Bring it On - Gomez

Track list:

1. Get Miles
2. Whippin' Piccadilly
3. Make No Sound
4. 78 Stone Wobble
5. Tijuana Lady
6. Here Comes The Breeze
7. Love Is Better Than A Warm Trombone
8. Get Myself Arrested
9. Free To Run
10. Bubble Gum Years
11. Rie's Wagon
12. The Comeback

Running time: 54 minutes
Released: 1998

I fell in love with Gomez's bluesy lo-fi sound when I saw them on Later... with Jools Holland around the time this record was released. They have done a lot since - I have a fair bit of it - but I don't know if they ever managed to re-bottle the lightning that made this a special album, despite some very good songs. A decade ago I would have probably called this a favourite, but I don't really listen to Gomez much these days, having found their later stuff disappointing. Going back should be interesting - I can still hear all of these tunes from the names.

It's Easter Monday; last of a four day weekend. It's mostly been quiet for me; catching up on my Game of Thrones discs and... well, a little family time yesterday. I'm scuppered for cleaning by my vacuum cleaner cutting out just now so I'm fitting in this listen instead. The fuzzy sound of Get Miles is probably a love or loathe thing. Like a constant buzzing, it's there throughout the track. It would get overbearing if it wasn't for a voice that sounds much older and more worn than the person bearing it could have been at the point the record was made. I love those rough edges though, it gives it a warmth and a humanity, a point of connection. Perhaps the song is a bit too long, but otherwise it's a lovely introduction.

Whippin' Piccadilly was a single I think? Drunken days out - apparently good song material; who knew? The tune itself doesn't wake up. I thought it had a bit more life to it than this - a kind of sturdy, constant roll. It's alright, but its pretty static. There are effects added over the top which do vary the sound a little but none of the depth in the tune that I would have attributed from memory alone. The composition is stripped right back for Make No Sound, a sparse acoustic melody backing a vocal which has a sense of time and volume. I really like the singing here; it's not the world's best voice, but there is an emotion there and a gravelly, growling, tinge to it that tick my boxes. I like characterful voices; how else to explain Tom Waits' appeal. The next track is 78 Stone Wobble and there is, again, a fuzz on this recording that really works for the verse. The choruses are clearer. The shuffling of vocal duties creates a nice little effect, too - the timbre of the song changing with the different voices, in different registers and different strengths. I think this was the first song I heard from Gomez, and I liked it right away. Now... I hear a decent tune, but little more than that; too repetitive, relying too heavily on a simple riff that gets old too fast for that trick to work. I like the verbal ping-pong more, but the song is also over-reliant on the chorus - lyrically deficient for its length, so some of the lustre is lost, even there.

I am not surprised that I am taking to this less than I used to - time has moved on, though it is hard to think that it is 18 years old now. This project is making me feel the passing years when I get to things like this that I bought around the time of release and then register just how much time has passed since. Babies born the day this released will be adults in a couple of weeks (original release 13 April, according to Wikipedia). Tastes change, too. I suspect I didn't like Tijuana Lady much back then - its slower pace not offering as much interest as the faster tunes. Now, though... I think it's the best thus far. There's a clearer melody in places, and the stately pace leaves room for us to appreciate the echo-chamber of other sounds. Still - it is the moment when the fuzz cleans up and the chorus melody picks up that makes the song. Just a lovely little transition. The last minute and a half probably could have been dropped though. Gomez have always been prone to long tracks though, often making them their best - centrepieces in truth, if not in design.

I love the hook on Here Comes the Breeze. Breezy is right - and the clarity of the sound is a wonderful contrast to everything that has come before. Nice clean melody. Sliding sounds behind it creating an emotional road for the main themes. These first few bars really made me smile - I wasn't expecting that. The tune is exactly what I remembered, but better in actuality. The repetition of music through the verses is a little dull - this feels like very structured songwriting, which loses it a little of the magic. However it changes up around the 3 minute mark and we get a different structure instead. I'd have liked the change about 30-60 seconds earlier, but I am pleased it happened. It's a shame that the full track doesn't live up to that first 20 seconds though... that was top class. The lead out is nice again though - top and tails; bread better than filling. Other crappy metaphor here.

Back to a lo-fi sound now, and a lovely bluesy guitar. It took a little while to kick in, but when it does it has a snap to it, a flatness that really works. Again we have different voices - and the booming, graveled one is again the pick of them. It's hit me that I am only half way through. The last few listens have been around the 40 minute mark that I prefer. This, up at 55, feels longer already and that extra time is a strangle little yoke. Ah, this definitely was a single. The opening of Get Myself Arrested is unmistakable, a downbeat shuffle and a cacophonous chorus follow. The tune has a life to it, which it seems to gain by sucking life out of the band - there is an onerous feeling about the main vocal, a tiredness about the harmony on the chorus, which isn't fully synced up. I like that though - rough edges again.

Free to Run I think I may have conflated with Here Comes the Breeze in my memory as it doesn't open how I thought it would. I re-calibrate, and I think it was the chorus not the verse that I always latched onto here, and as that starts my shift is vindicated. This feels lighter, higher pitch and less busy work in the layered guitar parts. It serves as a nice antidote to the grubbier, fuzzier tracks - like its confused counterpart before it. Ah, yes - lead out; nice little melody at a decent clip. Starts guitar and drums, gets a little more depth as it builds. Vocal repetition layered on top. Despite basically looping for 90 seconds it doesn't get old and wraps the song up nicely. All those nice clear sounds are ditched again, as we plunge through gears (down, not up) to a sparse and grubby little number. The Bubblegum Years are better after the first chorus, apparently, as this is where the arrangement picks up. I am not fond of the central conceit around the verse - a very low fidelity vocal, and a rather dull little hook, but the extra depth around the choruses is a noticeable improvement. It's not a great song though - weakest on the album I think.

We have 2 tracks left, and Rie's Wagon is 90% of the running time remaining. Really strong growl on the guitars here give it a grungy sound. I rather like that. Not sure why this particular combination of guitar and voice works where it didn't on the previous track, but both the style of that guitar and the voice are different so hey... different effect. Here it is the chorus that is weaker - not as stark a contrast though. Blue, lonely, lost. There's a hurt in those guitar strings, or more accurately the effects applied to them. It gives the track heart, even as it is too long and too sparse on much else, that ache and bluesy sound built up by introduction of a harmonica (or similar effect), and a subtle change of pace and emphasis here and there keep it evolving and enjoyable. Elements slide in and out around the central themes... not all of them good, the worst before it drops anything more than the central guitar to go back to the chorus being a rattling sound that just lasted too long. After that chorus we're stripped back for a phase before that big old howl comes back. We're dropped into a new verse some 4 minutes or so after the last one. I shouldn't like this track, but I do. There's much about it to admire even as it commits some pretty big sins.

The last track is a simple little lead out, and then we're done. The second half of the album actually flew past pretty quick. Overall... it's still an enjoyable listen. The high points are different these days but most of it holds up to an extent. I could never lose myself in love for many of the songs now, but they hold enough interest to revisit occasionally, and a few moments of wonder scattered through them mean that is likely to remain the case. The opening of Here Comes the Breeze was my zenith this time through - though it is not the strongest song overall. There is plenty more Gomez to come in due course, but I am done for now. Back to vacuuming for me!

Brimstone & Blue - Nigel Stonier

Track list:

1. Tricks
2. Me And St. Jude
3. World In Denial
4. Love And Love And That Sort Of Thing
5. Josefs Train
6. Blue Shadow
7. Wild And Beautiful
8. Looking Out For You
9. Giddy Thing
10. Broken Moon
11. One For The Ditch

Running time: 39 minutes
Released: 2002

Nigel Stonier is only in my record collection because of Thea Gilmore. As her husband, and regular part of her backing band, Stonier has had a big hand in Gilmore's career, at one point during which she was my favourite artist. I've grown away a little - still preferring her earlier, younger, work to more recent releases. This album is contemporary of Rules for Jokers and Loft Music - the latter of which sees Gilmore covering Josef's Train. On this disc she provides backing and Stonier is thrust forward, a position that doesn't always suit him. However it opens strongly - Tricks is one of those tunes that if a shuffle takes me close, and I'm sat in a position to intercept, I inevitably end up having to put on. It's also our opening number.

Thrumming bassy chords and a guitar more stricken than strummed, my love for this song comes from the lyrics as much as its catchy sparse composition. A clever, but sad, song about the end of a relationship it kicks most such ditties into touch. I'm a sucker for the long lonely notes it ends on, too. If I was being trite about things I'd stop the listen now, call this a favourite and be done, but there are 10 other tracks here that I rarely give any time at all to get through first. The first of those is pedestrian - slow, and staid. No catchy riff here, no clever lines to excuse it. It is better in full flow than when it is building, but Me and St. Jude don't get on fantastically.

World in Denial sounds like it could have come from Rules for Jokers; the guitar work is very reminiscent of... one of Gilmore's tracks I can't remember by name right now. It is a little brighter in tone, a little livelier, and a bit more palatable for it, a catchiness to the cadence keeps me engaged through the song, even as the horns that back the chorus cause me to raise an eyebrow. They sound out of place somehow, maybe synthesized? We then devolve into happy-clappy folk rock for a rather forgettable track, notable just for some long modulated notes that give it a sense of Americana, even as the feel of the track (and the vocal in particular) are very, very British. The funny thing is, I can't see myself getting rid of any of these tracks - even though listening to them I don't think too much of them; this disc has some kind of appeal all the same.

I prefer Gilmore's cover of Josef's Train, but I do like the song. A rail song, a solo journey, there's a beauty in the picture it paints; I just think that picture is prettier in a simpler arrangement and with a female voice - a little bit of vulnerability, or rather of less solidity perhaps. Here there's a bit too much depth with strings - tight ones at that - and the jangling guitar part is a bit too strong. Stonier's voice is not ill-suited to the number though. He is not a natural front man, giving the impression of being a little awkward about the attention, whilst clearly being an accomplished, if not an outstanding, musician. His songs betray that a little, nothing too ambitious please. That means that where the lyrics don't pick him up and carry him through, the songs tend to the repetitive and safe. Pleasant enough I guess but not exciting.

The title for the album comes from Wild and Beautiful. This also has the feel of a Thea Gilmore song - just that little bit safe musically but interesting lyrically and so engaging enough to carry through for the duration of a pop song. If I simply applied the criterion "would I ever choose to listen to this?" to these songs I think only a few would be kept but again in considering it I feel an emotional attachment that makes that difficult. Aren't humans odd? Looking Out For You would be one of the keepers, just peppy enough to keep ticking, drums and guitar sync well and the harmonisation on the chorus works as well as you would expect from a practiced couple. It's a distant third behind Tricks and Josef's Train, but a nice song in its own right.

The last three tracks spark little or no memory from reading the names, and little if any more from hearing the first strains in the case of Giddy Thing, which is a horrible song title. Giddy is an awkward word (and awkward describes itself well, too!), and using "thing" about the object of your affection - for this is a love song - is staggeringly odd. I have had a poor day, of feeling everything I touched turned to poop. This has been a salvation of my evening - turning that frustration into a more positive direction. It would have been nice to have something to rave about, rather than be lukewarm as I have here, but still. The evening has still beaten the day - England even beat Germany. What next, flying pigs? Broken Moon is more recognisible once I hear the first strains. I can imagine it being a decent live song, but I find it too formulaic on record, and then we are into the closer.

One for the Ditch is clearly a closing track - its a come-down song, suppressed, soporific, apologetic. A road song in the "one for the" sense. These types of songs work to phase you out quite well, though here Stonier moves past what his singing voice can really handle in places. When the ode to the drunks fades out I am ready to down tools and to bed. I still steadfastly refuse to cull here; I still can't put my finger on why.

Brilliant Corners - Thelonious Monk

Track list:

1. Brilliant Corners
2. Ba-Lue Bolivar Ba-Lues-Are
3. Pannonica
4. I Surrender, Dear
5. Bemsha Swing

Running time: 42 minutes
Released: 1957

Recorded in 1956, which was the date I had against this, it apparently released in 1957. I don't know when it was that I latched on to Monk as my jazz pianist of choice but I did, and I recall it being a very conscious decision. I had a very limited selection for a long time (one best-of equivalent, I think) but must have finally got around to picking up more at some point because now I have a few ignored records, of which this is the first. What will putting some time aside reveal?

Studied but discordant opening, keys disconnected from the first horns we hear? Yeah, Monk. Good Friday night stuff, it being Easter and all. Grateful for the 4 day weekend, I am, and after spending too much of today in online frustration generator World of Tanks with a good friend I am running away into this listen as the evening passes me by. The first and title track comes together a bit more from the disjointed opening but I find myself surprised that it seems to have a significant section that is horn-led. The piano is quiet here, recorded lower or played softer than what is around it. This lends a strange distance to the music, as the melody is hidden behind layers of supporting structure, except when it is taken up by the brass. There is a harsh tone on the horns, a buzzing, blaring sound that I feel ill at ease with. I think it results from a spikier rhythm (tempo is up and down a lot in this piece) and the way we bounce from lead to lead. I find long tracts of the piece dull - the drum solo for instance - but other movements, where the players come together more are far more enjoyable. Overall I find it more miss than hit.

The first few bars of the follow up are more promising, a nicely harmonised brass section carrying a more accessible tune start us on a 13 minute journey. The piano comes in and is used as a form of punctuation; Monk seems to be in another world from his backing, which - per the cover - includes the last jazzman I listened to on these pages, Sonny Rollins. The spiky staccato style of Monk's playing, his personal idiosyncrasies, are what endeared him to me when I was younger - the use of the piano as a way to stand out, doing his own thing. Slowly but surely the piano comes to the fore - it happened some time back but I have only just twigged. With that carrying of the piece came a more coherent playing, more melodic and soft. This smoothness remains as and when the keys cede the centreground to the horns again. For my money this is a much more enjoyable tune than the title track, the softer edges a comfort to sink into. The bass solo rather snaps me out of that - not because it ditches the mood, but because the bass is so quiet in relation to the rest of what went before that it sounds like a fade out on the track at first. It also lasts a little too long, then appears to dump straight into the drummer's spotlight, which does neither any favour. All of this happens towards the end of the piece; we just about get enough time for the main theme to be rekindled before it closes out.

There is a playschool like tone - xylophones/glockenspiels? - to the beginning of Pannonica. The theme seems to carry over from the prior tune but this has a super-laid back feel to it, as well as a childishness from the instrumentation. Yet the theme itself feels adult, schmooze, late night club. There's something about the main melody that has me imagining lovers making eyes at each other, deciding to leave together. This feels less quintessentially Monk somehow, though his style is in evidence in the keyboard part, the consistency and theme hark to a more traditional composition. Of course, much of this disconnect is probably due to an overly romanticised portrait of the man as his own dude, formed by early exposure that nonetheless came well after his career was done, so could cherry pick. It is amazing our ability to typecast and stereotype though, truly. By the time we conclude the 8 minute odyssey, the central theme is tired and played out. This sounds intentional, and if it was then it is masterfully done.

I Surrender, Dear sees Monk's piano alone and I think I prefer it for this. I get, here, to hear the part I most care about in any piano-driven music. I get, too, to appreciate the broken play of his hands on those keys, the irregularities and shortened notes interspersed with notes held longer. It sounds, at times, like Morse code made into music - but maybe that's just me. We end with Bemsha Swing, which has a central theme that I recognise a bit more, but which is not a track I would have been able to identify by name. I find it a little unfortunate that the album was named after the opening track, as it is the weakest of the five from where I sit - so much so that I think I might be cutting it. This closer is more melodic than what has come before, with a smoother style and an arrangement that syncs up the various players better. Monk still finds room to express his staccato self. Overall this might be my favourite of the tunes... possibly because I have warmed up to jazz after 35 minutes of it rather than coming in cold from something else, but I'd like to think it has more to do with the general rounded sound and combinations on display. I feel too sleepy to offer much more comment than that though, and as the record closes I feel like closing my eyes. It's too early for bed though, alas.

A Brighter Beat - Malcolm Middleton

Track list:

1. We're All Going to Die
2. Fight Like the Night
3. A Brighter Beat
4. Death Love Depression Love Death
5. Fuck It, I Love You
6. Stay Close Sit Tight
7. Four Cigarettes
8. Somebody Loves You
9. Up Late at Night Again
10. Superhero Songwriters

Running time: 45 minutes
Released: 2007

This album is a long-time favourite. I am surprised that it hasn't reached its decade yet because I have listened to it so much. The title track is one of my all time favourite songs too, brilliant and utterly relatable-to.

It starts with the most unlikely attempt at a Christmas single ever... That We're All Going to Die is pretty unarguable, but I'm not aware of it being stated so positively anywhere else. Here it has a catchy rhythm, a high tempo and a harmonised vocal in the chorus to take your mind off the existential angst that the title conjures up. Its a joke track really, but it launches the overall tone of the music on this record well. What follows next is a step up though. Jenny Reeve (aka Strike the Colours) duets with Malcolm on Fight Like the Night. She gets the first vocals, responsibility for the chorus and offers a response to his calls in the verses. Meantime the wailing guitars, pacy drums and general hum of the arrangement sets off their voices really well. There is a drive to the first three songs on this album that is pretty consistent; they all offer different things but that pace offers a touchpoint, a reference. 

A Brighter Beat has a properly catchy rhythm and the hook on the guitar for the lead in is amazing. Seeing Middleton play this live is mind blowing for me, as a non-guitarist. On record he has several of the things to create structure and melody (though he leans on keys a bit for the latter); on stage he creates a decent facsimile of it with just a semi-acoustic. The song itself is about escaping or coping with depressive episodes, a theme that resonates through much of the album, and one that no doubt helps me connect with this record in the way that I do. I think this track is Middleton's best work, solo or otherwise, capturing a state of mind in a 4 minute pop song; giving depression the focus, but never allowing the song to be depressing.

We get a bit of an interlude as the next track opens up lighter, slower, softer. It doesn't last. The same driving pace - rapidly repeating notes with percussive support - arrives and gives a snarl or growl to the song. I find myself not wanting to type out the title for length, but typing this longer sentence instead. The oddness of the human mind. The actual lyrics aren't as dark as the title, and offset the rumbling darkness of the arrangement in their delivery. It all builds and then suddenly crashes shut to be replaced by what I can only describe as a jauntily melodic love song. A simple repeating hook bores into my head on this listen; normally my ear is drawn to the lyrics. I think the difference here is that I don't have engine and road noise drowning out the lower end of the register - this album spends a fair share of its time in the car. There's a crescendo in the middle where it gets a bit more edgy but that is just a passing moment and we return to the longing in the lyrics, where Reeve (I think) is backing up again, harmony this time.

A darker, slower tack next. Stay Close Sit Tight has a bassy start. This song really rams the depression angle front and centre of its performance. What Middleton describes is familiar - particularly not wanting to see yourself, others or speak to people on the phone. It gets more nail-on-head later, with a line about making plans by agreeing with things someone else proposes only to cancelling. Whilst the topic is a difficult one, he crafts around it a nice, noisy cocoon of guitars. The brass that provides backing here is used really well, not something you hear on every composition. Four Cigarettes has one of the most recognisable openings for me - a little keyboard loop that quickly gets replaced by the primary structure of the song, but which does resurface a little way in. The keyboard part is where most of the appeal lies in this number; I used to like it a lot more than I do now. I am not sure why that is. Somehow I just feel a little removed from it these days. I was never a smoker, and never more likely to want to be outside after dark when my moods dipped this low so I don't relate, but would never quite have related at my darkest, either.

Somebody Loves You is a simpler tune, one hook or riff sustains the vast majority of the track and it washes over me. It is probably the weakest number on the album. Some might find it touching but me, here and now, I find it very repetitive and lacking the rich depth that the wider arrangements, present on the other tracks, provide. The penultimate track is stately in pace, epic in scope, and reassuringly rich in the chorus. This is a much more engaging love song than the one before. Middleton's songs tend to be self absorbed - more about the lover than the loved; I suspect this too comes from the blackness of battling mental demons. I am distracted by the jangling top end for a bit and lose my train of thought as the song draws down and we enter the closer.

Big bold Bond-movie sounds kick off Superhero Songwriters, but the actual song is immediately stripped back and becomes less bombastic, more fragile, but those brassy focus points are in the locker to separate out our verses. There is a good dollop of self-deprecation in the lyric, that has always endeared me to Malcolm. The song itself is split in two (just as well given its length). The latter half is arranged very differently, less punchy after a keyboard takes over the melody, then the bigger arrangement of guitar drones and lines come in to build a really big and sustained canvas of sound. Picking out any one part gets tough for me as the aural wall all fills with colour. As the page saturates it is flipped and the lonely acoustic guitar returns to pick us out the core melody one final time before the curtain falls. 

Most of this album is just a solid "good", but I relate to it a lot so as a whole it has wormed its way into my favourite things. The real high points though are just superb, 10 of 10 numbers that I keep returning to again and again. I suspect that will last a while yet - at least whilst I remain prone to lonely little episodes where I feel like an impostor and teeter on the edge of regression to a general darker place. These happen from time to time, but in general I am in a happier spot than when I first latched on to Middleton's music. I remain incredibly grateful for his ability to expose similar feelings in this way, however.

The Bright Carvings - Monkey Swallows the Universe

Track list:

1. Sheffield Shanty
2. Martin
3. Jimmy Down the Well
4. The Chicken Fat Waltz
5. Down
6. You Yesterday
7. Wallow
8. 22
9. Fonz You!
10. Still
11. Beautiful Never

Running time: 37 minutes
Released: 2006

Did someone ask for twee indiepop? No? Too bad, that's up next. I suspect this album is pretty bad, though I think Monkey Swallows the Universe had some pretty catchy little tunes on the follow-up (The Casket Letters). I had that before this, and the only song here I can bring to mind before I start is less than great. Still - prejudice is bad, mmkay?

It starts far more promisingly than my introduction. A neat little guitar part and an understated vocal. It has a slightly disheveled feel to it - a late night stumbling home feel. Suitable; my clock says 00:44 though it is really a fair bit earlier than that. After 2 busy nights I had this one to myself and I have gratefully retreated into music rather than explore after dark. Weird moment when we get a bit of Paul Simon lyrics chucked into the middle of the opening song. Trying to be clever and referential falls down when it is such blatant wholesale stealing, but I rather like the overall tone this opener sets.

The slightly higher pace in the guitar line of Martin reminds me of Thea Gilmore, but the vocal isn't as good and the song bottoms out pretty early. The chorus has a nice structure but the playing is functional rather than engaging and the vocal is missing something intangible - not through lack of ability, more the wrong context. This tune fits twee, where twee is used as a tarring brush, whereas the one that follows is just plain... ugh. A trite little number that deserves no credit (indeed I saw a set at a festival once where Jimmy Down the Well was used as a stick to beat the drummer with by his new - less successful! - band). It doesn't get any better after that finishes either, as the tune that follows is all over the place.

Sheffield Shanty was clearly giving a false impression; the rest of the disc thus far is pretty much exactly what I imagined it would be. The sense I get is that the band hadn't matured to find their sound at this point, but by the time they did, they had decided to part ways. I will get to The Casket Letters later this year (I hope) and unless my memory is playing tricks on me - a common theme, I know - the quality exhibited there is much higher.

You Yesterday has something slightly more interesting about it, but it is raw and unpolished. Vocal a little too flat, chords snatched, janky, levels not quite set. Its an interesting (and quick) little diversion, and then Wallow has a much better tone to it. A sense of purpose in the playing - two different guitar tunes interweaving well - and a vocal that is more like something I want to listen to. I really like the edginess that the repeated note striking on one of the guitars gives and the snatchy, speedy little hook. Best thing on the disc so far, although that isn't saying too much.

After a quick break to rinse out my ears (ew!) I set about 22, the little acoustic riff and glockenspiel combination falls flat for me as it starts, and the fuller sound of the mature track does nothing to win me back. It isn't that the song is bad, it just fails to be compelling, doesn't offer anything to arrest the ear and demand attention. The growth of the track, strings and other arrangement added, could be really nice in another context, but it lost me early. That goes much for the punchier Fonz You! too. It feels like music composed for a less than serious montage on TV or something. Maybe someone riding a bike, but unable to go in a straight line or stay upright. There's some whistling though, which is the first time I recall hearing that as part of the music (rather than a crowd reaction) outside of Andrew Bird records.

Final two tracks. Still is frustrating almost immediately, it has elements I really like in the vocal and some of the long extended, modulated notes of the melody, but the two do not sound like they are working together to me. The same sense persists through the song, which really only comprises those two things... and that only serves to make the frustration more acute. I think on balance I forgive it, but only just. The final track is the longest of them, at 6 minutes. It is sombre by comparison, whilst keeping the voice plus guitar limit. I get the sense they were trying to ape someone else here but I cannot place whom. It seems, too, that the 6 minutes is a lie as the song fades out after 2 and a half.  The stupid hidden track arrives a minute later and surprises with a male singing voice, and not a great one at that. The lyrics are amusing enough I guess, but the butchering of them is painful to behold.

Yes, this was pretty weak; not quite a complete write off but near to it; they got better, though.

Briefcase Full of Blues - The Blues Brothers

Track list:

1. Opening: I Can’t Turn You Loose
2. Hey Bartender
3. Messin' With The Kid
4. (I Got Every Thing I Need) Almost
5. Rubber Biscuit
6. Shot Gun Blues
7. Groove Me
8. I Don't Know
9. Soul Man
10. “B” Movie Box Car Blues
11. Flip Flop and Fly
12. Closing: I Can't Turn You Loose

Running time: 39 minutes
Released: 1978

So I loved the movie, I still loved much of the soundtrack, and I certainly used to love a fair number of the tracks on this collection, too. Comedians they may have been, but Belushi and Ackroyd clearly had a love for the material and that always carried across these recordings. I wonder if, not having listened to them for a while, that sense is something I still get.

A ripple from a live audience and a short opening ditty. The bass of I Can't Turn You Loose is pretty iconic - like the skyline out of my window. I am in Hoboken, looking across at NYC at night. Quite a view. This listen is to keep me up long enough that I might sleep in past 5am.

The first proper song here is Hey Bartender, blaring moments punctuated by pauses, harmonica solos, too much going on... this track has them all, but not quite the appeal it used to have. I don't know if that is my tiredness or the lacklustre song... the energy is certainly there in the performance. Messin' With the Kid starts small, riff and percussion, the horns only arriving a little later. Its a more effective number because of the more limited approach, a tighter structure; but "more effective" does not translate to any particular love for it. This album was always back-loaded for me (and even then it was really just 2-3 songs).

I could really do without the "introduce the whole band" section; I've seen the film, I know who they all are. Its a trick that works on stage for a live audience who can respond and cheer the individuals (and lord knows I've seen Bellowhead - there's a tag pairing I'd never have expected - have to introduce all 11 members enough times to cheer along with it), but on record it just eats up time. Oh well. Almost follows up and this has more of the big band sound to it, a more obvious keyboard part and a happier feel. Going into the song I thought "oh, alright" but actually its better than the two before it, and the one that follows. Rubber Biscuit is a comedy song, but since its being performed by comedians I'll let them off. Musically it's incredibly forgettable, but Ackroyd's vocal performance carries it through and I have to admit a soft spot for the stupidity of the wish sandwich and the ricochet biscuit.

We return to more standard fare next. Shotgun Blues is pedestrian and unengaging but- being a Blues standard structure - has a familiarity to it that means you can just shut your eyes and let it wash over you, pretend the players are more iconic blues guitar men and move on. Or you could, but for the fact it is comfortably the longest track on the disc and stays well past its welcome. I really don't have much else to say about it, other than it isn't as problematic as the next track. When I was younger I loved Groove Me, but it trips my problematic content filter these days, with the bad accents and culturally stereotyping, if not outright racist, talk of "Babylon" at the end of it. The music has a nice groove to it, and any point it crescendos it's a great sound, but those accents... ugh! And the screaming that I didn't recall wasn't welcome either.

We're now into the ones that I used to really like. I Don't Know starts the run with a horn-heavy chorus that still makes me smile. I like the structure in the verse too, the little punctuating horn blasts that frame the vocal. I am less keen on the vocal itself or the lyrics these days though. The real heart of this album was always Soul Man. This tune is a bone fide favourite; that bass, that riff, that chorus. Everything about this song stands up really well. I am surprised I only have one other version of it (on The Best of Sam & Dave). I love both; Sam & Dave's version is more pure, but this version... this is the first one I had available to play on demand.

The final track I really got on with was B Movie... The riffy opening is one thing, but its the transition into the longer riff that supports the verses, and the combination with the vocal that really sold me. Listening now the vocal doesn't sound so hot, but the backing hasn't lost its lustre. Guitars  are the be all and end all of this tune, the horns, keys, percussion all exist to support, even in the lead out when they gain prominence they can only do that because of what the guitar laid down before.

The rest of the disc is incidental now. Flip Flop and Fly has a pretty standard structure, a nice enough timbre and tempo but has never been a song that I considered seriously... it always felt like a lighthearted closer before the lead out track that closes the album. I guess I have soured a little on sax solos from when I was a teen, too; I was mad keen on them then, loved Baker Street and all that stuff. Now... right place, right time please.

It's nowhere near as good as all that, really, but for what it is - a side project for a couple of comic actors - it's pretty darn good still. I find myself unable to hold it to high standards because music was neither of our principles first careers. Sure, the supporting case were all music pros but this was a vehicle for the Blues Brothers themselves. I'm glad I still have it, even if Soul Man is the only song I want to hear again and again.

The Bridge - Sonny Rollins

Track list:

1. Without a Song
2. Where Are You
3. John S.
4. The Bridge
5. God Bless the Child
6. You Do Something to Me

Running time: 40 minutes
Released: 1962

I think this came out of a the same large multi-album box set as Beyond the Blue Horizon and Birds of Fire (amongst others). I don't know what to expect but I am hopeful that I'll find something to love here.

A very easy paced, softly backed melody kicks us off. I need relaxation this evening so this is good. I am off across the Atlantic tomorrow for a week of working States-side, and a nice chilled listen is welcome. Thus far this is very accessible and pretty traditional to my ear, Rollins' sax leading over a backing of drums, bass and keys - which appear to be some form of organ, they have that muted, electrical tone to them. Exciting it isn't, but the soft distance created by the recording makes it a sort of unthinking comfort. I am all packed, save for the things that can't go in the night before, and the wavering over whether to take my personal laptop in addition to my work one. I suspect I will, I have 5 long evenings to fill and Steam plus the potential opportunity to listen whilst away could help that some if work socials don't.

There is the inevitable shifting of focus from instrument to instrument, player to player. That staple of the jazz time, solos for all. I have been critical of this practice in the past and I like it no more here, but it is not so egregiously annoying. As Where Are You starts, it cements the idea of this as a late night, slow down sound. Lazy-paced, this opening is almost sombre. It is also very sparse indeed, and the softness of the track is a bit of a hypnotic; I feel my eyes drooping and my head nodding. It is not, thankfully, an early start tomorrow, but it is unfortunately not the best of timings with regards to buses, and a lot of waiting around is expected. The sax is drooping too it seems, it sounds tired and played out by the end of the piece. The net tune starts far too broken up for my liking - little snatches with big pauses between them. It then kicks into life, an energy and pace that was absent from earlier tunes having been found somewhere. The whole piece still feels like it is being played off in the distance somewhere though... the tones are soft and pillow like so whilst the tempo is higher the soporific effect remains. The sax again is the primary tune carrier, the centrepiece for the ear to follow, and in shutting my eyes and following it for a good few seconds I wonder if it isn't a bit much. An electrified guitar has been added to the mix, and its tones are particularly cheesy. I think this combination of the over-dominant saxophone and the cheese-tastic guitar are a bit of a turn off, and I blame them for my wandering attention. For the first two tunes I didn't find myself looking at other web pages.

Today was a decent day - low key, just prep for going away and enjoying the rugby. Just. Almost a monumental self destruct from England, but not quite. The thought of the final day of the 6 Nations awaiting me when I return, baggy-eyed, to Heathrow on Saturday morning is hopefully going to carry me through the jetlag of a first long-haul trip in a decade. The title track has the same energy as John S. but not the cheese. It is a busy little number. I am, also, apparently unable to tell the difference between guitar and keyboard; checking up on it, there is no key part, so that organ-like sound is actually the same cheesy guitar tone. What. An. Idiot. Me, not the guitar player. I find The Bridge has been and gone in my self admonishment, replaced by another slower piece. I find myself more appreciative of the gentle pace, even if some of the notes feel almost random in application - the odd jump in what is otherwise a nice theme.

Despite these out of place notes - they seem to diminish as it progresses - and its encouragement for my yawning maw (man, I knew yawning was infectious, but I didn't know reading the word had the same effect as watching someone else yawn), God Bless This Child is a really nice track. Soft accompaniment for a slide into relaxation. Just need an empty street with low-wattage lighting, a cool hat and some 50s motors parked up in the moonlight to complete the image.

The album ends with a take on You Do Something To Me; the only other version of this I am familiar with is Paul Weller's. This, as an instrumental jazz piece, is very different and if I didn't know going in that it was the same root I wouldn't be able to place it - but the metadata on the track calls out Cole Porter's composition so... I find the tune rather bland to be honest. Something about the arrangement is less comfortingly relaxing than the previous tune, even if that is just that by now I have had my fill of very standard jazz. I find myself glad when the tune drops out and Rollins' saxophone leads us out over a much reduced backing.

Overall, I don't know what to make of this record. I certainly enjoyed most of it, though in a detached, spacey kind of way befitting my head being on tomorrow's travel. That said, where I really noticed it was when it got too staid, too templated or too cheesy. I have always been particularly fickle about my music and I wonder if that fickleness isn't just putting a bee in my ear about this particular cut. I think I'm going to sleep on it before I make excisions of my own.

Bridge over Troubled Water - Simon & Garfunkel

Track list:

1. Bridge over Troubled Water
2. El Condor Pasa (If I Could)
3. Cecilia
4. Keep the Customer Satisfied
5. So Long Frank Lloyd Wright
6. The Boxer
7. Baby Driver
8. The Only Living Boy In New York
9. Why Don't You Write Me
10. Bye Bye Love
11. Song for the Asking
12. Feuilles-O
13. Bridge Over Troubled Water

Running time: 43 minutes
Released: 1970

A classic I was moved to pick up because... I don't know why. I have Simon's Graceland too, which I have listened to more, but I have never been a particular fan of him or the duo. I think I must have felt - at some point probably close on 15 years back - that I really ought to listen to this. Either that or it was so cheap I couldn't pass it up. I wonder what a dedicated listen will offer?

We start with the very recognisible chords of the title track - a song I have two of, since the "bonus tracks" on this disc include another recording of it. A weekend where I didn't get to a listen on Saturday, and this one is being squeezed in (today was Mother's Day here). The song is a little soporific, subdued. I don't think this is the version I am more familiar with. The melody is nice and clear, soothing, the vocal has its moments but does not inspire me. It is better when they harmonise but even then it gets a bit grandstand-y, all blow no show. I am not a fan.

The opening to the second track is more promising, Spanish guitars, but it is far less interesting once the vocals start and it devolves into a rather stereotyped style, the sound more Greek to my ears than Spanish. By the time Cecilia starts I am thinking that even at a price too cheap to pass up this is not for me. This track is far too happy-clappy for my liking, with really nothing to recommend it to me. The blusier sound of Keep the Customer Satisfied is more interesting but at the same time its basic progression is so cliched and standard that it sounds like a thousand other songs; I can't escape that feeling which rather ruins the track for me.

The plus point that offsets these whinges of mine is that each track is very different from the last. Thus far they are equally unengaging though, and I find my eye drawn to the figure waving Amazonian bugs around on the silenced TV in the background instead. I really shouldn't have it on whilst otherwise occupied; bad habit. Seems that the energy usage is not a significant factor though, to go by the reading on the smart meter.

The Boxer is another instantly recognisible track. This has a cadence and a timbre that is more pleasing, even before the chorus with its distinctive lai-la-lais. The softer tone but consistent rumble of the guitar create a nice space, and the rise and fall of the vocal fills that space, giving it shape and form to the ear that my brain translates as relaxing. I wasn't aware that it got dark though - some threatening sounds creep in between 3 and 4 minutes somewhere, but all fall out by the end. It all feels a little schizophrenic, a bit like the whole album and its inability to stick to a style or theme. Simon and Garfunkel were certainly varied to go by this. More happy-clappiness follows, definitely sounding its age - birthed in the 60s, though the album itself scraped into the 70s before arriving. There are elements of The Beatles in Baby Driver I reckon, though that particular group are one I am far from qualified to talk about.

The Only Living Boy in New York... another tune that is a step above the majority. This time next week I'll be on a plane heading in that direction, business not pleasure, though I'm going to NJ, not NY. Wrong side of the Hudson. The song stands out because... it doesn't stand out? There doesn't appear to be such a gimmick here in the way that some of the other tunes have had. This sort of style, laid back folky guitars, is more what I would have expected from this pair; maybe I like it more because it aligns to expectation. I am not so keen on the next track which makes me think of cheesy movies that don't date well, nor on the swell of crowd applause that drowns out Bye Bye Love - this is a clap-along live recording it seems with an overly jaunty guitar that just makes me a little queasy. It sounds like a precursor to Graceland (some 16 years hence at this point) in some ways though... and I would hazard that between the two, Simon worked out how to apply the effect better.

Couple of shorties, then the second rendition of the title track. Song for the Asking sounds like a lot of 70s folk that presumably followed this, which is to say its pretty bland and sad, but pleasant with it. The brightness of the guitar offsets the maudlin strings and the short and sweet nature of the song  wraps it into a more than acceptable package. The French song that is the first of the two bonuses is really dull; it is also very short but brevity is not enough to save it.

Those chords again - we're reaching the end. This is a softer opening, I prefer the vocal here and the piano-only recording. There isn't quite the grandstanding here, though the same stresses are all present. It is all just a little more understated, and we Brits love that more than brashness. It isn't all piano and voice, percussion arriving later, even if it is handmade. This version feels more authentic somehow, purer, better - or at least more to my taste. I didn't get on with a lot of this album if I'm honest, but there are a few highlights to maintain. Given that I probably got it for a pittance, that's not too bad, then.

Breathe Easy - Dan Lyth

Track list:

1. Breathe Easy

Running time: 3 minutes
Released: 2004

Random singleton now. I can only assume this was a free download from somewhere; I don't know where. I only have the title track from this EP and nothing else by Dan Lyth to suggest how or where I came across him.

Acoustic guitar, a simple hook. A geeky comic-book lyric. A voice that sounds like it is straining to be able to sing at all delivering a whispered style. It feels like a nothing track to me. A bit further in and the arrangement gets more interesting, some nice background tones, but the foreground is not for me. A little flat and bland, and over in a jiffy. One for the recycle bin.

Breaking in an Angel - Red Animal War

Track list:

1. Weak Bones May Break
2. Anthem
3. Safe In The Air
4. Starter
5. Dark Country
6. Blue Shift
7. From Cold To Colder
8. Heath
9. Hope
10. The Disappearing Act
11. Get-Away Driver

Running time: 44 minutes
Released: 2001

Random interlude time. I think I have this because I really got on with And None of Them Knew They Were Robots so went looking for similar stuff. I don't know how successful that was, or indeed how similar this actually is, but I am reasonably confident that was the path that led me here.

There's certainly a base similarity in the structures on the opening track, and in the less than musical but effective vocal. It is... raw, yet with a nice bright sound in the melody despite the grungy garage rock sentiment. Oh, hey. A midweek evening post. I think its a first for this year. The first track maybe lasts a little long; by three minutes the impact has worn off. There isn't the instant visceral appeal of the Robots here, less emotion bleeding through the singer.

As Anthem starts I find the vocal flat, the slightly off-kilter style nasal and unappealing. The music is distant, alternating between very busy and very melodic, drum-heavy and tuneful. I think that is what appeals about this style - the juxtaposition of sheer noise with some really bright clear and tuneful lines. Its an evolution on punk, keeping the sheer energy and anarchy but harnessing it along with musicality, rather than chucking the latter out. That said, all interest fades from Anthem as the sounds become muted, the vocal long since dead. Long unnecessary lead out, followed by a long lead in to the third track, which is immediately better once the singing arrives - lyrics screamed out with controlled anger and offering the contrast to the tune. Raw emotion in those strained words, a vital ingredient to make this form work. It drains over the course of a track though as expectations reset and baseline, which means that I am finding anything past the three minute mark on these tracks much less interesting than the way they open.

More energy and life in Starter. Faster pace. Its also more obviously bland garage rock. Very generic sound, less craft. The constantly strummed bass note is such a staple, its clichéd. The extra momentum on the track is welcome though - if they could marry that, and the short snappy length, to the hoarse vocal of Safe in the Air and the tuneful/noisy contrast of the first track we might find a sweet spot. Red Animal War show a knack for a more interesting rhythm and structure on Dark Country, which I think is the best track so far - no one element as good as the counterpart on a prior track, but the whole hanging together better... for just under 3 of the 3 minutes 48 seconds anyway. The last minute could very easily not exist and it would be a better song.

This listen is both interesting - I am certain I have never paid attention to any of these tracks before - and frustrating. There's great core appeal here, but the execution is ever so slightly off each time, weak points in every song to offset the strengths that are evident. New favourite, Blue Shift. This one seems to avoid the trap of getting dull after the three minute mark, it shifts tone and tempo around a bit and works.

Isn't it funny how a vocal style can be really great on some tracks and really grate on others? Uncultured shouting is the effect I get from it in the context of From Cold to Colder, and yet I am fairly certain that the delivery is not far removed from the raw and angry sound I liked earlier. Hmm. Random change to acoustic intro, I don't think that was necessary or advisable. Heath is the longest track on the disc, just over 5 minutes and it starts one of the weakest. At its midpoint it has one of the most tuneful and pleasant sections of the album but for all that it is deathly dull. These guys showed that they had more to them than this, and the lighter sound may be more melodic but it doesn't have the heart of the noisier parts.

The opening of Hope has the balance more right - busy, bustling and loud. That is what I want from rockier, punkier music, the energy and life to overwhelm the senses and distract from the assault that is often a rather unpleasant base sound. There is nothing too untuneful here - the vocal aside, just lulls that dispel any sense of momentum. I think my take home from this listen is that I probably shouldn't go looking for more ... hold that thought. The Disappearing Act very strangely turns into a flute piece for a moment. That's a what the hell, out of the blue. Until it collapsed in on itself it had been a promising piece. Where was I? Oh, yes - do not go looking for anything in the same ear-busting, mind blowing category loud screaming punk-y rock; if it comes to me, great, but the up and down on this album suggests more than ever what a miracle in microcosm And None of them Knew They Were Robots was. I rather like bits and pieces of Breaking in an Angel, but as a whole... it ends up as much being defined for me by what it isn't as by what it actually is, and that's a shame.