Lazitude

Just one post for October? Appalling, I know. Especially since last October had like twenty. You lot probably have no idea what's going on around here, do you?

Well Tom and Cliffey and I did indeed go to the football in Swindon. There was some pre-match doubt as to whether we could actually be bothered to pay the entrance fee but we did eventually squeeze through the turnstile and into the stadium, where we witnessed a rather nail-biting 3-3 draw. We were sat in the Swindon stand but were secretly supporting Hereford, which Tom made painfully obvious by going "YEEEEEEAH!" after the first Hereford goal.

Since then...no particular incidents spring to mind and that's maybe a sign that I should update this more frequently. I've been going to uni, which is fine by me because I have Wednesdays and Thursdays off so it kind of works out that I get two weekends. I've been going over to Swanbridge on those days to keep Sarah company in Sturff (she seems to end up working those days a lot, oddly) and, well, everything's pretty dandy I suppose. I still have no idea how my life is going to go after university, but at least I've got my unpaid journalism gig.

http://themmp.tv/live/cave-painting-clwb-ifor-bach-october-14th-2011/

JD

Joel Dear, The New Lester Bangs

I have plans for tonight. I'm on a guestlist.

Of the several things I neglected to mention in yesterday's entry, probably the most important is the small matter of my burgeoning journalism career. Remember my Willy Mason review? Well, I sent it to a bunch of folks and one of them got back to me. The Miniature Music Press - a local publication for local music - said it was cool and would I like to review some other stuff for them?

Of course I would. So tonight I am going to Clwb Ifor Bach to see OK, a local band who are playing a show to promote their new single. As I said up top, I'm on the guestlist, and I even get a plus one! I'm gonna feel so awesome at the entrance, provided they believe my story. I'm sure they will.

So who's my plus one? Sarah, right? Actually no. She's back home in Swanbridge tonight so I asked Cliffey if he wanted to come and keep me company instead (it means that, after the gig, there'll be someone to remind me of what happened). I showed him a couple of OK's songs, and he decided that they were, well, okay.

Hence, we shall be off to the Welsh club in a matter of minutes. But that's not to say that you should be. Josh is playing at the newly refurbished Cardiff Arts Institute tonight, and since I can't go and support him, you all should instead.

He's totally adorable. I think you'll like him.

Joel.

Badly, I Groove

Late shift at my job last night.

Only joking, I don't have a job! What I actually did last night was play another gig with SCRIBER. It was only my third gig as a member of Josh's backing band - the first was supporting James Vincent McMorrow - and since our last performance had been a little...clumsy, it was imperative that we got it right this time. In fact, we were so deteremined to deliver the goods that we actually decided to rehearse a couple of times before the gig.

Rehearsal #1 was at Josh and Ed's house, and I decided to spice things up a bit by bringing my mandolin along. I basically just did it because I get bored waiting for an appropriate moment to play the drums, but my noodlings went down pretty well so we decided to throw it in. It made it a bit folkier, I suppose. Although we did set ten minutes aside during the rehearsal for a little Krautrock experiment on Ed's keyboard, and I think that would be a pretty good direction to take if the nu-folk bubble should burst.
Rehearsal #2 was at Tewkesbury Place, and was mostly spent trying to choose a song to cover. Unfortunately, it seems like there is no band that all three of us appreciate, so after much deliberation - as well as an extended jam of Anyone Else But You by The Moldy Peaches, the only song we all knew* - we scrapped the idea and told Josh he could just play his own shit

We had a brief rehearsal before the gig, too, just to make sure. But we didn't need it; by this point we could have played Led Zeppelin themselves into a cocked hat.


The sound guy was a bit annoyed - no-one had told him that he would have to deal with a mandolin - but apart from him everyone was in high spirits. Having decided that "Scriber" was a bit too singular for a three-piece, we passed the time between soundcheck and show by brainstorming names for the backing band. Some of my favourites:


Scriber & The Shoelaces
Scriber & The Sluts
Scriber & Ed & Joel
Scriber & The Rebircs
Scriber & The Super Dinosaurs The Shoot Lasers From Their Eyes

Josh, being the misery-guts he is, vetoed all of these and introduced as just Scriber. But we'll just see about that.


The gig went very well; our weeks of arduous rehearsal paid rich dividends. I missed my cue on the first song - Josh usually counts us in but instead he just nodded and it's hard to tell what number he's on with just nods - but otherwise it went great, and even my mandolin bits were pretty sweet although I do say so myself. We were treated to the luxury of awed silence, which made the quiet bits all the more electrifying and the loud bits all the more potent. And I do love the way that Josh, when people start applauding at the end of a song, will raise a hand to let them know that it's not finished yet and shush.


Best of all we played Badly, I Move (or 'The One With F' as Ed knows it), which is my favourite 'cause I actually get a decent thumping rhythm going on the drum.

The setlist, for anyone keeping score:
The Party
Mountain Man
Holland House
Slow Runner
Badly, I Move
The War & I


(Ed pointed out last night that no less than three of those songs are named 'something and something'. Can't see them all? Well there's "The War and I"; "Holl and House"; and of course, "Mount 'n' Man".

I ran off at the end of the set because, well, we finished later than I thought we would, and I had food and a Sarah waiting for me at home (not to mention my tonsillitis, which I used as my 'official' excuse). The other bands were probably great though. A girl from my course was in one of them so I feel a bit bad about my breach of gig etiquette but, eh, I was hungry. Sorry Sam!

Joel.

*Ed also did a very shouty rendition Steak For Chicken on electric guitar. I've never seen him so angry.

A Tale of Two Gigs

[Sarah and I went to see Willy Mason last night and my mum, eager to see my journalism career get off the ground, told me to do a write-up of the show and send it to some music magazines. Here's what I came up with.]

Willy Mason at The Point, Cardiff, 7/5/07

The Point, a former church that has been converted into a fully-functioning concert venue, makes a lovely backdrop for a gig. Particularly the stained glass windows. Still, it never hurts to go the extra mile, and so Willy Mason and his band are also treating us to a showing of The Dark Crystal, Jim Henson's seminal 1982 meditation on good and evil.


Willy Mason at The Gate, Cardiff, 6/9/11

Willy Mason has broken his thumb-pick. Holding its remains aloft, he asks the audience if, by any chance, somebody could lend him one.

It's not the first time that Mason has crossed the artist/audience divide. Previous tours have seen him performing in fans' living rooms and crashing on their sofas for the night. Sadly, nobody present has a spare pick, and so this golden opportunity to be part of the show passes and Mason simply has to tape his broken one back together.


This show comes a couple of months after the release of If The Ocean Gets Rough, the second Willy Mason album proper and follow-up to 2005's critically acclaimed Where The Humans Eat. Since that album his sound has expanded considerably, and tonight his country-folky musings are fleshed out by a full, electric, band, as well as his friend Nina Violet on viola.

There's no band tonight, just Willy and his electric guitar. It's been four quiet years or so since If The Ocean Gets Rough, Mason's last release, and he seems to have brought along a few new songs to try out. However, he forgoes the usual 'new stuff' patter - "this is a new one, it's going to be on my next record, hope you like it" - instead allowing the unfamiliar material to sit, unburdened, alongside the older cuts. You hardly notice the join.

The setlist is pretty evenly divided between his two albums - recent singles 'We Can Be Strong' and 'Save Myself' mingle nicely with songs like 'Where The Humans Eat', although admittedly the latter elicits a louder cheer from the crowd (as well as a gleeful cry of "MEEEEE!!" during the last verse). There are a few chestnuts, too; non-album track 'Mosquitoes' features only Mason and his acoustic guitar, and, for me, is one of the highlights.

The Gate used to be a Presbyterian church, but has since been turned into a rather charming arts centre. Until recently it was mostly used for plays and dance classes, but lately it's been gathering steam as a music venue and it could even fill the hole that The Point left in Cardiff's live scene when it was forced to close a few years ago. Tonight's audience is seated (some of them in pews, presumably left over from the venue's previous function), and one gets the feeling that this is far more of a 'concert' than a 'gig'. People are drinking red wine instead of lager. Enthusiastic bursts of applause follow each song, but otherwise we all just watch in slightly awed silence. Listen carefully, though, and you might just be able to hear the gentle tap of our approving feet.

The film projection certainly lends an air of psychedelia to what should have been a fairly straightforward folk-rock gig. Just like thousands of internet people have found a certain synchronicity between Dark Side of the Moon and The Wizard of Oz, there are moments tonight when Mason's lyrics could almost have been commissioned to soundtrack The Dark Crystal. Perhaps it's my imagination, but the likes of 'Simple Town' and 'When The Leaves Have Fallen' seem to go quite nicely with the lush fantasy landscapes and the innocence of the central characters. And when Mason's laptop runs out of battery in the middle of 'Riptide', thus cutting our viewing pleasure tragically short? Well, that's the end of the gig; he apologises, waves goodbye and heads offstage.

And then something wonderful happens: during the chorus of 'Riptide', a wistful song full of nostalgic longing for a simpler time...Mason burps. Hilarity ensues. He's very embarrassed, and apologises profusely, but if anything it's only endeared him to us all the more. The song continues, and while Mason has been completely thrown off his stride, he is helped to the conclusion by the audience, who - to a man - start clapping along to encourage him. It's rather heartwarming, actually.  


Of course he comes back. Some rather drunk-sounding people in the audience have been belting out the chorus of 'So Long' in the hopes of having it belted back at them by the man himself, but instead he gives us a rendition of 'Oxygen', his breakthrough single. It's quiet but powerful, especially with everyone singing along, and it's a fitting end to tonight's proceedings.

When the music magazines first started talking about Willy Mason, he joined an ever-increasing group of singer-songwriters to have been christened "the next Dylan". Yes, his lyrics tend to flicker towards political dissatisfaction, but tonight his vocal betrays a slight country twang that, along with his ear for a great melody, perhaps places him closer to - similar names aside - Willie Nelson. So all hail Willy Mason - the new Willie.

Formation of the Dissertation

I mentioned in one of my previous entries that, having left Next, I would now be devoting a good chunk of my free time to preparation. Preparation for my dissertation.

Well, since that update I have started to establish some idea of what I'm going to be writing about. Thinking about the political side of music, it occurred to me that the vast majority of politically-minded songwriters and artists came from the left wing of politics - power to the people and fuck capitalism and all that.

So I thought I'd investigate the other side - the right-wing musicians. I spent most of yesterday trawling the internet for interesting examples, and I've already come across the surprising Micah P. Hinson ("Obama is the murderer of the American Dream"), the woefully unsubtle Darryl Worley ("You say we shouldn't worry 'bout Bin Laden/Have you forgotten?"), and the downright disappointing Matt Jay (from Busted) and Geri Halliwell (from the Spice Girls). 

More generally, I want to look at politically-active musicians from both ends of the spectrum, and find out how far one can go before the message starts getting in the way of the music.

Of course this dissertation is still in its most primordial stages (the dissertation, in its current incarnation, has several limitations) and there's a lot more reading to be done yet (I've just checked out a book on Britpop's support of Tony Blair's New Labour), but hopefully I'm onto a winner.

And if not, well, I've got like 9 months until this is due (like a baby!) so there'll be plenty of time to throw it all in the bin and start again.

Joel.

Glastonbury Weekend

FRIDAY


As I ran from the stock room at 11am, taking the stairs three at a time, my thoughts turned to the long weekend that stretched ahead of me. Some people would be enjoying U2 tonight, but I was more exciting at the prospect of spending the night in Gem's room.

Except it was now my room. Gem had hastily and unexpectedly moved out on Thursday morning, and Sarah and I were quick to capitalise on this and increase our living space by about 150%. We had planned just to gradually start moving our stuff in, but of course we couldn't resist and ended up going all-out. I spent Thursday night in the master bedroom, surrounded by my wonderful possessions (mandolin, iPod dock, cuddly toys, etc.)

So anyway, after finishing work at Next on Friday I headed to Sturff, and after Sturff we went to TGI Friday's. I had recently finished stomping Tom in our one-on-one Fantasy Football league (I have Carlos Tevez to thank for that, mostly - perhaps I should send him an email) and, as we had agreed, he now had to buy me a meal. I had a lovely, expensive steak, and everyone had a great time. Except perhaps for Cliffey, who discovered that some girl he had a past with and now could barely bring himself to speak to was on the payroll at TGI's and happened to have a shift that evening.

Oh well. Later on, we kicked back with a head-shaving session*, a midnight visit to Tesco, and a great big washing-up session. Operation Polaris produced great results, but such things do not last in a student house, even if there are only three people officially living there now.

SATURDAY


Colorama are a local-ish band who sound a bit like the Super Furry Animals and whose new album I picked up from Spillers on Valentine's Day, more or less on a whim after listening to bits of it on their CD listening post. Today, they were scheduled to play a free set at The Old Library as part of Spillers 'Saturday Sessions' thing.

I was mildly excited, and while Sarah had to be in Next that afternoon, I had convinced Cliffey to check it out with me...that is, until it transpired that Colorama had traded the bustle of Saturday afternoon in Central Cardiff for the rather more bustling bustle of Saturday afternoon at the Glastonbury festival. Typical.

Their slot at The Old Library was to be filled by a band called Houdini Dax, to whom I feel I owe a little publicity because I know two of them personally - David and Jack are both on the pop music course - and yet decided, not for the first time, that I couldn't be bothered to go and watch. So click on this link, watch the videos, buy their album, send them naked photos, and generally do whatever it takes to bail me out, karmically speaking.

Still, I would not let the whole day slide by without taking in a little live music. So while thousands of people were enjoying Coldplay and wondering who that psychy Welsh band from earlier were, Sarah and I were listening to Mr. John Grant, for Czars frontman and the brain behind Mojo's album of 2010.

And, in spite of a few technical problems**, his set was fantastic. Most of his songs were backed by nothing more than a baby grand piano and a synthesiser, and The Gate made a pretty cool venue for it all, being more of a theatre than a club or concert hall.

The support act, Daughter, were good too. I got their EP and had it signed, although sadly the cardboard sleeve did get slightly bent in Sarah's rucksack. Oh well.

SUNDAY


Tom stayed over on Saturday night, and in the morning I was told that while I was falling asleep halfway through Megamind***, he and Cliffey had popped to the Kismet for a late-night curry. And guess who was there, chomping on poppadoms after another hard shift at TGI's?

Anywho, once we had all woken up and gotten dressed, the four of us (Sarah, Tom, Cliffey and myself) went into town to find costumes for our upcoming Pokémon party. It was a scorchingly hot day, and after stickly circumnavigating the city centre for an hour or so, we retired to Varsity for some food and a few cold drinks.

Which was lovely apart from the bit where I ordered some sort of complicated mocktail and the lady on the counter had to go and see if they had the necessary ingredients. Whilst awaiting her return, I thought it would be a great idea to perch myself on the bar - literally sit on the bar - and in doing so I knocked the Chip & PIN machine onto the floor, with surprising velocity. Imagine the launcher in a pinball machine, and replace the ball with maybe £25 per month of hi-tech gadgetry, and the launcher bit with my fat fuckin' ass.

I was roundly ridiculed, but hey, the virgin colada was nice.

And so, as several thousand people were realising that Kelly and Michelle would not, in fact, be making an appearance, Sarah and I rounded off the weekend by watching Catch Me If You Can, which we both agreed was awesome.

And now it's Monday, and Sarah's in work, and I'm sweating a lot and typing this blog and tomorrow morning I have work too.

Oh well. At least we know who our new housemate will be. More on that tomorrow.

Joel.

* Not my head. Meic's and Cliffey's.

** At the start of one song, he started singing into a second, thus far unused, microphone, which added a very distant-sounding effect to his voice. Which I thought was cool until he stopped and made an annoyed face, at which point I realised that the mic wasn't turned on.

*** Sarah had to fill me in the following morning. I won't spoil for you, but it all sounds very exciting. And for once I managed to guess an important plot point.

Rocket Summer

Cliffey's in work at the moment, and he's gonna be there 'til around midnight, so I'm guessing the jam sandwich-eating contest is off.

Rocket Summer, then. A good while ago (quite possibly the other side of the new year, I don't rightly remember), some of us went down to The Record Shop* to have a look at what they had to offer. Cliffey stumbled upon an album by The Rocket Summer - a band he persists in liking even though I saw them at T in the Park once and have repeatedly told him that they're not that great - and being as it only cost a pound he promptly bought it.

But it later transpired that it wasn't the work of The Rocket Summer at all. It was in fact by a local band called The Afternoons, who had rather selfishly titled their album Rocket Summer**. Presumably so that folks like Cliffey would pick it up by accident.

Anyway, Cliffey gave it a listen and decided that while it was okay, it wasn't what he was after. And that would have appeared to be it.

I'm not sure why he was suddenly so desperate to get rid of the album on Saturday night - maybe he got a bit too drunk and thought it was cursed - but he decided that he would offload it on me. As with anyone who offers me a free gift, I was suspicious of his motives (and hell, I didn't want to listen to anything that was merely okay) and no sooner had I discovered the album case left on my bed than I placed it outside his door for him to discover in the morning.

I think my rejection may have hurt his feelings, so I said that we could listen to the album in the car while we were out picking up organs and such. If I liked it, I would take it off his hands (jeez, I really come off as quite ungrateful in this story). 

As it turns out, I did like it. And so did Cliffey. Its vibrant, summery tunes were somewhat at odds with the deluge that was pushing Xander's windshield wipers to the limit, but for an album that cost £1, it was a great success.

The result being that I now want it, and Cliffey wants to keep it.

Oy. Maybe some sort of jam sandwich-eating competition would distract him long enough for me to steal it?

Joel.

* It's just called 'The Record Shop'. It's off Albany Road and it's easily my favourite place to rummage, check it out. 

** The band The Rocket Summer have been around longer than that album, in case you're wondering. Although in truth neither artist is original, both having taken the phrase 'The Rocket Summer' from the title of a short story by Ray Bradbury. Now you know.

Filling You In

I won the Hammond Organ. 99p it went for in the end. Now we just have to pick it up.

I've no idea where I'm going to put it.

Joel.

Impulse Organ Buying

Terrible news for my bank balance! As of the past week or so, I have unearthed my passion for buying stuff on eBay. So far I have purchased Nick Cave's The Firstborn Is Dead (on CD), Neil Young's After The Goldrush (on vinyl - Sarah's dad is giving her a record player that will accompany us into Gem's room when she moves out), and an Adventure Time t-shirt for Sarah (although to be fair she did give me the money for that).

Also I'm currently bidding on a Hammond organ. The seller is Cardiff-based, and Cliffey said that he'd help me pick it up if I won it.

I'm not sure why, he has enough badly-played music to endure from the instruments I already have.

Anyway, the auction ends around midday tomorrow, so I'll let you know if I won or not.

Joel.

Yorkshire & Merseyside

Apologies for the lack of updates over the past week but last Sunday I was taken away from my cosy Cardiff comfort and driven Oop North to attend my cousin Fran's wedding.

Not that I'm complaining. Upon our arrival in Wakefield we were greeted by a rather delicious buffet, featuring ham, tuna pasta bake, salad, rolls, profiteroles, pavlova, and many other delicious treats.

And the hotel we were staying in - and indeed where the ceremony was being conducted the following day -wasn't too shabby either, especially since, as far as I was concerned, it was all expenses paid.

The first night was spent in bed watching Brassed Off on Film4. I received a text or two from my elder cousin Jonathan trying to coax me down to the hotel bar but this was roundly ignored.

The following morning my dad took me into Halifax to have a look 'round town. There wasn't much, although we did stumble upon the Halifax Piece Hall, the world's oldest remaining cloth hall and, coincidentally, the setting for one particular scene from Brassed Off .


The wedding, then. It was lovely (even given the slightly cheesy choices of music - Bryan Adams anyone?) and they had a very nice day for it. After nigh-on two hours (!) of wedding photography it was just about time to eat, and boy did I - I had the lasagne and the curry, followed by half of someone else's curry and some sticky toffee pudding. And yet even with all that food inside me, I still managed to get up and do a song or two with Jonathan's band. I was a bit out of practice on the drums, and I went into Mustang Sally on my horn in the wrong key (C# instead of C#m, what a fool!), but I'm pretty sure I managed not to ruin the wedding.


For Leg 2 of our trip we headed to Liverpool to visit my grandparents. Usually we would have stayed with them but this time we thought we'd mix it up a bit and stay in a flat in Toxtet, which, as Wikipedia puts it, "continues to suffer from poverty and urban degradation" as well as being "blighted" by "civil unrest" and "vehicle crime".


The flat was lovely. I was on an airbed in the living room, which sounds like I was slumming it but actually worked in my favour because I could watch American Pie and Burn After Reading from under my duvet. 


We visited the many charity shops of both Widnes and Liverpool, and I picked up a couple of CDs for cheapz (Lene Marlin for £1 anyone?), but eventually was glad to come home.


Which is where I am now. Much has passed since I got back - parties, hoagies, Easter - but I've got a work day booked with Cliffey today (having decided it was about time I hit the essays) so I'd best get cracking on that.


Joel.

A Britpop Rant

On Monday I had a lecture on British music. As I came through the door my lecturer, Mike O'Hara, stabbed a finger at me and ordered me to name a British band. For some reason the best I could come up with was Oasis (I was even wearing an Iron Maiden t-shirt ferchristsakes), but then I suppose Oasis are a pretty quintessential British band.

What followed was a dissection of Britpop, a category into which were lumped Oasis, Blur, Pulp, Suede, Supergrass, Elastica, etc. etc. All fairly standard. But I was somewhat offended at the implication, snidely exuded by both Mohara and the BBC documentary he was showing us, that the movement - and, by extension, the bands associated with it - were worthless and unoriginal.

I'd like at this point to refer to a few samples from my last.fm chart:

plank201's Music Profile - Top Artists

5. The Magnetic Fields
6. Supergrass

7. Manic Street Preachers

...

29. Arab Strap

30. Suede

31. Brakes

...

45. The Hold Steady

46. Pulp

47. Travis

Maybe Travis should be highlighted too, I'm not sure. Either way, my point is that I like Britpop and a few of the bands that came about in that era are, well, good.

We did go to the cinema last night - contrary to my predictions it was actually Tom, not Cliffey, who had to bow out, and that was due to genuine illness, not hilarious golf injuries. Pete ended up coming along too, as did Rob "Tammerz" Tamlyn, his chosen Orange Wednesday chum for the evening. The Adjustment Bureau was excellent, but I'm more interested in talking about the drive home.

Sarah, Cliffey, and I were being chauffeured back to the house by Andy, who as I mentioned yesterday is back for Easter. As we came turned onto Tewkesbury Street, Pulp's Common People came on the radio, and I (more or less jokingly) requested that Andy go around the block so that I could hear the first couple of verses.

Andy thought for a moment, and then, swinging the car around, proceeded to go one better. He had already proven himself a pretty brave man behind the wheel by virtue of a slalom in the John Lewis car park, so i suppose it wasn't entirely surprising when he took us for a quick - as in, he drove really quite fast - drive around the lake, while we all danced and sang and held on for dear life.

And a realisation that I had undergone in Monday's lecture came back again - you can't throw Oasis and Pulp in the same boat because a) Pulp songs are largely good, b) Oasis songs are largely notgood, and c) Oasis are proud of being working class, while songs like Common People are angry at people who think it's good to be working class because it's actually shit.

So thank you Andy for that lovely blob of daredevil driving and excellent music (even if it was the radio edit). And thanks also for squashing the cranefly in my room with my copy of Lawrence Lessig's Free Culture.

Joel.

An Hypothesis

While I was walking the walk described in the latter part of Saturday's blog, I found myself listening to...well, Titus Andronicus, but once that album had finished I decided to give Busted's seminal sophomore effort A Present For Everyone a spin.

And you know how you go to certain bands for certain situations? This was in one of the books I looked at while I was trying to find some literature to review for uni; this one girl in a study never listened to Radiohead unless she was really angry at her in-laws ("We hope that you choke!"). I personally reserve stuff like Manowar for when I want to feel like I could take on the world, but I'm sure you all have your own examples. Well, Busted - while it's true that most of their songs deal with love and related topics - they pretty much have a song for any relationship situation you'd care to name.

For example:

"I am falling in love with you" - Falling For You
"As much as I love having casual sex with you, I want to take our relationship to the next level" - That Thing You Do
"I want to fuck you, but you won't let me" - All The Way
"I want to fuck you, but I'm afraid that pictures of said act will appear in a tabloid newspaper" - Air Hostess
"I want to fuck you, but the age gap is irreconcilable, besides which it may put a strain on our working relationship" - What I Go To School For
"I suspect that I may have been cuckolded" - Who's David?
"Our relationship is ending and I am sad" - Losing You
"Our relationship is ending and I am ambivalent" - Over Now
"Our relationship is ending and I am extremely upset, in a radio-friendly way" - 3am
"I like tits"  - Year 3000
"Alas, you I cannot bring you to climax" - Fake
"Due to our traumatic breakup, I have developed nyctophobia" - Sleeping With The Light On
"I love you, and I fell that my impeccable sense of timing more than makes up for my refusal to seek employment" - Crashed The Wedding
"As supportive as I am of the LGBT community, I am concerned that your recent sex change operation will really put a damper on things" - She Wants To Be Me

Let me know if I've missed any. Sorry Busted if I've interpreted any of your songs wrong, I did go on songmeanings, but that was mostly just people slagging you off.

And sorry readers for posting this instead of an actual blog. Basically I stayed in bed all yesterday.
Joel.

Are They A Fan?

DISCLAIMER: The cantankerous weed-smoking metalhead featured in this story is a fabrication, and in no way based on the real Zane Lowe, who is probably a lovely man.

Zane Lowe frowns as he leaves the studio. "What I need," he thinks, caressing his beard "is a spliff."

It's going to be a pretty crappy show tonight. Zane has just acquired an early copy of the upcoming Eyehategod album, and he's spent the last hour and a half begging the suits to let him play a track off it.

"We've told you before, Zane. No sludge metal."

"It's just one track, you fucks. Four minutes. Nobody will notice, nobody pays any fucking attention to the radio anymore."

"That's not really the kind of attitude we want to see here at Radio 1." Sarcastic bastard.

"So what can I play?" he growls.

"Well, you've got Liam Bailey on tonight, so he'll want to hear his track. And maybe that Chase & Status song too."

"Great. And will there be anything with balls?"

It's not hard to get these stuffed shirt radio bastards flustered.

"You can play some Bullet For My Valentine if you want."

"Brilliant."

Zane takes a long drag on his joint. He prefers his other job. Nobody tells him what music he can or can't listen to when he's working his other job.

Ever since that bout of flu around this time last year, Zane has found that his body doesn't seem to need sleep like other people's bodies do. He can go for a week or more without so much as a power-nap. For some reason he can just keep going.

The radio stuff pays pretty well, and even with two kids he can still afford all sorts of fun for himself. So money is no issue; he doesn't need the extra cash. He just needed something exciting to fill up those extra hours.

So he went into the assassination business. It's pretty easy. Someone, usually someone pale and looking as if they were having second thoughts about it, tells him a name and gives him a fat wad of notes. He drives to their house, Acid Bath screaming from his car stereo, knocks on their door, and silently does away with them.

Sometimes he wears a mask and gets it over with quickly. But whenever he is given a new quarry, he always asks the same question:

"Are they a fan?"

And if they are, well, he gives them a treat before they meet their maker.

"Hi, I'm Zane Lowe."
"Oh my god! What are you doing here?"
"Are you ________?"
"Yes! Oh wow! How do you know my name?"
A cheeky grin.
"A little bird told me."

And then death. He thinks it's quite a good idea, actually; a lot of people would probably pay good money to be killed by a celebrity. Teenage girls screaming in ecstasy as one of the Jonas Brothers tightens his hands around their neck. Nerdy 30-year-olds who live in a basement clambering over each other to be the first person to actually be slaughtered by Uma Therman (in full Kill Bill outfit, of course).

Hm.

Zane takes one last pull on the joint before letting it fall to the ground. A girl with a harajuku haircut and her one-earringed boyfriend pass by on the other side of the road. They see him, whisper to each other, exchange oh-my-god-is-that-Zane-Lowe grins, and walk on.

Zane checks his watch. Ten to seven. The radio bosses will be waiting for him.

Oh well. Time to go to work.

My Year In Lists

...And what better way to kick off the new year than with a series of lists analysing the previous one.

TOP 5 ALBUMS OF 2010

1. Titus Andronicus - The Monitor
2. Tindersticks - Falling Down A Mountain
3. John Grant - Queen of Denmark
4. Liars - Sisterworld
5. Wayne Robbins & The Hellsayers - All You Need To Sleep

I got a few more for Christmas so this list is subject to change. The Suburbs is getting there but still not as good as any of these just yet.

TOP 5 SONGS OF 2010

1. Four Score And Seven - Titus Andronicus
2. Wo Bist Du Gewesen Vor Prohibition? - Klezmer Kollectiv
3. Where Dreams Go To Die - John Grant
4. Factory Girls - Tindersticks
5. What's In It For? - Avi Buffalo

Honourable mention goes to Mondegreen by Yeasayer, Scarecrows On A Killer Slant by Liars, So Long Goodnight by the Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster, and I Just Had Sex by The Lonely Island.

TOP 5 SONGS THAT WEREN'T ACTUALLY RELEASED IN 2010 BUT I'VE BEEN ROCKING ANYWAY

1. Here Comes A Special Boy - Freezepop
2. Sometimes It Hurts - Tindersticks
3. Do You Hear The People Sing? - Les Misérables
4. The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot - Brand New
5. Thunder Road - Bruce Springsteen

I avoided the temptation to put Natasha Bedingfield's Pocketful of Sunshine in instead of The Boss.

TOP 5 GIGS

1. Flaming Lips at Green Man
2. Titus Andronicus in Bristol
3. Klezmer Kollectiv at CAI
4. Tindersticks at Green Man
5. LCD Soundsystem & Hot Chip at the CIA

No, Arcade Fire, you may not be in any of my end-of-year lists. You are already in too many, and your live show was tainted my nasty men who somehow found time in between having a go at people for no good reason to know all of the words to the new songs and make me feel silly for not having listened to the new album enough. In fact, you don't even get to come 6th, because Yeasayer were better. Yes, I went there.

Basically my year was ruled by Titus Andronicus and Tindersticks.

Real blogging returns on Monday, if I can be bothered, maybe. Happy 2011 y'all.

Joel.

69 Christmas Songs

Welcome to Cutlery's 69th Post Extravaganza! A couple of nights ago Sarah, Cliffey and I fired up the Christmas music and got into the festive feel. Admittedly it didn't take us long to give up on the seasonal stuff and move on to exciting-sounding covers from the Live Lounge archive and Biffy Clyro*, but the point is that I've ripped my 101 Christmas Songs compilation to the temporary computer and that means that it's about time you started giving your ears the gift of Christmas music, too. So, as it's our 69th post, I give you:

69 Christmas Songs

1. Bing Crosby - White Christmas
   Obviously. Apparently Bing Crosby was the greatest musical entrepreneur of the 20th Century, what with his early investment in magnetic tape and all, so show the man some respect. Last year was a white Christmas, if I remember correctly. There's a musical based on this (unless the musical came first, I'm not sure); I went to see it at the WMC a few years ago and coughed right through it.
2. Tom Lehrer - A Christmas Carol
   An old favourite of mine about the true meaning of Christmas. My dad introduced me to Mr. Lehrer when I was about 11 and I've never looked back. You may know him for The Elements song; I think it was on The Big Bang Theory or something.
3. Greg Lake - I Believe In Father Christmas
   Perhaps my favourite Christmas song of all time. Of all time! It's criminal how many people don't recognise it when I tell them that. The instrumental bit between verses is 'Troika' from Lieutenant Kije. I played it for my Grade 5 trumpet exam, which I passed with honours thank you very much.
4. Mud - Lonely This Christmas
   Cliffey's rocking this one currently. It sound like Elvis but it's not. I like the spoken word bit towards the end, it's very country music-sounding.
5. Steeleye Span - Gaudete
   As with Greg Lake, I was surprised when I realised how few people know this one. Tom and I did a techno Christmas mashup on Cubase a couple of years ago and he was a bit puzzled by my Gaudete section. Which kicked ass, I might add, especially the way I seamlessly managed to slot a few bars of Funkytown into the mix.
6. The Flaming Lips - Christmas at the Zoo
   Sadly they didn't play this one at Green Man but whatever. It remains a heartwarming tale of doing it your own way...at Christmas. At the zoo.
7. King's College Choir - The Angel Gabriel
   I went busking the other day and once I'd played through all the well-known songs in my book, I thought I'd flex my sight-reading and take a stab at some of the tunes I hadn't heard of. I started playing this one and, to my surprise, it turned out to be a song that Tom and I had sung in the St. Teilo's choir two Christmasses ago! I can still remember Mr. Pratt begging us not to sing "most highly flavoured gravy". 
8. The Pogues & Kirsty MacColl - Fairytale of New York
   Another obvious choice but I felt I had to include it. It's one of the best Christmas songs ever, no doubt, and the intro still makes me shiver. However, for the title of Best Christmas Duet...
9. The Hives & Cyndi Lauper - A Christmas Duel
   ...I'd say this one pips it to the post. Josh showed me this one last year, and for that I both thank and curse him because I've been singing it to myself nonstop for a good few weeks now.
10. The Magnetic Fields - Everything Is One Big Christmas Tree
    Well I couldn't call it 69 Christmas Songs without including Merritt and co. in the proceedings. This one's off Realism, which came out this January, and is a whole lot of fun. It even has a verse in German.
11. Mariah Carey - All I Want For Christmas Is You
    My Chemical Romance do a cover of this but I've not heard it and as I'm in Central Library at the moment I'm in no position to listen to it. So I'm going with the Mariah original because it's awesome and bouncy and immense fun to sing at the top of your voice, if you can hit those notes. Or even if you can't. Lost the 1994 Christmas #1 race to East 17, the bastards.
12. Allan Sherman - The Twelve Gifts of Christmas
    Yes, it's another comedic comment on crass Christmas commercialism but cut off my coccyx if it isn't compelling. I personally prefer this to the song it's parodying because eventually he just gives up on listing everything he's already mentions and sticks with "...and all that other stuff".
13. John Denver & The Muppets - Little Saint Nick
    We still have this tape somewhere and oh my word was this an inspired collaboration. I don't even think John Denver was in on this track but it still beats out the Beach Boys' version because that one doesn't have Animal going "RUN RUN REINDEER" in the background.
14. Nat 'King' Cole - The Christmas Song
    Another oldie, another goodie. There aren't many other songs that I can hear as much as I've heard this one over the past couple of weeks and still love.
15. Half Man Half Biscuit - It's Clichéd To Be Cynical At Christmas
    I actually quoted this song title at Pete about a week ago when he was moaning about Christmas adverts. Great band, and song, and fan-made video actually. I think Josh has a video of Llama Invasion playing this song in The Gower last year.
16. Alvin & The Chipmunks - Christmas Don't Be Late
    It's not a patch on their various theme songs but oh well, they're not particularly Christmassy so this will have to do.
17. Slade - Merry Xmas Everybody
    I always think of this song and the Wizzard Christmas song as being bitter rivals, perpetually warring for some Christmas #1 spot long in the past. Slade took first prize back in 1973 and I for one think they deserved it. Slade win by virtue of brevity; I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday is just too damn long. Plus the guy from Wizzard shouting "okay you lot, take it!" has nothing on Noddy Holder shouting "IT'S CHRIIIIIIIIIISTMAAAAAAAAS!" So yeah.
18. Mike Oldfield - In Dulci Jubilo
    An instrumental one now. Mike Oldfield is best known for Tubular Bells (that's Theme from 'The Exorcist' to you and me) but this one is fantastic too. It's an old old standard but it's reimagined here and made a shade poppier. My gran was very impressed to find that I could play this on piano, more or less by ear. YES I'M AN AWESOME MUSICIAN SHUT UP.
19. Chris Rea - Driving Home For Christmas
    According to Sarah's dad, Chris Rea is "shit hot". Except, presumably, in December, when he's probably rather cold. Lawl. This is my and Soph's song, because we were listening to it in Patsy last year and I misheard one of the lyrics and, well, these mistakes haunt you forever. Who wouldn't want to be "top to toe in Tipp-Ex"?
20. Spice Girls - Christmas Wrapping
    Sarah's blood ran cold when I told her about the Spice Girls rapping. It needn't have. This is good. Not by them originally, but good. Much better than their minimalist version of Sleigh Ride, in which one of the daft bints professes that "you can do anything you want at Christmas, as long as it's good". Oh. Okay.
21. Bach Choir - See Amid The Winter's Snow
    I hope you'll forgive me my love for these churchy choiry Christmas songs. My dad used to be a minister, you see, so I've had a fair bit of exposure to them over the years. I re-discovered this one while busking yesterday, and jeez I love that high bit in the middle.
22. "Weird Al" Yankovic - The Night Santa Went Crazy
    More fan-made video goodness. I've gone with this one over Christmas At Ground Zero, because it's marginally less scary. Marginally.
23. Mogwai - Christmas Steps
    Christmassy in no way bar the title, and it takes a while to get started, but give it time. It's a staple of my Christmas playlists, and lots of fun on Christmas Eve night. I think it's named after some stairs in Glasgow, but ignore that and pretend that those heavy bass notes are meant to represent Santa's footsteps in the hallway downstairs.
24. Chris de Burgh - A Spaceman Came Travelling
    Bill Bailey would have you believe that you're meant to hate Mr. de Burgh, and you might feel dirty for liking this song, but it's okay. If you ignore Lady In Red, Chris de Burgh can actually be pretty rockin'. Don't Pay The Ferryman is one example; this is another, albeit a slightly more relaxed one.
25. Futurama - Elves' Song
    From the Season 3 episode A Tale of Two Santas. This is sung after Bender agrees to take on the role of Santa, and the elves re-open their toy factory. I should point out that in the Futurama-verse, Santa is an evil robot who judges everyone to be naughty and wreaks havoc and destruction every year. But you already knew that.
26. Eels - Everything's Gonna Be Cool This Christmas
    Judging by the video I assume this song was featured in The O.C. It just about beats out the other Eels choice, Christmas Is Going To The Dogs, which was featured in The Grinch but doesn't feature the line "Baby Jesus, born to rock!" and hence isn't as good.
27. Johnny Mathis - When A Child Is Born
    "Bad but brilliant"? Fuck you, The Hits! This is just awesome, mostly because of Mathis' voice but also because of those little flute twinkles in the intro and the spoken word bit in the middle. It could perhaps do without the monologue at the start but in a way that makes it all the more comforting. I think this is one of my gran's favourites.
28. Kay Starr - (Everybody's Waitin' For) The Man With The Bag
    Hadn't heard this swingin' number until last year when my 101 Christmas Songs compilation came along, and then it popped up on one of the adverts I think. One of the more actually Christmassy songs on said compilation, I mean what's the theme from From Russia With Love got to do with anything?
29. Melanie Thornton - Wonderful Dream (Holidays Are Coming)
    The full version of the song from the Coke advert. It's not brilliant but I thought you guys might find it interesting.
30. Bruce Springsteen - Merry Christmas Baby
    Rarely has the Boss been so funky, but I guess Christmas brings these things out of people. "Well Santa come down the chimney/Half three!/With lots of nice little presents for my/Baby and me!" Woohoo.
31. Banjo-Kazooie - Freezeasy Peak
    I personally preferred Banjo-Tooie, with its darker storyline and unsurpassable multi-player mode (better than GoldenEye? Perhaps...), but then again it didn't have this music in any of the levels. Playing on Freezeasy Peak in any month other than December just makes you long for the year to go faster.
32. John Prine - Christmas In Prison
    I discovered this song on a CD that came free with Uncut magazine. Apparently Bob Dylan played it on his radio show. It's a bit country but don't let that put you off, it's a lovely song and it may just bring the smallest tear to your eye, especially if you've ever spent Christmas in prison.
33. Band Aid 20 - Do They Know It's Christmas?
    Most scholars agree that this isn't a patch on the original but hear me out. This was the last Christmas #1 before The X Factor sat on it for four years. It remains the last UK Christmas #1 to actually have anything to do with Christmas. A lot of people were fairly proud of themselves for getting Killing In The Name to the top spot last year, but I reckon we'd have been sending a bigger message had we gone with this. Not only because it was the last Christmas #1 before blah blah blah, but also because we'd be saying to Simon & Friends, "Look, we'd sooner buy this terrible rubbish than your bland factory pop." Although Pete informs me that a bunch of artists have gotten together to re-record 4'33", and buying silence would probably send a bigger message again. But will that have Busted or the drummer from Supergrass? Probably not.
34. Al Green - What Christmas Means To Me
    YouTube seems to favour Stevie Wonder's version but the one I know is by Al Green so I'm going with that. I was just surprised to discover that he didn't just use Christmas as another excuse for gettin' some. He's pure (and a reverend, apparently), not like that dirty Mariah Carey.
35. The Ramones - Merry Christmas (I Don't Want To Fight Tonight)
    I think this showed up on a BBC advert last year. I hadn't seen this video before, but I for one always think of a Brooklyn couple yelling at each other when I think of Christmas. And what a heartwarming ending.
36. Frankie Goes To Hollywood - The Power of Love
    Now here's a song that has nothing to do with Christmas. I mean the video would have you believe otherwise, but I'm pretty sure it just came out around Christmas. But yeah, these guys are no better than myriad X-Factor winners in terms of unChristmassy Christmas songs. However it is a good song so I will let them off.
37. The Killers - Don't Shoot Me Santa
    This is Sarah's favourite so I felt I had to include it. I wasn't too familiar with it but I'm listening to it now and it is pretty good. I love the little Brandon Flowers puppet. Apparently The Killers do a Christmas song every year, so good on them.
38. Jim Reeves - Silver Bells
    The first I heard of this song was Moe from The Simpsons singing it as he was put under anaesthetic before plastic surgery. It's lovely and very soothing. A song to have a bath to. At Christmas.
39. Barenaked Ladies feat. Sarah McLachlan - God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen/We Three Kings
    I was going to put up a choral version of God Rest Ye Merry but then I stumbled upon this and it's cooler. A very nice collision of voices, although it's a shame about the abrupt ending. Mr. Pratt was always sure to make clear that it's God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen, and not, in fact, God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen. The more you know!
40. Low - Just Like Christmas
    Every so often I like to have a quick peek at DrownedInSound.com, and every year there's a thread about 'indie' Christmas songs, and every year somebody mentions Low's Christmas album. After avoiding it for many Christmasses I decided to have a listen to one of the songs off it and, low and behold (sorry), it's quite good! I just can't decide if it's miserable or not. 
41. Thurl Ravenscroft - You're A Mean One, Mr. Grinch
    Six stanzas of unflinching character assassination later, I actually feel a little sorry for the Grinch. Bonus points for use of the term "heel", meaning 'villain'; I thought it came from professional wrestling but perhaps not.
42. Twisted Sister - Heavy Metal Christmas
    I was struggling to think of a heavy metal Christmas song so I YouTube searched 'Metal Christmas' and, lo and behold, this popped up. It's another spoof of 12 Days but never mind, it's unashamedly awesomely METAL enough not to matter. I hope I get 8 pentagrams for Christmas. And everyone knows Dee Snyder is a hero.
43. The Jackson 5 - Up On The House Top
    And if you've got a little excess testosterone after that last one, who better to fizzle it out than a prepubescent Michael Jackson? This does have an assfull of funk though, and that is some stone cold DRUMMING in the intro.
44. Dickie Valentine - Christmas Alphabet
    One of the earliest UK Christmas #1s (1955) and seemingly the first one that had all that much to do with Christmas. Sweet enough, but there only seem to be 9 letters in this guy's alphabet, and they're quite severely out of order. Plus two of them are S. Oh, hang on, it spells Christmas. Now I get it.
45. R.E.M. - Christmas Griping
    Okay, I was vaguely aware that R.E.M. gave everyone in their fanclub a special Christmas single around this time of year, but I'd never actually thought to listen to them. "Wouldn't you just love to throttle the person who invented fruit cake?" Oh my goodness. Surreal and hysterical. Love those "boom shaka-laka-laka ho ho ho!"s.
46. The Brute Chorus - (This Christmas) Bury Me In Hawaii
    But we have to remember that Christmas isn't always hilarious. Bringing the second third of our feature to a close, it's a song about hanging yourself. This is another one that Josh showed me, and it's so deliciously creepy, especially with the video. Additionally, check that moustache out! Wah!
47. King's College Choir - Once In Royal David's City
    Usually opens a proper Christmas church service. Sung as the choir files in, with one lucky boy singing the first verse solo. According to Mr. Pratt, nobody knows who the soloist is going to be until the event; apparently the choirmaster or whatever just picks one boy to do it on the spur of the moment. Choirmasters are dicks, it seems.
48. Andy Williams - It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year
    Well, it is. You can't deny it. I really like the drumming in this one.
49. Hot Chocolate - Brand New Christmas
    Another one of the 101. I imagine most people know Hot Chocolate for steamy hit You Sexy Thing, but this song - about how "we need another Jesus" - is serious business. Seriously FUNKAY. It's funny because this song sounds more like Frankie Goes To Hollywood than the Frankie Goes To Hollywood Christmas song does.
50. The Pretenders - 2000 Miles
    God help me I do love Chrissie Hynde's voice. That first line is just golden. She can get a bit worked up over the rights of delicious animals, but she's forgiven just for this song and Don't Get Me Wrong.
51. Spitting Image - Santa Claus Is On The Dole
    So we've had robot Santas, Santas gone crazy, and the Nevada desert Santa who wants to kill Brandon Flowers for some reason, but here - for once - is a Santa Claus who isn't a psycho killer. It's a strangely human portrayal, actually, but it's nice to see that he's still jolly, in spite of poverty, elf suicide, and his reindeers being "sold for glue".
52. Wizzard - I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday
    Oh go on then. It's still a good song, despite being second best. Actually, it's not even that - it didn't finish second to Slade in the chart race, it finished fourth. You know who actually came second? Gary Glitter. Fuck's sake Wizzard.
53. Mitch Benn - Thank God It Isn't Christmas Everyday
    And another thing, Wizzard: no, you don't wish it could be Christmas everyday. That would be awful. For reasons outlined here.
54. Manic Street Preachers - Last Christmas
    I've gone for this version over Wham! because James Dean Bradfield has a lovely voice and more people need to be made aware of it. This is pretty haunting actually, some delicious reverb on the louder notes. It is, however, a little grating when he says "stop me from tears" instead of "save me from tears". But that's my only complaint.
55. Chixie Dix - All I Want For Christmas Is To Be Jewish
    At this festive time of year it's important to remember that Christmas isn't the only option. Some people will be lighting Menorah instead of Advent candles, and looking forward to the visit of the Holiday Armadillo instead of Santa, and spinning dreidels instead of all of their money away on too many presents. So here is the tight-fisted Jew stereotype embodied in song form by some guys who are sick of "exchanging gifts that we don't even like". I like the extremely Jewish interjections ("Don't forget the gefilte fish!") but I don't like the slightly uncomfortable shot of a sausage getting circumcised with a cleaver, followed as it is by the leering visage of a pleased-looking Rabbi.
56. Destiny's Child - 8 Days Of Christmas
    Last 12 Days parody, I swear. Not sure why they shortened it to 8 days - 12 is divisible by 4 too, and would have fit the verse structure just fine, maybe they just ran out of lyrics - but it's a fine slice of Yuletide R&B nonetheless. Although it kills me that the "Doesn't it feel like Christmas?" section never resolves into "All the women who independent!"
57. Lisa Hannigan - Silent Night
    This was a hidden track on Damien Rice's first album (Lisa Hannigan being the lady who sang on quite a lot of his songs) and even though the lyrics are somewhat different it still reminds you of Christmas so into the pot it goes. I for one prefer Damien Rice's second album, 9.
58. Hoodoo Gurus - Tojo
    Not particularly Christmassy at first glance, but "Tracey, would you listen? This is Christmas!" gives it away. So yes it does count as a Christmas song, stop asking.
59. Radiohead - Winter Wonderland
    It's anyone's guess as to the origin of this, but I would hesitantly suggest that they probably played this live as some sort of special secret encore after most of the crowd had gone home and Thom Yorke had gotten slightly drunk. "We have been...the Smurfs."
60. The Royal Guardsmen - Snoopy's Christmas
    I've discovered a fair few gems while searching for stuff to fill the gaps in this list. I think this has something to do with The Christmas Truce of 1914 (that's the only time YouTube comments will actually be useful) but where it really scores points with me is with the reference to Snoopy's never-ending dogfight (sorry again) with The Red Baron.
61. Cliff Richard - Mistletoe & Wine
    I was torn between this and Saviour's Day, but in the end I decided that they were pretty much interchangeable and just flipped a coin.
62. Animaniacs - Noel
    Another churchy one, but I decided that I didn't want to give King's College Choir even more free exposure, so here is the 'terrible pun' version of this old favourite.
63. The Vandals - Oi! To The World
    It's a football hooligan Christmas! This was thrown up when I googled "punk christmas songs", and I was so surprised that it wasn't just a half-arsed parody of Joy To The World that I thought I'd bung it in. No Doubt seem to have covered it, but stick with the original; academics agree that "oi" and "pub" are words that Gwen Stefani really just ought to leave alone.
64. David Bowie & Bing Crosby - Little Drummer Boy
    Or "Carol of the Drum" as us brass band types know it. This is a lovely video, Bing Crosby seems so goshdarned nice. And David Bowie so goshdarned cockney.
65. John Lennon - Happy Xmas (War Is Over)
    Seems to appear as the opening track on pretty much every compilation it graces so I've left it 'til late in the list because I'm pretty anti-establishment like that. A lovely song, and for a long time the only John Lennon number I'd heard (why was Imagine so late to the party? Who knows.) but Christ alive think twice before you watch the video. Sobering stuff.
66. Bo Selecta - Proper Crimbo
    I'm guessing there's probably not much of a serious, anti-war message behind this one. Sarah suggested I include it, and I'd much rather listen to this than something featuring the real Craig David.
67. Frank Sinatra - Have Yourself A Merry Christmas
    Probably the only Christmas song that can reduce me to a sobbing wreck, and I suspect the power of the line about "faithful friends" to bring a tear to my eye will only increase what with everyone going to uni and such.
68. King's College Choir - O Come All Ye Faithful
    Oh fine, one more appearance from Da KC Kroo. Usually sang at the end of December church services, with more and more verses being sung every Sunday until, eventually, the whole thing gets an airing on the 25th. And of course it's impossible for those of a brass band and/or choir background - sorry to keep banging on about this sort of thing but it's my list, if you want to talk about Wizzard some more we'll do it on your blog - to imagine this song without the descant (high bit) at around the 2 minute mark.
69. Queen - Thank God It's Christmas
    And FINALLY! A golden number from Freddie Mercury and co. that, as far as I'm concerned, has to round off every Christmas playlist. Although having said that, it's probably best if you listen to it once a year, just before you go to bed on December 25th.

Well it's taken me three days or so to complete this so you'd best have all enjoyed at least a few of these songs. Hopefully I've covered most of the obvious Yule-musical bases but if I've missed out your favourite then do let me know and maybe I'll explain why your favourite's so crap.

Merry Christmas,
Joel.

*All the Biffy Clyro talk led to me having a dream about them. I was walking to uni one morning and, as I passed the CIA, I noticed that Biffy Clyro were doing a signing thing for their fans. I decided to try and get something signed for Cliffey, big fan that he is, but when I approached the table and handed a flyer to one of the band (they all looked like the beardy lead singer because he's the only one I know) he simply handed it back to me unsigned. Subsequent attempts were unsuccessful and I eventually left empty-handed. So fuck you, dream Biff!

Sharments II

The Re-Sharmenting.

RECENT THINGS

• Sunday was Halloween. We had a small gathering here to celebrate, and much Halloweeny music was listened to. If any trick-or-treaters did come to the house, I didn't hear about it.
• Friday was not Halloween but Josh and Rich and Elusive Dave had a Halloween party anyway. I went as a slightly cheap Freddy Krueger, and Sarah was the Grim Reaper. Josh wasn't anything in particular, he just wore spandex. Herbie and Mark were, between them, Team Rocket, although they were minus Meowth. I'm not sure what Soph was, some sort of evil prostitute possibly. Tom was a banana.
• Speaking of Tom, Tom has a tattoo now. Unless his parents are reading this, in which case Tom has not got a tattoo now.
• I paid the water bill last night, mostly because Dwr Cymru were threatening legal action if we didn't. It cost me about £300, so everyone in the house now owes me sixty pounds! Except Cliffey, who has already paid, and Sarah and Alex, who get to not pay bills because they pay in love.
• Many of the people affiliated with the house went to Oceana on Monday night. Nobody's quite sure what happened, but we do know that Cliffey, Soph and Tom spent yesterday on Cliffey's bed, laughing. Unless Tom's parents are reading this, in which case it was just Soph and Cliffey because Tom was in work.
• It's November, which of course mean it's Movember (or Novembeard if you prefer). I will be hoping to improve on last year's pitiful peachfuzz, but Cliffey, Josh, JR, Mark, Pete (I think) and others are all likely to do far better than me.
• I briefly became part of a folk three-piece yesterday, playing the bongos along with René (guitar/vox) and Calum (violin) from my uni ensemble. We played down in the foyer (or 'street') around lunchtime, belting out some folk songs and also a couple of Irish jigs, because Calum is just an awesome fiddle player. Then last night I showed off my bongo-playing skills to my awed housemates, and we obviously sang Creep, our house's national anthem. 
• The national anthem of the Josh/Rich/Elusive Dave household is Live & Let Die because we had a conversation about it there once. Should it be the Macca version or the Guns 'N' Roses cover? Cast your votes now.
• My brother Nathan came 'round on Friday night for a game of Risk with myself and Cliffey. I won in TWO TURNS, because I'm AWESOME. We filled the remaining time by playing Worms, at which I still rock although I think Tom won on Friday night.
• I hit The Record Shop on Saturday and got five CDs for a pound each. They were: Kid Carpet's Ideas and Oh Dears; My Computer's No CV; Meat Loaf's Bat Out of Hell II: Back Into Hell; Destiny's Child's Survivor; and Bloc Party's Bloc Party (for Sarah, I obviously already have that record, obviously). I love The Record Shop, everybody go there on Thursdays to Saturdays.
• You know another awesome shop? Wally's Delicatessen. Sarah and I went there on Sunday; I bought a small pot of olives from the olive pick 'n' mix (also featuring stuffed peppers!) and she bought a huge box of Nerds (remember those?) which we're still picking away at.
• Mark, Josh and I are going to see Titus Andronicus in Bristol this month, but not before Sarah, Josh and I go to see LCD Soundsystem and Hot Chip at the CIA.
• Soph got a WoMan point for carving the pumpkins on Friday night, but although there are a lot of pending Man Points they will have to wait until I get a new marker. Pete used the last one up by drawing on his face.

That italics guy from yesterday was sure a dick, wasn't he?

Joel.

Around The Horn

Cutlery regrets to announce the cancellation of The 50th Post Special. Instead, please enjoy this light-hearted tale of folly and redemption on the buses.

I know, we're disappointed too. I don't know how Joel managed to get so big in Slovenia with this attitude. I daresay Slovakia will be a lot less sympathetic to this shit.

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Monday morning is always band practice. Seven of us and our various instruments get together and make sweet sweet music for a couple of hours, before the midday cultures lecture come and dampens our spirits.

Yesterday, however, our noise-making was a little delayed. The beardy guy on reception refused to give me the room key without permission from our course leader, Ben Challis, and the ensuing wild goose chase (I never did track down Dr. Challis) meant that we wasted an hour or so talking amongst ourselves in the corridor. By the time one of the nice techies from the second floor helped us out, we were already halfway into our allotted time, and not looking too likely to accomplish much.

But this post isn't a tirade against the people on reception at the Atrium, nor is it a play-by-play of our abridged band rehearsal. This is a story about a boy (me) and his baritone (my baritone).

It's fair to say that I don't treat the old thing with a great amount of care. My bandmates are often left aghast at the way I toss it around, knock it over, and generally don't show it any respect.

Well yesterday it seems I was so excited to finally get into the practice room that I didn't even bother to bring my instrument in with me, leaving it still sat in the corridor. Our drummer, Luke, grabbed it for me and suggested - not for the first time - that I really ought to take better care of it. I agreed half-heartedly, and said that it was like a parent to me - I treat it horribly, but I'd be fairly sad if it were gone, perhaps because it's so important to getting me through uni. No more was said on the matter, and we used the hour as best we could. Songs were played, and I introduced my Spaghetti Western version of Holding Out For A Hero.

Now. There's an hour-long gap in my timetable between the band practice and the cultures lecture, and I usually spend this hour on the computers in the library, or I take the opportunity to go and get a bit of food (having to be in uni at 9am doesn't leave a lot of time for breakfast). Yesterday, however, I had a plan. I was supposed to be meeting Sarah straight after my cultures lecture and going to Swanbridge with her for an evening away from the city, with its noise and pollution and people who ask you for spare change and shout at you when you don't have any. I didn't want to have to drag my baritone, ungainly as it is, to the far side of Penarth, so I decided to get a bus home, drop off the horn, and speedily get a bus back into town in time for my lecture.

That was the plan, and it was going swimmingly until I got off the bus on Crwys Road and realised, at it sped off into the late morning sun, that I had left my baritone on the luggage rack.

Oh no! My dear sweet baritone horn! Would I never again sound its brassy tone? Would the makeshift handle never again slice into my weary fingers? Would my brave attempts at playing Klezmer Kollectiv tunes by ear never again make my housemates long for the wormy peace of the grave?

I wandered, shaken, back to the house, where I informed Cliffey of my plight:

"I've left my baritone on the bus."
"That's the saddest sentence I've ever heard."

I was in no mood to eat, but, knowing that I had to keep my strength up, I managed to choke down a bakewell tart. I prepared to head back to uni, taking a little consolation in the knowledge that Cardiff Bus does have a lost and found, and how money second-hand baritone horns does one bus company rake in over the course of a day?

I waited mournfully at the bus stop, not looking forward to the two hours of "the music industry wants to rape you" that lie in wait for me back at the Atrium. As the number 38 pulled up, I found the driver oddly familar. He didn't recognise me, of course, but that didn't matter because as I hopped onto the bus I saw, in the luggage rack, my baritone case. Somebody, apparently, likes me.

I was never worried, of course. I timed my journey perfectly so that I would catch the same bus on its return journey to central station. I hadn't even considered how useless  I would be to my uni ensemble without my horn. And I  knew that the driver wouldn't bat an eye at the fact that I got off the bus carrying a large brown case that had been there since before I got on.

So that's my good karma gone for the rest of the year, anyhow. I hurried back to the Atrium, baritone case swinging recklessly in my hand, and settled into my midday cultures lecture, where we were told, amongst other things, that session musicians no longer exist.

I was a bit alarmed; my cousin's a session musician. I should probably make sure he's okay.

Joel.

* * *

I know, that was rubbish. He didn't even mention the awesome Halloween parties, of which there were TWO. You'd think he'd remember at least one of them, right?

Wound Up and Ready to Play

I love music. Obviously.

Which is good because there's music everywhere! From the crap that you have to listen to when you're playing Fifa because the dicks who keep beating you some goals-no goals over and over and over again think that Akon is God to the awesome stuff that you've been listening to on YouTube for the past two months and finally bought the album for a fiver, it all colours in the whiteness that is otherwise life.

The past weekend has been particularly musicalicious for me, and as the too long sentence above suggested, it started with Cliffey and Tom making me listen to Akon while they beat me at Fifa. And yes I know I've already complained about Akon once here, and I almost kind of found him slightly okay prior to all this nonsense, but their insistence that I actually love him only makes me hate him all the more. Sorry chaps.

On Saturday I was up bright and early because my dad and I were heading to Bristol. It's a thing we do occasionally; he goes to lots of charity shops to buy Penguin Classics, then I go to Fopp and buy lots of CDs. I spent £34 there this time, on such wonderful artists as Tom Waits, Stephin Merritt, Sparklehorse, Grinderman, and Bombay Bicycle Club, although that last one was for Sarah. I also got a Tindersticks album, because they played this song at Green Man and I've been completely enamoured with it recently so I thought it was about time I bought the album. I put said album on in the car on the way back, and I think my dad would have been more open-minded about the whole experience if the first line hadn't been something about strangling.

Saturday evening, and a few of us (namely me, Sarah, Mark, and Elusive Dave, whom I may or may not have mentioned before) went to see Josh play his SCRIBER songs in great big capital letters at Cathays Community Centre. It was part of the Swn festival, although I feel that just seeing my friend Josh and some sort of youth punk band doesn't really count as "going to the Swn festival", so when my lecturer asked us in the session earlier who had been to the Swn festival, I kept quiet. Anyway, Josh was excellent as ever, and I managed to keep mostly quiet with my incessant heckling this time. He did a cover of Girl From The North Country and all was right with the world*.

That night we went out to see in Meic's 20th birthday at the Owain Glyndwr or however you crazy Welsh people might go about spelling it. Meic asked me to write a couple of rap songs to put on the album he has to produce for his course, so I should probably do that at some point; as good as P-Town is, it's only one track, and he needs six**. I also admitted to really liking Jai Ho! (You Are My Destiny) by the Pussycat Dolls but was very pleased to find that Sarah, instead of mocking me, also confessed to liking it. Then Bad Romance came on and I was very pleased about that, too.

Yesterday, Sunday, was my mum's birthday, so Sarah and I went over to my parents' house to fork over her present and card. I got her a purple handbag from Sturff, because she said she liked it and I get honorary employee discount there so woohoo. My mum was just surprised to find that I was giving her anything other than a CD, which is all I usually stretch to. I even got her a card, generous bastard that I am.

Sarah and I somehow ended up reminiscing over Digimon memorabilia, before retreating to my room for a power nap on my far more comfortable than our bed in the student house bed. The nap was soundtracked by British Sea Power's Do You Like Rock Music?, which is a great album whether you're asleep or awake.

In the evening we went to The Globe to see oh my goodness it's British Sea Power what a coincidence. They played many wonderful songs with names like Lights Out For Darker Skies and Favours In The Beetroot Fields, and people had leafy branches to wave and I bought a t-shirt from the merch desk which had placemats with ducks on and Sarah reckoned the bassist and the violinist were going out because she touched his bum at one point but I didn't see it. I also managed to get my grubby hands on a setlist, which was itself fairly grubby because I think the keyboardist trod on it. Good times.

So that was my weekend in music. I'm currently listening to Freezepop's Here Comes A Special Boy for something like the seventh consecutive time, a song made all the more awesome by the fact that it's about Achewood, which everyone should read so here's a link to that too.

I was trying to play a Klezmer Kollectiv song on my baritone earlier. I'm getting quite good.

Joel.

*I was, however, absolutely APOPLECTIC that the free CDs Josh was handing out had moons printed on them. Mine just has writing on it, although it is a limited edition first pressing so that kind of makes up for it.

**Speaking of P-Town, some kind soul put it up on YouTube the other night, just over a year after it first went up. It's not got a whole lot of views yet, so everybody go watch it.

A Town That's Right For Me

I've just had a band practice, and today that meant playing Funkytown over and over again for about an hour and a half. It doesn't half get in yer 'ead, that song. And we haven't even got a cowbell, so our version is rubbish.

I mentioned a coupla weeks ago that our band assignment this year was to play a gig with a theme. Some people in the past have down psychedelic, or ska sets.

We're doing songs from Shrek. So that means Funkytown, I'm A Believer, Hallelujah, and Holding Out For A Hero, which I have chosen to spearhead because I loves the power ballads, I do. Especially when I can stitch in some kind of epic horn solo.

Now, the keener-eyed of you will have noticed that I didn't update over the weekend, but in my defense there's not been all that much to write about. The bins were getting mighty full, and the fruit flies mighty numerous, so Gem had another clean-up (I helped a bit, honest! (Well, I took the recycling bag out)) and bought some new, pink, rubber gloves, which are rather fetching. She also bought a Fridge Freshener, which is like an air freshener but - get this - it goes in the fridge. So our leftover pizza may be smelling a bit lemony by the time I come to eat it.

Tom and Cliffey went to Varsity to watch the Merseyside derby yesterday, and they were rather too pleased with Everton's 2-0 victory for my liking. However, I do have a trick or two up my sleeve; I've just checked the fantasy football, and as of this morning I'm 25 points ahead of Tom. That's mostly thanks to one Carlos Tevez from Argentina, who grabbed two goals against Blackpool last night, but Leighton Baines getting an assist and a clean sheet can't have hurt, either.

Okay, I've got another depressing Cultures lecture to get to now, and then I'll be heading home to eat some lemony pizza and watch TV. I've not seen the Strictly Come Dancing results show yet, so nobody tell me who left.

By the way, Sarah thinks that Strictly Come Dancing is one of the worst programmes on television, so can everyone please write in to correct her. Thanks.

Hahwon't you take me to...

Joel.

P.S. I've just been checking the viewing figures and I've just gotten my first Slovenian visitor! So hello Slovenian visitor, I hope you feel welcome here. Give my regards to Ljubljana.

Oktoberfest

October has come and it's been raining. A lashing bitch of a day was not what I wanted to see when I opened the door this morning, especially given that I had to do the trip to the Atrium on foot, my baritone case's handle carving deep canyons into my hand all the while.

But Pete complained last night that this is becoming a Joel blog rather than a house blog, so I shall keep it strictly at home this time.

And what's going on in the house right now?

Fifa night!

Basically, Cliffey bought Fifa 2011 this morning (it came out at midnight; Tom was in line at Tesco's before Cliffey was even back from work last night) and it's looking increasingly like we're going to spend the whole night at it. I suggested some sort of championship thing where we play every version of Fifa we have handy- we've got 6, across three different consoles - and see who's the best overall. But frankly I can't see that happening, so enamoured are we with this shiny new thing.

So here we are, Cliffey, Tom and me, in Cliffey's room, in our pyjamas, playing Fifa 'til the morning light. Tom's rung his dad to say he won't be home tonight, Cliffey's put an apple crumble in the oven for us, and we're settling in for the night. I've even opted to forgo the first episode of Strictly Come Dancing, although I imagine I'll catch it on catch up, big girl that I am.

I am aware that some people reading this won't be the least bit interested in Fifa - as Tom said earlier, "girls just don't get Fifa" - so I'll leave it be for a moment and mention Tim's send-off at The George last night. We trudged through the already sheeting rain to get there, and spent the whole time standing up, but several people were happy to spend quite a lot of money on the quiz machine so we were well entertained. Oh, and a guy came around with a camera and asked us if we'd like to be on the screens around the pub. We did, apparently, so he took a picture of us all and I for one will not be returning to The George for fear of seeing my own terrible visage grinning back at me.

Now more on Fifa! The soundtrack to Fifa '11 is pretty damn sweet, with music from the likes of LCD Soundsystem, Yeasayer, Dan Black, Dum Dum Girls...the list goes on. It's a world away from the old games, where you'd get a Moby song and then six dancey tracks you'll never be able to find outside of your PS1.

See what I did there? I made it so that people who don't like football can relate to the Fifa obsession going on around here.

As for those housemates who aren't playing Fifa (i.e. wasting their evenings), Pete just now stumbled in looking as though he's just gotten new eyelids and he's not used to them yet; Gem's sat in the living room watching TV and getting drunk on a bottle of rosé; and Soph's gotten over her food poisoning and is currently at a children's party.

Cliffey, Tom and I just had some apple crumble (£1 from Tesco) and custard (8p from Tesco), and it's beginning to look like a very good night indeed.

Joel.