All Hail West Texas (Remastered) - The Mountain Goats

Track List:

1. The Best Ever Death Metal Band In Denton
2. Fall Of The Star High School Running Back
3. Color In Your Cheeks
4. Jenny
5. Fault Lines
6. Balance
7. Pink And Blue
8. Riches And Wonders
9. The Mess Inside
10. Jeff Davis County Blues
11. Distant Stations
12. Blues In Dallas
13. Source Decay
14. Absolute Lithops Effect
15. Hardpan Song
16. Answering the Phone
17. Indonesia
18. Midland
19. Jenny (alt. take)
20. Tape Travel is Lonely
21. Waco

Running time: 61 minutes
Released: 2002

OK, we have an unexpected repeat now. I somehow missed that a remastered version of this favourite was available, complete with a bunch of bonus tracks and new liner notes by Mr Darnielle. I kinda had to pick it up once I saw it existed. I toyed with the idea of just listening to the new stuff, but... nah. I don't think I'll be able to make comparisons with the prior release because I'd have to listen to each track twice back to back. Just previewing it whilst ripping it sounds clearer in places but that could be kidology. 

This may have been available at the point when I bought All Hail West Texas for the first time; I don't really recall how long I have had, and loved, this material. Still, here I am, with something to listen to...

There is still a crackle at the opening of The Best Ever Death Metal Band in Denton, and Darnielle's voice sounds properly scratchy. Actually I catch myself thinking that the remaster may have more scratch and interference on it than the original issue. This feels rawer, fuzzier and harder to like, but I suspect a lot of that is rose tinting from the time since I last played the record. The fuzziness is unavoidable in a way that perhaps a flatter mastering tempered. What do I know? Nothing, that's what.

Colour In Your Cheeks is peppy, the riff is a little blurred by the recording but the punchy, separated blocks as it cycles through the keynotes are genius in terms of pacing and framing the track. On this track the vocal fares better - clearer for sure - and this carries over into Jenny, though the clarity here comes from proximity and volume, with the voice blocking out the general fuzz on the track. There is a really nice snap in the post-chorus guitar. Whilst the buzz on the line (as it were) is ever present, the vitality and essence of these songs is immense and immediate. I recently picked up the Goats' latest issue, Goths, and despite the more modern releases having more sophistication in terms of production the songs have but a little of the compel that I feel from these. Maybe that is the younger, angrier nature of things shining through and bringing energy, maybe it is that the creative well ran deeper, maybe I'm just so not a goth that an album of that name couldn't inspire... who knows.

Balance is a fucking awesome track. One of my all time faves. The guitar work guts me, the vocal punches the scar. It rips through me and leaves me happier for it.

Somehow that tune also seems to avoid the interference from the artefacts of recording, but I suspect that's my mind screening it out because of what the song does for me. In any case, I notice the buzz back hard on the follow up, which has a softer tone - what with dealing with new parenthood and all. At times it feels like the tape hum is being employed as a bassline, at others the frequency is subsumed by the lower thrum of Darnielle's guitar.

In truth I am not sure what the remastering adds (or removes) - no surprise there - but I am really looking forward to the new tracks. This is a first listen, albeit one where the first 66% is familiar. There is a nice clarity to the strumming on The Mess Inside, a rougher edge to the emotional, almost shouted vocal. The melody supports that emotion well, the lyrics demand it, and the track is powerful as a result.

Summer is gone; travel schedules have been messed up, it's raining heavily (or was until recently), and I've been feeling lonely of late. Making space for this listen is a good enforced stop and take stock. The songs on this disc are ones where paying some attention yields rewards, but they are also familiar friends by now. Walking the line between giving my ear, relaxing into the familiar structures, and actually commenting on things is a tricky one. I realise that I didn't really comment too much on things with the original listen - there is a bit more here already than on that post - but I don't necessarily feel a strong need to say much about these tunes. Yes, this album is a strong favourite, and one that I could evangelise about to someone I thought might appreciate it, but I have long since backed off from spreading the word into a soundless void, and on the off-chance any human being stumbles over this post then the only ones who read it will be familiar with the work anyway.

Ugh - that last sentence is my mind in a microcosm right now. Wrapped up in self admonishment and self pity. That's what I started the listening to push back against. Funny how bringing it up worked as a sort of focusing device, and not in a helpful way.

For what it's worth, I haven't really got any more fond of Blues in Dallas than I was originally.

The plus point of that observation is that we are almost onto the bonus tracks, the things I haven't heard yet. There is a little bit of trepidation there - I might be building them up too much, putting too much wait on their being contemporaries of the original set. They will be of interest, at least - even if they disappoint.

There is a lovely road trip image associated with Source Decay, partially from the lyrics, partially from memories of driving to it - even if that driving was on my regular commute. They are nice images, those memories - fields between villages, few cars on the road. They're probably not reflective of the actual journeys. I find myself drifting a little, then refocus my thoughts. I suspect that the remaster concentrated on cleaning up the guitar parts, because this is always pretty clear. The hums, thrums, and fuzzes from the recording are ever present, but they generally affect the voice more. In all - I don't find any significant differences in the fourteen original tracks.

There is some dead air before the bonuses begin - silence on the end of Absolute Lithops Effect. Then some oddities. Then Hardpan Song. First impressions are that it is sort of bland. Darnielle speaks his way through his lyrics as much as anything, and whilst there is clearly some urgency in the guitar work the riffs  don't have the immediate pull that they might have. That, though, is remedied on Answering the Phone - which harks strongly back to The Mess Inside, but veers into darker sounds rather than raw emotional ones, with lyrics to match. The sound here is raw, much more so than the previous tracks, but that doesn't seem to be universal to the bonuses as the next song doesn't have that same feel.

This track is busier, faster guitar work - fitting more notes in, rather than genuinely maintaining a faster pace. Its a nicer song for it. The strumming has a depth and melody to it that is often lacking on this album, and provides a welcome change. These bonuses are short numbers on the whole, racing by before I can really coalesce any worthwhile thoughts. I'll settle for a nod that they do, generally, fit with the tone of the core. That is helped, I guess, by one of the new ones being a re-recording of Jenny with a few variations in guitar and different pacing in the vocal in a couple of spots, but it definitely applied before that tune hit.

It still applies to Tape Travel is Lonely, though only just. There are definitely common elements here, but this song feels different in vocal style and lyrical focus. Less personal somehow - meaning less about people more than anything else; the track also ends abruptly, a little oddly. Then I am on the final stretch.

Last track Waco ends abruptly too, and the room falls silent. Run out of tape, John? Overall I am glad I bought this, and whilst I could probably cut the original album at this point I don't feel inclined to as having both gives more chance for those songs to come up! I might make a gift of the original hardcopy though, try to find someone to induct into the world of The Mountain Goats.

The Cage was Unlocked All Along - Zoey Van Goey

Track list:

1. The Best Treasure Stays Buried   
2. We Don't Have That Kind Of Bread   
3. Sweethearts In Disguise   
4. We All Hid In Basements   
5. Two White Ghosts   
6. Foxtrot Vandals   
7. My Persecution Complex   
8. Nae Wonder   
9. Cotton Covering   
10. City Is Exploding

Running time: 33 minutes
Released: 2009

This is a gem. Glasgow-based (but otherwise multi-national non-Scots) Zoey Van Goey are purveyors of a charming and fun indie-pop sound on this record. I think I owe LastFM a debt of thanks for bringing them to my attention. After loving this a lot, I was giddy when they released follow-up Propeller Versus Wings, but felt they couldn't re-bottle the lightning that made this so special. Lets hear why.

We open with a skittering, broken sort of sound that takes 20 seconds or so to resolve into an understated tune, and a wonderful vocal. The Best Treasure Stays Buried is a parting song, but one with the hope of reforming later. Its a story in a song, an after the event heist recount, a love song, a gorgeous little melody, a wellspring of hope. The chorus is... one of those my mind grabs onto sometimes as an embodiment of one of those things I miss out on as a perpetually single person. It's one of my favourite tunes, but I'm not sure its even my favourite on this album.

The tone shifts next, more uptempo but more kooky. Actually this whole album is kinda kitsch and geeky in terms of the imagery in the lyrics, I guess that's part of the appeal. It's not like the general subject of the songs is particularly different from most indie and pop, or indeed indie-pop, but the specifics of the implementation are a bit off-the-wall in places. It gives the album a unique selling point that, when married to the cute little compositions gives me a reason to keep coming back to it. Sweethearts in Disguise is another shift, a soft acoustic guitar leads this one. I particularly like the duet of the chorus. The female lead vocal is nice but when offset by an almost whisper-volume male underlay it really soars. I think I read somewhere that these songs were written long before the band got together or something, that the songwriter had years to work on them as a labour of love. If true, it shows; if not then some alchemy produced the same effect faster. Each song has a theme and focus, and a performance that embodies it. Musically it shifts the tone from track to track, whilst generally sticking in the light poppy genre.

We All Hid In Basements is a post-apocalyptic love song, sort of. The overall tone of the piece is fearful (of change, of lack of change, of technology, of the modern world), but the central message is a soppy love song about going through that with a loved one. The crescendo builds a nice more elaborate sound, set off by a really high pitched line singing through a wall of noisier low-end sound. It's a little post-rocky for a second; I really like that.

This is a short album, clocking in at just over half an hour for 10 tracks it means each one flies by and, given the tonal changes from song to song, that helps keep it really fresh. A bright, simple little guitar hook supports Two White Ghosts, a memory of TEFL (I guess) and finding solace in the arms of a fellow traveller. Its one of two weaker songs in the set, but it is still thoroughly listenable. Then we hit what has become my favourite ZvG song. Foxtrot Vandals is... well, what I imagine certain things I don't have to be like. It's a blitz of light, colour and overwhelming emotion wrapped up in a pacy, breathless song with an absolutely stunning little chorus:

and i just want to take you home again
so we can break the law
that keeps our feet down on the floorboards
nowhere to fall

 In context its stunning, out of context here it looks trite. Maybe its just me.

My Persecution Complex is another peppy-paced number, more of a lovers tiff in a tune. Its catchy little rhythm, lovely little vocal, emotional honesty and tempo roll together into a very enjoyable track. The bridge is a mournful little string tune, which has just enough loneliness to it to really suck me in, and whilst the lead out gets a little dull, the song's work is done. Then we get the oddest and least accessible tune on the disc. Nae Wonder is a slow piece, ethereal strings backing alternating female/male lines which are definitely sung, but at a stately, speech-like quality. It then samples an old Scottish voice talking. The music never really picks up that much and whilst the swirling, tinkling bell-like sounds are nice enough, the song feels out of place really.

Cotton Covering returns to the same kind of pace of Foxtrot Vandals and My Persecution Complex, but has yet another subtly different tone to it. It's definitely another lovers song, but this is a rolling force of personality. the energy to this is more controlled, forceful, directed than the pure outburst of FV or the regretful release of MPC. The vocal shares some of the breathlessness, as a lot is crammed into lines that aren't given that much space by the constantly rolling guitars. The only pause for breath is in the chorus, which echoes the regretful themes from other tracks on the record. It's a wonder, but Foxtrot Vandals overtook it as my favourite tune here a while back.

The final piece is a slower, lower one. This provides a nice book-ending effect. The album opens and closes with soft sounds, starts and ends with differently expressed views of (absent) loves. I've found this listen difficult; much as I love these tunes, the speed at which they ticked by did not leave me much time to think. Whilst this final track gives me that as it has a bit more space in it, I ponder on the little romantic inside of me which leads me to be charmed by songs such as these. There's no doubt that this album is one of quirky love songs; that shouldn't mean much to me, but it does.

A final note for the album cover: the picture above is only part of the sleeve, it folds out into a wonderful little cartoony scene. I found the full imagery charming, like the songs on the disc it tells its own quirky story. It is that ever-so-slightly bizarre charm that really sells this record. One of the best you've never heard.

Buffalo - The Phoenix Foundation

Track list:

1. Eventually
2. Buffalo
3. Flock of Hearts
4. Pot
5. Bitte Bitte
6. Skeleton
7. Orange & Mango
8. Bailey's Beach
9. Wonton
10. Golden Ship

Running time: 42 minutes
Released: 2011

A favourite now. I remember getting this when it came out in the UK - I think some time after it had been out in their native New Zealand (yes, I am using Kiwi as the nationality tag). I don't recall what prompted me to get it because whilst I had heard of The Phoenix Foundation, and already had Horsepower (and/or Pegasus, I'm not sure which) I hadn't been that impressed with what I had heard. I am very glad I did though; Buffalo was one of my favourite releases from 2011, and it led me to a great gig and several more TPF albums.

Eventually starts with a mellow spacey introduction, a detached-sounding voice joining it. It's a low-key opener. Despite being on holiday I have not had a chance to do any of this for the past week, spending time swimming and eating at beachfront tavernas instead and trying to put thoughts of the horror of Brexit out of my mind to mixed success. My vacation has but a few days left to run, and I am now back with stable internet and more free time for the remainder to enjoy things like music. The tones here remain other-worldly, echo-y, throughout. It's music to relax to, gentle swells, like the waves around Naxos where I passed the week. I do think that, perhaps, it runs a little long. Whilst lush, the tune doesn't have that much in the way of engagement to it to justify the 5+ minute length.

The title track is, thankfully, a little more peppy, with a nice simple riff and a higher tempo. The vocal still carries elements of echoing harmonics, a reference point against the preceding number, but the track as a whole has a very different feel. It is fun, but nonsense. Buffalo in the ocean... what? In general I would prefer more meaningful lyrics rather than any old gubbins put up to make the right line structure or fit to the chords already committed. I hadn't realised this before but the album cover hints at this whacky idea.

I think the core of the album is the next few tracks. Flock of Hearts is a gentle roll, a sort of super-laid back tune that actually manages an effortless cool in a way that Jack Johnson just failed to for me. There is just a little more richness in the sound without being overwhelming - little riffs or sections that lift it, and more interplay between the elements. The star turn though is Pot. This song just kills it, a really catchy base structure and then a sublime harmonised vocal. The way the layers sit over and under each other is just perfect. I can't really hear the intricacies fully here - or at least, the experience is a little dulled compared to when I first heard it - but when the wandering electronics come in as an in-between line it takes off, the three elements setting each other off perfectly. It also closes before you get bored of the gorgeous harmony and start wanting something more substantial. A glorious number.

Catchy rhythm is the basis for Bitte Bitte. Its not rocket science, its not the most accomplished songwriting, but it is effective. Tempo, structure, and variation. The lyrics are a play on words (one that doesn't really work too well for me), and veer into nonsense more than I would like, but they fit the crucible they are offered well enough. I am less a fan of how the song concludes though, ooh-oohing its way out. There is a change of tone and feel for Skeleton; it's a little janky and spooky, but the vocal floats out nicely over the wind-effect. The chorus is a little bleak (burning bodies in the fields); this is not a carefree track. I rather like the tonal contrast with what has come before - and what follows; that light and dark, off and on, yin and yang. Too much of the same thing gets dull.

What comes next is light and silly. Orange & Mango is happy and clappy, a bop-along feelgood tune despite - again - utterly weird and nonsense lyrics. The chorus ("It takes two to tango, like an orange and a mango") is infectious and its hard to be too churlish about the words on this project when I can only report on them because I know them ahead of the listen. This track - like the album as a whole, and probably like The Phoenix Foundation's overall portfolio - is a mood piece.

Painting emotions with music rather than writing killer songs; there is certainly a place for this approach.

We come down again now, lower key, slower tempo. Almost soporific, but relaxingly so rather than boringly. Its a calm little drift on a gentle current. Little blooms in the music functioning as localised currents in a stream, adjusting the flow and direction. Like watching water run and swirl, it's easy to get carried along, submitting to the low-care nature. I have never met an up-tight Kiwi; whilst there must be some, a natural and easy-going approach seems to be a national trait.

Wonton raises the tempo a little, but only enough to trap you in a faster flowing stream which will soothe and carry you to relaxation as much as the slower numbers. I find myself trapped in the main riff, excluding the trills this time. The natural cadence of these tunes is perfectly judged. They is no forcing anything, they flow, they sway, they just are.  The final number has a lusher sound; the vocal is detached again, as has been a common thread on this work, but the overall feel to Golden Ship is very different from Eventually despite sharing these traits. There is more purpose here, a stronger driving force behind the drum and guitar base that the spacier sounds absorb and surround. It's not a quick piece by any means but it is a more directed one. The opening tune was free to drift, this moves with purpose.

There are many, many holes in this album that actual music critics would probably fall over themselves to poke through, but for me it just works. The rich, lush, layered sounds entice and entwine me, and make the album as a whole a very comforting and familiar friend. Pot, though, stands head and shoulders above any other tune here; it is just a wonderful 3 and a half minutes that I wish I could share with more people. Oh, wait; I don't normally do this, but:

Video is weird as hell, mind.

Bryter Layter - Nick Drake

Track list:

1. Introduction
2. Hazey Jane II
3. At the Chime of a City Clock
4. One of These Things First
5. Hazey Jane I
6. Bryter Layter
7. Fly
8. Poor Boy
9. Northern Sky
10. Sunday

Running time: 39 minutes
Released: 1971

From one white boy with a guitar to another - but there I think the similarities start dying out. I waver on which of Nick Drake's material I like best - though reading down the track list I see three particular favourites. I actually listened to this a couple of days ago, whilst preparing the house to have 5 friends round all day, because I'd been wanting to sit and listen since I saw it was up next. This time, I'm here and can write.

The Introduction is a pleasant guitar melody and a swell of strings. The thing about this Drake album in particular is the arrangements, the depth beyond his guitar. They are lush, peaceful and serene - far from the stereotype of dark and troubled songs with a lone guitar flickering alone. I always found it odd when part II of a song appeared before part I - as with Hazey Jane here. I have always adored the roll of II; I don't think its his best track, but there is a nice lilt to it, a thrum in the guitar lead, and a buzz in the horns. It is a nice, breezy number and plenty accessible. Drake has one of those timeless voices; because he died so young he is remembered young, pictured young, heard young. That youth, to me, is epitomised by the vocal here feeling fresh, still, some 45 years on.

I love the use of strings here. The arrangements are simply superb, and the sax that offsets Drake's voice on At the Chime of a City Clock is weighted nicely too. I'm not a huge fan of the wandering saxophone like this, but it is judged well for the most part. One of These Things First has always been a favourite and its the piano line that makes it so. The guitar wanders and provides the lower end, but its when the piano hits the high notes that I smile the most. Listening closely, I find the drums a little too prevalent for what is a rather staid rhythm, but that really is quibbling. A little further from the speaker, or a little less concentration and they would fade back into the wider arrangement.

It's impossible to sit and ruminate on Nick Drake and his music without coming back to the tragedy of his death, the sheer popularity of his music in recent years and the complete obscurity at the time. It's a well trodden path, written about with more care, knowledge and aplomb than I could muster. What astounds me is the idea that something this easy paced, beautifully arranged and accessible could have bombed. I got into Nick Drake at university. I hadn't heard of him at all before then, but a friend had all of the studio albums and I picked them up not long after he introduced me. I am guilty of not returning to them often enough; this listen is proving that. The title track is an instrumental which surprises me - I don't remember enough of the less famous tracks; Bryter Later, Fly, Sunday... all had no imprint in my mind before this unlike, say, Northern Sky - which has been flying round my head for about 3 days now.

Fly is, actually, not that nice. Certainly it is a big step down from what has been before. The intimacy of the vocal is different, and the playing supporting Drake feels less apt, despite being provided by two well known musicians in their own right (and the same pair that support Northern Sky, to come). I think its the vocal recording that makes this feel weird. Oh well - a step down from lofty heights still leaves plenty to enjoy. Poor Boy is one of those songs I don't recognise from the name, but I do from the sound. The backing singers, the sax part, the piano... it comes together nicely, and again has a gentle roll to it. Its a long track, and I found myself staring into space for most of it, ears loosely tracing the patterns of the tune, dimly aware of its progress. I snap back into focus for the beginning of Northern Sky which really is the most beautiful track... There is a haunting element to the vocal here, offsetting a truly glorious melody - largely provided by the piano, but the construction of the bass part is crucial too. If you only listen to one Nick Drake song... make it this one. I am not convinced it is my favourite (I have a very soft spot for Place to Be from Pink Moon as my gateway), but it is, I think possibly his best.

Sunday is positively ghastly by comparison, which is to say that it is a perfectly serviceable instrumental lead out. In another context it would be a very enjoyable little tune, but it feels like such a climb down here - even at its zenith. I find it appearing to go on forever (it is under 4 minutes); it just feels like the album ended already. Now that it has, I think I need to repeat Northern Sky one more time...

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.

Bombshell - King Creosote

Track list:

1. Leslie
2. Home in a Sentence
3. You’ve No Clue Do You
4. Cowardly Custard
5. Church as Witness
6. There’s None of That
7. Nooks
8. Now Drop Your Bombshell
9. Admiral
10. Cockle Shell
11. Spystick
12. At the W.A.L.
13. And the Racket They Made

Running time: 51 minutes
Released: 2007

Time for a true favourite now, one good enough to wash away the disappointment of an album cut entirely from my collection last time out. This album contains a couple of my most played songs, one that I can recognise from the first note alone and closes with a tune that would hint at the magic in the combination of King Creosote and Jon Hopkins, which would later earn them a Mercury nod for Diamond Mine.

From the opening bars of Leslie I am instantly back in a cocoon that only King Creosote can create. Long drawn out notes on his accordion accompanying his voice - ever a knife edge between brilliance and brokenness that I love. Gruffness, but also fragility, a combination that - along with a lot of his lyrics - speaks to me in a way no other musician does. There is a reason this guy is out on his own at the head of my most listened list, and it isn't just that he has been prolific over the years because I don't have all those CDR albums he self-produced for Fence.

I am going to leave this link to a Grauniad piece here: its the only time I've ever stumbled over something like a listen report, and it happens to be for one of my all time favourites. The writer is far more shrewd about interpreting songs and gives timestamps which clearly mean it wasn't done live (or presumably from a single play), but it was an interesting read, and another shining endorsement of this album. For the record, I don't think its as good as KC Rules OK.

I find it quite hard to write much about the individual tracks, they are so grooved into my consciousness over years of listening. Stylistically it moves about a bit. By You've No Clue Do You - a Cluedo-inspired number, who'd have thought? - it is in mainstream guitar pop mode but somehow it still appeals to me, feels a million miles away from that mainstream. I think its a combination of the odd subject matter and that voice again. It's far from the strongest number on the album as a result though... I am far more charmed by the like of Cowardly Custard - self-deprecating and heartfelt, it makes a break-up song catchy, easy to relate to and I have a great fondness for it as a result.

For all my familiarity with these songs, I have never really pegged some of the details. We ascribe our own interpretations on to things quite firmly, even as our appreciation of things changes over time. I never used to think much of Church as Witness - too slow and regretful - when I was younger but I find myself more drawn to it now. I don't have children, so I can barely imagine the level of self-loathing the described events conjured, but it is a powerful emotion that here is bravely put to song and shared. Powerful. That we then get a more upbeat number, is welcome. Of course, that upbeat tone is only skin deep; all the jaunty, easy tunes in the world wont disguise the bitterness of the lyrics, which basically boil down to "there's nothing good in this relationship," but it does take the edge off and make for a decent song. I notice on this listen that the lead out is a bit too long, though, so it's not perfect.

At least now we get a tune that is nice and whimsical, a positive take on the whole relationship thing rather than a bitter retrospective. There is something incredibly formulaic about Nooks, and yet... I don't know if its the fact that I can immediately relate to the situation described, the small touches, the fact that this sits within an album of favourite tunes or what, but I don't find the simple repetitive tune at all off-putting, nor the clichéd topic eye-rollingly dull. Funny how we can excuse the faults of the things we like eh? If this tune had been by anyone else it would probably be unlistenably bad. I do like the way the tone of these tunes wanders all over the place - mournful, regretful, forceful, jaunty, new-love happy, bitter... KC's voice and playing supports them all equally. It means you are always hearing something different, but no less good.

Ah, Admiral. I rarely listen to this track any more, but it is the song that sold me on King Creosote way back when I first heard it on Last FM. It really is spine-tinglingly good, goosebumps and shivers on the delivery of the chorus (I almost capitalized that out of habit; the things work does to us, eh?) is just... well, brilliant and broken. Here KC is singing near the top of his range and it introduces a strained sound to the vocal that sounds like a lump in the throat which is utterly perfect and appropriate for the subject matter. I think this song is a pretty good barometer of whether you will love (not like, I would point you more to Home in a Sentence or Cowardly Custard for that) King Creosote or not.

This listen is on a lazy Saturday morning, the week before Christmas. I need to toddle up the road to Majestic to pick up boozy presents a bit later, but hopefully after the deliveries I am waiting for arrive. I got home at 2.30 this morning after being in Bristol for a friend's birthday. Driving back late at night has become a thing; the lure of my own bed beating that of drinking and merriment. Huh. This listen is a good slow start to the day. The last quarter of the album is particularly strong for me. Spystick is a re-recording of a track from the CDR days, given a much lusher arrangement, a menacing drone and a relentless drive, the backing vocal adding a sense of paranoia entirely appropriate for the stalker-ish nature of the lyrics, then At the W.A.L. (Women Against Laughter - no, not very PC but rather knowing about it, I ascribe a self-awareness to it; I have to or feel dirty about the song) starts slow, but once the scene is established we get an injection of pace and purpose and a riff that supports the rest of the song comes in, the lyrics quickly devolve to plaintive cries of "Its gonna be alright" with the edginess and emotion of his voice carrying the day. Everything goes a bit mental musically in a long old lead out, but unlike There's None of That it doesn't overstay its welcome.

The real crown jewel here though is the closer. I think that And the Racket they made is an HMS Ginafore song (she provides the backing vocals here) covered by KC, not the other way around but I can't find anything to back this up. I have seen live clips and heard streams of a more guitar-ridden rendition and that spoils it some for me, but here on the album Jon Hopkins' sparse arrangement and KC's voice lift the poetic lyrics into an almost religious experience for me, just so perfectly matched and observed. It's very, very quiet, thoughtful and reflective. Powerful imagery and masterful execution - I could listen to it over and over; it is one of my all time favourite tunes - but only in this particular version.

Blue Lines - Massive Attack

Track list:

1. Safe From Harm
2. One Love
3. Blue Lines
4. Be Thankful For What You've Got
5. Five Man Army
6. Unfinished Sympathy
7. Daydreaming
8. Lately
9. Hymn Of The Big Wheel

Running time: 45 minutes
Released: 1991

Ten years ago this would definitely have been tagged as a favourite. Now I'm not so certain. I pretty much guarantee I'll love it, but it isn't a disc I return to often. I have the original, not the remastered version and I think that I got into this through my brother - not unusual way back when; though he is younger than me he bought more music than I when we were in our teens. To think this is almost 25 years old now... its a true classic, but how does it listen this much later?

Two full albums in a day... I could be listening to this year's Mercury winner (which I need to do some point soon having picked it up, and it being an A), but the only reason I am doing this post now is that I want to hear these tunes.

The bass riff that forms the structure of Safe From Harm is iconic, Shara Nelson's vocal is amazing. Talk about setting a tone in the first 30 seconds. The periphery of the bass is incidental. There's stuff there but that riff is so strong. I have the disc of the samples that inspired Massive Attack somewhere in the future so that I can appreciate the source but there is no doubt at all that this stands as a shining example of how to sample and enhance. At 5 minutes the track feels short, compared with the tunes I listened to earlier which overstayed their welcome. I really should tag this "favourites" after all so I have. It only took 10 seconds to convince me.

Horace Andy appears for the first time on One Love. It never ceases to amaze me how many Massive Attack tunes are made or broken by this man. Either by the application of his vocal, or by virtue of being re-imaginings of songs from his past. There is a cool menace in the track here, and that combination of words is not a natural one. It's funny what the slightly tipsy brain will produce. In addition to wanting, and indulging, to listen to this now, I have a) just watched ep. 3 of London Spy - some very nice scenes - and seen trails for Luther and Line of Duty, two shows I am very pleased will reappear on screen soon. It's been a good evening in that regard.

Blue Lines sees us exposed to early Tricky for the first time, less angry here than on his own stuff. The interplay between the vocalists is nice, backed by a very chilled rhythm. Its a style that is really hard to deliver well - there is almost nothing to it in places. Many imitators since have failed to pull off the heady blend... just recently I branded Abraham lazy and faddish for their light-touch downbeat electronica. This is how to achieve that chillout goal whilst still being engaging. Do it first.

The sweet transition into Be Thankful for What You've Got is a magical moment. It's born from a pointed end to Blue Lines, and the immediate uptake of a rhythm so funky its not funny. Like much of the work that covers Horace Andy, this is not sample so much as cover, which I had never really appreciated. The original is on Protected so I'll compare and contrast in, I dunno, a decade? I am sure I've said on these pages before that I went to uni in Bristol, and in my first year there, after Massive Attack released Mezzanine I stayed late in the run-up to Christmas to see these guys play the Student Union. It remains a fond, if faded, memory. Later, when I was studying in Bath, I used to travel over to Bristol every week to game. On my way from station to location I walked through the parts of the city that spawned the Bristol Sound, and in that way you do, you think you see local celebs from time to time. Don't know if I ever really did though. Thought I saw Beth Gibbons of Portishead in a sandwich shop once too. Hah.

Five Man army comes and goes, a nice groove but really just a fill-in before the undoubted high point of Unfinished Sympathy. This really is a modern classic, a truly iconic tune in more ways than one. I get goose pimples as it starts, that off-kilter tapping, not quite tuneful bells and the sampled "hey hey hey hey". It is the start of the strings and the vocal that really set things moving though. Nelson's voice creams it, soulful and yearning, the strings speaking to loss. There is one moment at 2:24, when the piano comes in for a quick bridge that I always loved. It has less impact now, perhaps because I was so anticipating it. It's amazing the interplay between the percussion, which is tense and snappy, and the tune which is laid back and easy. They bottled something and released it here. 

Daydreaming has never really worked for me - as a concept or a song. The backing track just doesn't quite do it for me. Here the rhythm of it gets overpowering, a loop too far in terms of its impact on the experience for me... its very easy to get sucked into that beat pattern and miss everything else, which is what happened to me just now. Lately changed it up and I suddenly snapped out of a wander. This has the same problem of an over-bearing central hook, but manages it better through strings and another Nelson vocal which follows the pattern of the rhythm in an interesting way.

The album ends with another high point. The Hymn of the Big Wheel is just a gorgeous little rhythm behind a very simple tune, but it owes all of its magic to Horace Andy's vocal. Man, I love the way he sings this. All love, released; free. In truth, re-tagging it as a favourite is probably a bit of a push. There are to my mind four stand out songs on this disc: Safe From Harm, Be Thankful... Unfinished Sympathy and this. It's less than half of the album, but these tunes are timelessly good and elevate an enjoyable if somewhat surpassed effort to something that few discs can really claim to match: genre definition.

Black River Falls - Cathal Coughlan

Track list:

1. The Ghost Of Limehouse Cut
2. Officer Material
3. The Bacon Singer
4. Black River Falls
5. Payday
6. Dark Parlour
7. Out Among The Ruins
8. God Bless Mr X
9. Frankfurt Cowboy Yodel
10. NC
11. Whitechapel Mound
12. Cast Me Out In My Hometown

Running time: 51 minutes
Released: 2000

Ah, now I get to revisit a real gem, a true favourite. Black River Falls might be 15 years old now but its been in my life a bit less than that. I've written briefly on Big Sleeping House about how I stumbled on Cathal Coughlan and his fantastic singing as a result of a cover version on a special edition I bought because James Yorkston is one of my favourite ever music people (even if his most recent work drifts out of my interest more than I would like). Coughlan absolutely nailed his cover of Tender to the Blues and so I just had to go find more of his material. Whilst I love Microdisney as a result, it is this album as my perceived pinnacle of his solo work that shines brightest and longest, and it has a timeless quality to me.

It is from here I took the title for my Albion game - Out Among the Ruins - and from the very opening thrum of The Ghost of Limehouse Cut through to the sinister sounds of Cast Me Out In My Hometown it is a magnificent aural journey we make, traveling on the back of that rich and emotion-filled voice. The first number is an example of crime that doesn't pay, a nice tempo, a threatening riff, real darkness in the construction. This post is coming 3 days later than planned after evenings wiped out by bad circumstance. A pity, as I was really looking forward to to doing it Wednesday evening. Now it's Saturday and I am just about starting to feel human again. Coughlan's acerbic vocals are perhaps not what you might think of as relaxing, but there is a warmth in there too. Somehow he manages to be both welcoming and dismissive at the same time.

Officer Material has a very different feel, wistful, and more melodic. I really like the lilt of this one, gently rolling with a much slower pace to the song and open and accessible passages, not closed off and tense as in Limehouse. The piece degenerates a little in its closing but not enough to make me think anything other than fondly of it, before a driving percussion and stand-up (I reckon) bass combination comes in to drive The Bacon Singer. This tune was never the favourite others here are and I am forever thinking this track is actually on Foburg rather than Black River Falls. It moves at a clip, which I rather like, but it is the chorus that falls slightly flat for me. I do love the mic-drop at the end though, and the way that gives way to a really tense acoustic guitar opening for the title track.

Black River Falls gives Coughlan ample license to show off his vocal talents. Light little guitar, haunting strings, melody floating up and then diving down, there is drama in this telling. It feels like a performance or a tale to be shared rather than a simple song, the atmosphere dripping off it is just fantastic, mournful and compelling without being overpowering. I am hard pushed to call a favourite tune from the disc because it is filled with moments like this, and the next tune up is no different. A really solid base, with a nice little melody layered on it, then expression galore from Cathal's voice. Payday is a dark song, dark and slightly crazy. I think my love for these songs can be tied up nicely with my appreciation of the dark, thematic aspects of  urban fantasy/modern occult stories. They share that atmosphere and tension, yet with moments of lightness that surprise you. The capacity of music to create vivid imagery never fails to astound me. A strong lyric can help a song build a really clear picture but it is far from required. 

I am but half-way through but it feels like it will be over too soon, cocooned as I am in wonderful swirling melody and most pertinently the highs and lows of Coughlan's vocal. Out Among the Ruins is another real favourite, again combining a light touch composition with air and space with expression that goes from intense to soaring. There is a line in there that mentions Opus Dei that makes me long to run a conspiracy game, but it was the title itself (also a chorus lyric) that flooded to mind when I was thinking about how I might structure a game in Albion - a post-environmental apocalypse Britain where modern life has returned to renaissance-level technology, even though the song itself does nothing to speak to that. 

The next couple of songs are probably the weakest on the disc, but I would still choose to listen to them over much else that I have waded through in recent posts. At the risk of becoming repetitive, which even the best creators do sometimes (and I am not that!), it is all in that voice. There is no end of expression in there, depth and range that gives us tenderness, sadness, tunefulness and anger, oh my the anger. This is not screaming mindlessly. No, this is rage enunciated and delivered with precision and disdain. I am fond of a little bite in my music... the principled angst that appears on early Thea Gilmore records was one of the main draws for me. Coughlan takes that to another level. Where conveyance of that bite is often reliant on sharp and witty words, lest the song not carry a tune well, here I get the impression he could make a child's bedtime story sound like the world's worst insult whilst still keeping impeccably in tune and building an audible pleasure.

I am mildly distracted by both hunger (I am snacking on crackers, not great for me, but tasty!) and the closing moments of the first quarter final of the Rugby World Cup where Wales are just edging South Africa somehow. I think part of my problem is that I am very familiar with these tunes - the disc has been in my automotive selection for as far back as I can remember and it regularly gets pulled out of the 50 or so offering to serenade me as I make my way to work. As the disc winds down (in concert with the Rugby where the Springboks have just taken the lead at last) we are treated to a slow, descriptive number with menace present in the cleverly used guitar. I am struck by how much atmosphere is smashed into these tracks with relatively little instrumentation. A few well-chosen notes are all that is needed to create that tense, gloomy and oppressive sound - as typified by the final number. This sort of composition is simply made for Coughlan's voice and it delivers time and again on this record. So there, a true favourite, and one that I would heartily recommend anyone who likes broody atmospheric songs, performed with an unmatched aplomb and which manage to enthrall rather than overwhelm.

Bellow - Spiers & Boden

Track list:

1. Prickle Eye Bush
2. Sloe Gin Set: Frozen Gin/Vinegar Reel/The Sloe
3. Courting Too Slow
4. Dawn Chrous
5. The Outlandish Knight
6. Jiggery Pokerwork/Haul Away/Seven Stars
7. Go And Leave Me
8. Jack Robinson/Argiers/Old Tom Of Oxford
9. Copshawholme Fair
10. Princess Royal/Cuckoo's Nest
11. Brown Adam
12. Ginger Up Lustily/Old Woman Tossed Up In A Blanket

Running time: 58 minutes
Released: 2003

Ah, a true favourite now, indulging my folky side. Spiers & Boden (leading lights of Bellowhead) are my go-to guys for folk songs and tunes. Don't they look young on the cover!

It is a great shame that they no longer perform as a duo because I always found their gigs much better as a pair than when they had all the brass and all to back them too. I shouldn't complain too much, Bellowhead are dear to me too, but still... these two, when they were on song, were fantastic live and great on record. Assuming you like that sort of thing. Many a well known Bellowhead track appears on this album (which features Benji Kirkpatrick in places too) but perhaps my favourite track here is Brown Adam, one of 5 that as far as I am aware were not redone with Bellowhead. Most of them are grand, though, so on with it!

Prickle Eye Bush is our opener, a criminal's promise to go straight if given a chance. It is a catchy tune, but a repetitive one... three times telling the same tale with a new person coming to see the condemned and - mayhap - to pay for his freedom. Naturally the first two don't but (spoilers!) the third, his true love, does. The repetition makes it a song that does not work so well on record. You can forgive the retreads much more in live performance where the mannerisms of the performers make up for the sameness of the song.

It has been too long since my last post, but things have gone a little awry and not made progressing this one before now easy. I am doing it now after a long day's gardening with sore hands and a head with no focus for anything more strenuous (like writing up yesterday's RPG session). Good job I know this one well and like it well too.

That said, the Sloe Gin Set is a bit of a bête noire of mine - I have been to so many Bellowhead gigs now that I am truly bored of it as it was ever present until last years tour of Revival where it didn't feature at the date I made. In truth it is the first tune in the set that bores me, the latter two being a bit more lively and here it works better than with the full band. That goes double for Courting Too Slow, where the wider arrangement available on Burlesque offers so little extra that the slow number is just a weight against the songs it accompanies. Here there is a great mournful tone to the combination of fiddling and squeezing that I cannot picture in my head for the Bellowhead version and it saves the song for me.

Dawn Chorus is the first track not repeated with Bellowhead - it simply wouldn't work as it is really a John Spiers solo (I wouldn't swear it, but I think I have seen him perform it as such) with a bit of support. This tune is one of the first by Spiers & Boden that I remember being fully sold on - the rise and fall of the melody, the slightly twee change up, the phasic pattern of how it returns through the theme. Its repetition done in a way that does not get old.

Ah, that staccato violin... from the first second The Outlandish Knight is thoroughly recognisable and totally arresting. I love this song for its improbability, its roots and its implementation. I love this stripped back rendition, I love the full band effort. Here, like many other pieces, I am continuously surprised and delighted at the apparent complexities that a fiddle/squeezebox duo can get into their playing, the themes they can support alongside each other, the variation in the playing. That sense only increases with the next track, a medley which is probably also my favourite Bellowhead track. The haunting nature to the tune that Spiers carries on Jiggery Pokerwork sets a tone that is then snapped in balls-to-the-wall gusto as it opens up. I maintain it is impossible to listen to Haul Away without being compelled to tap your feet and to sit still whilst hearing Seven Stars. Actually, Haul Away is such a favourite that even as I am trying to concentrate on writing this I find myself starting to mouth along with the simple shanty lyrics. To me, this set is a perfect representation of why I fell into folk music - energetic, emphatic, enthusiastic and simply about enjoyment and entertainment. If I could only take one folk track to listen to on a trip, I reckon it would be this one.

Jon Boden is if not the most charismatic person I have had course to see in the flesh then very close to it. His command of a stage is mesmeric, his love of performance highly infectious. His voice is strong, but whilst I increasingly see it as rather one-tone his sheer showmanship makes up for that and then some. It is John Spiers though who inspires me - since getting into their music I have several times thought fleetingly about the idea of getting some kind of organ and trying to learn to play. Every time one of his tunes comes up I imagine being able to produce such engaging sounds from the often ungainly-looking apparatus he uses and find myself wondering about what it would take. The expense and likely terrible realisation that I have no talent at all stay my hand (to the relief of my neighbours).

Copshawholme Fair was how I found myself getting into these guys. I don't much like this song now (I think the playing is exemplary mind), but Bellowhead's version came up on a LastFM station I was listening to based on The Imagined Village and it was a very interesting sound, which I was compelled to follow up on after reading a little about the band and their make-up. From there interest expanded and remains strong. However it is the more stripped back sounds of the duo that I find myself drawn to. At this moment I cannot think of a song done both by Spiers & Boden and by Bellowhead where I prefer the Bellowhead track. I don't know why this is, perhaps as I grow more curmudgeonly I resent having to track quite so much with my ears and mind when I have such good "simple" versions? Hah, as if.

Into the final straight now, two tune sets and the favourite amongst favourites to go. The tunes are well and good, but it is the evocative images conjured by Brown Adam that I love. The combination of the players, their voices (often in harmony here) and the song itself has a magical quality that just works for me. It's not perfect - it has more than a hint of gender inequality about it as you might expect from traditional material. I think, though (and I hope I am remembering this right) it was the liner notes that mentioned the cult of Wayland and brought folklore into the mix that sold me completely and utterly on the song. It remains a favourite.

All has gone quiet as the disc ends, finishing before I could articulate a short thought on a 6 minute track which I started to type before it started to play. Sometimes our brains just don't behave. I'm off to see if I can persuade mine to start working again.

Avalanche - Thea Gilmore

Track list

1. Rags And Bones
2. Have You Heard
3. Juliet (Keep That In Mind)
4. Avalanche
5. Mainstream
6. Pirate Moon
7. Apparition #13
8. Razor Valentine
9. God Knows
10. Heads Will Roll
11. Eight Months
12. The Cracks

Running time: 46 minutes
Released: 2003

Thea Gilmore is my second most listened artist to on LastFM after King Creosote (and the two of them are way out front in that regard), but it feels like I have loved her work longer. Her more recent material is less to my taste than her earlier work but she has more than enough credit built up for me to buy first and think later all the same.

When it was released Avalanche felt like a step towards a more accessible, radio-friendly sound in some ways but I remember loving it for the brasher tunes whilst not being so fond of some of the softer ones. I look at the track list with familiarity and a smile, but I think I may find the songs I love now are not necessarily those I loved 10 years ago. 

Typing that brought home the passage of time in a fairly major way.

Rags and Bones is an interesting start, because I remember the song for the chorus more than the verses, and the introductory verse is actually pretty sedate, thus having a very different feel to the strident sounds I associate with the song. Gilmore has often been criticised for not having the musical chops to go with her intelligent, self-aware and otherwise engaging lyrics. It is a view I do not fully subscribe to, though I can see why it arises - her words tend to be sharp and pointed across a number of different subjects, but her songs are not necessarily pushing any boundaries... but then who does push music forward with every tune? The criticism is somewhat unfair on that point. Have You Heard is one of my favourite examples of why it does not matter. It is a fairly pedestrian hook, but it is really well executed and the structure of it accompanies the words really well. Maybe not the best composer ever, no, but a damn fine singer/songwriter.

Juliet was a single, and it really shows. Much more radio friendly faire, especially the chorus. It was never a preference of mine, and that is still true today - I find myself bored by it, but like some other works already discussed slight downturns here are not at risk of cutting for sentimental reasons. It is followed by the title track. This is a softer, slower number and one that I enjoy more now I am a bit older and appreciate a little more than the instant hit to my ears - appreciating the space, the wave-like (and well, I guess Avalanche-like) rumble of the backing in places and the poetry of the lyrics. Mainstream is a reaction song - louder, angrier (I always found Thea Gilmore more interesting when the angsty young woman shone through) - against the mainstream of the music industry, which she chose to ignore - and I for one am glad for that. The song does not resonate as much 10 years on though - I do not know much about the workings of the music business, do not want to, but appearances have it as a very... particular industry for 20-something women in a way that ceases to be quite so relevant a bit later in life. Good riddance to shallowness.

Pirate Moon is slower again, more wistful and certainly more classically poetic and again I find I have more time for it at 34 than I did at 23. The soft lull and flow of the melody is easy to relax into, I like it a lot. Then we get a call-back (in name at least) to Rules for Jokers, which was the album that introduced me to Gilmore's work. This tune is a little bland in many parts (inviting the critique raised earlier) but I love the chorus, and the way it changes tone from the verse, gaining a level of urgency and purpose that is missing from the lazy looping hook. Edgy is good where this lady is concerned and when that comes through in both music and words, that is where she is strongest for my money. This is why I feel her earlier work stands up more - she retains the fire to date but it is channelled through cooler air of a more settled life somehow.

Razor Valentine could be a Tom Waits tune - same vaudeville style, same air about the lyrics. Waits was always cited as an influence, so that is no surprise. The surprise (to many, I would think) was that Gilmore does it so well that, the obviously female singer aside, it really could be a Waits song. We now hit the weakest song on the album (though Juliet pushes it close). God Knows has never worked for me... partly because as an atheist the title rubs me up the wrong way for some reason (I use the phrase "God knows" as much as anyone else so it is not simply the turn of phrase) and partly because the song is bland throughout. There is no high point, no real change of pace, tone or volume to break up its predictable sway. It is followed by my favourite, and the shortest track on the disc. The urgency the short length gives Heads Will Roll is like ambrosia to me, and when the backing comes in on the second verse it gives the song a shot of adrenaline that kicks it up a gear. Angst again. Anger fuelling creativity is nothing new but it remains a real path to glory when resentment and injustice can be harnessed like this.

In recent years the track that has rivalled Heads Will Roll to be my favourite on this album is Eight Months. I found it dull originally, but now I think it is now right up there with her best songs. More relaxed again in pace, its cadence is reassuring and its airs are wistful and yearning. It resonates with me for reasons that I cannot quite pinpoint, quite apart from being nicely executed. I find myself almost paralysed for something to write about it as I sat here mesmerised, and look back on the younger me, who would at this point often skip the album to track 1 again, thinking "stupid!"

We close with a lament of sorts, a song that veers off part way towards Waits territory, but definitely stopping short this time. Razor Valentine ploughed right on down that road into uncanny valley, but The Cracks stops up and loses out because of it. It retains a melancholic charm and an interest but ultimately it seems to be a little caught between two (or more) stools in terms of what it wants to be. It is a slightly weak end to the album for me, given the strength of what it contained. The sways of mood and tempo were handled well elsewhere, but placing this last leaves me, as the listener, with a more sombre, less positive view of the prior 46 minutes.

I cannot let that overrule the main point though which is this album is classic Thea Gilmore and it remains a favourite today. She is one of the few artists I would recommend to everyone because I rate and value her work that highly. Avalanche is not my favourite Thea album - that would have to be The Lipstick Conspiracies - but it is a very good one.

At Llangennith - Charlotte Greig

Track list:

1. At Llangennith
2. Willie O'Winsbury
3. That man
4. Free fall
5. Perfect wave
6. Walk on
7. The snows
8. Gotta get you home
9. Over the water
10. Leave it blue

Running time: 54 minutes
Released: 2001

Ah, an old favourite. Comfortable in the way only familiarity can be. This was a real punt in the dark when I bought it. It is a record for a winter's night, snug and warming. A real gem. It is so much a favourite that when I dragged it into "now playing" to see the running time when creating the header of this post immediately after finishing Astronomy for Dogs it tempted me in about 4 notes to run on and do the whole listen immediately.

A cooler head prevailed, and I then found out that Charlotte Greig passed away earlier this year from cancer. Now it is time to tell you why I love this so much and will forever be grateful for one of her creations.

From the gentle opening you get an immediate feel for this disc. Tendrils of soft sound wrap around you like a blanket, offering you cocoa in the bargain. The title track, which opens the disc, is a simple guitar melody, layered a little bit to make a deeper palette and a soft vocal. It is like sitting out on a starry night, looking up into the blackness above and wondering. It is no surprise that it struck the 20(some) year old me, prone to contemplation as I was (am). The main refrain is a strangely compelling one, and even though the song meanders a little towards the end of its run I still find it incredibly compelling.

Next up is a folk classic, which has just a perfect backing here - acoustic hook, haunting soundscape behind it - and is sung with a warmth that transfers fully to the listener. I lose myself if the natural roll of the delivery and the simple repetition of the structure - though it is crafted better than that, little touches abound that break up what could otherwise become monotonous so that each verse is accompanied by subtly different sounds.

In truth, these are the two stand out tracks, but they imprint the album in my mind so hard that everything that follows basks in their glow, then and still. That Man drops the guitar in favour of some keys to lead it and for once this does not work so well - the keyboard is a little too tinny - but the song itself is a simple little tune: rise, fall, rise, fall. A nice lilt that reinforces the sleepy idea of the blanket and hot chocolate. Free Fall brings back the strings and with it the easy, calm invitation that characterises the album as a whole. There is nothing overly complex here, fairly simple melodies, uncomplicated composition and musicianship... just somehow coming together in some kind of magic. In any tune of nearly 9 minutes length you would expect the odd dip, and they are here, for sure. I am more like to overlook the foibles of a record like this though, where the general tone and ambience are so inviting and welcome, like seeing an old friend.

I have a number of other albums by Charlotte Greig, they will turn up here eventually. None of them has ever caught me quite like this one though. Right album, right time of my life or something. I am sure that if I was hearing this for the first time now I would glaze over and miss the charm. It is not a modern album in any sense, and that is welcome. I get a very strong sense of it countering the immediacy of everyday modern life with deliberately slow pace and simple pleasantries. I enjoy it in that spirit, a rejection of fast pace and instant gratification.

Walk On brings back the keys as the primary tune-carrier and here it works better. A melancholic air stirs in me when I hear this tune - it is not a particularly nice narrative, but it is beautifully delivered. In a wise move there is a momentary silence after it ends before The Snows begins. This is a version of The Snow it Melts the Soonest - another folk staple, and one I like a lot. My favourite version (as I had cause to mention before) is by James Yorkston, but the song itself is a strong one, and this version is sufficiently different that it does not fall into the same problem that some others do of direct comparison. The playing here occasionally offers the impression of flickering firelight which keeps the winters night theme going nicely.  We then have a song that I really should not like, but do. Its a love song of a certain type that honestly I think only works in the context of the album as a whole - playing into the long dark night, the need for warmth and, well, companionship. You get the picture.

Over the Water is probably the weakest song on the album. For me it is a mood killer. The change of sound - to a harsher, twangier performance - is not a welcome one. The warmth is still there in the vocal - the style of delivery there is pretty consistent throughout and one of the strongest points of this record - but the music is more distant and less engaging as a result of the shift. The edge to the notes (I think from a dulcimer) is off-putting like nothing else on At Llangennith. Thankfully it is a one-song blip, and the easy roll and gentle strumming of Leave it Blue is a nice way to end the album. Just enough musical interest to keep your attention and the vocal - slightly more floaty than earlier tracks - as fitting as ever.

When I first bought this album I was surprised and enchanted. Coming back to it now I am reassured and contented. I was saddened last night, after I found out about Charlotte Greig's passing, and that was entirely down to my love for this work. Amongst the many things she created - she was a writer, too - I was only familiar with her music and really only with this record; At Llangennith's simple beauty is a worthy monument though.

Animal Magic - Bonobo

Track list:

1. Intro
2. Sleepy Seven
3. Dinosaurs
4. Kota
5. Terrapin
6. The Plug
7. Shadowtricks
8. Gypsy
9. Sugar Rhyme
10. Silver

Running time: 44 minutes
Released: 2000

A firm favourite now, going back to when I first picked it up. This album was one of the reasons I started buying up electronica for a while. I am interested to see how it stands up to the passage of time and to a listen through in full. I know I still love these tracks when they show up in rotation (as Terrapin did on 1 November) - and the fact I remember that 2 weeks on says something.

The intro can be disregarded in shuffle, but in long form, it... no, it does not set things up well - there's too much dead space on the end before track 2 starts. With Sleepy Seven starts the love. The chimes and the beat already hit that laid back tone before the main themes kick in and then: relaxation. I get excited about this album because it is so immensely unexcitable, a paragon of chill-out. Yes, it is a style that deservedly takes a lot of flak for not really doing anything, but I do not feel that is a fair criticism of early Bonobo (I like his later work less, I have to say). There is a lot going on in this track, voice samples, chimes, beats, the theme, pattern breaks; there is always something to actually listen to whilst disengaging from your daily stresses and strains.

I am less fond of Dinosaurs; the rhythm grabs me less, and the drone-like quality to the theme is so-so, but the sampled muted trumpets I like. The track builds though, and improves as it goes a little before fizzling out. Kota always felt like token ethnicity as a title, not sure why, but as the layers build up over the looped string sample it does work to relax me - or maybe that's the booze. Finally got some long-awaited shelves up today; celebrating a much more spacious and clearer kitchen and hall. I think I like the melodic breaks in this track more than its staple pattern.

Terrapin is the tune that makes the album for me. As much as I adore Sleepy Seven, it is this track that will forever define Bonobo for me. Something about the structure of the main loops, call and answer, and then the up-and-down of the backing just really clicks for me. The vocal samples do not fit so well with the general ambiance but otherwise this is pretty much the perfect bliss out track for me. Things going on, really melodic, slow pace and just brought together perfectly with a light touch. The mood is maintained nicely by The Plug, where the clarinet (?) line is a particular joy but it is more fleeting and less prominent than I remember. The vocal sample is much better integrated though and the whole track simply carries on the wonderful mood that has been established already.

Shadowtricks changes that mood, but slooooows everything down, maintaining the relaxation that way. The titter of high notes occasionally sounds like something is about to fall over and need catching, but the introduction of a jazz trumpet sample quashes that or rather translates it to your eyelids. Unfortunately Gypsy is a little too repetitive and dull to maintain the nice detachment from reality, it breaks the spell a little, snapping me out of the trance. It has a darker theme, continued in the next track and whilst this is still pretty good at sloughing away the stresses and strains of the day, it does not give me the same emotional response that the first half of the album does.

Thankfully Silver is more in tune with that melodic approach seen earlier. It is lighter, using strings and more trumpets to create interest over a bustling bass. It is a nice closer, reaffirming my faith in the album. One thing this project seems to be teaching me is that I ascribe favourites based on emotional memories, but very often the albums that I give that tag do not stand up well, rather one or two really strong tracks stand out and inform my overall opinion. I often feel that if an album has 3 great tracks on it that it has been a good buy, which when you stop and think about it is often a terrible hit rate. I am also coming to the conclusion that my ability to enjoy the album as a long-form work has been undermined by so many years of shuffling everything. Yes, the car always gave me room for disc-based appreciation, but fundamentally when driving I am always concentrating on something else, so I can miss whole swathes without realising it.

I guess I am just frustrated that so many of these listens generate negative copy, even on the ones I really like. I would not be being honest if I held back the less positive thoughts when listening but I think I need a more affirmative way of phrasing things when there is good to communicate.

Animal Magic remains a favourite for its ability to create and maintain overall mood. There are only a couple of stand out tracks, but the others serve purpose in keeping you attuned to the downtempo, chilled ambiance. I think it is Bonobo's best record.

Allo Darlin' - Allo Darlin'

Track List:

1. Dreaming
2. The Polaroid Song
3. Silver Dollars
4. Kiss Your Lips
5. Heartbeat Chilli
6. If Loneliness Was Art
7. Woody Allen
8. Let's Go Swimming
9. My Heart is a Drummer
10. What Will Be Will Be

Running time: 37 minutes
Released: 2010

Now this should freshen things up!

Allo Darlin' was another purchase based on a discovery on LastFM and it quickly became a firm favourite. The first song I heard was Kiss Your Lips and it was infectiously fun, happy and generally great. I then picked up the album and found that there were 7 other songs just as good or better. The other 2 I am not so keen on. The group play infectious indie-pop with personality and energy and are just awesome to see live.

The infectious happiness in this album starts immediately. Nice, bright, catchy upbeat drive and a his/hers duet with interesting voices. It just oozes positivity around a simple clean structure and a hook that lasts the distance without getting dull, only to be blown away by the twangy-ness of the line that starts The Polaroid Song. Both of these tunes are busy. They are not massively deep or layered  but there is a very strong simple theme and the pacey nature of playing quite a lot of notes, in jaunty fashion gives the impression of so much going on it is hard to keep up. The actual song about Polaroids is actually quite a laid back/reflective number which makes for an interesting contrast with the highish tempo. I find both an absolute joy.

That sentiment does not go away yet either. Silver Dollars has a similar structure (upbeat bass, fairly high tempo) but more space for the vocal and more separation of tune and rhythm. It contains one very strained rhyme that has always bugged me slightly (rhyming platonic with tonic is perhaps less the issue than the delivery of the line, but still...), but otherwise it continues the theme of really cheery, charming tunes and catchy music.

Kiss Your Lips changes pace a little. It is noticeably slower, but no less catchy. I know I am sounding like a raging fanboy here, but there is something immediate and instinctive about my reaction to these songs - an unlocking of buried joy - that I cannot really explain. I doubt many people that know me would type me as the hipster who gets in on cult indie darlings but that is pretty much exactly what happened when I heard Allo Darlin' first. Just blown away by some emotional response to their genuine fun.

Heartbeat Chilli is the first of the two songs I do not much care for. Much slower and simpler it loses the energy and enthusiasm that is, for me, the real selling point of Allo Darlin'. It is also a food-centric love song and just typing that phrase seems so fundamentally wrong! Thankfully it is just a mid-album interlude in the infectious pop. Loneliness is less upbeat to start but it grows on you before the cheesy sha-la-la's kick in. As a long term singleton there are elements of recognition in this; these are geeky love songs, which somehow makes them more palatable to me than more traditional pop love ballads - I am a massive geek after all. That said, she could be singing about strangling cats on Mars for all I care. I note the words as I listen but really I am here for the the simple wonder of it, and for basslines and snazzy tempo to die for. Woody Allen has both in spades and my foot starts tapping as I type. I cannot stop smiling. It's not even my favourite song from this disc!


My favourite track, by a country mile, is My Heart is a Drummer. So joyous. It starts slow then explodes into full on catchy jangly goodness and the delivery of the chorus still gives me goosebumps. The bridge is so infectious it is unreal. Having seen a tent full of folks of all ages jumping up and down to this in a sweaty ecstasy once, I would give quite a lot to do so again but these days I do not get to as many gigs as I used to. Living in a small town not a tour spot, not knowing people who share my tastes. It saddens me some.

The album ends on a more reflective note. What Will Be Will Be is the second track I could take or leave most of the time. It is really nicely done and really it only suffers here because the rest of the album is such a favourite, and because the disc is short, you are not worn out enough to appreciate the slow-down fully.

When I bought this, almost 4 years ago now, it went into the car and stayed on a constant play cycle for an age. I put it back in often. The magic has not faded. Two later albums have come since - the second just a couple of weeks back. They have not grabbed me in the same way, but Europe was a grower, and I am hoping that We Come From the Same Place will be too. Allo Darlin' may be the best band you have never heard of. From my experience I would say listen to this disc if you get the chance - even if it is not normally your thing. You may think it trite hipster shite, or you may find, like I did, that there is something inexplicably necessary about this music.

Music is about emotional responses and this album produces one of my most enduring. A little ray of sunshine in the dark autumnal gloom. These days there are few things that I would blanket recommend, but Allo Darlin' has a quintessential simplicity and joy about it, I would quite happily do so. I do do so. It will not be everyone's cup of tea, but if even one person has the same magical reaction to their work that I did then the world is a brighter place.