer songwriter wanting to create a debut people will treasure for life, my advice is to beg, bribe or if necessary kidnap The Earlies.
Dillons high pitched American sounding wail is often given as the reason people don’t “get” Windmill, but my advice would be to listen to the record at least twice, before filing it away in the “like nails on a blackboard” bin. It’ll reward the effort ten fold.
With only Cellist Sara Rees as accompaniment tonight, those distinctive vocals stand out even more, especially as he speaks “normally” in between the songs. This comes as a shock comparable to hearing Pam St Clement’s talk for real, away from her Pat Butcher “I Luv you Frannnkk” character, and sounding the spit of the queens long lost sister.
Without their pomp, songs that were less obvious on record come to the fore. “Asthmatic“, blessed as it is with a keyboard riff pilfered from Meat Loaf while his back was turned is particularly fine. “Newsflash” “Tokyo Moon” and current single “Fit” are as good as you’d expect, while the broken hearted album closer “Replace Me” sounds closest to its recorded version, and is as affecting as ever. According to interviews Dillon has 2000 songs stored in his attic, and one such demo stood out as much as any of the released material. “Restaurant Tiles” is a bleak but beautiful song featuring Matthew’s vocals cracking as he pleads:
“Don’t put it past me to understand,
I fucking understand that it’s, Coming to an end” - Restaurant Tiles lyrics
Cheery stuff, but if there are more songs this good to come, the second Windmill LP could surpass even the debut. This pared down performance equally bodes well for the full Windmill show, especially with a bigger band capable of recreating the amazing sound of the album.
It was only once Windmill had left the stage that the “La Route Du Rock” organisers sprung into action, with posters, and a raffle (most of them had been watching Windmill). Meanwhile the DJ got my attention with some fabulous double entendre based Rhythm & Blues. “Big Ten Inch Record” is essentially a one joke record, based on Bull Moose Jackson proclaiming how much his woman likes his big ten inch (… cue comic pause…) record playing on the stereo. Its daft smut, but guaranteed to put a smile on the face, and with the horn section in full effect get people on the dance floor too.
Although I didn’t stop for the raffle I did get a free DVD with my ticket. “The Future for less” a film which it says here is a “idiosyncratic mythological parable where the rhetoric’s of subversion and homogeneity are equated as a cultic-reveloutionary B-movie farce based around Ikea and flat pack construction“. With a tag line like that I understandably rushed home immediately, pausing only to grab a free magazine for perusal on the tube.
I’m not sure if AMP minizine (Tagline “It’s The Tits”) is a feminist or lesbian magazine, but it kept me entertained with a odd feature on why women should pee standing up, and how best to do it. Apparently its all about strong kegal muscles! It may not have been entirely serious (although a paper funnel is available should you wish to have a go. Perfect for women in the military it claims :s).
Anyway returning swiftly to the music, Windmill, best new band of 2007, album of the year, and as I turn the pages ipod in ears, as good a soundtrack as any for reading about ladies pissing standing up.
). Featuring in this show from January 92 are The Orb, 69, Rakim, Fela Kuti and my own personal favourite a rarely heard dub version of the Longsy D produced “Searchin‘” by China Black (I’ll dig my vinyl copy out soon). All that and a hip hop mastermix from the hosts, including Chubb Rock, Gangstar, Stetsasonic, the Jungle Brothers and more.
