In the recording studio with the Cocteau Twins
ROBIN: Right, I think we’ve easily got an album’s worth there.
SIMON: (Shrugs)
ROBIN: We should do some final mixes. Which one first?
ELIZABETH: Fotzepolitic, I think.
ROBIN:
SIMON:
ELIZABETH: You know, it goes “See-en soo-bon sme bachtooyoo” in the chorus.
ROBIN: Ah, right. That one. Me and Simon call it “Jangle 3”.
ELIZABETH (Annoyed): Fine. That’s one track. What else?
SIMON: I -
ROBIN: How about that floaty hippy one?
SIMON:
ELIZABETH:
ROBIN: You know, it’s all sort of dreamy. Bit slow. Jangly.
SIMON: Is it -
ELIZABETH: Is it Oomingmak?
ROBIN:
SIMON:
ELIZABETH: You know, off Victorialand?
ROBIN: Nah, not that floaty.
ELIZABETH: From The Flagstones?
ROBIN:
SIMON:
ELIZABETH: Come on, From The bloody Flagstones? It goes “Sumtymes eye seeeioo ahhn tho flaaahagstohnes”. Bloody obvious, that one.
ROBIN: No, not that one. It’s the one where the chorus bit goes “Ooh la la”.
SIMON:
ELIZABETH:
ROBIN: You know. “Ooh la la”.
ELIZABETH:
SIMON:
ELIZABETH: Oh, hang on - you mean Calfskin Smack?
ROBIN: Dunno. Do I?
ELIZABETH: It goes “Ooooooooooh lalalalala, ooooooooooooh lalalalala”
ROBIN (Beaming): Yeah that’s it.
ELIZABETH: OK, so we’ll do that second. Shall we plan a third one while we’re at it?
SIMON: Well -
ROBIN: Yeah why not.
ELIZABETH: Any suggestions?
ROBIN: What do you think, Simon? Jangly 12? Jangly-Poppy 4?
SIMON: Jang -
ROBIN: I quite like the idea of doing Jangly Atmospheric 8 myself.
ELIZABETH:
ROBIN: It’s the one where the drums come in towards the end.
ELIZABETH:
ROBIN: You sing it, Si.
SIMON: It goes -
ELIZABETH: Oh wait, is it Blue Bell Knoll?
ROBIN (Shrugging): Not sure.
ELIZABETH: The one that starts with some jangly sounds, and me going: “Issss ish nacch no-long no-lorrrr, for-borrrr, ah-laah naowt, ah-laahsu-uuung nah boloh bo”.
ROBIN: Wavey sounds in the background? Drums at the end?
ELIZABETH: Yeah.
ROBIN: That’s Blue Bell Knoll?
ELIZABETH: Yeah.
ROBIN: Cool.
SIMON: (Goes to pub)
Growing old fitfully
There was a time, years ago, when I’d study festive “Best albums of the year” lists and congratulate myself on owning most of them.
I’d snort at the chosen albums that I considered below par, and shamefully update my “Albums to buy” list with some of the more highly-recommended ones that I’d somehow overlooked.
Things have changed. Looking at Pitchfork’s Top 50 albums of 2006, I recognise only three of them, and have a copy of just one.
What’s more, I don’t care. My Amazon wishlist remains chock-full of 80s and 90s stuff that I used to listen to on cassette, and that I now wish to own on CD. I’m middle-aged, and I’m proud.
Great radio
- Mark Radcliffe, Radio 2, week nights
Mark’s eclectic mix matches my mood, the contents of my record collection, and sparks my interest in new stuff in equal measure. - World Tonight, Radio 4
I love the way the news seeps out of this show and into my brain, even when I’m not listening very carefully. - In Business and World Business Report, Radio 4 and World Service
I met Peter Day once, and he doesn’t look like his radio voice. But I greatly admire him as a broadcaster and journalist. His detailed investigations into the world of business (and through it, the worlds of science, medicine, sport, technology - you name it) are always educational and well-explained. - Mapping the Town, Radio 4
A bunch of historians gather in the rain (it’s always raining) and take the listener on a guided tour of a town, exploring its history through the geology, the architecture, and the environment. - Charlie Gillett, World Service
Only half an hour, but packed with songs and music the likes of which you’ve probably never heard before. Educate your ears. - Late Junction, Radio 4, week nights
Quite simply, you have no idea what you will hear next. It’s not always easy to get through an entire show and enjoy every piece they play, but for an adventure beyond your normal horizons, it can’t be beaten. - Tom Robinson, BBC 6 Music
What evening indie pop radio should be. Indie. And pop. - Gideon Coe, BBC 6 Music
The same, but for daytime listening. Always guaranteed to play something from my music collection, including the likes of Cocteau Twins, Madder Rose, or PWEI. - Stuart Maconie, 6 Music and Radio 2
I used to be a fan of Maconie’s writing when he contributed to NME in the 80s and 90s; I still enjoy his music shows and documentaries.
Oh, and pretty much anything on Radio 4. Except You and Yours and The Archers.
The changing face of Chumbawamba
I gave myself a night off from seemingly endless work, and went to see Chumbawamba at the WMC this evening with my new friends Lorraine and Mark. What an experience.
See, the last time I saw Chumbawamba was roughly when the Anarchy album came out - 1994 or thereabouts. It was a jumpy-up-and-downy, sweaty giggy affair. It was fun. It was a gig.
Now I'm an old geezer and I live in a posh town, and the Chumbas are mellowing in their middle age too, and they do concerts these days. At the WMC, there's even an interval. With ice cream.
They played "Homophobia" from Anarchy, which made me smile because it was so nice to hear something I knew inside-out. But I was singing along to all the other stuff, all the newer (and older) stuff I'd never heard before, because it's all so incredibly tuneful and catchy.
Chumbawamba are fantastic musicians, superb singers, and great fun to watch. The harmonies make your body hair stand on end. This was the best gig I've been to in years.
Labels: music
My lost albums
Albums I remember owning once, but can't remember how I got rid of (not that I miss any of them very much anyway)...
World Clique, by Deee-Lite
It was very popular at the time, wasn't it?
Killer, by Adamski
Good grief.
Every man and woman is a star, by Ultramarine
Actually I do miss this one. I'm pretty sure I let someone borrow the LP, and never got it back.
The big lad in the windmill, by It Bites
Prog rock was still alive and well in the late 80s, and It Bites were its curators. Awful, awful stuff.
Jazzmataz, Volume 1, by Guru + others
Back in the 90s, there was a time when everyone suddenly thought: "Hey, you can dance to this jazz stuff!" Of course, people had always been dancing to it.
Thunder and consolation, by New Model Army
I started liking NMA because my girlfriend did.
And now the legacy begins, by Dream Warriors
I cannot remember a thing about this record.
Of the heart, of the soul and of the cross: the utopian experience, by PM Dawn
Once again, the reason why I bought this pile of shite escapes me.
Comedy and Wonderful life, by Black
I think the attraction of oh-so-clever minimalpop waned quickly.
Labels: music
Peggy and me
1991: in our shared house on a quiet Cambridge back street, my friends and I have gone Julian Cope crazy.
His single "Beautiful Love" has been a chart hit, which is why Caroline rushed out and bought "Peggy Suicide" - but she was distraught to find the rest of the album very, very different.
But my best male friend Dickon and I love it. So much we buy a vinyl copy each - unheard of for students usually content to make taped copies for one another.
Dickon, however, has a huge pair of home-made speakers, everything sounds so much better through them. Every time I play Peggy Suicide now (probably once a week), especially every time I listen to "Western Front 1992 CE", I remember an occasion in Dickon's room where he and I sat mesmerised, our cups of tea going cold and our need for study fading into the background.
Labels: music
Finding Floyd
Ian and Steve were a couple of musical misfits, fixated on Pink Floyd, Hendrix, and oddly, Chris de Burgh.
They took me under their wing (I'm not sure why I needed to be taken under anyone's wing, nor why they thought it should be theirs) and we hung out at break times, talking music. There was a Pink Floyd lyrics game they played:
Q: "Fourth album, side 1, track 2, line 12, word 3."
A: "Rabbit" (or whatever the answer was)
They were surprisingly good at it. Whole lunch hours would pass by playing this, just hanging about and talking rubbish. The other two knew a lot more about music than I - they'd started exploring at an earlier age - and passed on their recommendations to me.
The two of them introduced me to progressive rock, power ballads, heavy metal and the concept of a "band practice", which involved driving out to a house on the edge of a village, wolfing down sandwiches made by someone's mum (we were only about 13 or 14 at this point), and mucking about in the garden for hours before spending the final hour randomly playing chords and bashing the drum kit about.
"You should play bass," they said. They needed a bassist. "It's piss easy, you'll pick it up in no time." I should've tried, but fear kept me back. They probably didn't mean it, anyway.
Thanks to Ian and Steve, I ventured away from the the first records I'd listened to, a bizarre combination of my brother's taste (Billy Bragg, David Bowie) and my mother's (Niel Diamond, ELO, folk and jazz). I began exploring other ideas and broadening my tastes.
I lost touch with both of them after leaving school. I've no idea what happened to Steve. Ian Betts is now a world class trance DJ, so I hope I'm not embarrassing him in public by mentioning his early interest in Pink Floyd. And I'm pretty sure the Chris de Burgh LPs were Steve's, not Ian's.
My lost albums
Inspired by Lars Mange Ingebrigtsen's Lost Albums list, I decided to make my own. These are albums I love, but rarely see in anyone else's CD collection.
Paul Haig, by Paul Haig
We found a bunch of LPs in a cupboard in one of our student houses. This was one of them. Spiky Scotpop with dark, deep bass vocals and stark, simple melodies.
Burger Habit, by Sensation
The bunch who were previously Soul Family Sensation shortened their name to release this fabulous pop gem, which is better than their previous album, New Wave. The "I don't wanna have to go in there" chant at the end of Splitting up wity your girlfriend is one of my favourite pop moments of all time.
Hawaii, by The High Llamas
Easily mistaken for one incredibly long song, this mesmerising album came into my hands from a bargain bin, and because I thought the title sounded interesting. I've often fallen asleep while listening to this, not because it's boring but because it's so amazingly relaxing.
Looking for a Day in the Night, by Lilac Time
Along with Astronauts, this is one of the Lilacs' greatest triumphs. Country-folk that cares not about guns and oil, but about London and taxis. All over again is a startling attack on the whole record company business, savage in its honesty and sarcasm. It also makes a delightfully singable tune.
Drop the Roof, by Out of my Hair
When I worked for the Cambridge Evening News, there'd be occasional CDs to review. This one was thrown on my desk one week, and I expected it to be awful. But after many listens I began to adore the harmonies and melodic style; this album is rich in both. Sounds great in headphones, or enormous speakers.
Food, Sex and Paranoia, by Furniture
If you don't know about my Furniture fixation then it's about time you did.
Enjoy the Melodic Sunshine, by Cosmic Rough Riders
Harmony-tastic, 60s-inspired, jangly-guitar-ridden sumptuousness for the ears. The second album, Too Close to See Far, is pretty amazing too.
Super Natural, by Bennet
Saw this bunch of likely lads play a gig in a tiny pub in Cambridge. They had such incredible energy and so many singable tunes that I couldn't resist buying the CD. Punkpop about daily life, much like I Should Coco by Supergrass, but released a year later about about a squillionth as successful.
Skellington I and II, by Julian Cope
The ArchDrude released these two albums as obscure vinyl-only collectors items. I heard one of them at a friend's house but never thought to buy my own. Then one day, years later, I found a CD with both albums on it in a second-hand record shop in Croydon. Includes the wonderful Robert Mitchum: "Robert, Robert Mitchum, I wrote a song for you / Robert, Robert Mitchum, I love yes I love yes I really do."
Remembered gigs
When I was a student I started writing gig reviews for the college newspaper; as a result I wangled free tickets to dozens of gigs at The Junction and the Cambridge Corn Exchange. This was the days of Madchester, shoegazing and triphop. I can remember the atmosphere at some of those gigs to this day.
EMF, The Junction
A mad evening. EMF were very briefly huge, thanks to their hit single "Unbelieveable", which now sounds dated and frankly rubbish. But at the time it was very popular in the SU bar on a Friday night. A whole gang of us went to see them, and I've been to few sweatier and more frantic gigs. Everyone went mental when they played the hit. I can remember the whole room being a sea of bopping arms and heads.
Throwing Muses, The Junction
We stood near the front, and were mesmerised by Kristin Hersh. As she sang, her head moved from side to side but her eyes remained perfectly still, staring straight ahead over the heads of the crowd. The band were very professional and I left wondering if I would ever witness anything so amazing ever again.
Ride, Cambridge Corn Exchange
I was a huge Ride fan. I bought the album on the day of release so I could get the free T-shirt. I wore my T-shirt to the gig. I couldn't believe how loud a guitar band could be.
James, Cambridge Corn Exchange
It was my birthday, and a few of us went to town to see James. I'd been a fan since before "Gold Mother" and considered myself superior to all the teenies who'd picked up on them after the success of "Come home". But it was a super gig, we danced all night and I sang myself hoarse because I knew nearly all the words (and, if I'm honest, hero-worshipped Tim Booth somewhat). When they started playing "Sit Down", we all sat down and sang along. I bought a black "ja-m-es" T-shirt which I wore with pride for the rest of the term.
Cud, The Junction
My friend and regular gig companion Charlotte convinced me to go and see Cud. I'd heard "When in Rome, Kill Me" round at her house and hadn't really liked it much. But then "Leggy Mambo" came out and I was converted - it was a fantastic album (I still listen to it regularly). The gig was busier than I expected and dancier than I expected. We danced non-stop, the band were on top form and segued lots of songs into eachother like pro DJs. I loved it.
Happy Mondays, Cambridge Corn Exchange
Mayhem from the outset, but when the intro to "Step on" started, it was like someone had flicked the "go insane" switch. The floor bounced.
New Order, Reading Festival
I was so excited about seeing them play, I got cross with my friends for talking over the music. Then Bernard started singing and I was crestfallen; his voice was painfully, dreadfully out of tune and I couldn't bear to listen. I wandered off, disappointed.
Pop Will Eat Itself
We danced the dance of the mad bastards; we had a wonderful time.
The Fall
A shambolic mess. Mark E Smith looked bored beyond words. A terrible gig, but "The Frenz Experiment" remained one of my favourite albums for some time afterwards, regardless.
James who?
D & A were over from Canada for a few days; they stayed in Bath with D's dad, so we had a chance to catch up on old times.
D asked me: "What's new in music? What new stuff should we be buying while we're over here?"
I mumbled a useless reply. Years ago, when we were students, it made sense to ask me this question. In those days I bought NME every week, along with a ridiculous (given my income) amount of music. I was music-addicted and had to be on the cutting edge of all the new stuff. I knew what was hot, and what was not.
These days, I struggle to keep up with the times. Sitting on the loo this morning, reading through last week's Observer (because it takes me a week to read a Sunday paper nowadays), I noticed a raving profile of James Blunt. The former soldier is currently number one in the singles and albums charts, and I had no idea. I'd never even heard his name.
I sighed and made a mental note to look up some of his stuff, when I got a chance.
So this is middle age.
UPDATE: I checked out James Blunt and found his music was utter rubbish. So that's that settled then.
