Saturday, 17 April 2010

The sound of Saturday

(Well, the sound of my Saturday, at any rate)

1. Meet Me In The Morning - Bob Dylan

2. The World At Large - Modest Mouse

3. Free - Cat Power

4. Pluto - Clare & The Reasons

5. Funny Little Frog - God Help The Girl

6. Strawberry Swing - Coldplay

7. Liza Radley - The Jam

8. My Manic And I - Laura Marling

9. Middleman - Bright Eyes

10. Saturday Morning - Eels (... because it had to be done)

Tuesday, 13 April 2010

Lost in translation.

A couple of weeks ago, I was in town with a friend; and, as he went into a local bookshop to buy a book on bi-polar disease, I waited outside, leaning back against a low post, patiently minding my own business. Before I knew what was happening, I found myself accosted by a group of Japanese tourists, each armed with a clipboard and a few sheets of paper. Oh no, I thought to myself. They're going to ask me boring and inane questions. Funnily enough, I was right.

"What's your favourite kind of music?" one of them asked me.

I hesitated. My mind had gone blank. The question had thrown me, for some reason: it had figuratively forced all genres and categories of music, not to mention specific artists and bands, straight out of my head. As I say, this happened a few weeks ago - and, since then, I've had plenty of time to come to understand why I found it so hard to answer the boys. My reasoning is this: I couldn't come up with an answer on the spot because I like too many genres of music. It wasn't as though I could very well ask the poor tourists to stand there as I reeled off every kind of music in which I like to indulge: from the occasional mainstream chart-topper, through embarrassingly clichéd emo-punk, past classical scores, to the ever-played indie/alternative. For one thing, it would have taken both time (which, admittedly, I had to spare) and effort (which I didn't); but it would also have been awkward, and I'd have felt like a right dork, listing in my most pretentious "music-journalist-hopeful" accent, all of the types of music I like. Look at me, I would have been saying. I'm clever because I know lots of different genres and lots of different artists.

"Um," I said, instead. "I like ... indie?"

"Oh, yes!" they said. They were very enthusiastic. "And who is your favourite singer or band?"

Oh God, I thought. I'd been under the impression that the first question had been hard to answer - but now, as I stood there in front of the tourists, desperately wishing my friend would hurry up and help me out of this situation, I was forced to delve through the many categories of music I had just brought to the front of my mind and select a relevant artist. Many flashed through my head. Kate Bush? No - too weird. Alberta Cross? No - too specific. The Beatles? No - too generic. Come on, think - you like more than three bands, surely. Feeling like a disgrace to the name of music-journalism, I named the next appropriate band that materialised in my mind.

"Radiohead. I like Radiohead."

Again, they were enthusiastic: they had heard of Radiohead - they even liked Radiohead. After asking only a few further questions, they left me in peace to mull over my unsatisfactory answers. It's not that I dislike Radiohead - in fact, they are one of my favourite bands - but I couldn't help feeling as though I'd missed out on an opportunity. Five minutes earlier I had had the chance to wow some Japanese tourists with my far-reaching knowledge of music and its history: and yet, in my answers, I had chosen a generic genre and a well-known band. Why hadn't I felt comfortable in describing my many favourite genres of music? Why hadn't I chosen a lesser-known band to describe as my favourite, and perhaps encouraged them to give them a listen?

The truth is, I suppose, there is just too much music out there. I couldn't choose a favourite genre because I like too many; and, for much the same reason (but to a greater extent) I couldn't choose a favourite artist. Part of me wonders if I'll ever be able to answer those questions readily.

But, in the end, I try not to beat myself up about it. They were fairly stupid questions, after all.

Monday, 12 April 2010

Loads more new tracks!

.... all right, they're not that new. A few of them have even been used on adverts. Gasp!

1. Sub Symphonkia - The Submarines

2. 2080 - Yeasayer

3. Silver Soul - Beach House

4. Submarine - The Drums

5. Too Too Too Fast - Ra Ra Riot

6. Halcyon - Delphic

7. Under The Water - Clare & The Reasons

8. After The Storm - Mumford & Sons

9. I Was Born (A Unicorn) - The Unicorns

10. Hummingbird - Born Ruffians


Enjoy! x

Songs for an evening in ...

... curled up, and reading a book.

1. Black Market Baby - Tom Waits

In fact, the entire 'Mule Variations' album is perfectly suited to an evening spent alone. Daniel Durchholz described Waits as having a voice that sounds like it has been "soaked in a vat of bourbon, left hanging in the smokehouse for a few months, and then taken outside and run over with a car". Whether or not you agree, you have to admit, it's a fantastically imaginative metaphor. As it goes, I would agree with Durchholz - Waits's voice is raw, aged and rough as sandpaper; why, then, is his album the perfect choice for a night in? Simply because, despite the timbre of his voice, his jazz-influenced melodies are soothing - soothing to the extent that they border on hypnotic. The majority of the tracks are soft and low and melodic; 'Pony', 'Picture In A Frame' and 'Take It With Me' are particularly moving. 'Black Market Baby', the specific choice for this post, is as dark and smoky as a Parisian jazz-bar. You'll see what I mean.

2. Silence - PJ Harvey

Taken from the 2007 album White Chalk, this song, and indeed the entire LP, marks a change in the singer's traditional style. White Chalk relies heavily on simple piano melodies, effectively breaking away from her previous, and unquestionably rockier, sound. When compared to an earlier album, Stories From The City, Stories From The Sea, it is hard to imagine that one person created two such utterly different styles of music. And yet, that is not to say that one album is better than the other; they are simply very different, and each enjoyable in their own, largely respective, ways. This track, 'Silence', features soft, haunting vocals; halfway through, the staccato notes of the backing piano fade - and all that is left are the words: or, I should say, the word - 'silence'.

3. People Ain't No Good - Nick Cave

Because they really ain't.
Having been in the music business since the early eighties, Cave (and his band, Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds) has a back catalogue that is roughly as long as my daily walk to class. Understandably, then, he's a tough nut to crack - but he's definitely worth the effort. People Ain't No Good is slow and melancholic, featured on his 1997 album The Boatman's Call - an album that, would you believe it, was inspired by a relationship with PJ Harvey herself. Needless to say, it's emotionally complex; and, believe me when I say, it makes excellent evening listening.

4. Last Goodbye - Jeff Buckley

Not only perfect for an evening alone, I've recently found out (first-hand, I might add) that this song is perfect listening for a break-up, too: although, it goes without saying, I suppose, that break-ups tend to include more than the occasional lonely evening - and this song is more than fitting for those long, depressing hours. The track begins softly, with heart-rending vocals beside a low melody, but grows in pace and volume, until it reaches the status of angst-ridden ballad. The passion in Buckley's voice is moving; indeed, the entire album is heart-breakingly emotional.

5. For Emma - Bon Iver

'For Emma, Forever Ago' is, in my opinion, a masterpiece. The romantic nature of the album's conception drew me to the singer: following the break-up of his previous band, DeYarmond Edison, Justin Vernon locked himself away in a cabin in North Wisconsin to spend some time alone - or, in his own words, to "hibernate". He emerged three months later with the album. And - oh, my - what an album it is. When I listen to it, I feel as though I can hear the cabin in the background - can hear the wind blowing through a crack in the door, can hear the wooden boards creaking. At the very end of the final track, 'Re: Stacks', you can hear footsteps, and then the sound of a door closing. It's a fantastic way to end an album - to give it that literal sense of closure. 'For Emma', the penultimate track, speaks to me of a turmoiled love: the lyrics even read like an argument. Vernon's voice is versatile; and, on this song, melancholic.