This place feels like home...

like the song...get it?

The first week back at work always sucks doesn't it?
T'was quite an eventful holiday...

The day before we left for Seahouses, on the way home from watching my mother and sister perform in a show with their Bollywood group, smoke started pouring from the bonnet of my dad's car.  As neither myself or H drive, my mum's car holds 5 and 6 of us would be going on holiday, it looked like ol' pappy would be going on his Ducati (which, the last time we went on holiday, 3 years ago, packed in shortly before said holiday...spotting a trend yet?)  Lo, and indeed, behold, three days in, on the way to Alnwick, a warning light came on on his dashboard, he turned around and made it back to the house we were staying in, but the bike remained resolutley unridden for the rest of the week.

 

Less than an hour later, and just into Alnwick gardens, H's left knee and hand made very good friends with the gravel by the massive cascade fountain (I wanted to take a picture - of her hand and knee, not of the foutain, there's one of those just there ->;  but she wouldn't let me...it was pretty bad, all puss and goo and crap - well, not crap). Like the trooper she is though (this is the woman who walked from the pit lane at Donnington, all the way to the main stage at Download - despite fucking her ankle up...again - so i could see Tool), she was soon back on her feet and hobbling round the gardens (including the Mahoosive tree house above)

On Thursday, we took a somewhat scenic route to Heatherslaw in order to take the one and a half mile trip to Etal (essentially a street, with a castle at the end) and back, then on to Flodden Field.

Choo Choo!

The day, as you can see, had been fairly overcast, but by the time we had returned to Seahouses, the sun had come out, and it was decided that a second trip of the week to St. Aiden's beach was called for (happy now MOTHER? pedant....must be where I get it from.) Getting into the car that day, on a couple of occasions, I had felt a slight twinge in my leg, it soon wore off, and I put it down to cramp and thought nothing more of it. Foolish. When we got to the beach, I attempted to flick the ball, from a starting position behind me, over my head (something incidentally, that I've not been able to do since I was in my mid teens, and even then, only sporadically). And then I couldn't walk. The pain was such that, as when I had my tattoo, adrenaline was rushing to my head so quickly that I almost passed out. Like the wuss I clearly am. Luckily, despite initially thinking it was quite a severe injury, I was able to move fairly freely by Saturday, so you needn't worry.

An average photo of a wonderful view.

Despite all the trauma, this was far from a bad holiday, the first trip to the beach was much fun, as was the walk to Bamburgh via some rockpooling. Lindesfarne was as brilliant as ever, and occasional walks (when legs allowed) were rewarded with some lovely views. The running 'joke' that the bathroom (which sported a sign reading, shockingly, 'bathroom') was in fact a bedroom was still going by the end of the week, much to my suprise, as, well, it just wasn't funny after the first day, and even then funny's going a bit far...rambling... I had a pint of Auld Hemp ale -with me pa on his birthday - which tastes almost exactly how pot resin smells, the fish and chips were as good as they always are, as was the ice cream.  And the Kippers, sweet fishy baby jesus those Kippers!

The house, which backed onto the local Co-op, handy, but a pain in the arse at 7 o'clock every morning, was in equal measure ok and pretty shit.

We've already managed to book a holiday during May of next year, in 'Farne View', where we stayed three years ago, which was bloody marvelous. I can't flippin wait.

Smoke me a Kipper

I’ll be back in time for………August?
Off on holiday on Saturday, a week away in the gorgeous little coastal town of Seahouses in Northumbria, I’ve lost count of the amount of times I’ve been on holiday there, yet it never seems to loose it’s charms.
This may be in no small part to the utterly *legendary* smoke house that is Swallows. When I return, no doubt I will do so reeking of fish.
And with photo’s! on this blog! If I can be arsed!
KILOVEYOUBYE!

Oh, also, Christopher Nolan’s Inception made me do this face :O
Bloody emoticons, what have I turned into.

STEPHEN?! JUST COMING!

This is Michael Lyons. He is a beautiful, beautiful man. If I ever met him, I would kiss him on the mouth. In your fuzzy ginger-bearded git-face Mark Thompson. HA.

If you hadn't heard, 6music isn't closing.

Midlake & John Grant. Leadmill, Sheffield. 29.6.10

Mere miles out of York, and I had already resigned myself to missing this gig. In the sweltering early evening sun, heading towards Tadcaster, cars had stopped, their drivers and passengers hopping out to stretch their legs and avoid baking, meanwhile, no cars had driven past on the other side of the carriageway in quite some time. We were in this for the long haul. Or so I thought. Within an hour, we were moving again and soon passed the reason for our delay, a car had left the road, mounted the grassed embankment and thundered into a tree (luckily, according to York Press, the driver wasn't seriously injured).

After some fruitless searching for a particular car park, and taking a very not-short cut (despite the fact that one of our number had lived in Sheffield for 19 years) we eventually made it to the Leadmill, as we entered we were greeted by the rather powerful lungs of Mr John Grant (not literally though, which was rather rude, “oh, hello” it’s not that difficult. “Hi John” I’d reply. Tuh.) who really was the ideal support for Midlake (his label-mates, who, incidentally played on the debut solo album ‘ The Queen of Denmark’ released earlier this year) Equally Moving and funny, with a voice like a pissed off Tim Buckley and lyrics like:
"And I feel just like Sigourney Weaver. When she had to kill those aliens. And one guy tried to get them back to the earth. And she couldn't believe her ears"
(from 'Sigourney Weaver') how could I not be impressed?

A prolonged bar visit later, on to the stage ambled one drummer, one keyboardist/flutist, one bassist, and four guitarists and many beards, it’s a good thing that the Leadmill stage is as wide as it is (which is quite wide).

Whilst Midlake’s two most recent records, 2006’s ‘The Trials of Van Occupanther’ and this years ‘The Courage of Others’ are on the surface, very different, the former referencing 1970’s American rock, and the later, English folk, they are both resolutely mid temp records. Which would have not been a problem if they had perhaps played something from the considerably livelier; The Flaming Lips influenced ‘Bamnan & Silvercork’. But they didn’t. So it was.

All seven of them are clearly incredibly accomplished musicians, and are very tight as a unit, but their set landed just on the wrong side of monotony. When they did let rip, such as the extended jam prior to the utterly brilliant ‘Roscoe’, and on the similarly magnificent ‘Head Home’ (which I just mistyped as ‘Head Gnome’ hehe.) they are simply captivating.

I’m under no illusions that the fact I didn’t enjoy the gig as much as I’d expected was in no small part down to my mood. I’d been on edge since we passed that car. A weird night.

Deftones - Diamond Eyes

A month later than planned…

I have an incredibly soft spot for Deftones, their third, career defining album ‘White Pony’ soundtracked the summer I sat my GCSEs, contained the heaviest thing I had ever heard at that point (‘Elite’) and introduced me to the band of a certain Maynard James Keenan, a band for whom my love can only be described (much like Jesus) as ‘a bit gay’.

'White Pony’ set them apart from the nu-metal bands they were lumped in with following their debut ‘Adrenaline’ (and the dreadful ‘Back to School (Mini Maggit)’ which butchered the beautiful, epic ‘Pink Maggit’), to me, they always seemed to have much more in common with Sacramento cohorts Far and Will Haven than Limp Bizkit or Korn.
In the intervening decade (!!!) the Deftones’ output has been solid, but not spectacular, their self titled album, released in 2003 and 2006’s ‘Saturday Night Wrist’ followed the blueprint set out by ‘White Pony’ vaguely experimental at times, crushingly heavy one minute, hauntingly quiet the next.

The follow up to ‘Saturday Night Wrist’ was initially planned not to be ‘Diamond Eyes’, but ‘Eros’, but this (partially recorded) was put to one side in late 2008 when bassist Chi Cheng was involved in a car crash, which put him in a semi-conscious state(which he remains in). Instead, the band went back into the studio with former Quicksand bassist Sergio Vega and recorded ‘Diamond Eyes’ in just two months.

‘Eros’ was/is according to front man Chino Moreno weird, atmospheric and very very heavy, three things which partially to it’s detriment, ‘Diamond Eyes’ is not.

Despite the fact it was recorded in such a short period of time, and without pro-tools (which they started using after 1997’s ‘Around the Fur’), ‘Diamond Eyes’ sounds a little flat in places, a touch MOR metal.

Perhaps as they reportedly “practised [the songs] a million times ‘til they were perfect”. The songs do almost sound too…arranged…lacking, at times, much of a spark. Take the breakdown at the end of the opening title track, done properly, this kind of thing can feel akin to an earthquake, here though, something’s missing, it just sounds a bit…wet.

After giving a month or so to settle in, I still couldn’t tell you how many of the songs go, that lack of spark, making them to my ears and brain, rather forgettable, and at times, a little dull.

Two songs that don’t fit that description, arrive just after the halfway mark, as I usually start to lag, I’m hit with round the chops with ‘Rocket Skates’ and Chino screaming “GUNSRAZORSKNIVES” over a beast of a riff, this is followed by the most serene and beautiful moment on this record, ‘Sextape’ is simply gorgeous, a hint of the band’s electronica leanings, and Chino’s voice at it’s softest, it’s just about perfect.

Moreno’s voice is used to staggering effect throughout, just look to ‘Royal’, where he’s given the opportunity to show what he can do, velvety smooth croon to trademark squeal (like a pig when you big f*cking big f*cking argh. Eh? Eh?)

The problem with ‘Diamond Eyes’ isn’t that it’s a poor album, but in fact something that’s more difficult to pinpoint, it seems almost too tight, I’ve always heard a lot of space in Deftones’ previous work, but can’t find it here, it is what it is what it is. Deftones by numbers.

I’ve read an awful lot of very positive reviews of ‘Diamond Eyes’, I hope eventually, it’ll win me round too.

Pathetic, Indulgent, Self Pitying Blog Post #1

Warning: this blog post may make you want to slap me in my face.

So, last Friday I turned 26. And?

Not a particularly significant age, 25 possibly, 26, no. But it seems that all the guff that comes with hitting one of those milestones deferred itself for a year, probably in no small part to something that happened when I was a mere spring chicken at 24 ½ (what? If kids can use half years, so can I).

The day before my birthday, I got stuck in a rut of going through all the crap stuff… 2 years after starting a (intended) stop gap job, I’m still doing it (not for lack of trying), it’s incredibly unfulfilling, not to mention the pay. Shouldn’t I be starting to develop a career by now? Why didn’t I take more productive A-Levels? Should I have gone to uni? I’ve begun questioning my ability write (hence the lack of recent posts), something very important to me. Why, at 26, as close to 40 as to 12, do I still feel like a flupping man-child, surely I should be firmly in the territory of the former? Not reading comics and thinking about buying an Xbox 360.

My son would have been 15 months old had he arrived on his due date, with no complications. That, particularly, sucks.

Thankfully though, the lovely H (who, if I had gone to uni, I would probably not have met, thus negating that problem entirely) managed to talk me down, (although not able to convince me that I not more stupider than I are a couple years ago) and I went on to have a very enjoyable, if uneventful birthday. Thank you Missus.

This post, as I’m sure you’re aware by now, is something of a mess, I’ve heard it said that writing stuff down can help you gain some perspective. And that’s what this was for.

I’ve got such white middle class ‘problems’.

I refer you to the warning at the beginning of this post, having read this through, I actively encourage it.

Minus the Bear - Omni

There was a period during 2007 when, virtually all day, every day, I got to listen to what ever music I wanted to. I was working in a job I hated, but the freedom to listen to the music I love made it considerably easier.

Minus the Bear’s third album, ‘Planet of Ice’ released that year, was on the very heaviest of rotations. For two and a half months, I listened to that record every day, somehow, never becoming remotely bored of it. Now, two and a half years later, it easily places in my favourite 3 albums.

So to say that ‘Omni’ arrived bearing the weight of my expectations would, indeed, be putting it mildly.

It is worth noting that this is the first Minus the Bear full length not to be produced by former member Matt Bayles (Mastodon, Isis) but by Joe Chicarelli (Radiohead, The Shins, err.. Kajagoogoo) as this change, in hindsight at least, appears to have been a signal of intent

Judging by the two pre-release singles; ‘Into the Mirror’ (and it’s b-side ‘Broken China’) and ‘My Time’ it was clear that ‘Omni’ was going to be much lighter in tone, and perhaps depth, than it’s predecessor, the opening salvo of the aforementioned ‘My Time’, ‘Summer Angel’ and ‘Secret Country’ (the latter featuring a little cod-reggae guitar work) are three of the sunniest, barbeque-and-beer inducing songs you are likely to hear all year.

This, is, without question, a big Pop album, much slicker (in a kind of 80’s Miami Vice kind of way – when they tour I wouldn’t be shocked to see them in white suits, no socks, sleeves rolled up) and more accessible than it’s predecessors , it’s also very synth heavy affair, and drum machines play a much larger part than ever before (not to say that the live drumming isn’t still skattishly exemplary, at times, reminiscent of The Police’s Stuart Copeland, which is no bad thing).

‘Omni’ is short of, amongst other things, any real lyrical variety. Minus the Bear have always written, what are essentially, fundamental inconsequential songs about the fairer sex, but previous records have strayed from that subject, this record does not. This habit becomes particularly cringe worthy during the otherwise enjoyable ‘Excuses’ when front man Jake Snider sings ‘I’m into you…when you hear this song, you’ll say…you’re into me too”. It may just be me, but I cannot stand songs that refer to themselves as such in anything but title.

The two tracks that close the album, Minus the Bear at their laid back best, ‘Dayglow Vista Rd.’, and ‘Fooled by the Night’ floating over you, the perfect soundtrack to a long summer night.

Ultimately though, Omni is the weakest Minus the Bear album to date; it lacks the urgency of ‘Highly Refined Pirates’, the warmth of ‘Menos el Oso’ and the intricacy of ‘Planet of Ice’, and any real defining qualities of it’s own. Which is a damn shame. Having said that, it is still a Minus the Bear record, so I will be listening to it. All. Bloody. Summer.

It’s worth having a listen to the instrumental version in the download section of minusthebear.net, to hear Secret Country in all it’s awesomeness well, if you’re a raging fan boy that is.

How To Destroy Angels

Like, totally OMFG!!!!!!!!!1
Sorry, not quite sure what just came over me....
Sir Trent Reznor of Nine of Nails, had previously hinted at some non-NIN material this year, How to Destroy Angels (hmmm) is a collaboration with his wife, and former West Indian Girl front woman, Mariqueen Maandig. The snooty bastards over a Pitchfork have a stream of the first fruits of the EP which will be released this summer. It's called "A Drowning", and it's really quite wonderful, the music is unmistakably the work of Reznor, the haunting piano, coupled with the glitchy synthesised drums would not have seemed out of place on NIN's 'Year Zero'. Mrs Reznor's vocals fit it so well, it's a wonder they've not worked together before.
It's produced by Alan Moulder, who has previously worked with NIN, A Perfect Circle, Puscifer, The Smashing Pumpkins and..er...Arctic Monkeys.
After feeling rather disappointed by Massive Attack's 'Heligoland' earlier this year, this might just give me my fix of broodingly beautiful darkness that I was after. hehe..

She & Him - Volume 2

Jared Leto’s 30 Seconds to Mars, Keanu Reeves’ Dogstar, Russell Crowe’s…and The Ordinary Fear of God.
Actor’s bands, as you can see, have somewhat of a chequered past.

I mention this as She & Him are actress Zooey Deschanel (Elf, (500) Days of Summer) and sometime Monster of Folk; M.Ward.
“Sometimes lonely isn’t sad” sings Deschanel on ‘Thieves’ which opens ‘Volume 2’ (shockingly, their second album), this sets the mood for the rest of the album, lyrically rather melancholic, but musically, irresistibly cheerful.
Her “mmm-hmm’s” and “uh-huh’s” make the cover of Skeeter Thompson’s ‘Gonna Get Along Without You Now’ more infectious, and downright joyous than it has any right to be. Ward’s role is a subtle one, so much so that when his vocals arrive on ‘Ridin’ In My Car’ (another cover) it comes as somewhat as a surprise, like bumping into an old friend that you haven’t seen in years. His guitar playing and arrangements compliment Dechanel’s voice (not the strongest, but used to great effect throughout) incredibly well, and the bridge of ‘Home’, when the song delicately and majestically changes direction, is just gorgeous.
Mike Mogis (another Monster of Folk and member of Bright Eyes) has done a sterling job with the production on this record, restrained, but effective. For much of the album Deschanel’s vocals are backed up by a trio of Deschanels, giving them somewhat of a Supreme’s-esque quality.
‘Volume 2’ is an absolute triumph, unashamedly nostalgic (they wouldn’t have looked out of place performing at the Enchantment Under the Sea dance at Hill Valley High School in 1955) more than a little twee (as fuck), it combines Deschanel’s love of country music and Ward’s alt.folk credentials to great effect. I’ll be very surprised if I hear a pop album quite this perfect for some time.
Roll on Volume 3!

Freelance Whales - weathervanes

As far as buskers are concerned, York is somewhat of a mixed bag, on the one hand, there’s the guy with the beard, yeh, that one, but on the other there’s that other guy, you know, the one that plays ‘Comfortably Numb’ over and over and over and over and over. There are a couple of chaps with Pianos, but then there’s the guy with the violin, and the devil puppet attached to his crotch.

York’s more recent namesake, I’m sure, is a similarly diverse city in this respect, Freelance Whales (I know, awful, isn’t it?) thankfully, are five of the good-uns. Forming in late 2008, rather than just playing New York’s bars and clubs, they took to it’s street corners and subway stations, rather quickly building up a reputation.

The record company blurb would have you believe that ‘weathervanes’ is a ramshackle, clunking and clattering piece of work, and at times, it is, it is also, however, for the debut of a band who formed less than a year before recording it, incredibly accomplished. Initially released last year whilst the band were still unsigned – hard to believe, considering the production quality – it, and they have now found a home at Frenchkiss Records (also home to Local Natives, The Antlers, and The Hold Steady).

Freelance Whales certainly wear their influences on their (stripy jumper) sleeves, most notably Sufjan Stevens and The Postal Service. Ben Gibbard, one half of the latter, has clearly also influenced them lyrically, charmingly awkward and naïve lines such as “I’ve arranged for your phobias to be performed by a string quartet” from the rather jaunty ‘kilojoules’ and “as you pull me from the bed, tell me I look stunning and cadaverous” from ‘Generator ^2nd Floor’ are two of the more particularly wonderful examples.

However, these influences are also the biggest problem with this record, ‘Hannah’ being a case in point, a harmless little ditty initially, the more I hear it, the more it bugs me. It manages to sound, simultaneously, like The Postal Service and The Moldy Peaches, and the phrasing in the verses is so similar to ‘Decatur, or a round of applause for your stepmother’ by Mr Stevens, it verges on plagiarism. ‘We could be friends’ is easily the most irritating song I have heard in a long time. I mean, is stretching the word “common” to a bajillion syllables really necessary?. It is on this track that the often saccharine vocals reach their diabetes inducing peak, and I find myself struggling not to skip past it on each and every listen.

Freelance Whales certainly have a lot of potential, it is, at times, astonishing that this record is the product of a band that was less than a year old. If they can find a little depth, and a bit more individuality, they could be on to something.